he’s so much more of an in-person type rather then online
doesn’t like texting, much prefers it when you call, or even better seeing him in person
so he always goes out of his way to see you regardless
he’s hard to really get to know, cause people may think they KNOW him, but they really don’t, the only people who do are pretty much just you, the members, and his family
he’s also very attentive, like the type to put his hand over a corner so you don’t hit your head, or put your phone on the charger if you fell asleep
constantly restocking all of your needs too, like snacks are always stocked, makeup and skincare is always being replaced
you’re like i haven’t bought these in forever but they never seem to run out, but little do you know it was him all along
i also feel like he just always has things for you when you need it, snacks, hair ties, water, you name it and he has it
when he’s out and about he seems energetic and he’s having a good time, which he is, but he will always prefer being with you
at the end of the day he gets very clingy and affectionate with you, finally being able to relax
loves making food with you, whether it’s cooking or baking
as it always end up with you guys dancing in the kitchen, either slow dancing, or the highest intensity choreo, literally no in between
you guys are the couple that’s been together for ever and is just absolutely perfect, like everyone wants to have a relationship like you have
doesn’t get that jealous, but if he can tell you’re uncomfortable he’s gonna step in and say something
but if you wanna talk to the other members or literally any other guy he’ll be fine, cause i see him as pretty comfortable with himself and he trusts you
˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➺❥ juhoon
he is SUCH a good listener, you could rant for hours and he’d be fully immersed in you
you can genuinely spend hours talking cause he’ll just be asking you more questions about whatever you’re talking about
always there for you to talk to, whether it’s in person or over the phone, he will be there
remembers all of the little details about you
you wouldn’t think he would be sentimental but i think he is
he’s saving flowers if you ever get him some, and he’s gonna press it in a book, or saving tickets from a movie date
does not care what you do to him, like if you wanna do his makeup he’s already sitting in front of you with his eyes closed, or if you want to do his hair he’s in front of you with his head tilted back
he’s not the biggest fan of cuddling, but won’t protest if you want to
i feel like he loves getting ready for bed though, like he would love the skincare and taking his sweet time
pda is definitely not his thing, but he’ll let a pinky hold or a hand hold
tries to show off to you, and it either goes so well or it goes so terribly
he fuels your shopping addiction so bad
will buy you everything you could possibly want, so now your desk if filled with smiskis and sony angels, and your closet is overflowing
definitely took him so long to confess, because he wanted to make sure that you liked him 200%, he was not gonna take any chances
so he can be a little insecure at times, and just needs you to reassure him a little
˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➺❥ martin
we already know im going to mention his height, he loves having a height difference
it makes him feel like your protecter, even though he’ll tease you about how “short” you are
i feel like he would be so shy to show you his music because he wants to make sure you like it
a lot of songs would be inspired by you, as you’re his muse
most of the time he’s cramped up in the studio, spending long days there, but he always makes an effort to come see you, even if its the middle of the night
he feels like he recharges when he’s with you
we also know he’s such a fashionista
so he LOVES dressing you and going shopping, all of your dates would end up in buying clothes
and he pays for it, after all he’s such a gentleman, and holds all of the bags
he is constantly bombarding you with texts of selfies, pictures of the other members, and random things just to let you know he is thinking about you
he genuinely loves you so much, and feels so bad that he can’t spend as much time as he wants with you due to idol things
loves taking little candids of you when you aren’t looking
put pictures and polaroids of you in his wallet and phone case, cause you’re his motivation
loves physical affection and calling you names, cause he genuinely can’t believe your with him, so trust he is cherishing it
such a good bf
˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➺❥ seonghyeon
he can come off as shy, but trust me he is anything but shy around you
has tried to be nonchalant but he just can’t, it fails within .0001 seconds cause he always folds around you
yet also very causal, like holding your hand
he wouldn’t like too much pda though, would much prefer those types of things in private
don’t see him calling you anything too cheesy, most of the time it’s things like “dummy” or “idiot” but in a meaningful way
but when it’s just the two of you, he’s softer, maybe baby or babe thrown in there
also another one who notices things before you do, like he knows you’re cold before you realize and he’s already giving you his jacket, or doing things in advance like buying movie tickets so you don’t stress about it
would love for you to meet his family, and you already know they love you
he gives off childhood friends to lovers or childhood friends to lovers
so you guys would be good friends before you got together, and now you guys are just best friends + romantic stuff
he just wants to help you, and make your life as easy as possible
so he tries his best to always be 10 steps ahead and make sure you have everything you could possibly need or want
tries to include you in everything because he doesn’t want you to be alone
and he’s gonna take every possible advantage to see you, so you can bet your gonna be hanging out with the group
good at memorizing things, he can practically remember any important dates, so you don’t have to worry about it
˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➺❥keonho
such a goofball
his main goal in life is to make you happy, so he will go ridiculous lengths to achieve that
you’re on all of his screens, im talking home screen, lock screen, pfp on literally anything, you’re on it
so all of his socials are pretty much just fan pages of you
not shy with you at all, physical affection is always happening and he does NOT care who’s watching
but omg before you got together this man would try to be so nonchalant even though he would get all giddy if you liked his story
now he does not gaf and he won’t even try to act nonchalant cause he knows he can’t
always texting you or updating you about what’s happening, like expect a text at least every 5 minutes
i also feel like your dates always end up with food, like no matter where you go food will always be involved
he’s another one who doesn’t care what you do to him, he genuinely will do anything for you at your beck and call
loves cuddling so much, and being little spoon too when you guys are sleeping
but if you guys are ever in the presence of other people he’ll be the big spoon
buys you anything and everything, like you’ll be in a store and briefly touch something and it’s already off the rack
or if you mention a “oh that’s cute” he’s buying the entire rack
talks about you all the time, genuinely could be talking about a random thing and then somehow the conversation will end up with him talking about you
☆ ★.ㅤ 𝐃𝐄𝐓𝐀𝐈𝐋𝐒.ㅤ ㅤ──ㅤㅤ sleeping habits. cortis & f reader , fluff. not proofread.
ZHAO YUFAN
you notice it the first time on a quiet night, when the room is dim and the only light comes from your phone screen slowly fading to black beside you.
he's lying on his back, one arm draped lazily across his stomach, the other just barely brushing yours. at first, everything about him looks normal. steady breathing, relaxed shoulders, lips parted just enough to let out soft, even breaths. but then your eyes drift up, and your stomach drops just a little.
his eyes are open, not wide, but open enough to make it look like he's watching you.
"james?" you whisper, eyebrows pulling together, because there's no way he's just lying there like that.
you push yourself up on one elbow, leaning closer, squinting like that'll somehow make more sense of it.
"why are you staring at me?" you mumble, a little embarrassed, a little weirded out, your voice barely above a breath.
he doesn't answer or move. the silence stretches long enough to make your skin prickle.
"okay . . . not funny," you reach out to poke his shoulder lightly.
still nothing.
you hesitate, then wave your hand slowly in front of his face, watching closely for any reaction. "if you're messing with me right now, i swear—" but his eyes don't track your movement at all, just fixed somewhere past you.
"are you—hello?" you stop, leaning closer. "are you asleep?"
it sounds ridiculous the moment it leaves your mouth, but everything about him says yes except for his eyes.
you tap his cheek gently this time. "hey. james. wake up for a second."
there's a pause, then finally, a faint reaction. his brows twitch, his lips part a little more.
"mm?" he hums, voice rough and barely there, like he's surfacing from somewhere far away. his gaze still doesn't quite focus, even as his head shifts slightly toward you.
"you're—your eyes are open," you whisper, because what else are you supposed to do with that.
he blinks slowly, unevenly, the action itself being too much effort for him. "huh?" he mumbles, words slurring together, confusion written all over his face but dulled by sleep.
"you're staring at me," you insist, gesturing between the two of you, even though he can barely keep up.
he squints at you, or at least tries to, his eyes struggling to fully close. "wasn't. was sleepin'," he mutters, already drifting again, his voice soft and unfocused.
"no, you were not, your eyes were literally open," you press, a little more awake than you planned to be.
he lets out a quiet, sleepy exhale. "do that sometimes," his head tilts slightly toward your shoulder, eyes still barely open, lashes heavy. "go back t'sleep."
"james, that's creepy," you whisper.
he doesn't respond this time, already slipping under again, breathing evening out.
you stare at him for a second longer, watching the way his eyes stay just slightly open, unfocused and distant all over again.
carefully, you lift your hand and brush your fingers over his eyelids, gently coaxing them shut. they stay closed this time, and something about that makes you feel oddly relieved.
you settle back down beside him, still a little unsettled, but more amused than anything, already knowing you're going to bring this up again in the morning.
KIM JUHOON
you wake up slowly, dragged out of sleep by a deep, rumbling sound that doesn't quite make sense at first. it's low, uneven, almost rhythmic.
annoying? yes. why? because it's vibrating right next to your ear.
your brows knit together as you blink into the dark, trying to figure out what you're hearing. then it clicks, and you let out a slow, disbelieving exhale.
you turn your head just enough to confirm it. juhoon, dead asleep beside you, snoring with no shame.
you stare at him for a second, hoping somehow that if you just wait, it'll stop on its own. it doesn't. if anything, it gets louder, the sound dipping and rising.
"juhoon," you mumble, voice rough with sleep, reaching over to nudge his arm. "be quiet."
he doesn't react at all, completely unreachable.
you push yourself up onto your elbow, squinting at him with annoyance, your patience already thinning.
"juhoon," you try again, a little sharper this time, giving his shoulder a firmer shake. "stop snoring, seriously."
he just breathes in deeply and there it is again, loud and uninterrupted.
"oh my god," you mutter, dragging a hand over your face as you glance around like the solution might magically appear.
your eyes land on the extra pillow beside you, and you go still for a second, considering it. "don't make me do this," you whisper, even though he obviously can't hear you.
with a quiet huff, you grab the pillow and lift it, hesitating only briefly before pressing it straight against his face.
"be quiet," you insist, pushing it down just enough to muffle the sound. for a split second, it actually works. the snoring cuts off, the room falling blessedly silent.
then, without warning, his hand comes up.
still completely asleep, juhoon swats at the pillow with surprising accuracy, knocking it right out of your hands. the force of it makes you jerk back slightly, the pillow tumbling into your lap as you blink at him.
he doesn't wake up, doesn't even open his eyes, just shifts a little. and right on cue, the snoring starts again, just as loud as before.
you sit there for a moment, stunned into silence, trying to process what just happened. you watch the way he sleeps so peacefully, completely unaware of the chaos he's causing.
with a frustrated sigh, you flop back down onto your side, turning away from him and yanking the blanket up over your ear.
"i hope you wake yourself up," you grumble, squeezing your eyes shut as you try to block it out.
behind you, he keeps snoring without interruption, completely unbothered and impossible to reason with.
somehow, even as the sound drives you insane, you don't move any farther away because as annoying as he is, you're still right there beside him.
EDWARDS MARTIN
you finally shut the game off, the screen going dark after what felt like hours of tension that never really let up.
the silence that follows feels heavier than it should, the atmosphere of the game still lingering in the room with you. you stretch your fingers, trying to shake off the stiffness, but your mind keeps replaying the last scene.
you glance over your shoulder at the bed, where martin is fast asleep, half buried in the blankets, completely unaffected by the tension that's still clinging to you.
"must be nice," you mutter under your breath, reaching for your phone just to ground yourself in something normal.
you move around the room not long after, going through your usual routine, but it feels like the room isn't as safe as it was an hour ago. the shadows look deeper, the corners of the room a little too quiet, your senses still stuck in that heightened, paranoid state.
you turn off the last light and climb into bed, pulling the blanket up as you settle beside him. for a moment, it's fine. just you, the quiet, and martin's steady breathing beside you. then you hear a soft tap.
you freeze instantly, your entire body going still as your ears strain for the sound again. another knock follows, and it sounds like it's coming from inside the walls.
your stomach tightens, every nerve suddenly on edge as your imagination runs straight back to everything you just played. you slowly push yourself up, eyes locked on the wall across the room as you wait for it again.
the sound echoes faintly, making your skin prickle. you immediately lurch closer, grabbing onto him and pressing yourself against his side, your hands clutching his shirt.
"martin," you whisper, turning quickly toward him, your voice urgent. "martin, wake up."
he doesn't respond, still completely asleep, face buried in the pillow. "okay, no, seriously—wake up," you insist, reaching over and shaking his shoulder a little harder.
he stirs, letting out a groggy sound, clearly pulled from deep sleep. "what—" he mumbles, voice thick and unfocused, barely opening his eyes.
another soft knock sounds, and you tighten your grip on him instantly. "do you hear that?" you whisper urgently.
he blinks slowly, still out of it, trying to process both you clinging to him and whatever you're saying. "hear what?" he mutters, head tilting slightly as he tries to wake up. another tap.
this time, he goes still for a second, his expression shifting just enough to show he noticed it too. his brows furrow faintly as he glances toward the headboard.
"oh," he exhales, voice still raspy with sleep, but there's a hint of realization. he lifts his hand slightly, and you feel it brush against the headboard again. it's the same exact sound.
you blink, following the movement, your fear faltering as confusion starts to take over. "wait," you mumble, loosening your grip.
he lets out a quiet, breathy laugh, the sound growing as he wakes up a little more. "my bad."
you stare at him, your brain trying to catch up as the adrenaline slowly drains out of you. "you're knocking on the wall in your sleep? you never stop playing the beat?"
"yeah," he nods, glancing at you with a sleepy smile, "and you thought it was . . . what, a ghost?"
that does it. you pull back to smack his arm lightly. "i just finished a horror game!" you whisper-shout, embarrassed and defensive as you settle back down beside him.
even when his hand twitches faintly near the headboard, you just sigh and grab it, holding it still to make sure the knocking doesn't start again.
EOM SEONGHYEON
you're curled up on your side, phone propped against a pillow as the crime documentary plays quietly in the dark. the narrator's voice is low and eerie, each word dragging you deeper into the story despite how late it already is.
beside you, seonghyeon is completely out, having knocked out early the second his head hit the pillow, too tired to even pretend to stay awake with you.
"you're really missing everything," you mumble under your breath, glancing at him briefly before turning your attention back to the screen.
the room is dim, lit only by your phone, shadows stretching along the walls in a way that makes you slightly more aware of your surroundings. still, you keep watching, completely pulled in.
the documentary shifts into a darker segment, the music dropping into something tense and unsettling as the narration lowers. you pull the blanket up slightly, your eyes glued to the screen.
"why would you go in there?" you whisper to yourself, watching a reenactment play out in grainy detail.
the house on the screen creaks, footsteps echoing through empty hallways, and you can feel your nerves start to build.
you swallow, adjusting the blanket around you, telling yourself it's just a documentary. then, right when the tension peaks, you hear a soft whisper right next to you.
you go completely still, your heart skipping before slamming hard against your chest. you slowly turn your head away from the screen. another faint murmur follows, barely audible but unmistakable, like someone speaking under their breath.
you let out a sharp scream and immediately dive under the blanket, yanking it over your head like it's going to protect you from whatever that was.
seonghyeon jolts awake beside you, startled by the sudden scream cutting through the quiet. "what—what happened?" he mumbles, voice rough with sleep as he turns to you, still half out of it.
you don't come out from under the blanket, clutching it tighter as your breathing stays uneven. "i heard something," you insist, your voice muffled but urgent.
he blinks, trying to process the situation, one hand reaching over instinctively until it finds your back. "hey . . . hey," he murmurs, gently rubbing your back in slow, grounding motions. "why are you screaming?"
"there was whispering," you pull the blanket down just enough to peek out at him, eyes wide. "like—right here. someone was talking."
he squints at you, still waking up, his expression shifting from confusion to something more thoughtful. "talking?" he repeats, voice slow as he tries to recall anything.
you nod quickly, gripping his sleeve. "yes, i heard it, i swear."
"you should go to sleep too," he mumbles, voice soft, trying to calm you down. "you're just freaking yourself out."
"i'm not!"
he lets out a quiet breath, his hand still moving gently along your back. "that was probably me."
you blink at him, thrown off. "what do you mean you?" you ask, your fear starting to fade into confusion.
he rubs his face with his free hand, letting out a small, sleepy huff. "i talk in my sleep sometimes," he mutters, glancing at you with half lidded eyes.
you stare at him, your brain slowly catching up as the panic drains out of your system. "you're telling me you were whispering in your sleep?"
he shrugs faintly, already starting to sink back into the pillow. "yeah. it happens," he mumbles, clearly ready to fall asleep again.
you let out a shaky breath as you process everything. "you scared me."
he huffs out a small, amused breath, his hand giving your back one last gentle rub. "you scared me," he murmurs back, voice soft with lingering sleep.
you hesitate for a second before finally lowering the blanket completely, leaning into him a little. you glance at your phone, the documentary still playing, and immediately reach over to pause it.
"i'm not watching that anymore," you mutter, settling closer to him instead.
AHN KEONHO
you're sitting cross legged on the bed, a small box of hair chalks spread out in front of you.
keonho is completely knocked out beside you, face relaxed, breathing slow, one arm tucked under his head because he thinks nothing in the world could bother him.
"you really shouldn't fall asleep this early around me," you whisper, already picking out a color and leaning closer. carefully, you drag the chalk through a small section of his hair, trying not to laugh at how easy this is. "this is what you get."
he doesn't react at all, just shifts slightly before settling again, completely unaware of what you're doing.
you reach for another color, debating whether to go subtle or completely ruin his image, when a faint sound makes you pause. it's quiet, almost easy to miss, but then it comes again. gritty and uneven.
you lean closer, squinting slightly as you listen. "are you grinding your teeth?" you whisper, lowering the chalk slowly.
you watch him, and sure enough, his jaw tightens slightly before the sound comes back again.
you're immediately reminded of your own habit. you've been told you do the exact same thing, and more importantly, it reminds you of the one method that always gets you to stop.
you know he's not gonna like it.
you shift a little closer, lifting your hand cautiously as you look at his face one more time. without overthinking it too much, you give his cheek a quick, firm slap. his face scrunches instantly, his whole body jolting slightly as a confused sound escapes him.
"—what the hell?" he mumbles, eyes snapping open just enough to glare at you through sleep.
"you were grinding your teeth," you say immediately, pointing at him.
he blinks at you, still half asleep, one hand coming up to rub his cheek. " . . . you slapped me," he says slowly, making sure he didn't imagine it.
"yeah," you nod, completely serious. "it works."
he stares at you for a long second, trying to process that, his expression shifting between confusion and disbelief. "that's insane," he mutters, voice rough as he squints at you. "you could've just woken me up like a normal person."
you shrug, already reaching for the chalk again. "that takes too long. this one's quicker."
he scoffs weakly, still rubbing his cheek, clearly offended even through the fog of sleep. "you just wanted an excuse to hit me," he accuses, narrowing his eyes at you.
"no i didn't!" you shoot back immediately, not even looking at him as you go back to his hair. "you were making noise, i fixed it."
"i mean, i know it's not right to eat your leftovers, but still," he adds, starting a completely different conversation.
"pause. what did you just say?" you ask slowly, turning your head toward him.
he blinks, clearly trying to hold onto his train of thought. "your food," he mutters, waving his hand vaguely. "earlier. i ate yours too." he says it like it's nothing, like it's a normal, acceptable confession to make right after getting slapped awake.
you stare at him, your brain taking a second to catch up then your eyes widen. "you ate my leftovers? the ones i said i was saving?"
he frowns slightly, now realizing this might be a problem. " . . . you weren't there," he offers weakly, hoping that's somehow a valid defense. "so i thought—"
"you thought what? that they just became yours by default?"
he pushes himself up a little, still clearly half asleep but now mildly defensive. "i was hungry and you weren't eating them."
"i was going to!" you fire back immediately. "that's the point of leftovers, keonho! leftovers!"
he looks genuinely confused for a second. "then why didn't you eat them earlier?"
you stare at him, speechless. " . . . because i was saving them," you slowly repeat.
he lets out a small huff, running a hand through his hair, smearing a bit of chalk without realizing it. "you can't just claim food forever. there's a time limit."
"a time limit?" you echo, offended. "who decided that?"
"me. just now."
you let out a sharp, disbelieving laugh. "oh, that's great. so by your logic, anything i don't eat immediately is yours?"
"if i'm hungry, yeah," he nods once, proud of that answer.
you shake your head, grabbing the chalk again with renewed purpose. "you know what? fine. keep that same energy when you look in the mirror."
he frowns, confused, reaching up instinctively. "what did you—" his fingers brush against the chalked strands. "what did you do to my hair?"
you don't look at him, adding another streak. "don't worry about it. there's no time limit on this one."
IN WHICH you put your bf through physiological warfare by asking him if you're allowed to order fries instead of a salad
pairings: boyfriend!cortis x reader
warnings: fluff, crack, mild cursing, ???
notes: it's been a minute, but here I am again 🥶
▸ ZHAO JAMES
the waiter walks up and james barely glances at the menu.
“i’ll get the burger. medium. no onions. fries. and a coke.”
he hands the menu back like he’s done this a hundred times, then looks at you instead.
“what’re you feeling?”
you pretend to think about it. “chicken alfredo. extra sauce. lemonade.”
“good,” he says. “you always pick the good stuff.”
the waiter nods, about to walk away, and that’s when you add it.
“oh wait. can i get fries instead of a salad this time?”
the waiter pauses.
james slowly turns his head toward you.
“this time?” he repeats.
you keep your face serious. “yeah. last time you said maybe i should get a salad.”
the waiter is trying so hard not to look awkward.
james just stares at you. “i said that?”
you shrug, soft voice. “you said lighter option.”
he sits up straighter immediately. “i absolutely did not.”
the waiter looks between you like he just walked into something messy.
james gestures toward you. “she can get fries. she can get three orders of fries. i don’t care.”
“so fries?” the waiter asks carefully.
“yes,” you say sweetly.
the waiter leaves and james leans forward.
“what the hell are you doing,” he says under his breath, but he’s already fighting a smile.
you grin. “it’s a tiktok trend.”
he squints at you. “…you’re pranking me?”
you nod.
he drops back into his seat and laughs quietly, shaking his head. “you’re actually ridiculous.”
“you looked stressed,” you say. “i needed entertainment.”
he reaches across the table and taps your hand. “for the record, i would never tell you what to eat.”
“mmhmm,” you tease.
“i’m serious,” he says, softer now. “eat whatever you want. always.”
your stomach flips a little because he means it.
when the fries come out, he slides the plate toward you first.
“all you.”
you smile.
he waits exactly two seconds before grabbing one.
“boyfriend tax,” he says, completely unapologetic.
“james.”
“what? i supported your freedom.”
you laugh and he leans back in his chair, watching you with that small smile he only really does when he’s relaxed.
“next time you try to set me up in public,” he says, “at least let me rehearse.”
“so you’d play along?”
“obviously. i would’ve made it dramatic.”
he steals another fry.
“that one was interest,” he adds.
and you’re still smiling when the food comes out.
▸ KIM JUHOON
juhoon picks the restaurant because he said it “felt calm.”
he’s the type to check reviews first.
when the waiter comes over, he sits up a little straighter.
“can i get the salmon. and water’s fine,” he says.
simple. easy.
then he glances at you. “you?”
you don’t even hesitate. “the burger. and lemonade.”
he nods like that makes sense.
the waiter starts to walk off and that’s when you drop it.
“oh wait. am I allowed to get fries instead of a salad this time?”
juhoon looks up immediately.
“this time?” he repeats.
you keep your face completely straight. “yeah. last time you said i should probably go lighter.”
the waiter’s smile tightens.
juhoon’s expression doesn’t harden. it just… falls into confusion.
“i did?” he asks quietly.
you shrug. “you said it’d be better.”
he looks genuinely unsettled, not angry. just trying to piece it together.
“i don’t remember saying that,” he says, mostly to himself.
the waiter clears his throat. “so fries?”
juhoon nods quickly. “yeah. fries.”
the waiter leaves.
juhoon turns back to you, brows slightly furrowed.
“did i actually say that?” he asks.
you almost break but you hold it in. “you don’t remember?”
he leans back, thinking hard. “i mean… i don’t think i would? that sounds weird.”
there’s a beat where he’s clearly replaying every conversation you’ve had in the last week.
and then you start laughing.
he blinks. “what.”
“it’s a trend,” you admit. “you’re supposed to see how your boyfriend reacts.”
there’s a pause.
then his face shifts from confusion to realization.
“oh,” he says softly.
he lets out a breath and rubs the back of his neck. “i was actually trying to figure out when i said that.”
“were you worried?” you tease.
he looks at you, serious for a second.
“yeah. a little.”
that makes you stop smiling.
“i just don’t ever want to make you feel like you have to order something different because of me,” he says, voice low but steady. “that would suck.”
your chest tightens in that warm way.
“juhoon,” you mumble, half guilty now.
he shakes his head and smiles lightly. “you’re evil for that.”
“it was funny.”
“it was psychological warfare.”
the fries come out before the rest of the food. you reach for one.
he watches you for a second, then reaches too.
you raise a brow.
he shrugs. “i’m not taking them because you ‘shouldn’t’ have them,” he says, quoting you with air fingers. “i’m taking them because they look good.”
you laugh.
he takes one, then nudges the plate fully toward you.
“order whatever you want,” he says, softer now. “i like you, not your side dishes.”
you roll your eyes at how cheesy that is, but you’re smiling anyway.
“next time you test me,” he adds, “at least warn me so i don’t spiral trying to audit my memory.”
“you spiraled?”
“internally,” he admits.
and when your actual food comes, he doesn’t comment on it at all.
he just listens to you talk, stealing exactly one more fry without saying a word.
▸ MARTIN EDWARDS
martin doesn’t sit properly in restaurant chairs.
he’s half slouched, one leg stretched out, stealing sips of your water even though he has his own.
the waiter comes over and martin doesn’t miss a beat.
“lemme get the double cheeseburger. extra pickles. fries. and uh… whatever she’s drinking.”
you kick his shoe under the table. “get your own.”
he grins. “fine. coke.”
the waiter turns to you.
“i’ll get the chicken wrap,” you say. “and a lemonade.”
the waiter nods.
and that’s when you do it.
you glance at martin like you’re checking something.
“…am i allowed to get fries with that?”
the waiter freezes.
martin blinks at you.
“allowed?” he repeats.
you keep your face serious. “yeah. instead of the salad.”
the waiter’s eyes slowly move to martin.
martin sits up straighter. “what do you mean allowed.”
you shrug a little. “like. is that okay?”
there’s a long second where he just stares at you, trying to figure out if you’ve lost your mind.
“why would it not be okay,” he says.
you tilt your head. “you don’t think i should get the salad?”
the waiter is absolutely invested now.
martin looks at him, then back at you. “no. i think you should get whatever you want. why are you asking me like i’m your dad.”
you almost laugh but you keep pushing.
“so fries are fine?”
he squints. “are you filming me.”
“no.”
“are your friends nearby.”
you bite your lip.
he points at you. “this is a setup.”
the waiter coughs into his hand to hide a smile.
“just put fries,” martin tells him. “and if anyone thinks i’m out here policing her side dishes, that’s crazy.”
the waiter nods quickly and walks away.
martin leans across the table immediately.
“what was that.”
you finally break and start laughing. “it’s a trend.”
“what trend.”
“you ask your boyfriend if you’re allowed to order fries and see what he says.”
he stares at you.
then he leans back, shaking his head.
“you’re evil.”
“you passed.”
“obviously i passed,” he says. “i’m not insane.”
the fries come out first because of course they do.
martin grabs one without asking.
you raise an eyebrow.
he shrugs. “i support your decision.”
“that doesn’t mean you get one.”
“it absolutely does.”
he takes a bite, then points at the plate.
“order fries. order cake. order the entire menu. i do not care. but don’t ever ask me if you’re allowed like i run a side dish dictatorship.”
you laugh so hard the waiter looks over.
martin just smirks, reaching for another fry.
“next time you try to publicly test me,” he says, “at least give me a cooler line.”
▸ EOM SEONGHYEON
the waiter walks up and seonghyeon glances at the menu like he’s deciding whether to even bother.
“i’ll have the grilled chicken. side of rice. water.”
he looks at you, half-smile tugging at his lips. “you?”
“the pasta. lemonade,” you say.
he nods. “good.”
the waiter starts writing, and that’s when you lean in, voice casual:
“oh… actually… can i get fries instead of a salad this time?”
seonghyeon freezes. the pen is still in the waiter’s hand. his eyes snap to you.
“…fries?” he repeats, slow, like he’s trying to parse the sentence.
“yeah,” you say, tilting your head innocently. “instead of a salad. thought i’d switch it up.”
seonghyeon blinks. then leans back, confused, hands spread a little. “wait… what? why are you asking me permission?”
you nod, straight face. “yep. just checking.”
he frowns slightly. “but… i didn’t… i wouldn’t… i never said you had to… i mean…” he trails off, clearly flustered.
“so… fries are okay?” you push.
he opens his mouth, then closes it. “of course they are?”
the waiter’s awkwardly hovering, scribbling the order slowly.
“i just… i never control what you eat,” seonghyeon mutters, more to himself than anyone else. “i would never… i don’t… why would you—”
you try not to laugh. “it’s a tiktok trend,” you admit finally. “you’re supposed to freak out like you’re controlling my food.”
seonghyeon freezes mid-breath, staring at you. “controlling… your … food?”
“yep,” you grin. “look at you. panicking. exactly what they wanted.”
he leans back in his chair, rubbing the back of his neck, still blinking. “i… i don’t control your food. i literally… i just… whats wrong with your for you page?..”
you laugh quietly. “nothing, it was funny.”
he exhales, still confused, but the tension melts into a small grin. “okay. fries. you can get fries. i just… don’t make this a habit.”
the waiter nods, finally walking off. seonghyeon sits there, still processing, glancing at you like you hacked his brain.
“next time,” he mutters, “i’m going to need a script if you’re going to try this again.”
you grin. “yea whatever”
and for the rest of dinner, every bite of fries he steals is done with the purest innocent confusion, like he still doesn’t understand how he became the “food police.”
▸ AHN KEONHO
the waiter comes over and keonho scans the menu like he doesn’t really care.
“i’ll have the burger. extra cheese. fries. and a coke,” he says, sliding the menu back toward you.
“i’ll get the chicken alfredo… lemonade,” you say, then tilt your head with a small grin. “oh, actually… can i get fries instead of a salad this time?”
keonho freezes, eyes narrowing. “…what the fuck are you talking about?”
“what?” you say, pretending to be innocent.
“why are you asking if you’re allowed to get fries?” he leans forward, voice teasing but with a hint of mock exasperation. “you should eat everything like you usually do. why are we having this conversation?”
you laugh a little, trying to play it cool. “i just… wanted to check.”
he snorts. “check what? that i’m secretly the dictator of your side dishes?”
“maybe,” you tease.
keonho rolls his eyes, shaking his head with a grin. “you’re ridiculous. seriously. just order the fries. obviously you can get fries. why are we turning this into a thing?”
you grin. “i mean… it’s kind of fun to see you freak out a little.”
he leans back, smirking. “freak out? i’m not freaking out. i’m… amused at how you think i’d tell you what to eat. you’re ridiculous.”
the waiter scribbles down your fries order, and keonho leans over the table, voice low and playful. “you should just eat what you want and stop pretending like i’m controlling you. it’s stupid.”
“so… fries are fine?” you ask, still grinning.
“fries are fine,” he says, shaking his head. “obviously. eat everything. like you always do. don’t make me explain this again.”
you laugh, finally taking a fry. he grabs one too, smirking.
“see?” he says. “perfectly normal. no dictator involved.”
you grin, leaning back. “you make it sound so serious.”
he shrugs, still smirking. “i’m serious. eat your damn fries.”
martin treats you gently in ways that don't draw attention to themselves. he'd quietly move you to the inside of the sidewalk, switch drinks with you if yours didn't taste the way you expected, or pull your sleeves over your hands whenever they slipped up your wrists. by the time you notice, he's already doing something else.
whenever you stop to admire something, he never rushes you. he'd simply wait beside you, hands tucked into his pockets, listening as though your excitement is the most important part of his day.
JAMES
james believes princess treatment means making you laugh before anything else. no matter how stressful the day had been, he'd somehow find a way to pull a smile out of you, insisting that seeing you laugh was worth embarrassing himself for.
he loves taking candid photos of you not the posed ones ⎯ the moments where you're laughing halfway through a sentence or looking at something with that sparkle in your eyes.
JUHOON
juhoon rarely asks if you need help because he's already notices before you'd do. he'd quietly untangle your necklace, refill your water while you're distracted, or remember exactly where you left off whenever you forgot the story you were telling.
he has this habit of handing the nicer looking piece without thinking. the crispier fry, the prettier pastry, the slice with more toppings. only when someone points it out does he realize he's been doing it all along.
SEONGHYEON
seonghyeon has never been shy about loving you. he'd naturally reach for your hand whenever the two of you walked together, pull you into his side whenever you stood close enough, or absentmindedly play with your fingers while the two of you talked. to him affection has never been something worth holding back ⎯ it simply comes out as naturally as breathing.
he'd always find some excuses to have you close. whether it's resting his chin on your shoulder while you scroll through you phone or quietly wrapping an arm around you waist just because he can, he'd smile as if being near you is his favorite place to be.
KEONHO
keonho somehow has the ability to make you forget whatever had been bothering you. he'd drag you into the most random conversations, convince you to stop by a convenience store at midnight or challenge you to weird games until you were laughing so hard you'd forgotten why you were upset in the first place.
he'd act like the biggest kid whenever the two of you were together, yet somehow become surprisingly reliable the moment it mattered. before you even realized you needed help, he'd already be standing beside you with a quiet, "i've got it."
📬 ❤︎ 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﹚
part 2 = “just us”
❝ 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.
in which ❝the best relationships are the ones where you can be mean and unserious and no one gets offended. ❞ or, very “loving” texts between you and your boyfriend. [ jokes of su*cide and penis jokes lwk ]
