summary. in which james insists he isn't jealous when his teammates get a little too close to you
genre. fluff, established relationship, jealous bf james with a hint of clingy, reassuring
warning. cursing
wc. 1357
it was seonghyeon's birthday, and you're invited to the boy's dorm for the party. you knock on the front door and are welcomed by keonho. "holy shit, you look amazing." he opens the door for you and you smile in return. after stepping in, you look around to find your boyfriend.
"where's james?" you ask keonho, eyes still wandering the whole room—not finding his existence.
"he went to buy a cake for hyeon. you can wait here, i'm gonna grab some candles." keonho leads you to sit on a couch in the living room and rushes back to the kitchen.
the party is simple. they only invite someone who's really close to seonghyeon since the boy's very shy around others and they don't want to make him uncomfortable on his birthday. a few balloons sit randomly on each corner of the room. there's a banner on the wall that says "happy birthday, seonghyeon" with his photo on it.
not so long after that, you hear the clicking sound on the front door and see james holding paper bags in his left hand and a box of cake in the right. "cake's coming!" james yells. you approach him immediately and try to help him.
"babe!" james' eyes lighten and he smiles so brightly at your presence. "i thought you wouldn't come! i was so sad today." he kisses the corner of your lips before the two of you bring all the stuff to the living room.
"i decided to come since keonho wouldn't stop texting me while i am at work." james stops for a while, hoping he had misheard what you said. "my phone keeps buzzing all day, you know."
"why would keonho text you?" james squints his eyes in suspicion.
"he texted about preparing hyeon's birthday. he thinks i'm going to like this party." you answer absentmindedly while putting the cake on the table.
james shrugs off his shoulders, thinking it was no big deal. he doesn't need to be jealous. it's just keonho, right?
"here are the candles." keonho comes with a few candles in his hand. "hyung! you're home." he grins. james answers him with a quick smile before putting pink whipped cream on seonghyeon's cake.
"i wanna do it too!" you exclaim and ask james for the whipped cream. he lends you the whipped cream and settles behind you on the couch, absentmindedly pulling you back until you're comfortably sitting between his legs.
keonho sits right next to james' left foot—making him unintentionally sits right next to you. "do you think seonghyeon would like this party?" he asks you.
"definitely! why wouldn't he?" you shoot him a little smile and continue to put whipped cream on seonghyeon's cake.
"i know, right?" keonho nods. the three of you remain silent for a while before keonho interrupts again. "do you think hyeon would prefer green candles or blue ones?"
"i think green would suit his vibes more."
"that's exactly what i thought! that's why i brought mostly the green ones." he smiles brightly at you, and you answer with a nod.
5 minutes later, keonho asks you again. "would i look good in blonde hair? just like martin hyung."
"ask martin." james mumbles.
"you would! oh my god, it would be exciting don't you think, james?" you look at james—signaling him to agree with you.
"i don't know no james." james stares at you. who's james? where are baby, babe, honey and all the sweet nicknames going?
"okay, babe. it would be exciting, right?" you emphasize the word babe and squeeze james' thigh—forcing him to nod at your question.
"oh, i'm not hearing this." keonho closes his ears with both hands, causing you to laugh at his reaction.
15 minutes later, seonghyeon, martin, and juhoon come through the front door from the studio. everything went as planned and seonghyeon was so happy.
"you're coming! thank you so much!" seonghyeon gives you a brief hug and accepts your gift. "a ps5 for me? thank you! hyung is so lucky to have you." seonghyeon giggles and james just rolls his eyes.
the night is getting late. james drinks a cup of soda on the couch. martin plays an acoustic guitar and rumbles random melodies. seonghyeon and keonho play with the ps5 you just gave him. and you play chess with juhoon. "hey, that's cheating!" your voice heard— making james looks directly at your way.
"no, it's not." juhoon answered calmly. "you're not gonna win if you keep playing that old tactic, you know?"
"you know what? i always won back then using this 'old tactic'."
"that's why i called it old."
the two of you laugh and james' definitely not having it. he clears his throat and proceeds to stand. "i'm gonna get some rest. once again, happy birthday hyeon." he taps seonghyeon's shoulder before walking to his bedroom.
your eyes dart towards him until his figure disappears behind the door. you excuse yourself to the boys and quickly follow james. you knock on his door, "can i come in?"
after he said yes, you come in and see he is curling in his white blanket—his back faces you. you close the door and hug him from the back. "hi handsome." you smile and kiss his exposed cheek. "you look so handsome today." your compliment makes his cheek blushed but he tries so hard not to smile.
he clears his throat. "thanks. you don't look bad either."
you mumble and play with his dark brown hair. "what happened, baby?"
"nothing."
"it seems like a thing." you answer him back calmly— still playing with his strands. he remains silent.
"are you jealous?" you bite your lips, trying not to laugh at this very serious situation.
james' eyes widened and he immediately turns around to face you. "what? me? jealous? no. absolutely not. why would i?"
you smile at his reaction and kiss his cheek. "you're looking extremely handsome today. what's with the glasses? i love it." you ignore his answer and touch his glasses.
"it's called fashion."
"i know, and you're looking too good with it." you pout.
"...okay, yeah. i'm jealous. but just a little. are you satisfied?"
to james, seeing you acting all pouty and clingy around him makes his stomach full of butterflies, just like how he met you for the first time. he loves you THAT much.
"i knew it!" you celebrate after his confession. "you could've just told me!" you cling your arms around his waist and rest your chin on his chest—looking up directly to meet his eyes.
"i don't wanna ruin hyeon's birthday." he looks to the other side—or basically anywhere as long as he doesn't have to meet your puppy eyes, because he would genuinely become a jelly right now.
"aww," you pinch his cheek. "you know you're the only person i love for these past 2 years. out of everyone in that room, i've been looking for you since i stepped in this dorm today."
"you're literally the sexiest man alive and i'm not planning to let you go that easily." you smirk at him.
"stop, it's getting cringe."
"but you love it when i compliment you, though."
"you're right," he smiles and wraps your body in his embrace. "i love whatever you do."
you stay at your position for a while. "if you have to choose, would you pick me or the boys?" he suddenly asks.
"you." you look up at him, finding he's already staring at you. "really?" his eyes brighten.
"no."
"BABE." james looks at you in disbelief.
"of course i choose you, you silly." you kiss his lips briefly. before he could kiss you back, you were already breaking the kiss. so he decided to chase after your lips, making it the sweetest kiss you had after a long day.
"hyung, did you see my—" juhoon's voice was heard with the sound of the door opening. "i didn't see anything!" juhoon left right after he saw the two of you.
james lets out a loud sigh and you laugh. "we need to lock the door next time."
۶ৎ plug!james x fem!reader ಄ in which james breaks his own rules ʚɞ mdni! 18+ 𐙚 kissing! hair pulling! unprotected sex! breast play! p in v! blowjob! mild kinks! .✦ ݁˖ enjoy!💓
you're curled into the corner of your couch, the blunt burning slow between your fingers. james is sitting a comfortable distance away, but not really. his knee keeps brushing yours, and every time he passes the blunt back, his fingers linger against yours just a second too long.
he's quiet tonight. quieter than usual. you've known him for three months now, ever since you got his number from a friend, and in that time you've learned that james is different when he's not selling. no swagger, no smooth talk. just a guy who fidgets with his lighter and avoids eye contact when he laughs. but he’s so silly.
but he's looking at you now. or more specifically, he's looking at your chest.
you pretend not to notice. you take a long drag, letting the smoke fill your lungs, and when you exhale, his gaze snaps up to your face like he's been caught. his ears go red.
"you good?" you ask, passing the blunt back.
"yeah. yeah, i'm good." he takes it, takes a hit, holds it a little too long before letting it out in a rush. "just... thinking."
"about what?"
he shrugs, but his eyes drop again. down to your lips, then lower. "nothin'."
the weed is settling in your veins, warm and syrupy. it makes everything softer, slower. the dim light from your lamp catches the curve of his jaw, the way his throat moves when he swallows. you realize you're staring too.
"you can look, you know” you say, and your voice comes out a little raspy. "i don't mind."
his head snaps up. "what?"
"you keep staring at my tits, james. i'm just saying you don't have to be sneaky about it."
the tips of his ears burn redder. he opens his mouth, closes it. then he lets out a breath that's almost a laugh. "shit. sorry. i didn't mean to-“
"i didn't say stop."
the words hang in the air, heavy with smoke and something else. he holds your gaze, and something shifts in his expression. the shyness is still there, but it's melting, replaced by a heat that makes your stomach flip.
"can i...?" he starts, then stops. shakes his head. "never mind."
"can you what?" you chuckle.
he sets the blunt down in the ashtray on your coffee table. turns to face you fully. his hands are fidgeting in his lap. "can i kiss you?"
the question is so earnest, so awkward, that it makes you smile. "yeah. you can kiss me."
he leans in like he's approaching a wild animal. slow, cautious. his lips brush yours, featherlight, and then he pulls back an inch to look at you, like he's checking for permission. you give it by leaning forward and pressing your mouth to his, firmer this time.
the kiss softens immediately. his lips are warm, slightly chapped, tasting of weed and something sweet. you cup his jaw, and he makes a small, surprised sound against your mouth. then his hand finds your waist, and he's pulling you closer, and the kiss deepens.
his tongue traces your lower lip, and you part for him, letting him in. he groans low in his throat, and his hand slides up your back, fingers curling into your shirt. the weed makes everything feel amplified. the slick slide of his tongue, the weight of his palm, the way his breath hitches when you tug his hair.
"come here” he murmurs against your mouth, pulling you onto his lap with confidence.
you straddle him, knees sinking into the cushion on either side of his thighs. his hands find your hips immediately, gripping tight. he kisses you again, hungrier now, and you grind down against him without thinking. he groans, and his hand leaves your hip to land on your ass. he squeezes, then slaps. a quick, sharp sting that makes you gasp into his mouth.
"fuck, sorry!” he breathes, but his hand stays there, massaging the spot. "was that okay?"
"yeah” you whisper. "do it again."
he does. harder. you moan, and he swallows the sound, kissing you deeper. his other hand slides up your stomach, under your shirt, and he palms your bare breast. he groans at the feel of it, thumb finding your nipple and circling slowly.
"so fucking perfect" he says, pulling back just enough to look at you. his eyes are glassy, pupils blown wide. "can i take this off?"
you nod, and he pulls your shirt over your head in one smooth motion. he stares. his mouth falls open slightly.
"baby” he breathes, and the word sounds different coming from him. softer. he leans in and presses his lips to the swell of your breast, trailing open mouthed kisses across your skin. when he takes your nipple in his mouth, you arch into him, fingers digging into his shoulders.
he sucks gently, then harder, flicking his tongue. his hand kneads your other breast, rolling the nipple between his fingers. you rock your hips against him, and he groans against your skin, the vibration making you shudder.
"james…” you gasp.
"i know” he says, switching to the other breast. "god, i know. you feel so good."
you let him have his fill, his mouth worshiping your chest until you're trembling. but the ache between your legs is growing, and you need more. you push gently at his chest, and he pulls back, looking confused.
you slide off his lap and off the couch, sinking to your knees on the rug in front of him. his eyes go wide.
"you don't have to-“
"just take it” you say, but there's no heat in it. you hook your fingers into the waistband of his sweatpants and pull them down. his cock springs free, already hard, and you wrap your hand around him without hesitation.
he hisses. his hips twitch forward.
you stroke him slowly, watching his face. his head falls back, eyes squeezed shut. he's biting his lip. you lean in and drag your tongue along the side of his shaft, and he lets out a shaky moan.
"fuck, that's- mmph."
you take him in your mouth, just the tip at first, tasting him. he's twitching on your tongue. you sink lower, taking more, and his hand finds your hair, gripping gently.
"yeah, just like that” he breathes. "so good. you're so good."
you bob your head, setting a rhythm. he's vocal, letting out these punched out little moans that make you feel powerful. you take him deeper, and his grip on your hair tightens.
"gonna- fuck, you're gonna make me-“
you pull off, a string of saliva connecting your lips to his tip. he whines at the loss.
"not yet" you say, wiping your mouth. "i want to ride you."
he helps you up with shaky hands, guiding you back onto the couch. you straddle him again, positioning yourself over his cock. you reach down, guiding him to your entrance, and sink down slowly.
you both groan at the same time.
the weed makes it feel like honey. every inch seeps into you, until he's fully seated, and you're both panting, foreheads pressed together.
"you feel... fuck, you feel incredible."
you start to move. slow, rolling your hips. his hands find your ass, gripping, guiding. he's looking at where you're connected, watching himself slide in and out of you.
"look at you" he murmurs. "taking me so well. so pretty."
you lean forward, kissing him sloppily, and he meets your thrusts with upward ones of his own. the pace is slow, drugged slow, each movement drawing out the pleasure until it's almost too much.
"james…” you whimper against his lips.
"i know, i'm close” he says. his hand slides between your bodies, fingers finding your clit, rubbing in tight circles. "come for me, baby. please."
and you do. the orgasm crashes over you, hot and sudden, and you clench around him, crying out. he follows a second later, hips stuttering, emptying into you with a long, low groan.
you collapse against him, breathing hard. his arms wrap around you, holding you close. for a long moment, there's just the sound of your breathing, the smell of smoke and sex.
then his hand comes up and strokes your head awkwardly.
"so” he says, his voice a little hoarse. "that was... good. good weed." trying to ease up the tension.
you laugh, burying your face in his neck. "yeah. great weed."
he laughs too, nervous and real. "we should do this again. i mean- hang out! smoke. maybe- if you want-“
"just shut up and kiss me again.”
he does. and now you can never go back to just being friends.
— ᨳଓ . a/n: finally posted this!😛 i have to be honest- i have 0 motivation rn for writing, i hope that my spark will come back, please be patient💕 also thank you guys so so so much for 900 followers, i love you guys!🫶🏻💗
READ PART ONE PART TWO PART THREE PART FOUR PART FIVE
ZHAO YUFAN × FEM!READER ──── fluff, angst, humor ‧₊˚🦀༉‧₊˚. 그 예쁜 ︵ IDOL!JAMES &READER, exes2lovers (includes ocs!!!) 🥭⋆₊˚⊹ غافل بن گیا# ⋆🍹˚⊹ after a messy breakup, the last thing you wanted was to see your fans shipping you and your (gorgeous) ex once again
(💭) &james is mine back AWF 🫵🫵🫵🫵 i literally dgaf, stay mad 🫵🫵😛😛
% fluff, petnames, skinship, flirting with BF!JAMES
୨୧ james is a sucker for reader’s hyper femininity (08) RiRI 🎧
“yu, baby, come!” you called out, twirling around in front of your mirror with the biggest smile ever. james immediately entered the room, his eyes lighting up at the sight of you.
you were wearing your cute nightdress; covered in pink, lace and bows. and your heart pendant that he got for you the day james asked you to be his girlfriend. you never take it off.
and james was obsessed with your love for cutesy things making you hundred times cuter.
usually people would walk into your room, stunned at the absurd amount of baby pink that invaded your room, but james found it insanely adorable.
so much so, he buys you all the cute, pink, lacy things that you love.
james even lets you wrap his arms in pink ribbons whenever you were cuddling, and he’d act like he didn’t like but deep down, he couldn’t have been happier.
he smiled, walking to embrace you from behind.
“love, you’re actually so adorable, have i ever told you that?” he mumbled into your hair, inhaling your strawberry scent.
“yes, a million times, no joke. but i never mind it,” you grinned cheekily, turning around to face your boyfriend. “do you want to help me put my rollers in?” you asked softly, already knowing the answer.
“you know i do, doll. come.” james said, way too eagerly. he took your hand, seating you on the edge of your floral-covered bed.
he took the rollers and clips off your vanity, walking over to you. if there’s one thing about james, it’s that he takes great pride in helping you curl your hair. you don’t understand why it makes him so excited, but any time you mention it, he’s more than happy to grab your pink curlers and help you.
he sat down, patting his lap. you giggled, finding your place on his lap, a soft flush dusting your cheeks. it made you look even cuter.
then he started wrapping your hair around the rollers, his skill unbelievably impressive. you were so convinced that james was either a hairstylist or a hyper feminine girl in his past life because he was better at this than you.
you couldn’t help but admire him as he worked, his focused expression incredibly hot. and when he felt your gaze, he gave you a soft smile, pinching your cheek.
“love, you’re staring at me like i’m a greek god, please stop. you’re going to make me flustered.” he grumbled, staring at you with those gorgeous eyes. you felt yourself melting even more. “because you are that hot, baby.”
you gushed, you love gushing. especially over james’ beauty. he looked unreal, and as much as him compliments you every waking second, you felt obligated to the same.
james smiled sheepishly, trying hard to seem nonchalant but failed instantly.
“i’m so weak for you, love. way too weak. you could make me do anything for you.” he murmured, clipping your hair in place. you laughed, caressing his cheeks.
“well, i know that.”
“of course you do, you’re menace.” he grumbled again, no real annoyance or irritation behind it but instead adoration.
“i’m your menace.” you gushed once more, kissing his forehead. he frowned in despair, letting out a sigh.
“love, i’ll mess up your hair if you continue, stop.” he whined again, louder this time, and he pouted. you smirked slyly, poking his cheeks with your index fingers.
“lock in, baby. do you want me to look like chopped shyt on our date?” you asked, mischievously. james’ eyes widened so much you thought it wasn’t humanely possible then went back to normal as he smiled.
“no, no, absolutely not, doll. you’d never though.” he blurted out cautiously then cooed. you giggled, nudging his shoulder.
“my little cutie.”
“you’re lucky i’m done,” he said, clipping the last roller in place. “i would’ve stopped midway and cuddled you so hard you wouldn’t be able to escape me.” he warned, an attempt to sound threatening but rather an adorable suggestion.
“so does that mean you’re doing to do that now?” you asked, trying to prepare yourself, but as always you weren’t quick enough because he was already snuggling against you as you said the words.
“you bet, doll . my baby.” he murmured, soft and sweet.
you giggled once more, melting into his touch. he let you put your pink bow stickers on his face and a lace bow in his hair, his reward for doing such a good job aside from all the kisses in the world.
“you’re so adorable now. my cutie patootie.” you crooned, attacking his face with kisses. he smiled, interlocking your fingers.
“i know, i love you, doll.”
“i do too, baby.”
your man loved your obsession with being a girly girl, so much so that he’d let you make him a cutie and he’d curl your hair for you, and he was never ever going to stop.
tag list ! @yunsera @amoressb @k-oimani1 @koiiq @weoris @mqytcha @miuwoniz @murastqr @saintlysl @amatariki @liliikkuma @ririzrecs @yooniso @eohyeons @yeppiiz @unakbb
注記 ─── i am a hyper feminine girlie if you couldn’t tell and i absolutely adore fics with hyper feminine girls so um this is indeed a hyper feminine girl appreciation post so all my hyper feminine girls rise with me. hope y’all enjoy this just as much as i do once again! ✶
──── 「雨凡」 💭.ᐣ.ᐟ james x f!reader 彡 fluff. idol!au. two years gap. w. 3448 . . . . . ─ ꩜ .ᐟ 💬 requested!! i think i overdid it hehe… . . . . . SYN. you’ve liked james since your trainee days, and you never really stopped pestering him, playful teasing, constant messages, and all. even though he kept his distance, you didn’t mind. what you didn’t know was that james liked you too, he was just being careful, holding back because it felt wrong for him.
you and james had known each other since trainee days—back when sleep was rare, ramen was currency, and dreams felt too big to say out loud. you called him your closest friend, though you were never sure if he saw you that way too. you’d tease him back then, saying things like “i think i like you,” just to see how far his composure would crack. he’d only laugh, shaking his head as if you were a kid who said something silly.
but everything shifted the year you debuted. you got to step on stage first, while james was quietly transferred into a different lineup—cortis, the group that was preparing up for debut the following year.
you still sent him messages, cheering for him, sending memes or practice selfies with captions like. sometimes he’d reply. sometimes he’d just leave a heart. and even when his answers grew fewer, you still hoped it meant the same thing it used to—that he still cared.
james did care. too much. he wasn’t distant because he stopped liking you. he was distant because he did. and to him, that felt dangerous.
you remembered one afternoon last year and months before your debut—the cafeteria buzzed with the same chaos it always did. half-awake trainees, the faint smell of coffee, and some pop song leaking from a speaker that no one bothered to turn off. you were halfway through deciding whether to grab another of your favorite drink when you saw him.
james.
sitting by the corner window, hood pulled up, earbuds dangling, eyes fixed on his phone as if the world didn’t exist. he looked, calm, too calm. like he didn’t just disappear off the face of the earth for weeks without a single reply.
you didn’t even think about it, your body just moved in instinct.
“hey! james!”
james head snapped up, sandwich halfway to his mouth. there was a small pause, one second, two, before he blinked, smiled a little, and said, “hey. it’s been a while.”
you slid into the seat across him without asking. “yeah, says the one who ghosted me first.” he gave that half-laugh, the one that meant you’re not wrong but i’m not admitting it. “been busy.”
“yeah?” you leaned forward, elbows on the table. “too busy to say hi to your favorite trainee junior?”
“favorite?” he repeated, his lips twitching as if trying not to smile. “when did you get promoted to that?”
“since i declared myself your favorite. it’s mutual now, right?” he leaned back, eyes half-lidded with amusement. “sure,” james said dryly, taking a sip of his drink. you squinted at him. “that’s a ‘no’ tone, james. that’s not a mutual tone.”
james eyes flicked up, the faintest spark in them, and for a moment, the cafeteria felt quieter. his gaze softened, just enough to make your stomach twist. you tilted your head, pretending not to care. “you know,” you said casually, “i’ve actually really liked you since your trainee a days.”
james blinked. “are you teasing me again?” you grinned. “i’m serious! i liked you back then. still kinda do.” james exhaled, shaking his head slightly, though the corners of his mouth curved up. “still kinda shouldn’t.”
“why not? it’s only two years gap!”
“two years and a whole world of career-ending potential,” he said, raising a brow. “you know how this industry works.” you rolled your eyes. “wow, look at you, mr. professional.”
james laughed, quietly, the kind that cracked through his calm like sunlight through blinds. “i’m turning nineteen, you’re seventeen. that’s still weird,” he said, still smiling a little.
“two years isn’t a lifetime, james,” you countered, leaning back in your chair. “besides, barely legal is still legal.”
james looked at you over the rim of his cup. “that’s not the defense you think it is.”
“fine,” you huffed, crossing your arms dramatically. “you’re just scared i’ll outshine you once i debut.” he tilted his head, genuinely amused now. “scared? i’ll have you know, i thrive under pressure.”
you smirked. “we’ll see about that. because once i’m famous, i’ll tell every interviewer you rejected me.” his expression twitched, the smile faltering for half a second. “don’t you dare.”
“watch me.”
he sighed, that soft, defeated kind, the one you’d heard a hundred times in practice rooms when you teased him too much. then, just like always, he shifted to another topic when things got too close. “so, debut preparations?”
you groaned. “you always change the topic.”
“how’s debut prep?” he asked again, pretending not to hear you.
you gave him a mock glare, but answered anyway. “almost done. we’ll debut on the first week of december this year.”
“that’s good,” james said, nodding, fingers tapping absently on his cup. “we’ll be heading to l.a. soon. training camp, filming, all that.”
the words hung between you. your expression faltered before you could hide it, and of course, james noticed. “hey,” he said, voice softening. “i’ll still text you, alright?”
you squinted at him, suspicion written all over your face. “yeah, right. you’ll ghost me.”
“i won’t,” he said, gentle, almost convincing. and for a moment, you believed him. though somewhere deep down, you knew better.
as james stood, tucking the rest of his sandwich into a napkin, you called after him, “hey, james.”
james turned, one hand already halfway to his pocket. you grinned, a little too wide, maybe to hide the ache that threatened to rise. “when are you finally giving me a chance?” he paused for just a beat, like he was really thinking about it. then, with that maddening calmness, he said, “when you’re old enough.”
you watched him walk away through the crowd, his hood falling back just enough for the light to catch the curve of his jaw again. and for a second, the cafeteria noise dulled, the laughter, the music, the clatter, all of it fading until there was only him.
you slumped against the table with a quiet groan, dragging your hand down your face. “unbelievable.” still you couldn’t stop the smile that crept across your lips.
────
a year later or at the present.
your group had just finished performing on music bank. the stage lights still clung to your skin but the cheers from the crowd buzzed in your veins like electricity. the moment you stepped offstage, the backstage chaos hit you full force, staff with clipboards, idols rushing to change, the sharp scent of hairspray, and the echo of microphones being tested.
you should’ve been celebrating. your group’s comeback performance was over, the feedback had been good, your members were laughing and hugging, managers already handing out bottled water and towels. cameras flashed as the post-stage crew filmed short clips for your group’s behind-the-scenes vlog. everyone was alive with that after-stage glow.
everyone except you.
because even as your lips curved in polite smiles, your mind was somewhere else, stuck on the faint possibility that you might see him again.
maybe he’s here, you thought, scanning the clusters of idols moving through the narrow hallways. maybe backstage, maybe just passing by.
you hadn’t seen james properly like the contact had been thin. barely there, if you were honest. you were still the only one who texted first, small messages like “good luck on your schedules!” or “saw the cortis teaser, it’s sick!!” that usually got a short reply hours later, or sometimes, just a heart reaction. if he’d been distant before, now he felt galaxies away.
you told yourself he was busy, and you weren’t wrong. cortis had exploded since debut, interviews, overseas promos, variety shows. your own group was mentioned alongside them sometimes. interviewers loved to pit rising groups together for buzz.
“you’ve been promoting your comeback around the same time as cortis debut!” one mc said during a pre-recording earlier that week. “do you know any of the members personally since you guys are on the same company?”
the others laughed, glancing at you. your leader had nudged you playfully, earning knowing giggles from the staff. “ah, i trained with a few of them,” you’d said, smiling tightly. “they’re all really hardworking.”
it was professional and practiced. but the camera had caught that small flicker in your eyes, the one that said you meant one of them specifically.
you told yourself not to care that it didn’t matter, that it was just another group, another artist in the building. but your eyes betrayed you. they scanned the hallway like a radar, brushing past stylists and managers until you saw him. standing near the vending machine.
hoodie half-zipped over his stage outfit, water bottle in hand, hair slightly damp from the performance. he looked the same, effortlessly calm, like the world still moved around him but never through him.
“james,” you called before your brain could stop your mouth. he turned at once, and that tiny pause, the second it took for his eyes to recognize you, felt like a whole breath you’d forgotten you were holding. then his expression softened, just a little. that small, polite smile that hadn’t changed.
“finally sharing the same stage, huh?” james said, voice smooth, calm as ever. “yeah,” you said, brushing a loose strand of hair behind your ear that didn’t even need fixing. “crazy.”
james nodded slightly, bottle cap twisting in his fingers. “congrats on your stage.” his tone was polite, a little distant, and maybe that stung more than it should’ve.
“you watched?” you asked, trying to sound casual even though your heart was still hammering from both the stage and the sight of him.
he met your eyes. “i did.”
“really?” you raised a brow, leaning against the wall beside the vending machine. “then name one lyric from our performance today.”
james smirked that same infuriating half-smile that used to drive you insane. “nice try.” you laughed under your breath, shaking your head. “same james as always. professional liar.”
“and same you,” james said, voice low but teasing. “still can’t tell when to stop pushing.”
“not planning to.” you said with a shrug.
and maybe it was your imagination, but his gaze lingered a little longer than necessary. a flicker. a beat too long before he looked away. a staff member called for him, breaking the air between you. james gave you a small nod like a professional, and walked off, slipping back into the chaos like nothing happened. but the moment stayed in your mind.
the ride back to the dorm was noisy. your members were half-dead, half-hyper, some scrolling through fancams, others complaining about sore feet. you, on the other hand, had your earphones in, staring at the blurred city lights outside.
trouble. the song you’d been looping for days now, maybe because of the lyrics, maybe because of what they reminded you of.
“hey,” your leader said suddenly, yanking out one of your earphones. “you’ve been playing that song for like, the past hour. aren’t you sick of it yet?”
you blinked. “no.”
another member leaned forward from the back seat. “stop, let her be. she’s probably replaying that moment with james again.”
“i am not!”
“you are literally smiling at the window reflection.”
you groaned. “i just think it’s a good song and that frank ocean should release it!”
your leader laughed. “a song about a guy not wanting to date someone younger? sounds very coincidental.”
you kicked the seat lightly. “i hate you guys.”
“you love us. but not as much as you love james,” one of them teased, earning an eruption of laughter.
you crossed your arms, pouting, and muttered, “i’m eighteen now. it’s not like it’s illegal.”
“yeah, tell that to your romeo who still thinks you’re in high school,” another one said. you slumped back against the seat, staring at your phone screen. your chat with james was still there, the message you sent earlier. congrats on your debut stage!
his reply? a reacted heart. nothing more.
you sighed quietly, pressing your forehead to the cold van window. outside, the lights of seoul streaked by in neon lines. your reflection looked tired but smiling, the kind of smile you didn’t mean to have.
────
month passed after that music bank performance. the rush of promotions faded into routine, practice, interviews, variety shoots, sleep, repeat. but even with your schedule packed, you always noticed when cortis was mentioned, or when james’s name popped up in staff conversations. maybe it was habit. or maybe, deep down, you were still tuned to his frequency.
you still saw him in the company sometimes, usually passing in the hallway, heading to a different studio, earbuds in, his all time go to go drink in hand. those moments were short, almost fleeting. sometimes you’d wave; sometimes he’d just nod with a polite half smile. it wasn’t awkward anymore, at least.
you were used to it. used to him keeping space. used to you being the one who bridged it. every now and then, you texted him, short messages that always sounded casual on the surface.
u better not be skipping meals again!
didnt see u around lately. too famous for the cafeteria now? lol
also, for the record, i still like you. just reminding u before u forget :p
james would usually reply a few hours later with something dry but oddly endearing.
you’re persistent.
busy schedule. eat your own meals first.
noted. i’ll add it to the record.
sometimes, he’d just reacted a heart or a thumbs up. sometimes, nothing at all. but even that was enough. because even silence was a kind of conversation between you and him.
that night, long past midnight, the company building was quieter than you’d ever seen it. your neck had been aching from hours in the recording studio and all you could think about was collapsing into bed.
you pressed the elevator button and leaned against the wall, scrolling through your messages. your last text sat there, unopened. don’t overwork yourself again, you’ll regret it when your face puffs on camera (totally not based on experience!)
you sighed. typical. you didn’t know why you still bothered sometimes. maybe out of habit. maybe because some part of you still waited for a reply that might never come.
the elevator dinged softly and there he was. james.
hood down, jacket half-zipped, holding his phone as his other hand was inside his jacket’s pocket. his eyes lifted just as you stepped forward, blinking like he wasn’t sure if he should smile.
“oh. hey,” you said, a little breathless.
“hey.” he stepped aside automatically, holding the door for you. his tone was as composed as ever, but his eyes didn’t quite meet yours.
you entered, the air between you thick with everything left unsaid. the doors closed, the hum of the machinery swallowing the silence.
“so,” you said, shifting your weight, “still avoiding me?”
james eyebrow lifted, eyes flicking to you. “avoiding you?”
you tilted your head. “don’t play dumb. i see you every now and then in the building. you always turn the other way like i’m some kind of jump scare.”
“that’s not true,” he said, a small laugh escaping him.
“oh really? what about last week at the recording studio? or the hallway near the lounge?”
“coincidence.”
“right. coincidence.” you scoffed playfully, bumping his shoulder with yours. “you just coincidentally disappear every time i appear.”
james laughed was quiet, but it slipped under your skin. “you’re still the same,” he said, shaking his head.
“that’s not an insult, right?”
“depends,” he said, smirking faintly.
“depends on what?”
“on whether you’re done teasing me yet.”
“hmm. no, not yet.”
for a few moments, silence fell again but it wasn’t empty this time. it thrummed with something charged, something neither of you wanted to name.
james was afraid to admit that he liked you too since then. he’d always been good at hiding what he felt, but lately, that skill was wearing thin. the more he saw you, laughing with staff, running through rehearsals, glowing under the stage lights, the more it scared him. because you were eighteen now, and he had just turned twenty. two years didn’t sound like much, but it felt like a line james wasn’t sure he should cross.
and with his debut barely behind him, cameras chasing every move, the pressure of maintaining that perfect image sat like a weight on his shoulders.
you, meanwhile, were free, bright, curious, full of energy. the kind of happiness james didn’t want to taint with his uncertainty. so, james stayed quiet. distant. safer that way.
the elevator hummed softly as it reached the ground floor. the fluorescent light above flickered once, throwing both your faces in alternating shadow and gold. james stepped aside automatically, his voice low.
“ladies first.”
you stepped out, the air was crisp, your breath fogging faintly as you walked through the empty lobby and out the glass doors. the night breeze bit at your cheeks, carrying the faint scent of rain from earlier.
“you know, james,” you started, voice breaking the silence, “i wasn’t serious when i joked about liking you.” james gave a faint hum, eyes still ahead, as if he didn’t want to give you too much attention as if that would make it easier to breathe.
you paused, shifting your weight before continuing, “because it was never a joke.” your voice dropped lower, softer now. “i seriously like you.”
the words hung there for some moment and james didn’t answer right away. his jaw tightened, a muscle flickering as he stared at the pavement.
the two of you stopped just outside the building. the air between you felt too still. the streetlight nearby painted a warm glow over his face, catching the hesitation in his expression.
“you won’t give up, huh?” he said finally, a small, almost helpless chuckle slipping out. you shook your head slowly, a teasing smile ghosting your lips. “not even close.”
james turned toward you, and for the first time, the wall he had built so carefully like all that restraint and all that distance just cracked in an instant.
his gaze softened, deepened. it wasn’t playful anymore; it was something else, something real, and that terrified him.
you met his eyes, heart racing. “i hate how you always look at me like that,” you murmured, the words slipping out from your lips before you could stop them. “like as if you finally reciprocated the feelings… but if only you let yourself.”
for a moment, james just stared as the wind tugging at his hair. then, suddenly, he laughed under his breath and reached out, gently ruffling your hair. “c’mon,” he said after a beat, tone lighter, “i’ll walk you to your dorms.”
you blinked as james grabbed your hand and tugged you gently down the sidewalk. it startled you how natural it felt, how his hand fit perfectly around yours, how he didn’t even seem to care that anyone could walk out and see you both.
your heart thudded fast. you let your head hang low, hiding the small, helpless smile tugging at your lips. the rhythmic sound of your footsteps filled the quiet street.
“last question and i’ll shut up,” you said finally, glancing at him from the corner of your eye. james hummed in response, not looking away from the path.
“i’m eighteen already,” you said with a faint laugh, “basically legal, responsible, and definitely capable of handling rejection. so—” you looked at him fully now, the glow of the streetlight catching in your eyes, “will you finally give me a chance?”
james stopped walking. the sound of the city faded behind you, just the two of you standing under the soft amber glow. james blinked once, twice, his expression unreadable.
“give me a few months to decide,” he said finally, voice quiet but steady. “still need to grow up.”
you stared at him, half amused, half aching. “that’s your excuse?”
james’s mouth curved into a small smile. “it’s the truth.” you rolled your eyes, but couldn’t hide the warmth blooming in your chest. “fine. i’ll wait. but only because it’s you.”
“dangerous choice,” he muttered, half joking, half not.
you grinned. “i’d risk getting in trouble for you.”
that made him look at you and his smile faltered into something gentler, something closer to affection.
“don’t say things like that,” james muttered, shaking his head as he started walking again. but this time, he didn’t let go of your hand.
and as you walked together through the quiet streets, neither of you said another word, but both of you knew that something had changed. and maybe, just maybe, if love was trouble, james was the kind worth getting in trouble for.
The rain is a relentless thrum against the windowpane. You’re curled on the sofa, a half-finished mug of tea gone cold on the coaster, when the knock comes.
When you swing the door open, James looks like a ghost of the man you walked away from six months ago. He’s drenched, his dark hair plastered to his forehead, droplets trailing down the bridge of his nose and dripping off his jaw. He isn't wearing a coat—just a thin sweater that’s clung to his frame, making him look smaller, somehow.
"James? What are you doing here? It’s two in the morning."
He doesn't answer immediately. He just looks at you, his eyes searching your face with a starving intensity, like he’s trying to memorize the exact shade of your eyes all over again. His bottom lip trembles, just a fraction.
"I couldn't stay away," he whispers, his voice cracked and raw. "I tried. I swear to God, I tried to give you the space you asked for, but the silence is… it’s deafening, angel."
"You shouldn't be here," you say, but your voice lacks the bite it needs.
"I know. I know I’m the last person you want to see." He takes a step forward, stumbling slightly over his own feet, and suddenly he’s in the threshold. He smells same that faint, woody cologne he’s worn since you met him. "I fucked up. I lived like a coward because I was scared of how much I needed you, and I pushed you until you had no choice but to leave. I get it. I see it every time I close my eyes."
He reaches out, his fingers hovering inches from your arm before he flinches back, realizing he doesn't have the right to touch you anymore. That small movement breaks something in your chest.
"Please," he chokes out. "Just look at me. Tell me there’s a version of this where I don't lose you forever. I’ll do anything. I’ll wait years. I’ll start from the very beginning—I’ll be a stranger if that’s what it takes to earn a 'hello' from you again."
He’s begging now, his composure completely shattered. James, who is always so composed, is falling apart in your entryway. He sinks to his knees, not out of some dramatic flair, but because his legs seem to genuinely give out. He leans his forehead against the doorframe, his shoulders shaking with a sob he’s trying to swallow.
"I can't breathe without you," he gasps against the wood. "Every room I walk into feels empty because you aren't there to fill it. I see a book you’d like, or your favorite flower, and I reach for my phone before I remember I’m not allowed to call you. It’s killing me. Please, just… don't tell me it's too late."
You stand there watching the man you loved, the man you still love, despite every jagged edge of your breakup unraveling at your feet.
Slowly, your hand moves. It’s instinct. You find the damp locks of his hair, your fingers trembling as they brush against his scalp.
He lets out a sound that’s half-sob, half-relief, leaning his face into your palm, kissing your wrist with a desperation. He’s cold, shivering violently, and you know you should send him away, but the way he clings to your hand makes it impossible.
"James," you breathe, your own eyes stinging.
"Just five minutes," he pleads, looking up at you with eyes red-rimmed. "Just let me stay in your orbit for five minutes. I don't deserve it, I know I don't. But I’m so lost without you."
You step back, pulling him gently into the warmth of the apartment. He follows you, his eyes never leaving yours, terrified that if he blinks, you’ll disappear again. The door clicks shut, sealing the world away, leaving only the two of you and the heavy truth of what was lost and the flickering hope of what might be found again.
James Potter was NEVER nervous about icebreakers. That man had 3 fun facts about himself ready to go, along with his full name, AND pronouns (and the biggest brightest james potter smile)
