notes: Ohyul version! ALL OF THIS IS COMPLETELY MADE UP, PLEASE DONT TAKE IT SERIOUSLY. (scroll, idc) all is smut, a lil bit of subby ohyul, also I’m so sorry for disappearing 🥲
SEXTING : You two were separated because of Ohyul's busy schedule. He gets horny easily so during his free time, he would ask you to send pics of yourself for him to jerk off to. Ofc you would make sure to send him to sluttiest selfies of yourself in the most revealing clothing ever and Ohyul with send his hard cock, texting you how much he missed your cunt around it. In the end, his cum would be all over his phone screen. He can't wait for him to get home and have you all to himself again.
SPOONING : Mainly at night when you two are sleeping. Ohyul would usually become really needy when you two are about to sleep. He just couldn't keep it in his pants, so he would cuddle you from behind and beg for him to fuck you in that puppy voice. His boner pressing against the crack of your ass. You would give in to his needs of course, who's denying someone who's this cute? His dick slowly and deeply moving in and inside of you lazily, the pillow muffling your moans as he hits all the right spots. Ohyul's arms would be wrapped around your waist while biting your shoulder. His groans and quiet moans pouring into your ear, making your hole wetter than it was before.
HICKIES : Every time, sex or not, he would leave a bunch of hickies on you. It doesn't matter what position you two are on. Mating press, missionary, doggy, or spooning. He'll always find an opportunity to leave marks on you. Sneaking up to you from behind and leaving red bite marks on your shoulder and neck. When one fades, Ohyul would always replace them with a fresh one.
OVERSTIMULATION : Ohyul likes how you let out a broken sound. Begging for him to stop but your pussy keeps sucking his dick in. Yeah that makes him push you further than what you can take. Same with fingers, he likes it when his digits are stuffed in your cunt, curling them just right for your legs to tremble and shake like crazy. For Ohyul, your hand wraps around his cock while you keep stroking it through his orgasms. His cute little whimpers just get so high-pitched sometimes.
69 : Now this was on a whole new level. Ohyul's hands coming up to force your ass open and smothering himself with your tight hole. His hips thrusting upward so you choke on his shaft while he uses his tongue to fuck your cunt. Your sounds get muffled, sending vibrations of pleasure from Ohyul's dick to his head, making him want to get rougher. He'd eat you like a starve man, your juices tasting like heaven on his tongue.
SHOWER SEX : This should be self-explanatory considering the fact he takes like one hour to shower. Fucking into you from behind while watching water droplets droop down your back. His cock sliding easily in your slick pussy as he watches how deep he goes. The water streaming down both of you as Ohyul fucks you stupid. No wonder why the water bill is so high.
NIPPLE PLAY : As much as he loves playing with you tits, he LOVES it when you touch his sensitive nipples. Your thumb swirling against his hard peak, while you bend down to suck and kiss his other nipple gets him so needy. Ohyul's cock straining against his shorts while it leaks precum, forming a wet spot. Cute whimpers and moans slipping out of his lips as you pinch his nipples. Subby Ohyul is the best.
PRAISING : Just imagine his voice talking to you as his cock sinks deep inside your pussy. Groaning out words like “Baby, you’re doing so well f’me…” or “That’s it, fuck- you feel amazing.” He knows how his words get you soaking wet and how they make you fall apart in his arms. Whining and pathetically choking out his name while he keeps complimenting how good you’re taking him.
MIRROR SEX : You two would just be on the edge of the bed in front of a mirror while you were sitting on his lap. Ohyul’s arms would be hooked under the back of your knees, forcing them up so he can see every lewd sight that is visible on the mirror. He likes it when he can see how deep his cock goes when he buries it inside your soaking pussy. Your head would fall back against his shoulder whenever he hits a specific sensitive spot, peppering your neck with kisses while asking you, “Am I doing good? Doesn’t my dick make you feel so good y/n?” in that naughty but sweet voice.
GRINDING : He absolutely loves it when your ass brushes against his groin on purpose. Grinding your clothed folds teasingly, it makes him instantly hard, his cock straining against his boxers and pants. So hard it almost feels like the cloth was cutting through his skin. His bulge getting embarrassingly larger and more noticeable as you rub your cunt against it. The friction would make a wet spot on gray sweats, pre-cum seeping through the fabric. Ohyul tends to get really vocal whenever he’s needy so he’d bite the bottom of those pink lips of his, trying to keep those embarrassing desperate and vulnerable sounds in him.
📬 ❤︎ ot5 𝔁 6th member!fem!reader ─── ৻ꪆ every time the clock strikes 11:30 pm, you all sit down for some girl talk.
❤︎ warnings+tags ─── ৻ꪆ jamesyn established relationship <3
💌 ❤︎ notes ─── ৻ꪆ these cuties bruhhhh
❤︎ wc ─── ৻ꪆ 2.2k
𝄞 𓏸 my cortispilledmasterlist »﹙合﹚
❝ tracklist ❞ ─── our summer—txt ❦ tfw—enha ❦ lucky to be loved—tws ❦ drama—aespa ❦ off the record—ive ❦ you were beautiful—day6
every single night, without fail, after the grueling practice schedules, the long showers, and approximately seventeen near-death experiences caused by seonghyeon and keonho being left unsupervised together, the six of you would inevitably gather in the living room. it had become an actual routine; an unspoken rule you’d followed starting at 11:30 pm every night: ‘girl talk time,’ you’d collectively named it, despite the glaring biological fact that only one girl was present in the group. the first time someone pointed that out, james had simply shrugged his shoulders and said, ‘girl talk is a state of mind.’ nobody had questioned it since.
☆
tonight, the room was a canvas of comfortable chaos, everyone scattered around the floor. martin was making hot chocolate. juhoon was folded inside a blanket burrito. keonho was upside down on the sofa for reasons nobody understood. james was sitting beside you, one arm around your waist. you were painting the nails of his other hand a shade that matched yours. seonghyeon was dramatically sighing, which usually meant he had gossip.
“what happened?” martin made the mistake of asking.
immediately he sat up. “oh my god.”
the room collectively perked up like hungry wolves.
“what?”
“what happened.”
“tell us.”
“i walked into studio 7b today,” he started slowly.
“damn.”
the reactions came immediately.
“no way.”
“again?”
“not 7b, damnnn.”
seonghyeon pointed dramatically into the air. “i saw two of our sunbaes holding hands.”
the room exploded.
“who?”
“who?”
“drop the names.”
“i’m not naming names.”
“booooo.”
“boring.”
“you suck, eom.”
“...fine! one of them was niki hyung.”
“i knew it!”
“let’s get it, hyung!”
james grabbed a cushion to settle in, shifting you so that you were in a more comfortable position against him. “continue.”
the next hour consisted entirely of tea—company tea, friend group tea, just about anything.
“i saw one of the new trainees get rejected and she immediately called and told three different people saying she was ‘too busy to date anyway.’”
the room screamed.
“no!”
“dude, that’s hella embarrassing.”
“that’s insane, damn.”
then martin contributed—”i heard one of the dance instructors accidentally called one of the idols by their ex’s name.”
the room nearly collapsed under the weight of the collective uproar. keonho literally rolled off the sofa onto the hardwood floor. you couldn’t breathe from laughing.
“no.”
“no way!”
“oh my god, actually?!”
meanwhile james was crying, or laughing, or both, into your shoulder, his whole body shaking with amusement.
☆
other days, inevitably, the conversation shifted like it always did. from gossip, to life, to feelings, to whatever happened to be bothering someone. tonight the focus was you, because you were curled up under a blanket looking miserable. james noticed first. his hand immediately found yours under the fabric.
“you okay?”
you groaned. “no.”
“what happened?”
“my period.”
instant sympathy radiated from all five boys around you. every single one of them immediately looked concerned, shifting the collective atmosphere instantly. even after knowing about it for so long, they still reacted like you’d been diagnosed with something terminal.
“bad?” juhoon asked slowly.
“so bad.”
“how bad?” seonghyeon chimed in.
“imagine somebody put barbed wire around your organs.”
the room collectively winced and ‘ooof’d.
“and twisted it constantly. again and again.”
“oh.”
“and then ripped it out all at once.”
“what the fuck.”
“and repeat it for a week.”
“that’s actually horrible, what the fuck?”
“every month.”
james looked genuinely upset, pulling you a little closer. “baby.”
“i’m fine,” you muttered.
“you don’t sound fine.” martin nudged your leg with his.
“okay, whatever. i’m not. this world sucks. cramps suck. schedules suck. everything except you guys just sucks.”
the thing was—the boys had spent years learning. not because they had to. because they wanted to. at first they’d been clueless. absolutely hopeless.
now? martin already got up to make your favourite tea. juhoon was looking for heating pads. james was trying his best to gently massage your lower back. keonho was googling foods that helped cramps. seonghyeon looked personally offended at your uterus.
“this is ridiculous,” he said suddenly.
you laughed. “what is?”
“the female body. why does everything hurt you guys?”
“that’s your conclusion and question?”
“yes.”
“you train twelve hours a day and this is what you find unfair?” you laughed.
“absolutely!”
twenty minutes later, you were laying across the sofa with your head in james’ lap, and heating pad on your stomach. the boys surrounded you, just listening to you talk.
“wait,” juhoon interrupted slowly. “so it just hurts for no reason?”
“basically.”
“52 weeks every year?”
“yep.”
the room became silent.
“that's awful.”
“thank you.”
“women are stronger than soldiers. i’d pick military service over even a fraction of what you’re going through any day.”
the rest of them nodded seriously.
“you’re all ridiculous,” you burst out laughing.
☆
another night, it would be completely different, because somebody else would need help. like the time keonho developed a crush, and unfortunately made the mistake of admitting it in front of all of you. the room immediately transformed into an interrogation room.
“who is she?”
“what’s her name?”
“when do james and yn meet her parents?”
“when did this happen?”
keonho looked terrified while you looked absolutely delighted.
“oh we’re doing this?” you grinned, cracking your knuckles.
“we’re doing this.” james high-fived you.
three hours later, the boys were still asking questions, treating your answers like divine knowledge—drifting from keonho’s crush to girls, in general.
“what does it mean if she sends heart emojis?”
“it depends.”
“on what?”
“everything.”
“yn.”
“bro, i’m serious.”
“no wonder we’re confused.”
then, keonho asked the question of the century, “what’s the difference between the red heart and any other coloured heart?”
you nearly choked as the room froze.
“why do you all want to know the emoji differences?”
“because we’re trying to survive. the world is cruel to hopeless boys like us.”
“well, the red heart means she doesn’t really care enough to go through the trouble of finding a different coloured heart, or she just likes the original emoji.”
“that doesn’t help in the slightest.”
“ok, so you want me to stop?—”
“no! go on.”
“what’s the black heart for?” seonghyeon asked curiously.
“she probably hates you, dude,” keonho said helpfully.
“or maybe she’s just a little emo?” martin offered.
☆
the best part was that nobody made fun of anyone, not when it mattered, because somehow those late-night conversations had become the safest place in the dorm—where james asked questions he’d never ask anyone else; where juhoon talked about feeling overwhelmed; where martin admitted he worried too much; where seonghyeon confessed he hated disappointing people; where keonho admitted he got insecure sometimes, and where you could complain about cramps, bad days, weird friendships, awkward situations, and literally anything without being judged. the conversations always started with gossip, and ended with something softer… something important.
☆
the first sign that something was wrong on another night was the fact that the dorm was suspiciously quiet for nine pm. you stood in the kitchen doorway, staring at the five boys sitting around the living room—no video games. no screaming. no martin and seonghyeon arguing over absolutely nothing, just five pairs of eyes looking at you.
“…why are you all looking at me like that?”
martin immediately sat up straighter. “yn.”
“no.”
“i haven’t even asked yet.”
“no.”
“please?”
“no.”
keonho gasped dramatically. “she knows.”
“she always knows,” juhoon sighed.
you narrowed your eyes. “what do you guys want?”
the boys exchanged looks. then james finally blurted out, “they need help. more girl talk.”
you blinked twice. “...what?”
“girl talk,” seonghyeon repeated seriously.
“why? it’s still 9 pm. we have two more hours left.”
“well…”
“why are you asking me right now?”
“because you’re a girl.”
you stared. the boys stared back. you stared harder.
“that’s the stupidest thing i’ve ever heard.”
“please,” juhoon said. “we’re struggling.”
“struggling with what?”
“women.”
immediately you turned around. “nope.”
“yn!”
“good luck.”
“yn!”
ten minutes later you were trapped—literally trapped. they’d dragged every cushion and beanbag into the living room and formed what looked like a hostage negotiation circle. you sat in the middle, the boys surrounding you like a group of kindergarten students.
“okay,” you sighed. “what exactly do you need?”
four hands shot up. james sat calmly beside you, his hand gravitating to your waist.
“oh my god.”
“me first,” keonho yelled.
“no.”
“me,” seonghyeon interrupted.
“no.”
“me!” juhoon tried, letting go of his fake nonchalance.
“no.”
martin raised his hand politely. you pointed at him. “yes.”
“sometimes girls say they’re fine.”
“yes.”
“but they’re not fine.”
“yes.”
“how do you know?”
the others immediately nodded, hanging onto your every word.
“a very important question,” one of them added.
“groundbreaking research,” another said.
you rubbed your temples. “okay. usually you can tell from the tone.”
“so if she says she’s fine?”
“mhm.”
“she isn’t fine?”
“exactly.”
“...but she said she was.”
“yes.”
“so she’s not?”
“correct.”
all four boys looked absolutely horrified. “that makes no sense.”
“it makes perfect sense.”
“it literally doesn’t.”
“martin,” you said, turning to look at him. “imagine james says he’s over losing a game of league.”
james immediately scoffed. “baby, i’m always over it.”
“you cried over mario kart two days ago, by the way,” juhoon pointed out helpfully.
“that was different.”
martin’s eyes widened as the realization hit the room.
“oh.”
“ohh.”
“ohhhhh.”
twenty minutes later, the questions somehow got worse.
“what’s the difference between cute and handsome?”
“depends.”
“on what?”
“everything.”
“that’s not an answer.”
“it is.”
“it absolutely isn’t.”
juhoon leaned forward. “okay, okay. if a girl says your outfit is cute.”
“good. but also, which blind girl called your skinny jeans cute?”
“shut up. what if she says you’re handsome?”
“also good, obviously.”
“if she says you’re funny?”
“good. even better.”
“if she says you’re annoying?” the entire group looked at seonghyeon.
you immediately burst out laughing. “why are you all looking at him?”
“because it happens a lot,” martin answered.
“very frequently.”
“almost daily.”
seonghyeon looked deeply offended. “i have fans, okay?”
“you annoy them affectionately,” james clarified.
an hour later, the conversation had completely derailed into late-night… somethings.
“would you rather date someone funny or handsome?” one of them asked.
“funny,” you replied without hesitation
the boys froze.
“what?”
“funny.”
“not handsome?”
“i didn’t say not handsome.”
“then why funny?”
“because if someone’s funny, i can look at them forever.”
the room became suspiciously silent. you looked up from your spot. they were all sitting straighter.
“stop.”
“no one said anything.”
“you’re all thinking something.”
“no.”
“yes.”
“no.”
“yes.”
“no.”
james literally pulled out his notes app, his fingers tapping on the screen. “funny.”
“james, oh my god.” you hid your face in your hands.
“ok, but james is unfunny and ugly. what gives, yn?”
“shut up.”
then somehow the conversation shifted to crushes. you made a mistake—a terrible, catastrophic mistake. because the moment you casually mentioned that most girls usually remember tiny details about people they like, they all exploded again.
“what tiny details?”
“everything.”
“be specific.”
“like favourite drinks, favourite colours, things they mention once—”
they all looked terrified, staring at you like you were a different species. “once?”
“yes.”
“one time?”
“yes.”
“yn.”
“hmm?”
“women are scary.”
“thank you.”
by midnight the boys had learned absolutely nothing, or maybe too much. you couldn’t tell.
they were all sprawled around the living room floor, half asleep. you were resting against the sofa. juhoon was under a blanket. james was lying face-down on the carpet. martin and keonho were arguing quietly in the corner. seonghyeon was sitting beside you. the atmosphere was warm, comfortable, home.
then juhoon suddenly spoke into the quiet room. “can i ask one last question?”
“sure.”
“do girls actually like flowers?”
“of course.”
the boys nodded thoughtfully.
“okay.”
“noted.”
“good information.”
“useful.”
then keonho looked over, his expression serious. “what do girls like most?”
you thought for a second, looking at their tired faces, then smiled. “honestly?”
“yeah.”
“being listened to.”
the room went completely quiet.
“that’s it?”
“pretty much.”
“no secret formula?”
“no.”
“no cheat code?”
“no.”
“no complicated mission?”
“not really, no.”
the boys exchanged looks. then seonghyeon groaned dramatically from his spot. “that’s so much harder.”
you laughed so hard you nearly fell off the sofa, and within seconds the others were laughing too. the sound filled the corners of the messy dorm—loud, chaotic, and comfortable, exactly like every night with your five extremely stupid, extremely lovable boys.
☆
one night, long after everyone should’ve been asleep, you found yourself looking around the room. five sleepy boys. half under blankets, half asleep, still listening to each other, still talking.
james was tracing circles against your hand absentmindedly, martin was yawning, juhoon was asleep sitting up, and keonho was using seonghyeon as a pillow. nobody wanted to go to bed and break the spell of the evening.
“this is probably my favourite part of being in cortis.” you smiled.
the room grew quiet. james looked down at you.
“the fame?”
“no.”
“the money?”
“no.”
“then what?”
you looked around the living room, at your family, at your idiots, and smiled. “just… you guys.”
james kissed the top of your head while the others grinned half-asleep like they’d just won an award. and honestly? maybe they had.
because not everyone got five best friends who wanted to understand every little part of your world—even the parts they’d never experience themselves. and somehow, every night, squeezed together in a messy dorm living room, they made sure you never had to carry any of it alone.
˖ ࣪⊹ SUMMARY: Basically you and James having fun in the plane’s bathroom lol.
˖ ࣪⊹ CONTENT: MDNIII, oral, fem!receiving, nose play?, make out session, risk of getting caught, hooking up in the plane’s restroom, hidden relationship.
˖ ࣪⊹ A/N: Live, love, laugh JAMESS. I swear this man is unfairly attractive like genuinely it’s actually RIDICULOUS. But anyway, I had so much fun writing this, like I always do so yeahhh. I hope you guys will enjoy it !!
Masterlist
-22.06.2026
-Fashion week in Paris
After a layover in Doha, you boarded another plane and as Cortis’s stylist, you had to travel with them a lot. You loved your job so much. Working with major brands and well known people was something you never took for granted.
But right now there were still five hours left before landing and it was late. The small lights scattered across the plane’s ceiling, glowing softly while most passengers were sleeping quietly or watching movies.
You could feel sleep slowly catching up to you, but first a quick to the bathroom was necessary cause after eating an entire curry chicken meal you had to freshen up.
You quietly walked down the aisle and made your way to the restroom, opening the door quietly before steeping inside and started brushing your teeth, gently applying some skincare and thinking about all the new food you’ll try in Paris, when you suddenly heard a light knock.
Had you been in there too long ? Was a flight attendant waiting for you to hurry up?
You unlocked the door and pulled it open, only to freeze in surprise seeing James slipping inside and gently grabbing your waist, causing you to let a little gasp out.
“James—what the hell?” You whispered.
The two of you had always shared the kind of relationship that needed to stay hidden. So being together in the tiny airplane restroom was such a terrible idea. Getting caught by a flight attendant would be embarrassing enough, so getting caught by his managers would be a total disaster.
You took a look at him before he locked the door behind him and turning back to you.
“I just miss my girl” he said softly.
You rolled your eyes even though the little smile on your face completely betrayed you. And that’s when you noticed his face properly.
The blond suited him way more than you expected, under the soft bathroom light, the lighter strands framed his face perfectly and combined with his tired eye. After hours of traveling, the air gave him a different kind of charm. He looked exhausted but somehow it only made him look softer.
“Baby, can’t you wait till we land?” You whispered.
He chuckled softly, running his hand through your hair gently.
“I don’t want to” he replied in the shell of your ear. “And I know you want it too.”
His voice made you shiver and for a moment neither of you said anything, his face scanned yours before cupping your cheek gently and bringing your lips to his in a slow kiss.
He pressed you against the wall, kissing you senselessly, his tongue gently brushing against yours while his hand traveled all over your body, and finding the curve of your hip.
You did everything in your power to regain your senses by pulling back but it was too hard, his soft lips couldn’t detach from yours and it felt too good to pull away anyway.
“James—the flying attendant will come if we take too much time, we should get ou—“
James’s mouth was on you again, letting your words fly into the air, his lips merged with yours, causing you to grab his hairs and pulling him closer to you.
He detached himself from you, only to sink down on his knees. You looked down at him, then at the door but the temptation was too high at this point.
“Can i…?” He asked gently, his large hands resting on your legs, waiting patiently for your permission.
“Fuck yeah…” you whimpered, before he slid off your pants and underwear to your knees.
He started peppering hot kisses along your inner thighs, building the heat… till his tongue met your fold, gently licking the outline of it, enough to tease you. Your fingers quickly flew into his blonde hair when he finally started his delicious ministration. His tongue lapping at your pearl feverishly, circling it with the perfect amount of pressure.
“James—” you tried to be as silent as you could but it was hard when his tongue was buried inside of you, making sure your feeling his wet muscle. Even his nose shimmed in, swapping over your clit.. he couldn’t stop looking at you and the way your cheeks flushed hard and lips parted.
“keep going…rub that pussy on my nose baby.”
Your hips shifted forward, making slow movement agaisnt his nose, adding the perfect amount of pressure agaisnt it.
“James—mphh!”
“Fuck, you taste so good baby…” he whimpered agaisnt you. “Spread your legs a little wider for me, yeah?” At his words, you felt his delicate hands pull your legs a little apart, making sure his tongue gets every inch of you.
You looked down at him and shit the sigh of him and those little breathes and whimpered he made, only turned you more and made your fold throbs pathetically hard, it was almost embarrassing, and fuck…he felt it on his tongue, causing him to look up at you with a cracked smirk.
Your legs were about to pass out at this point, you could feel them shaking gently, and that bundle of heat growing by each lick, ready to explode at any moment.
“Fuck—fuck James I’m gonna—”
“Let it out, my love” he mumbled agaisnt you, and It took you some poor seconds for you to reach your highs. Your head was thrown back agaisnt the cabin, mouth wide open, legs shaking looped over his shoulder.
He pulled away from you, causing you to already miss the feeling of his mouth on you. Your eyes immediately caught James’s lips and chin that were coated with wetness.
he smiled and gently gave your thighs a light kiss before bringing some tissue to clean you up.
Afterward, his hands caressed your cheek, bringing his wet lips to yours, kissing you slowly, letting you taste yourself on his tongue, feeling still completely dizzy with pleasure.
“That was good…but we’re not doing that on a plane again okay?” You said softly while pulling back your pants on.
“Can’t promise.” He joked before planting a last kiss on your cheek. “I’ll go first and we’ll talk later okay?”
You nodded, “yeah sure”
Luckily there was no one around at that moment. James went back to his assigned seat and you sneakily went back to yours. You were freshen up and indeed satisfied in more way than one.
˖ ࣪⊹ SUMMARY: Basically you and James having fun in the plane’s bathroom lol.
˖ ࣪⊹ CONTENT: MDNIII, oral, fem!receiving, nose play?, make out session, risk of getting caught, hooking up in the plane’s restroom, hidden relationship.
˖ ࣪⊹ A/N: Live, love, laugh JAMESS. I swear this man is unfairly attractive like genuinely it’s actually RIDICULOUS. But anyway, I had so much fun writing this, like I always do so yeahhh. I hope you guys will enjoy it !!
Masterlist
-22.06.2026
-Fashion week in Paris
After a layover in Doha, you boarded another plane and as Cortis’s stylist, you had to travel with them a lot. You loved your job so much. Working with major brands and well known people was something you never took for granted.
But right now there were still five hours left before landing and it was late. The small lights scattered across the plane’s ceiling, glowing softly while most passengers were sleeping quietly or watching movies.
You could feel sleep slowly catching up to you, but first a quick to the bathroom was necessary cause after eating an entire curry chicken meal you had to freshen up.
You quietly walked down the aisle and made your way to the restroom, opening the door quietly before steeping inside and started brushing your teeth, gently applying some skincare and thinking about all the new food you’ll try in Paris, when you suddenly heard a light knock.
Had you been in there too long ? Was a flight attendant waiting for you to hurry up?
You unlocked the door and pulled it open, only to freeze in surprise seeing James slipping inside and gently grabbing your waist, causing you to let a little gasp out.
“James—what the hell?” You whispered.
The two of you had always shared the kind of relationship that needed to stay hidden. So being together in the tiny airplane restroom was such a terrible idea. Getting caught by a flight attendant would be embarrassing enough, so getting caught by his managers would be a total disaster.
You took a look at him before he locked the door behind him and turning back to you.
“I just miss my girl” he said softly.
You rolled your eyes even though the little smile on your face completely betrayed you. And that’s when you noticed his face properly.
The blond suited him way more than you expected, under the soft bathroom light, the lighter strands framed his face perfectly and combined with his tired eye. After hours of traveling, the air gave him a different kind of charm. He looked exhausted but somehow it only made him look softer.
“Baby, can’t you wait till we land?” You whispered.
He chuckled softly, running his hand through your hair gently.
“I don’t want to” he replied in the shell of your ear. “And I know you want it too.”
His voice made you shiver and for a moment neither of you said anything, his face scanned yours before cupping your cheek gently and bringing your lips to his in a slow kiss.
He pressed you against the wall, kissing you senselessly, his tongue gently brushing against yours while his hand traveled all over your body, and finding the curve of your hip.
You did everything in your power to regain your senses by pulling back but it was too hard, his soft lips couldn’t detach from yours and it felt too good to pull away anyway.
“James—the flying attendant will come if we take too much time, we should get ou—“
James’s mouth was on you again, letting your words fly into the air, his lips merged with yours, causing you to grab his hairs and pulling him closer to you.
He detached himself from you, only to sink down on his knees. You looked down at him, then at the door but the temptation was too high at this point.
“Can i…?” He asked gently, his large hands resting on your legs, waiting patiently for your permission.
“Fuck yeah…” you whimpered, before he slid off your pants and underwear to your knees.
He started peppering hot kisses along your inner thighs, building the heat… till his tongue met your fold, gently licking the outline of it, enough to tease you. Your fingers quickly flew into his blonde hair when he finally started his delicious ministration. His tongue lapping at your pearl feverishly, circling it with the perfect amount of pressure.
“James—” you tried to be as silent as you could but it was hard when his tongue was buried inside of you, making sure your feeling his wet muscle. Even his nose shimmed in, swapping over your clit.. he couldn’t stop looking at you and the way your cheeks flushed hard and lips parted.
“keep going…rub that pussy on my nose baby.”
Your hips shifted forward, making slow movement agaisnt his nose, adding the perfect amount of pressure agaisnt it.
“James—mphh!”
“Fuck, you taste so good baby…” he whimpered agaisnt you. “Spread your legs a little wider for me, yeah?” At his words, you felt his delicate hands pull your legs a little apart, making sure his tongue gets every inch of you.
You looked down at him and shit the sigh of him and those little breathes and whimpered he made, only turned you more and made your fold throbs pathetically hard, it was almost embarrassing, and fuck…he felt it on his tongue, causing him to look up at you with a cracked smirk.
Your legs were about to pass out at this point, you could feel them shaking gently, and that bundle of heat growing by each lick, ready to explode at any moment.
“Fuck—fuck James I’m gonna—”
“Let it out, my love” he mumbled agaisnt you, and It took you some poor seconds for you to reach your highs. Your head was thrown back agaisnt the cabin, mouth wide open, legs shaking looped over his shoulder.
He pulled away from you, causing you to already miss the feeling of his mouth on you. Your eyes immediately caught James’s lips and chin that were coated with wetness.
he smiled and gently gave your thighs a light kiss before bringing some tissue to clean you up.
Afterward, his hands caressed your cheek, bringing his wet lips to yours, kissing you slowly, letting you taste yourself on his tongue, feeling still completely dizzy with pleasure.
“That was good…but we’re not doing that on a plane again okay?” You said softly while pulling back your pants on.
“Can’t promise.” He joked before planting a last kiss on your cheek. “I’ll go first and we’ll talk later okay?”
You nodded, “yeah sure”
Luckily there was no one around at that moment. James went back to his assigned seat and you sneakily went back to yours. You were freshen up and indeed satisfied in more way than one.
📬 ❤︎ james 𝔁 sixth member!gf!reader ─── ৻ꪆ visiting france for paris fashion week as cortis.
❤︎ warnings+tags ─── ৻ꪆ kissing, my ass french from high school bc that’s all i remember and i don’t trust google translate sooo if there’s any mistakes, pls correct me <3, all six of them are ambassadors for plot purposes (maknaes+jju for dior, prodz+yn for ysl), mild swearing, nicknames (!!!!!!)
💌 ❤︎ notes ─── ৻ꪆ pretty boys pmo. anyway, enjoy 😁 (also, no coloured text for a while bc i wrote this otw to 🇸🇬 (if any of you 👀 are from sg 👀 hmu for good spots to eat and hangout pls 👀) and i also don’t have my laptop to edit 😭 but wtv. james fic deserves to be posted no matter what 🫶) also this is canon bc i am NEVERRR paying extra for stuff i can haggle for i’ve learn enough french for THAT at least 😽
❤︎ wc ─── ৻ꪆ 4.8k
𝄞 𓏸 my cortispilledmasterlist »﹙合﹚
❝ tracklist ❞ ─── taste—skz ❦ guilty—taemin ❦ back for more—txt ❦ darling—d.o ❦ love lee—akmu ❦ snooza—sza
the energy in the french taxi was exactly what you’d expect from packing six idols into an oversised van: chaotic, loud, and entirely unbothered by the jet lag.
martin was pressed against the window, trying to take aesthetic 0.5x photos of the passing parisian streets but mostly just capturing juhoon’s reflective forehead. keonho and seonghyeon were locked in an intense, whispered debate about whether french mcdonald’s tasted superior to korean mcdonald’s, while james had his arm draped casually over the back of your seat, his thumb lightly tracing patterns on your shoulder.
“guys, wait,” you said, leaning forward to tap the driver’s shoulder. you pulled up a pin on your maps. “excusez-moi, monsieur, est-ce qu’on pourrait s’arrêter ici, s’il vous plaît?” (excuse me, sir, could we stop here, please?)
the driver blinked, surprised, but nodded with a warm “bien sûr, mademoiselle,” pulling the van up to the curb of a quiet, picturesque side street.
“what are we doing?” juhoon asked, blinking at the charming, ivy-draped storefront.
“brunch,” you announced, sliding out of the van. “an online friend of mine swore this place has the best pastries in the city. since we’ll be separated for fittings tomorrow, we eat together today.”
the cafe was tiny, smelling heavily of espresso, melted butter, and fresh baking. because it was tucked away from the main tourist hubs, it was relatively quiet. you led the boys to a long wooden table in the back. when the young waitress walked over with a notepad, the boys collectively froze, suddenly realising none of them actually spoke french. martin opened his mouth to try some english, but you beat him to it.
you looked up at the waitress who seemed to be younger than you. “bonjour! nous aimerions commander, s’il te plaît. pour commencer, un panier de viennoiseries, trois cafés au lait, deux expressos, et un thé vert.”
you slid seamlessly into fluent, melodic french, customising the boys’ orders from memory—making sure keonho got his extra shot of espresso and juhoon’s pastry didn’t have nuts.
the waitress’ eyes lit up, a brilliant smile instantly breaking across her face. she practically beamed, replying to you in rapid, delighted french, gesturing with her hands, clearly charmed by your perfect accent and polite demeanor. you laughed softly at something she said, nodding as you finished up the order. “merci beaucoup!”
when you turned back to the table, the boys were staring at you like you’d just grown a second head.
“woah,” seonghyeon muttered, lowering his menu. “since when do you speak french like a local?”
“five years in middle and high school, dude. i graduated unlike you guys, you know,” you said playfully, flipping your hair. while the others were busy hyping you up and digging into the bread basket that arrived moments later, james hadn’t said a single word. you looked over at him—he was leaning back in his chair, his jaw slightly slack, staring at you with an expression that was pure, unfiltered adoration. his eyes were dark, a tiny, helpless smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.
you leaned in close to his ear. “earth to james. you’re staring.”
“can you blame me?” he whispered back, his voice suddenly dropping an octave as he leaned into your space. “french? seriously? you’re trying to kill me before fashion week even starts. that was genuinely so hot.”
you bit your lip to hide a smile, your heart doing a familiar flutter. even though you’d been dating for a while now, the way he looked at you—like you were the only person in the room—never failed to make your stomach flip.
while the two of you shared quiet, stolen glances, the rest of the table devolved into standard teenage boy antics. martin and juhoon were trying to see who could catch a piece of croissant in their mouth from across the table—juhoon missed, and it hit keonho in the eye—while seonghyeon was busy recording a vlog, narrating the “elegance of paris” while holding up a half-eaten pain au chocolat like a trophy.
once brunch was done, the cafe owner kindly let you all slip out through the private back exit to avoid the few paparazzi who had caught wind of your location at the front.
the back alleyway, however, was a literal goldmine. it was a classic, sunlit parisian stone lane, completely empty and dripping with old-money aesthetic.
“photoshoot time,” martin declared, immediately whipping out his phone.
everyone took turns posing against the rustic brick walls. the dior boys—juhoon, keonho, and seonghyeon—were already serving model poses, looking effortless.
but then james stepped up, and your breath hitched. because of the afternoon warmth, he had shed his heavy jacket. he was currently standing in a tight white tank top, an olive green flannel thrown over it entirely unbuttoned, hanging loosely off his broad shoulders. he shifted his weight, hands dipping into his loose-fitting cargo pants—and the slight movement caused the distinct waistband of his calvin klein boxers to peek out just above his waistline.
he caught you staring, giving you a lazy, devastating smirk as the sunlight hit his jawline.
“oh my god, you’re crazy,” you muttered under your breath, instantly raising your phone. “stay right there. bitch, do not move.” you went into full photographer mode, completely losing your mind behind the camera. “james, look down. now look at me. yeah, just like that. wow, okay, the lighting is actually insane. fuck off, pretty boy.”
he leaned back against a green metal doorway, tilting his head up, looking incredibly relaxed, effortless, and ridiculously attractive. you took shot after shot, your fingers flying across the screen. you knew the fans would absolutely lose their minds if they ever saw these.
you lowered the phone for a second, looking at the preview, then glared at him playfully. you stepped closer, lowering your voice so only he could hear. “if you post these to let coers see, i’m not kissing you for a whole day. i mean it.”
james let out a low chuckle, his eyes crinkling at the corners. he didn’t hesitate even for a fraction of a second. “yes, princess,” he murmured.
before you could even process the nickname, he reached out, caught you by the waist, and pulled you flush against his chest. in broad daylight, right there in the middle of the alleyway, he tilted your chin up and planted a firm, lingering kiss right on your lips.
“oh, come on!” martin groaned loudly from behind you.
“my eyes! i am a dior ambassador, i shouldn’t have to witness this cruelty!” juhoon yelled, dramatically covering his face.
keonho and seonghyeon were loudly fake-gagging, leaning against each other for support and making exaggerated retching noises.
you flushed red, pulling back and swatting james’ chest, though you couldn’t stop the grin on your face. thank god no one else was around—your relationship was the biggest secret in the industry, kept strictly between the six of you. if anyone else had been in that alley, the internet would have broken, but with your members, it was just another tuesday of them pretending to be disgusted by your affection.
eventually, you all piled back into a new taxi, laughing and teasing each other the whole way to the hotel.
when you finally arrived at the luxury suite, the atmosphere shifted from chaotic teens to high-fashion professionals.
waiting in the center of the living area were two massive, elegant clothing racks, strictly divided. on one side stood the sleek, sharp, and rebellious tailoring of ysl. on the other, the structured, elegant, and timeless silhouettes of dior.
you, james, and martin walked toward the ysl rack, while juhoon, keonho, and seonghyeon gathered around the dior pieces. the staff had left the garment bags unzipped, revealing the custom pieces chosen for the upcoming shows.
you ran a hand down the sleek, cool fabric of your outfit, and your jaw completely dropped. “damn…”
“wait, hold on,” martin said, peeking over your shoulder at the rack before looking down at his own garment bag. “are you and james... matching?”
you pulled the protective layer fully down, and a collective gasp went up from the other side of the room.
it was stunning. the staff had gone for a sharp, high-contrast black and metallic silver color palette for the two of you. your outfit was the definition of a breathtaking masterpiece that perfectly balanced edgy rock-and-roll rebellion with elegance. it clung in all the right places, featuring shimmering silver hardware accents that caught the hotel suite’s chandelier light, paired with a silhouette so sleek it felt almost dangerous.
right next to it hung james’ look. it was equally jaw-dropping: a beautifully tailored, razor-sharp black blazer with subtle metallic silver threading woven seamlessly into the fabric, designed to be worn over a sheer, dark silk shirt that left just enough to the imagination. together, the two outfits looked like they belonged in a museum, or a power-couple editorial.
“alright, personal cortis fashion show starts now,” keonho announced, grabbing his suit and heading toward one of the luxury bathrooms.
james and you grabbed your respective garment bags and headed toward the changing area in the main room, where heavy, floor-to-ceiling velvet curtains had been set up for privacy.
“don’t peek,” you teased, sliding behind your curtain.
“wouldn’t dream of it, my love,” james’ deep voice echoed from behind the curtain right next to yours.
for the next ten minutes, the suite was filled with the rustle of expensive fabric, the zipping of boots, and the occasional grunt from juhoon trying to figure out a complicated belt. you stepped into your shoes, adjusted the silver details of your dress, and took a deep breath. looking in the mirror, you looked completely transformed.
you wrapped your hand around the velvet curtain and pulled it open, stepping out into the center of the spacious suite at the exact same moment james parted his.
and right there, time completely stopped.
the background noise of the other boys faded into pure silence. you just stood there, frozen, staring at him. james looked... unreal. the sharp tailoring of the silver-threaded blazer emphasized his broad shoulders perfectly, and the subtle glimpse of skin beneath the dark silk shirt was devastating. he looked like a literal prince of the night—he reminded you of cardan greenbriar, a faerie from one of your favourite books.
but if you were staring, james was completely melting. his eyes locked onto you, tracing the line of your dress, his breath hitching audibly. the lazy, confident smirk he usually wore was completely gone, replaced by a look of pure, breathless awe. for a solid ten seconds, neither of you moved. you just drowned in each other’s gaze, the sheer intensity of the look making your knees go weak.
slowly, as if pulled by an invisible magnetic force, you both started walking toward each other, meeting right in the center of the grand suite.
“you look…” james started, his voice thick and rough, but he couldn’t even finish the sentence. he didn’t need to. the look in his eyes said everything.
“you don’t look too bad yourself,” you whispered, your heart hammering against your ribs.
he didn’t waste another second. he reached out, his large hand wrapping firmly around your waist, his fingers digging into the expensive fabric of your dress as he pulled you closer. he leaned down, his lips finding yours in a kiss that instantly made your head spin.
it wasn’t like the quick, stolen kiss in the alleyway. this was slow, heavy, and all-consuming. your hands flew up to his chest, clutching at the lapels of his blazer, pulling him even closer as the kiss deepened and the world completely dissolved. you tilted your head, losing yourself in the rhythm of his lips, your senses overwhelmed by the faint scent of his cologne and the warmth of his skin. he shifted his grip, his other hand coming up to cup your jawline, his thumb tracing your cheekbone.
you lost track of how long you were standing there, completely wrapped up in each other, getting closer and closer until there was absolutely no space left between you.
whoosh. the sound of velvet rings sliding across a metal pole echoed through the room. martin stepped out from his changing curtain, completely dressed in his custom ysl look, adjusting his cuffs. “hey guys, do you think this jacket is too—”
he stopped dead in his tracks. he stared at the two of you—tangling together, completely ignoring the rest of the world, thoroughly making out in high-fashion matching outfits.
martin didn’t say a single word. he didn’t even sigh. with an expression of pure, unadulterated exhaustion, he slowly reached back out, grabbed his curtain, and pulled it shut again, disappearing back into his little velvet cave to question his life choices.
you felt the vibration of a chuckle rumble in james’ chest against yours, but he didn’t care. he literally did not give a single shit about martin walking in. instead of pulling away, he just leaned into the kiss even more, his lips pressing softer, sweeter against yours, grounding you in the moment.
he finally broke the kiss just an inch, his forehead resting against yours, both of you breathing heavily. his hands stayed firmly anchored on your waist, refusing to let you go.
“we are going to ruin everyone’s career at the show tomorrow,” he murmured against your lips, a low, breathy smile in his voice as his thumbs stroked your hips. “but right now? i don’t ever want to let you out of this room.”
it took an embarrassing amount of willpower to finally break away, especially with martin still aggressively clearing his throat from behind his curtain.
reluctantly, you both changed back into your regular, comfortable clothes—oversized hoodies, relaxed jeans, and soft beanies. the glamour was packed away into bags, but the lingering warmth between you and james remained. while the rest of the boys decided to crash on the giant suite beds to finally let the jet lag win, you and james slipped out of the hotel, completely under the radar.
you caught a metro down to a bustling, sprawling marché aux puces, a massive, historic parisian flea market that felt a million miles away from the sterile luxury of fashion week. it was a vibrant labyrinth of crowded stalls, overflowing with vintage clothes, antique books, and handmade trinkets.
you stopped at a small, rustic stall overflowing with silver bracelets, beaded necklaces, and beautiful rings. the vendor, an older man with a cigarette tucked behind his ear, gave you a look that clearly screamed ‘clueless tourists.’ he threw out an incredibly inflated price for a delicate silver bracelet you were eyeing.
james pulled out his wallet, already prepared to pay whatever, but you gently tapped his hand down.
you turned to the vendor, a sharp, playful glint in your eyes. slouching your posture just a bit, you dropped the polite, textbook french you had used at brunch and dove straight into the fast, slang-heavy, informal street french you’d picked up from listening to local podcasts and rap music.
“ah non, oula, c’est grave cher là, monsieur,” you said, throwing around casual fillers with an effortless, local cadence. “franchement, le truc est beau, mais ça vaut pas tout ça. faites-moi un petit prix, s’il vous plaît? on est entre nous.” (no, wow, that’s very expensive. honestly, it’s pretty, but it’s not worth all that. give me a little discount, please? just between us.)
the vendor’s eyebrows shot up as he let out a hearty laugh, thoroughly amused and impressed by the sudden shift from a quiet foreign girl to someone speaking like a born-and-raised parisian youth. he quickly countered with a much lower, realistic price, nodding in respect.
beside you, james was looking at you like you had just performed magic. he was completely amazed for absolutely no reason, a massive, dorky grin spreading across his face.
“what?” you whispered, handing the vendor the cash.
“nothing,” james murmured, wrapping an arm securely around your shoulder and pulling you against his side as you stepped back into the dense flow of the market crowd. “you’re just ridiculous. where did you even learn to talk like that? you sounded like you were about to start a rap battle.”
“it’s all about the vibe, jamie,” you teased, proudly slipping the new bracelet onto your wrist.
the market was getting tighter, packed with locals and tourists shuffling past each other in tight spaces. james became hyper-aware of everyone around you. his grip on your waist tightened, his large frame acting like a protective shield as he guided you through the swell of people, making sure no one bumped into you.
suddenly, a distracted local carrying a large wooden crate turned a corner blindly, on a direct collision course to slam right into your shoulder.
james noticed it a split second before you did. with his ridiculous lightning-fast reflexes, his hand shot up to your upper arm, and he yanked you toward him. the sudden pull sent you spinning right off your feet, stumbling forward until you crashed directly into his solid chest. his arms instantly locked around your waist to steady you, holding you close against him.
you gasped softly, your hands instinctively gripping his hoodie. you looked up, your eyes meeting his.
right there, in the middle of the crowded parisian market, everything slowed down to an absolute crawl. the shouting of vendors and the bustle of the crowd completely muted into background static. to make it almost comically perfect, a street musician just a few stalls down began playing a slow, deeply romantic jazz melody on a saxophone, the rich notes drifting through the warm afternoon air.
james looked down at you, his eyes dark and intensely focused on yours. he didn’t let go of your waist. instead, his gaze dropped to your lips, his breathing shallow.
“you okay?” he whispered, his voice rough.
“yeah,” you breathed, your heart hammering against your ribs for a completely different reason now. “thanks to you.”
you knew it was incredibly risky. there were hundreds of people around. if a single person recognized either of you, or if someone took a clear photo, the internet would go into a total meltdown by dinner time. but looking up at him, surrounded by the golden sunlight and the swell of jazz music, you suddenly realised you didn’t give a shit. just for a few seconds, you wanted to be normal.
you leaned up on your tiptoes, closing the remaining distance between you. james didn’t hesitate—he met you halfway, his lips pressing against yours in a soft, deeply sweet, and unhurried kiss. it felt entirely different from the one in the hotel suite; this was tender, open, and completely content. he held you tight against him, completely unbothered by the world spinning around you.
after a few seconds of the uninterrupted kiss, a loud “oh là là!” echoed from a nearby fruit stall, followed by a chorus of cheerful whoops, whistles, and appreciative clapping from a few locals who love nothing more than public displays of romance.
the sudden noise made you break away slightly. you buried your face into the crook of james’ neck, a bright, bubbly laugh escaping your lips. he let out a low, breathless chuckle of his own, his chest vibrating against yours as he pressed a final, lingering kiss into your hair, hiding his own huge smile against your forehead.
“see?” james whispered playfully, his arms still wrapped tight around you as you both slowly started walking again. “the french love us. we’re fine.”
with your hand firmly slipped into his coat pocket—your fingers intertwined beneath the heavy fabric—the walk back to the hotel turned into a slow, sun-drenched detour through the winding backstreets of paris.
you couldn’t help yourself—every time a unique storefront caught your eye, you pulled james along, ducking into random little shops. in a vintage bookstore that smelled of aged paper and leather, you picked up a beautifully weathered postcard from the 1960s. at a tiny pâtisserie, you bought a box of colorful macarons, immediately feeding a raspberry one to james, who smiled around the pastry, his thumb wiping a stray crumb from the corner of your mouth.
then, you stumbled upon a small, open-air flower stall. it was an explosion of color against the grey stone: buckets of deep red roses, pale eucalyptus, and bright yellow mimosas lining the pavement.
“wait here,” you told him, pulling your hand from his pocket.
you walked up to the older woman running the stall, looking over the selection before pointing to a small, perfectly wrapped bundle of small white flowers and dark green leaves. “bonjour madame! c’est combien pour les petites fleurs blanches, s’il vous plaît?” (hello mam, how much for the small white flowers, please?)
when she gave you the price, you didn’t even try to haggle this time. you just smiled, handed her the euros, and took the bouquet. turning back around, you walked straight up to james and thrust the flowers into his chest.
he blinked, completely caught off guard. his hands instinctively wrapped around the stems, looking down at the bouquet and then up at you, a soft, boyish flush creeping up his neck. “are these... for me?”
“boys deserve flowers too, jamie,” you said matter-of-factly, adjusting his beanie. “plus, they match your aesthetic.”
the look on his face was like pure, melted honey. he tucked the bouquet securely under his arm like it was the most precious thing he owned, his hand immediately finding yours again, gripping it a little tighter than before.
a few doors down, you stopped at one final stall—a cluttered, charming display of vintage silver accessories and old metal keychains. you spotted a heavy, intricately carved silver ring that looked exactly like something james would wear on his index finger.
you picked it up, immediately stepping up to the vendor to start negotiation round two. james slid in right behind you, anchoring himself to your back. he wrapped his arms loosely around your waist from behind, holding his new bouquet in one hand while his chin hovered just above your jacket.
“excusez-moi, monsieur,” you began, slipping right back into that effortless, rapid-fire street french. “elle est super sympa la bague, mais le prix est un peu abusé, non? faites-moi un prix d’ami et je la prends tout de suite.” (excuse me, sir. the ring is very nice, but the price is a bit much, right? give me a friend's price and i’ll take it right now.)
the vendor paused, looking at you over his glasses, a slow smirk forming on his face as he prepared to counter-offer.
hearing the absolute confidence dripping from your voice, james couldn’t take it anymore. he buried his face into the crook of your neck, dropping his forehead right onto your shoulder. you could feel the deep, quiet vibration of his laughter echoing through his chest against your back. he shook his head slightly, hiding his face as he laughed quietly, utterly overwhelmed by how incredibly cool his girlfriend was.
“what’s so funny?” you murmured, tilting your head back slightly against his cheek while waiting for the vendor’s reply.
“nothing,” he whispered against your jacket, his voice thick with a mixture of disbelief and pure adoration. “you’re just... unreal. i’m literally just standing here holding a bouquet of flowers while my girl runs the streets.”
you smiled, casually tossing a few euros onto the counter as the vendor gave in with a defeated, amused chuckle, handing over the ring.
you turned around in james’ embrace, slipping the silver ring onto his finger before looking up at him. “told you. it’s all about the vibe, mon ange.” (my angel.)
he looked down at the ring, then at the flowers, and finally at you. he let out another soft laugh, leaning down to press a warm, lingering kiss right to the tip of your nose. “come on, princess. let’s get back before the guys eat the entire hotel’s worth of good without us.”
by the time you both snuck back into the hotel suite, the quiet sanctuary you had left behind was entirely gone. the door had barely clicked shut before you were met with the sight of juhoon and keonho aggressively playing rock-paper-scissors over who got the last order of french fries from the massive room-service spread in the center of the living room. seonghyeon was stretched out on the couch, half-asleep with a luxury fashion magazine draped over his face, while martin was sitting cross-legged on the floor, intensely editing the photos you had taken of him earlier in the alleyway.
“look who finally decided to return from their romantic getaway,” martin muttered without looking up from his phone, his thumb sliding a contrast filter back and forth. “did you guys get lost, or did you just forget you have a group?”
“we brought pastries,” you announced, holding up the box of macarons like an offering of peace. instantly, the atmosphere changed. keonho abandoned the rock-paper-scissors match, lunging across the suite to snatch the box from your hands.
“i knew you were my favorite member for a reason. if team dior starves tomorrow, it’s on ysl’s hands.”
james chuckled, dropping the bags of vintage keychains and trinkets you’d bought onto the side table. he carefully placed the small bouquet of white flowers into an empty glass bottle he’d filled with water from the bathroom, setting it right on his nightstand.
“wait,” juhoon said, squinting across the room as he chewed on a raspberry macaron. “james, did you buy yourself flowers?”
“no,” james said smoothly, not a single hint of embarrassment in his voice as he adjusted the stems so they sat perfectly. “my girlfriend bought them for me. got a problem?”
juhoon blinked, looking at the tough, broad-shouldered rapper who was currently hovering over a delicate bunch of blossoms like a proud gardener. “you know what? no. i’m not even going to comment. you two are disgustingly whipped.”
“let them be,” seonghyeon’s voice came muffled from beneath the magazine on his face. “as long as they don’t start making out on the couch while i’m trying to nap, i am choosing peace today.”
you flushed, throwing a spare sofa pillow directly at seonghyeon’s stomach, making him groan and finally sit up. james just laughed, walking over to sit beside you on the edge of the large armchair, his arm immediately finding its usual place around your waist, pulling you securely against his side.
for the next hour, the suite settled into a comfortable, easy warmth. the six of you shared the food, teased martin about his extreme photo-editing dedication, and went over the official schedule for the next morning. tomorrow was the day—the fashion show was set to run from morning to night. the media coverage was going to be insane, the paparazzi would be everywhere, and the pressure to look flawless was heavy.
but sitting there, with james’ thumb softly rubbing comforting circles against your hip while the rest of the boys argued over what movie to put on the hotel tv, the upcoming chaos of fashion week didn’t feel daunting at all.
as the evening wound down and everybody slowly drifted off to their respective rooms to finally get some proper sleep before the big day, james caught your hand, pulling you back for a split second before you could step into your own room.
the hallway of the suite was dim, illuminated only by the soft glow of the city lights filtering through the floor-to-ceiling windows.
“hey,” he whispered, pulling you into his space until your chest tapped against his. he looked down at you, his eyes incredibly soft in the shadows. he reached out, his fingers gently tracing the new silver ring you had bartered for him earlier, before sliding his hand up to cup the side of your neck.
“hey,” you smiled up at him, wrapping your arms around his waist. “stressed about tomorrow?”
“not at all,” he murmured, leaning down to rest his forehead against yours. his breath was warm against your skin. “ as long as i get to look across the front row and see you matching with me, i’m good. tomorrow, the whole world is going to be watching us... but i’ll only be looking at you."
you felt your heart swell, that familiar, breathless flutter taking over your entire chest. you leaned up, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to his lips—a quiet promise between the two of you before the madness of the spotlight began.
“goodnight, pretty boy,” you whispered against his mouth.
“goodnight, pretty girl,” he murmured back, giving your waist a final, reassuring squeeze. “see you tomorrow morning.”
“oooooh fucking là là!” the boys screamed while giggling from outside the door, immediately running away to their rooms.
im gonna ENDDDD MYSELF. i drafted a part 2 for this today and it’s at 8k?? IT’S JUST ME YAPPING BTW?? HOW DO I PROOFREAD IT SLOWLY AND TURN IT INTO A FIC I DONT HAVE THE PATIENCE 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭
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