#founders' love languages | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

sugarmuseum · 25 days ago

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THE TRAITOR | N. JM

pairing: Na Jaemin x female!reader

genre: smut, horror, frat!au, halloween!au

summary: When your small town starts their annual -and intense– Halloween celebrations, you think there might be a case of mass hysteria as a witch hunt slowly rises when you caught the attention of the Founders, the campus elite members and their leader, Na Jaemin.

content warnings: minor age difference (Jaemin is 2 years older), explicit sex scenes, explicit lenguaje, mentions and descriptions of death and murder, drug and alcohol use, mentions of past torture (not to any principal characters), physical violence, lots of blood. MDNI!

smut warnings: unprotected sex, creampie, fingering, oral sex (m and f receiving), overstimulation, slapping, spanking, squirting, minor breeding kink, dirty talk and pet names so i don’t have to use y/n.

word count: 18.k+

Disclaimer: english is not my first language so if there’s any mistakes or misspelling i’m sorry! Happy halloween!

‘’I fucking love Halloween,’’ Lee Donghyuck almost screamed, winning a push from an annoyed Renjun behind him. He caught the attention of a group of sorority girls passing by, dressed as sexy witches, which looked at him giggling. ‘’I love this town.’’

‘’Here we go again,’’ Renjun sighed, knowing what’s about to come out of Hyuck's mouth— doing this same speech every year. But he decided to play along and entertained him while the rest of the group arrived. ’’What do you like?’’

‘’Everything! The spooky vibes, the parties! The girls in sexy costumes,’’ he listed with a smile, bating his eyelashes close to Renjun face, ’’especially the hot girls looking for a Founder to fuck.’’

Renjun groaned and pushed Hyuck again, rolling his eyes. ‘’Every time one of you call yourself that something dies inside me, I swear,'' he pinched the bridge of his nose, then went back to scanning the crowd for Jeno, Mark or even Ten, whoever might come to his rescue.

Hyuck looked at him porting a smug expressión. ‘’What about it? We are the Founders. And it’s not like you don’t enjoy the benefits, my lovely and cute Junnie.’’

‘’I didn't say that. I just implied you're annoying.’’

Before Renjun gives him the third push of the day, a figure joins them resting his hands on his shoulders from behind as a greeting. Jeno's head peeks between them and he frowns at Donghyuck.

''Are you already bothering Renjun this early,'' he asks and then turns at Renjun maintaining the same expression, ''and you shouldn't you be more patient as a future lawyer?''

''Jeno, are you on vice president duties already?'' A new voice jokes and everyone turns to Chenle, who appears making his way through the crowd. Used to the dynamics of his fraternity brothers, he is not surprised by the scene he encounters.

‘’Seems like it, yeah,’’ the handsome man says, ‘’since Jaemin is MIA.’’

Renjun frowns, pulling out his cell phone and checks the group chat, though there are no new messages. He hasn't seen Jaemin since this morning, actually. ''Where is everyone else? The opening of the haunted house is starting.''

''Mark is helping hang the last of the decorations in the backyard with Jisung,'' Jeno reminds them as the music drops a little and the sorority entrance lights up where Rosé, the president, takes the microphone. She's not alone, as her vice president is with her besides a bunch of other girls, dressed as witches. ‘’They’re putting in the last pumpkins and then they'll join us. I hope they hurry tho, I don't want to wait in line to get in.’’

''And where’s our leader?'' Chenle asks as he adjusts his black glasses, checking his cell phone too, reading several messages from girls asking to join them in the haunted house and ignoring it.

''Most likely stalking you-know-who,'' Renjun mutters with a sigh. He's not really listening to Rosé welcoming and talking about traditions, culture and witches, but his suspicions are confirmed when his gaze falls on you. ''Ah, yes, we definitely won't see him until later, much later.''

Donghyuck, Chenle and Jeno follow Renjun's line of sight, three more pairs of eyes landing on you, recognizing and examining you from afar in your cute witch outfit, hat and all. Even though the frat boys know you're banned by Jaemin's order, that doesn't mean they can't look at you, right? And tonight you look especially good, with your little black dress and those cute, innocent eyes looking especially bored too, making Renjun chuckle. You're so bad at pretending you want to be there.

''She looks so beautiful,'' Donghyuck laments, staring at your body as he has done so many other times and studying the way your striped stockings reach up to your thighs as an idea crosses his mind. ''Do you think Jaemin would share?''

Jeno snorts with a laugh. ''Fuck no,'' is quick to respond taking his eyes off of you for a second to raise an eyebrow in the direction of the major in Finance as he shakes his head. ''Definitely not with you, no.''

''You pulled the shortest stick out of all of us, Hyuck,'' Renjun comments with a satisfied smile watching his friend's face fall from his refusals and decides to give him a final stab. ‘’Maybe Jeno,'' he adds thoughtfully.

The named one neither denies nor affirms, maintaining a secret smile that makes Hyuck sulk more and mutter things like I'm gonna put my stick in your—

''Don't be like that just because Jaemin has a girlfriend and you don’t,'' Renjun scolds him, having fun at the expense of Lee Donghyuck's tantrum.

Chenle shrugs and while he had to admit you were gorgeous, there were more girls like that on campus at the disposal of any of them at all the parties they threw, eager to get not only an NCT brother but maybe a Founder. ''What's so special about her anyway?'' He asks aloud his thoughts.

He doesn't like you, actually. It’s not that you did something to him on purpose, he just doesn't click with you the few times you two shared a space, like going to the kitchen at a party and bumping into Chenle spilling his drink or the times he let you in at the frat and you stepped in his foot accidentally.

''You should ask Jaemin, he's been obsessed with her for months,'' Jeno replies, thinking about how many times his best friend had chased you around campus, parties and even sneaking into some of your classes since the first time he saw you. He knew his friend could be quite intense, so it didn't surprise him that he acted that way when something - or someone - got into his head.

‘’That’s what good pussy does to you,’’ Donghyuck offers simply, as if it were obvious.

''We don't really know her, she's an outsider,'' Chenle continues, looking at you through his dark glasses with a sense of distrust that has him frowning. ''I don't get it.''

Renjun and Jeno shared a look, knowing that Chenle was one of the firmest believers about the family traditions they shared and that if things were to get more serious - as it seemed - with a girl outside their circle he was going to be the talk of not only the campus, but the entire town. And their families.

Neither of them said more on the subject, but they had to admit that Chenle was right. The girl who had stolen Jaemin was a newcomer with no legacy or social presence in the town or university. And that would be a problem, sooner or later.

You sighed as you reluctantly put on your black pointy hat, joining Yuna and Jia, who were wearing witch outfits similar to yours. A small crowd was gathering in your sorority area for the opening of the annual Witch Haunted Hunt, their activities to participate in the town's Halloween schedule. This year they were going to have a haunted house and sisters like you had been decorating the days before.

''I can't believe I'm doing this,'' you mumbled so the president, Rosé, wouldn't hear, even if she was busy talking into the microphone. That girl had sensors all over her body to identify pledges and sisters complaining. ''I feel like a idiot.''

''Hey! You said you weren't going to complain anymore,'' Jia reminded you in a hushed whisper, giving you a little nudge to shut you up while she had her attention on Rosé. ''Sshhhhh!’’

You moved your body a little to avoid her elbow as you continued to speak between clenched teeth. ''That was before they made us witches. It's like being an Elf on Christmas, but instead some kid is going to see me on the street and egg me on, I just know it,'' you sighed, pressing your lips together.

''What?'' Yuna asked in confusion, side-eyeing you from your right side. ''What are you talking about?’’

''Well... we're in a town that hates witches and the kids have grown up with that propaganda. It's only a matter of time before some of them put together an army and decide to do justice and put it on TikTok,’’ you explained.

''Being a witch is quite an honor in our sorority! We are the protagonists,'' Jia muttered trying to keep her face composed and not laugh. ''It's an ancient tradition and should be respected. Shush, babe!''

‘’Shush the non-believer!’’ Yuna whispered into your ear, laughing and pinching your ass making you jump and yelp, turning and staring at her accusingly, frowning when another sister shushed the both of you.

The town where you lived was nationally known as a major site of recorded witch trials and killings over three hundred years ago. Generations and generations had spent growing up with that scar on the town's history and over time they began to use the town's folklore as a tourist attraction.

You didn't know how intense it was until you moved in as a teenager a few years ago with your mother, it was like the town turned upside down when October came around. The short time you had spent there you had heard everything from legends to scare children and rumors about ghosts lurking from the witches that burned in the woods, to beliefs that the town had been cursed by said witches and you had been surprised to learn that some of those stories not only scared adults but that they believed it.

And you also witnessed how the descendants of the founders still controlled the place.

Owners of buildings, stores, the hospital, even politicians, the descendants of the wealthy and exclusive original founder’s families were considered royalty with a legacy that stretched through all the branches of their family tree and were still as powerful as... Well, ever. And they were the ones who for decades had been powering the Season of the Witch during the month of Halloween, filling the town with tourists, attractions and a lot of town spirit and effort to entertain their visitors. Although it had become a more commercial thing that attracted many tourists, that did not mean that the people who lived there were not in fact superstitious, because they were. Which never ceased to amaze you to this day.

You could have sworn there was satisfaction in some eyes when you once watched as they reenacted the trials with volunteer actors in the central square and the witch was sent to the stake while the high school choir and band musicalized the bizarre scene.

''You people and your obsession with witches, I swear,'' you groaned in exhaustion. Having been chosen as part of the sorority group of witches, your schedule was full of activities, like posing at the haunted house opening, selling tickets for that, making sure no one trashed the decorations around the building and keeping an eye on the festivities in general while looking cute. You were like a car model but make it witchy. And kinda objectifying.

''Maybe that's the reason why Jaemin won't stop staring at you,'' Yuna said quietly, trying to dissimulate the conversation the three of you were sharing. When you heard her you turned your attention back to the audience and it only took you a few seconds to scan it until you found his piercing stare fixed on you. When their eyes met he smiled at you slowly, showing all of his perfectly sharp teeth. ''He seems obsessed with a certain little witch.''

Na Jaemin was the golden boy of the town and one of the descendants of the founders. He came from generations and generations of politicians and his father was currently the beloved town mayor, occupying the office until his son was ready to take his place in a few years and carry on the tradition as his ancestors had done before. No one challenged the Na's monopoly of power at elections simply because no one else was running for it. Nobody dared. They just let them win over and over again.

That was the way things were and the way it worked there. Jaemin happily participated in all the town's activities with a smile and a face that made everyone sigh with love. There was no one who could resist his charm and personality. Were there any homeless dogs? He would organize a responsible adoption day. An elderly neighbor needed help with his yard? No problem, he would mow the lawn himself without breaking a sweat and campaign for other neighbors to join in taking care of the senior's yard.

You heard thousands of rumors about him from girl's gossip too. He had a fame since highschool of a brutal fuckboy with a big cock who will destroy pretty girls and that image just grew more intensely when Jaemin matured more and became a man. Did you need tutoring? He would offer, of course, and then politely say goodbye after fucking you against a corner of the library.

Well, in fact all that side of his reputation was over since the day both had officially met.

Actually, you knew who Jaemin was because he was graduating when you entered high school for your last two years and he had a fan club that lived and talked about him in class composed of your classmates, depressed that they could no longer see him every day in the hallways, the cafeteria or at play field making the team win. He was a celebrity at school along with his friends. You had seen him a couple of times in the hallways and noticed his heavy gaze on you on many occasions, but you didn't expect any movement from Jaemin. At all. After all, you were an inexperienced kid compared to the popular, pretty cheerleaders girls he fucked- you didn't think he had that type on interest in you. Maybe he was looking at you because you were the new girl and that's it. You had paid more attention to other things, like studying and making friends - Yuna and Jia occupying that last position.

Jaemin had a whole group of friends who were known to be from founding families who settled the colony that grew into a town and hence the origin of the nickname people gave them, the Founders. They were the heirs, part of such an intimate circle that it was impossible to enter or leave. Obviously everyone wanted to interact with them, be their friend, cheer them on at their games, girls threw themselves at their feet- anyone wanted a piece of them. Invitations to parties, free booze and drugs- you name it, it was given to them. Shit, even the candy store downtown would give them a free bag every now and then.

They moved their reign from high school to college smoothly and effortlessly, and Jaemin had been handed the throne on a silver platter - the presidency of the NCT frat - thanks to Taeyong, who was graduating with honors and an incredible future thanks to the scholarship Jaemin's dad had given him.

To the neighbors he was a kind and charismatic guy, but you saw his other face, more intense but real, relaxed. Especially in those moments when he managed to capture you when you least expected it (or in fact you did, and hope for it), just like now- taken to an empty classroom where no one would interrupt. When both of you were together it was as if you could see him and not Na Jaemin, the leader of the Founders.

And the rumors turned out to be true. He fucked like a demon.

Jaemin smiles at you with hungry, dark eyes after closing the door behind him. ‘’Aren't you the prettiest thing?‘’ He said after sliding each of his hands on your waist and sitting you on the desk. He lifts some fingers and gently tugs the front of your hat until it falls in your field of vision. "Baby, I think you just bewitched me."

‘’Stooop,’’ you whined with a laugh, tapping on his hands away but not really, ’’you’re gonna mess up my hat and then Rosé it’s gonna scold me.’’

‘’Awwww, baby,’’ he cooed at you in a fake sweet tone, even pouting and ignoring how you try to get away from him. Instead, he cages you against the desk with his body with one firm push, both hands grabbing your thighs and squeezing them. ’’Don’t tell me you’re afraid of little dumb Rosé, don’t you? I’ll protect you,’’ he mocked you, parting your legs and positioning himself between.

Your relationship with Jaemin went from strangers who looked at each other in highschool curiously to insane rabbits fucking everytime they could. Jaemin didn't waste any time when you stepped foot on campus for your first year, giving you a invitiatión to your first frat party. The crazy, popular ones everyone knew were filled with descontrol and fun at the Neo Chi Theta frat. You were doubtful at first, not really trusting him and his friends- but your friends saw it as a golden ticket for you and them. But actually it took a whole more year for Jaemin chasing after you until you were his.

‘’Jaemin, I don’t think even you stand a chance against my stressed sorority president,’’ you pointed and the brown haired man laughs huskily in your neck as he starts kissing it and biting- your body reacting at the feel of his mouth on you. ’’Not to mention Jia and Yuna will join too, they think this costume is sacred or something.’’

And oh boy, how stressed Rosé was. The disastrous day started early, first with the weather- it rained a little bit out of nowhere and your sorority sisters runned around the whole place protecting the Halloween decorations. Then, the electricity went out- some light fuses or something exploiting in the basement. So Rosé became more hysterical, because that meant that there was no sound system: so no sound effects, no music and no microphone to use.

Luckingly for the entire sorority and Rosé state of mind, things became better: the power came back, the fusibles were replaced and everything went smoothly from there. But it was kinda strange, not happening ever before according to the maintenance staff who couldn't find an explanation of how it happened: the fusibles were brand new, just changed a few weeks ago.

‘’It is, it’s part of a large tradition,’’ he said while his big hands now grabs your tits so possesively with a grunt, his distractions are working-, ’’we take things seriously here, you still don’t understand that? I’ll show you.’’

You yelped for the second time of the day when you felt a tug in your dress followed by a sharp sound of fabric being ripped. You stared in incredulity at Jaemin while he rips your tiny dress from the neckline, liberating your breasts with a pleased, masculine groan. His long hands cupped your tits, holding them while his tongue slowly circles your nipples, hardening them before sucking them firmly, until they pop from his lips. In no time he’s having you moaning and tugging his hair while you rub against his cock, feeling it already hard in his pants. Jaemin makes a mess of saliva, slurping it and spitting again, giving you small bites and succions; marking the sensitive skin of your tits, knowing exactly how to make your pussy throb with desire.

‘’Fuck, baby, so fucking pretty,’’ he mumbled against your breasts, biting one of your nipples harder than before, making you complain with a high-pitched whine. His hand moved down your body to in between your legs, feeling your wet pussy through your panties totally messed up by your arousal. ‘’Acting all responsible and shit, being a brat but letting me do anything to you like the slut you are.’’

Your breath hitched as your heart races, unable to control your body's responses that are trained by Jaemin to obey him. More moistness soaked your thighs and you squirmed into his body, rubbing yourself with not a care in the world as you get a friction to your needy clit.

‘’But don't worry, I'm going to fuck that attitude out of you,'' Jaemin promised with a devilish smirk that makes you feel a hot sensation that thrills your belly with anticipation. Jaemin pulled away and crouched down, shoving your damp panties aside so he can spread your folds apart with his digits. He swiped them up and down, watching them cover your wet, glistening, pussy. ''This pretty, little pussy is all mine,'' he leaned into your dripping cunt, dying to taste you. His tongue traveled in its slow way, scooping up your slick in long, soft but firm licks that make you moan and claw at the edges of the desk. “So fucking messy and desperate.”

Jaemin keeps both hands spreading apart and gripping your thighs close to your chest as he devours you like a famished man, tasting, licking and sucking your pussy in the most filthy way. He moaned into your center and shoved his face deep to your pussy, showering himself with your juices. His tongue circled over your clit and wrapped his lips around it, sucking it and causing your hips to grind against it, fucking his face.

‘’Jaemin, please, more,” you pleaded with a moan as he sucks harder, feeling your pussy clenching around nothing and getting more and more wet, your whole body burning with pleasure. You watched as Jaemin pulls away for a second, strands of saliva connect to your core, his lips, chin and nose looking glossy with your slick. He looked so fucking hot it almost hurts and as you stare at him you feel a wave of possessiveness making you even more horny... and wild. This man is mine, you thought in your cloudy mind.

His tongue shoved into your entrance, fucking you with it and then making you moan gripping his hair as his nose bumped at your clit with every push of his face, causing you to see stars and keep moaning his name.

''Jaemin- fuck, don't stop,'' you cried out with another moan, feeling the pleasure flood your body, aching to close your legs around Jaemin's head but he maintains an iron grip on your thighs, leaving marks in the form of fingerprints. ''It feels so good, please,” you spluttered.

“Please what? Use your big girl words,” he said, his voice rough as he licked his lips, coated in your wetness and savoring you again. Jaemin started lapping at your cunt so he can catch a new rush of arousal with his tongue. You remained silent, just whimpering and mumbling nonsense. “Are you so fucked up already that you can't even speak, dumb slut?

He spanked one of your thighs and returned to eating your pussy, swirling his tongue around your clit in circular motions and then sucking on it until you scream his name. His words are true, you were drifting as your mind goes into black, slipping into that headspace where you don't think, you only feel. Jaemin is set to make you scream, thrusting two long fingers inside you up to his knuckles, stroking your velvet walls as he slowly pushes them in first, in and out. They reach so deep, Jaemin finding that spot that makes you squeal and lift your hips, trying to fuck his fingers.

He curved them in and keep stroking that sweet spot, your body tingling with pleasure, facing the ceiling in blankness, a rush of heat building up in your core.

''Fuck, right there,'' you gasped, blushing a little as you notice the wet, loud sounds your pussy make as Jaemin drives his fingers in hard and quick, ''Nana, fuck- I'm gonna cum-’'

''Cum,'' Jaemin ordered, mouth pressed against your clit, still sucking and licking around it, ''cum on my fingers like a good slut for me.'' He continued to relentlessly fingering you, inhaling and exhaling your scent as he feels you tighten around his fingers. ''Pussy so tight and greedy, wanted to be stuffed and used.’’

You screamed his name and hold on to the desk with all your strength as you feel the orgasm overtake you, leaving you so breathless and so fucking satisfied as Jaemin holds you down, preventing your hips from rising again. Your legs trembled and you whimpered as you realized Jaemin hasn't stopped his fingers.

‘'One more,’' he said as he slided his fingers into your dilated hole, curling them in and making you moan. Jaemin smiled against your lips, kissing you again and drowning out your sounds of protests.

''Jaemin-'', you started to beg again, but he shushed you, by kissing you and raising on top of you, covering you with his body, letting you taste yourself on his tongue.

“Still a brat, huh?” His free hand covers your under belly and applies pressure, in a way that feels so fucking good. “Be a good girl and cum for me again, pretty slut.”

You felt the intense pleasure returning to flood you as his fingers do not stop. You moaned as you felt another climax rising, the overstimulation too much, squeezing around Jaemin's fingers as your hand finds one of his wrists and you hold on to it. Your eyes welled up with tears as you hided your face in the crook of Jaemin's neck, sensing your body so overwhelmed by so much delight and a little pain... that you snap.

‘’Fuck yeah, that's it,” Jaemin praised you as you cummed all over, squirting with a choked moan that sends you limp on the desk, ‘‘cumming like a good slut, making a fucking mess,’’ he smiled proudly, noticing how your legs are shaking and your breath is hitching.

Jaemin let you catch your breath as he sucked his fingers, not getting enough of your taste. His mouth covered your lips, this time kissing you slowly, adoringly, more tenderly, making your insides curl but this time with a different sensation. His hands caresses your legs, your sides and even your tits gently, bringing a smile to your face. Typical Jaemin, tearing you apart and then treating you like precious crystal.

He steped back, using what's left of the fabric of your shredded dress to wipe the rest of your cum from your thighs and pussy, your heart fluttering from his affection. Jaemin helped you into a sitting position, kissing you gently again and stroked your cheeks, observing the state of you that he has made. Your makeup was a mess, long smudges of your mascara, lips swollen from his kisses and marks covering your neck and chest, looking all fucked. So fucking cute, he thinks. Jaemins chuckled, when he noticed your long forgotten witch's hat lying on the floor.

‘’Are you okay, baby?” He asked before removing his hoodie and pulling on your naked figure, which suits you large and covering just above your thighs. You nodded with a hum, exhausted and happy after two orgasms. ''You've done so well for me, my pretty little witch.’’

''Please don't remind me,'' you sighed, thinking of the heart attack Rosé would have if she could see you like this. You cuddled Jaemin, searching for his neck with your cheek and rubbing yourself on it, your hand slowly cupped his erection in his pants, but then a big, sudden sound startled you both and makes you stop in your tracks... fireworks?

A few moments later the classroom door opened and you both saw Renjun storming in, his usually relaxed face looked a little frenetic. “We need to leave right fucking now, Jaemin,” he said, preferring to ignore the smell of sex: he's was too used to you fucking all over the place, and he had more important matters anyway.

‘'What's the matter? Renjun, what's wrong?'' The frat president asksed, motioning his body in a way that shielded you from his friend's view with alarm taking over his voice.

''Everything! The power at the frat house went out and the Jack-o'-lanters that Mark and Jisung put up exploded all over the place, all the way to the ceiling! They had to call the fucking fire department,'' Renjuns explained looking at his blowing up phone with the text messages coming. ''Ten and Johnny are downtown, apparently the city's Halloween sign blew up too or I don't know, but it caught on fire too and so did the decorations-''

''Fuck. Are they okay?’’ He asked and Renjun noded, looking unusually shaken. ‘’Okay, calm down,'' Jaemin tried to soothe his friend, then looked at you a bit confused and worried, ''what was that sound we heard earlier then? It's too far away from NCT here.''

Jaemin took out his muted phone, seeing so many messages from his brothers and his father too, calling him- fucking furious his precious and expensive sign is wrecked. Mark was on his texts, telling him that the fire department has extinguished the small fire on the roof, not major damage but Jisung was a bit freaked out.

“I don't know what the fuck happened, maybe something electrical,” Renjuns sighed, and continued to explain, “but something blew up in the sorority's haunted house and the power is out too.”

You hearded heavy, rushed footsteps down the hallway and a new figure entered the classroom to your utter fucking embarrassment, but at least it's not university staff, but Zhong Chenle with a mad look on his face and black glasses pushed up onto his head.

“Jaemin, someone set the witch dummy on fire!” He yelled.

One of the oldest traditions of the Neo Chi Theta frat was their kick-off Halloween celebrations, in which they would go into the woods on the first weekend of October, light a fire and burn a giant dummy, several feet tall and tie it to a giant stake dressed as a witch. It was a tradition that dated back a couple of generations, to the great-great-grandparents of the current Founders. Started by Jaemin's great-great-grandfather, in fact.

The witch's dummy would burn all night while the DJ played music and people partied.

But apparently this year's dummy had been set on fire before its time while still locked in storage and no one knew how that happened, however Chenle and Donghyuck suspected that perhaps it was the prank of someone who had a death wish. The confection of the stupid witch dummy had been in the works for weeks, so Doyoung had to order a new one and the party had obviously been delayed at least one more week, so he paid more to get it ready sooner. And even though it had been a number of days, the NCT residents were still furious.

''I don't understand what's going on, but things are going all wrong,'' Yuna sighed, examining you, who were sitting on the bed sewing up a part of her skirt that had been holed after catching on a nail sticking out of the door.

''Don't be silly, I'm about to finish and it's barely noticeable,'' you murmured, running the needle quickly through the shiny fabric, ''we'll make it to the party on time, you'll see,'' you comment in concentration.

''I don't think she's talking about her skirt, babe,'' Jia joined the conversation, finishing applying her makeup in front of the mirror and looking at you both through it. ''Rosé is furious, the whole opening was ruined. Good thing the guys were able to work out the dummy witch thing for tonight.''

''And the NCT house! Can you imagine if it had burned down? That's so scary,'' Yuna continued, getting up from her spot and scooting over to sit next to you. She rests her head on your shoulder, watching you continue sewing with a pout. ''Thank goodness no one got hurt.''

''Mmmm,'' you murmured not really listening and startle when your friend pokes your side playfully with a frown, wanting your attention. ''Ow! What was that for?'', you asked and examine your finger, which you pricked with the sewing needle.

''I'm sorry! I didn't mean to! Let me see,'' she gasped your name regretfully, taking your hand and inspecting your finger carefully, feeling guilty. ''There's no bleeding,'' Yuna murmured, a little surprised after a few seconds of checking it.

‘’It didn't go that deep, don’t worry’’ you assured her, taking your finger into your mouth and sucking the tip anyways while giving back Yuna her skirt. ‘’I already finished, anyways.’’

She smiles at you and kisses your cheek, quickly putting her skirt back on. ‘’You're the best, thank you! Now... Do you think Chenle will like this outfit?” she asked, posing and pointing her ass at you.

You spanked her, making her squeal and you both let out a giggle, catching Jia's attention. ''I don't think Chenle likes anything but basketball,'' you blurted, leaning back on the bed, ''you should go for someone else. Maybe someone who isn't the personification of a sour candy.''

''Ohhhh, so you admit there's some sweetness in him,'' Yuna joked, winking at you and you faked a gag, rolling your eyes. ‘’Stop doing that! He's cute,'' she insisted, and even Jia looked at her in amusement. ‘’He is! Okay, you should be nice to him anyway, you know? He's Jaemin's friend and-’’

''One of the Founders, yeah, yeah, I know,'' you sighed, ''and he's important and you'll marry him someday,'' you continued, reciting the words Yuna convinced you two to memorize in support of manifesting for her. She nodded and Jia snorted, thinking her delusional friend is cute.

The party and dummy burn was tonight, so you were getting ready with your two friends in Jia's room. It was also the first time you were going, not joining things like this since you moved to the town, like any witches and trials bullshit. But this time Jaemin invited you and you couldn't say no to him- besides, you haven't seen him daily this week, like you've gotten accustomed to since you first met him. He was busy with frat stuff like the dummy and the exploding decorations in the house- Renjun thinking that somehow someone must have set off a firecracker as a stupid Halloween prank, and also with family matters like the reopening of a new Witch Season sign in town. That didn't mean you two didn't talk, actually facetiming and calling each other but it obviously wasn't the same. And you missed him a lot.

''Speaking of founders, I think I'll fuck Jeno tonight,'' Jia said thoughtfully as the three of you reached the woods, cars everywhere and groups of what you assumed were students yelling and cheering, some of them clearly already drunken.

''Okay,'' you started a little confused, guarding your steps even though there are pumpkin-shaped garlands of orange lights guiding the way, ''don't you do that every day? Like... you let him sleep in your room when NCT's roof caught on fire a few days ago.’’

''Yeah, but I haven't since then. I want to drive him crazy, you know? He still has not asked me out and we've been fucking for months,'' she sighed, but there is determination in his eyes when he looks at you. ''I want a relationship like yours, I want a Founder too, can you imagine? The three of us having a Founder. Everyone would envy us,'' Jia saids, and Yuna giggled and agreed.

You smiled and hope none of your friends can tell it's fake. Comments like that started to become habitual weeks ago and it makes you uncomfortable, especially when you sometimes feel your friends' jealous eyes on you and Jaemin when the two of you are together. When Jia and Yuna saw Jaemin's interest in you, they urged you towards him at every opportunity, helping him. At first you thought they were just being good friends, trying to help you pick up a hot guy. But deep down you knew they saw you as the key to a social circle: the Founders' circle. When things with Jaemin got more serious, each of them set their sights on a specific Founder, which turned out to be Jeno and Chenle.

Jeno and Chenle were of course interested, because Jia and Yuna were gorgeous, with nice bodies and amazing smiles, just two cute girls who could have whoever they wanted. But none of them acted like Jaemin had acted and instead they kept playing their own way, having girl after girl and partying and being the residents fuckboys of NCT. No settling down for now, but you know and your friends too know that at some point in the future they had to marry a good and worthy town girl. What better plan than to work towards that position now?

Your thoughts were broken when the three of you finally arrived and the first thing you spotted was the biggest fucking dummy ever seen. Almost like the old trees in the forest, a huge figure covered in a big dress and witch's hat, stuffed with dried leaves and straw so it could burn faster. It was not yet ignited, but you could see from afar the standing bodies of Doyoung and Jisung preparing it, pouring gasoline at its feet.

Yuna dragged you and Jia towards the movable bar where Donghyuck and Jeno are already drinking, screaming. “Let's get drunk!’’

You couldn't stop yourself to watch the dummy witch from time to time, thinking it looked kinda strange. This whole party felt like that, and you understand that it's a tradition but the meaning behind it is... problematic. The witches the town burned where innocent women persecuted for dumb reasons. And now people burned a giant dummy of one of them with a live DJ.

You losted your friends a while ago, Jia leaving with Jeno to God knows where and Yuna chasing Chenle who is more busy talking about the match they won last month with Jungwoo, another Neo Chi Theta brother. So you stayed quietly drinking for a while, checking your phone for a text from Jaemin. He had told you a little while ago that he was coming, but you hadn't seen him yet. Out of nowhere you felt a pair of hands come from behind and clutch your waist, causing you to jump. Jaemin chuckles behind you and draws you into his body, wrapping his arms around you and kissing your neck as he coos at you.

''What's got you so jumpy, mmh?''

''Nothing, you just scared me,'' you said as you turned around, bringing your arms to his neck and inspecting how he combed his hair, clearing his forehead. He looked so handsome to you, feeling the familiarity of his presence complete you. ''You look so handsome, Nana.''

He looked at you and grinned, that big tooth-filled grin that makes him look a little wild, but unbelievably cute. That's what his vibes were like.

''I've missed you so much, baby,'' he murmured, not wasting any more time, and kisses you. His hands traveled up and down your frame, ruffling your skirts with his hands. You felt the heat radiating from his body and you feel better than earlier, knowing he was with you, desiring nothing more than to climb him like a tree and devour him. ''Fuck, I'm going to have my time with you tonight, angel.''

''Hey you two lovebirds!'' Donghyuck's loud voice suddenly cuted in and he grabs Jaemin and pulls him away from you. ''We need our leader to start the fire, but don't worry, pretty girl,'' he says, smirking flirty at you, ‘’I’m gonna keep you compa- ow!’’

Donghyuck holded the spot where Jaemin punched him and stared at him, while Jaemin does the same to Hyuck until he throwed up his hands in surrender. You can't deny that you don't love seeing Jaemin like this, acting as the dominating leader and driving Hyuck away. Once you and Jaemin are back alone, he gived you another kiss and fiddled with a strand of your hair by wrapping it around his finger, tugging lightly to get your attention.

“Wait for me, okay? Don't you leave with nobody, I'm going to light the fucking dummy and come back quick,'' Jaemin saids using his ridiculous baby voice, causing you to giggle and roll your eyes giving him a soft shove.

''Yeah, go set that horrible thing on fire already,'' giving him another nudge as he pulled your strand of hair playfully, kissing you once again before leaving.

He smiled at you and turns away, moving through the crowd. Some people waving at him and several girls staring at him with interest. You'd felt jealous but you know Jaemin is yours and he's proved it, but you can't help thinking about them stopping their stares. You went to the bar again and Kun, the frats house bartender, poured you the special punch he prepared, a dark red drink with a fruity flavor and definitely a lot of vodka.

You were torn between ignore the dummy about to be burned or not, part of you wanted to see Jaemin in all his glory and power, and part of you wanted to not partake in this silly event. You saw part of the flickering garland of lights in the bar, drawing Kun's attention as well, but just at that moment your eyes are elsewhere as Yuna leaned on the bar with an annoyed expression.

“You were right. Chenle is a stupid ugly candy,'' she mumbled, and you followed her gaze fixed on the boy's form. He was still talking to Jungwoo, but now some pretty girls have joined in, and you recognized some of the cheerleading squad. Chenle grabbed one of them by the waist.

Yikes.

''I don't think I'd quite say that,'' you commented as you take a sip of your drink and then hand it to Yuna, who picks it up and chugs it all in one shot. You know your friend very well, so you already know how the storm that was brewing in her eyes would eventually end. Probably with lighting and rain. And some cheerleader being threatened. You weren't really sure Chenle could handle a storm like that, but you sure as hell didn't want to see that. Yikes again. “You know what? I think I have to go to the bathroom-''

''Wait, no! They're setting the dummy on fire! Look, there's Jaemin,'' she exclaimed, shifting her attitude and tugging you along with her. You see him, holding up a lit up torch and creepily everyone falls silent, almost as if they're holding their breath. ''He looks so good,'' she sighed dreamily. She doesn't seem to have noticed that she said it out loud, brushing herself off right away.

Even though the DJ stops the music, Yangyang is still with his headphones on and filming everything with his phone. All eyes turned to Jaemin, who was showing a serious face, escorted not far away by the other founding members. Doyoung, Mark, Johnny, Jeno, Renjun and even Chenle, who seems to have made it in time, all watch silently as their leader throwed down the torch and set the giant witch dummy on fire.

The dummy bursted into fire and the blaze consumes it so quickly that it rises up to the dummy's hat fast. The crowd erupted into a craziness as the music returns, creating an explosion of energy and cheering, everyone jumping up and down and singing the song that Yangyang remixes. You leaved without a word, feeling uneasy and a little pissed off at Yuna's words from earlier. You maked your way through the crowd to leave the center of the party. It was too much. You needed another drink, you think, drumming your fingers on the bar as Kun fixes you the same punch as before, but now in the dark after one of the garland lights burned out. Luckily they had a spare, which Jisung was setting up.

You saw Jia coming your way, looking a little drunk and her makeup not as perfect as when you saw her earlier. "Babe, I've been lookin' for you! We're having a private bonfire, are you coming?''

''This isn't the bonfire?'' You asked a little confused, signaling the burning dummy with your head.

''Yes, but the Founders are having a private one, Johnny brought good wine and Donghyuck has some blunts. We're gonna smoke and tell scary stories!''

''I don't know, Jaemin told me to wait for-'' you started but Jia doesn't listen to you, tangles his arm with yours and drags you, ''Jia!’’

''Relax babe, Jaemin is already there with the others,'' she assured you, and smiles at you.

You wrinkled your nose at your boyfriend when you reached him and see he's sitting on the ground near the small campfire, impatiently looking at you.

''See, your girlfriend is here,” Renjun said to him and Jaemin flashes his middle finger at him. The handsome leader hugs your legs once you're close to him and he pouted at you, his hands now caressing the back of your knees. ''I told you Jia was bringing her.''

''I'm sorry, angel. They pulled me in and wouldn't let me go, saying I'd get lost.''

''Aren't you like the leader or something?'' you said sarcastically, sitting on his lap. You hear a chorus of ''ohhhhhhhh!'' and laughter. Jaemin just smirks, removes his jacket and covers you with it, kissing your neck and wrapping his arms around you. You knew you're going to paid for that challenge later, and you hoped so. You loved it when he punished your brattiness.

You heard your name being called and you realize it’s Donghyuck, who’s lighting up a blunt and taking a hit of it. ‘’So, I know the perfect story for tonight. Tell me, you don’t know much about our town history, right?’’

You shaked your head and shrugged, ‘’I don’t, not really. Well, just the dumb witch stuff and all that.’’

“So you don't know the full story? Like, everything that happened,'' Marks asked as he helped Johnny pull some bottles of wine out of a box, ''the entire timeline and the crazy stuff.’’

''What's there to know, really? People went crazy with mass hysteria and religious paranoia. They took innocent women and burned them at the stake,'' you remarked feeling a little shy afterwards as you notice the silence that forms but speaking your mind- but you can't help being honest. Jaemin rubbed your thigh, reassuring you, and you relaxed against his chest.

''Yeah, but,'' Renjuns joined in, taking the joint Hyuck offers him, ''they weren't innocent, they actually cursed the town. Everyone knows it started when Sarah, the middle witch, had her poor, evil heart broken.''

''What do you mean?'' You frownew.

''Hyung, tell the story from the very beginning!'' Chenle told him excitedly, lighting a joint on his own and passing it to Jisung after blowing out the smoke.

‘’Yeah, hyung,’’ Jisung said, getting comfortable on the ground and sipping from Mark’s wine bottle. ‘’You always tell it so good.’’

Donghyuck smiled from the praises and waited until the rest find their places around the bonfire; Jia with Jeno, Johnny and Doyoung sitting next to each other and sharing a bottle of wine and Mark and Renjun on some old, falling tree serving as a chair.

‘’It all started when the mother of the seven girls died,‘’ Hyucks beggined to narrate. ‘’They lived in peace with other people, they were nice and all. The seven sisters were known in town for their beauty, but the middle one, Sarah, was on another level. Soft skin and shiny hair, eyes full of innocence,’’ he paused, eyes moving toward Jaemin. ‘’Of course it caught the attention of the widowed Mayor.’’

You sensed Jaemin tensing behind you, fingers tightening painfully against your belly and you caressed his hand, wanting to relax like he did before to you. It was a little weird knowing that a direct descent of that Mayor was cuddling you in his arms.

‘’His wife died one cold winter, so young just like him, so every girl in town wanted to take her place. Whorever, they didn’t stand a chance,’’ Hyuck said gloomily, ‘’he was bewitched with Sarah. That’s when everything started going to shit.’’

Everyone listened to him thoughtfully, you noticed, as the sounds of the party happening not far along fill the forest but are ignored by the Founders. They kept smoking and drinking, except for you, actually interested in listening to the whole story. Maybe it was the way Donghyuck was using his smooth, velvety voice, but it was alluring you nonetheless.

‘’First, the fresh milk went sour, but that could happen, right? It was the old times after all. But then, some women started getting sick and weak, worrying the entire town. The unmarried ones started losing hair and having nightmares, so they turned to their scared mothers and told them what was causing it: the seven sisters. They saw them looking wickedly at them one afternoon after service, smiling like angels while cursing the poor girls like demons.’’

‘’That’s so ridiculous’’, you laughed, interrupting him and shaking your head. ‘’They were clearly having an intense fólie a deux, and sure most of them even faking it.’’

Donghyuck and the rest ignored your comment except for Jaemin, who you felt smile against your nape. Chenle, on the other hand, hushed you, signaling the teller to continue. He did, taking a sip of the wine Doyoung passed him.

''So the men assembled one night and went to investigate. They went to the seven sisters' house, but it was deserted. Their things were all inside, so the men knew they must be somewhere else. But they weren't working on the small farm next to the house either, so they searched the woods. And that's where they found the witches,” he stopped again for a second, building suspense, ”they were dancing naked, singing in an unknown language and having a small bonfire in honor of the Devil. The smoke was red and they were laughing maniacally, some of them were even floating in the air, terrifying the group of men.''

''Then the town council held a meeting. They were sick of the witches and their spells, who were trying to bring ruin to the good people,'' Renjun interrupted knowing the story by heart and Hyucks whined at him, irritated by his intromision.

''The council?'' You asked and Jia muttered your name looking at you like you're dumb.

''The original founders, our past families,'' Doyoung explained as he opened another bottle of wine, ''commanded by their Reverend, of course.''

Mark remained silent, and you understan his lack of comment because there's gossip you heard after you arrived in town and Jia explained to you who was who. Apparently, well no, actually, Mark was a direct descendant of the first reverend, but he came from a bastard son. Obviously his ancestor had sacred vows and couldn't marry, but it didn't surprise you that he had sex. All men were hypocrites, especially in those days. However, he and his family were considered a Founder anyways.

''So they settled that it was time for a trial. The mayor at the time advocated for the sister's innocence and asked for fairness, so the reverend reassured him that they would do so, they knew how to determine if the girls were witches or not. But little did they know that the girls planned to escape after seeing how the town treated them, even beating one of them one afternoon here in the middle of the town's central square. Imagine how disappointed the mayor was with Sarah, his precious lover was a damned liar trying to run away,” the narrator shaked his head, ‘’but thankfully they were caught red-handed and the Mayor himself put Sarah in the dungeon,‘’ Hyuck proudly continued.

You saw something moving in the corner of your eye catching your attention and turning your head to see better, but there’s nothing more than darkness in the forest. Someone was sneaking up with a girl, maybe? You swear you heard crunching leaves or maybe a branch. You curled more into Jaemins body who mistaked the movement for cold or fright, giving you a worried look as he hugged you more tightly.

''So the trials began. They did tests for the sisters, information coming from high ranks of the Church that guided the reverend in the art of finding a witch,'' Hyuck stared at you and held his eyes on you while he told the next part. ''Witches don't bleed, so they poked their fingers with sharp needles to prove it but their veins were dry. Witches have the mark of the devil on them, so they looked for that and found moles on the sister's skin, pitching them with hot iron sticks afterwards.''

You can’t help the sadness extending through your heart, listening to Donghyuck telling it in horror. It was a horrible story that was real, not some shit made up- these people existed. You feel sick to your stomach, a pinch of anxiety rising inexplicably.

‘’Witches have light bodies, to levitate and fly, so they took some sisters and judged that, pushing them off the highest cliff into the cold water to see if they could float or fly away in the wind. They sank and drowned, so the people who gathered to watch prayed for their souls. But that didn’t end there, some of them were still being interrogated. Witches can’t cry, so they were surprised when the remaining sisters cried while tortured. But… it could all been a trick, right?’’

The whole group is silenced by Donghyuck's mesmerizing voice as he talks and you just look at the fire while listening, imagining everything that went down with the seven sisters. You couldn't even try, tho. That kind of suffering is too much to handle. How scared they must be, seeing their sisters die one after another? Sustain all that pain?

Donghyuck took a pause to take a sip of the wine, continuing. ‘’After all, the whole town was cursed by them. Strange things started to happen in addition to the old testimonies. Blood started to appear in the medic’s house walls, and the shared office of the judge and the notary caught fire. And weird things kept happening, like hundreds of death flies appearing in the church and the banker having the windows in his house explode out of nowhere one day, pieces of glass cutting his face. The commissioner saw with his own eyes how his cows started giving blood instead of milk. So they all had enough. The only sister remaining was Sarah, so it must be her doing.’’

You felt Jaemin's body tensing, reacting to your own body stiffening. You couldn't help yourself, scared for the story, seeing how far these people were with their believings. He pushed his hand underneath your sweater, stroking your belly softly, covering with his whole palm making you shudder.

‘’So they decided it was time for her to pay and put an end to all this,’’ Donghyuck stopped and took his time in watching everyone, raising his eyebrows and smiling, the fire of the campfire making his eyes shine, ‘’she was declared guilty and condemned with death by fire, just like in hell. That same night they set up a huge bonfire and tied Sarah to the stake. The whole town went, some spitting on her and some scared of the witch too, but curious.’’

Donghyuck winked at you. ‘’And guess who lit the fire, my pretty, unbelieving cutie,’’ he asked, making Jaemin groan in warning, and you keep silent. ‘’You guessed right. It was the Mayor.’’

A breeze of wind pickups then, making you shiver and winding up the campfire in front of you. The top of the trees moves, the sound of its branches moving even despite the distant music of the party. But nobody seems to care, as is normal in a forest.

"To our founders!" Johnny cheered, raising his bottle of wine in a toast.

"You guys are way too comfortable feeling proud of having burned people," you huffed, settling into Jaemin's lap, feeling cold, "sorry if I find this fascination you have for baseless murders bizarre."

‘’Didn't you hear the story? They had proof, the whole town was fucking enchanted,’’ Chenle raised an eyebrow, shaking his head and taking another puff from his blunt.

Marks speaked then, looking kinda embarrassed. ‘’It's not a fascination, it's just—our ancestors did what they believed was best.’’

"Oh God, you don't really think those women were witches, do you?" You started to laugh, but you immediately stopped when you saw that no one is laughing with you. "You guys can't be serious."

"Well, but think about it a bit. Strange things were happening back then, it's written in the records, there are testimonies. Those women were accused for good reason, surely," Jia said, pushing herself closer to Jeno.

‘’Yeah? Like what? To have their dress better ironed? Or maybe they didn't make the butter salty enough for the founders' taste," you joked ironically, winning yourself some eye rolls and scoffs.

‘’Were you listening at all? They have motives, the witches were invoking the Devil and bringing dark shit to the town,’’ Johnny throwed you a unimpressed look.

‘’You can believe whatever, but witches were real then,’’ Doyoung said, swirling his bottle of wine and shrugging. ‘’And probably are now, just hiding better.’’

Renjun stood up, stretching and taking another hit before heading towards the party, not without saying: "And nowadays, strange things are happening too, just like back then. "

Doyoung seemed thoughtful, considering it as he lowers his bottle. "Yes, you're right... too many strange accidents."

‘’You think a witch did it?’’ Jisung asked, looking very scared by that idea.

"Having electrical problems and an idiot running around blowing up pumpkins is not a rare accident," Jaemin denied, looking bored. He starts kissing your shoulder, more focused on touching you and warming you up than on the chills he feels running down your legs. He gave you a little nudge on your side indicating that you should get up, and you obed instantly, happy to leave that place once and for all.

‘’But you can’t deny that witches exist, right, Jaem?’’ Johnny said, teasing him.

‘’If you guys have bloody walls and sick cows, you should call the university staff,’’ you teased the Founders, taking Jaemin's hand, who also gets up and stretches with a grunt when his back cracks. You start to walk away with him, letting yourself be guided by your boyfriend towards the party again. ‘’Or fund the witch police, I’m sure there’s a budget for that!’’

That same night much later, you were in Jaemin's bed, wearing one of his t-shirts while you both watch an old horror movie on TV together before going to sleep, it's almost dawn. Curled up against his side, you look at him from beneath your lashes, studying the curves of his face in silence without paying attention to the movie until Jaemin feels your gaze on him and looks at you, smiling as he notices your expression and affectionately caressing your waist.

"Can I help you, angel?"

"Yes," you admited immediately, moving on top of him to settle yourself on his lap. You cradled his face and kiss him, Jaemin's hands immediately grabbing your thighs and moving up to squeeze your butt with a sleepy grunt. "I want to ask you something," you murmured against his lips, licking yours.

"What is it?" Jaemin asked, tilting his head and playing with the edge of his shirt on you, lifting it slowly but you stop him before he distracts you with another session of sex.

You didn't know how to start, so you went straight to the point. "Nana... the story that Hyuck told, I was wondering," you paused, straighten up above him, "why do you think Sarah didn't take revenge on the Mayor like she did with the council members? Sorry, I know he's your ancestor and all, but I'm curious.’’

Jaemin studied you for a few seconds and then he smiled, slipping his hands under the shirt to caress your skin, sliding his palms over your ribs and the edge of your breasts. "What do you think? They loved each other. I stole his diary a few years ago from my father's library and read it myself. They loved each other so much. The Mayor wanted to marry her even before he was with his first wife, but Sarah came from a poor family and his family insisted. That happened before the village was established, I think.’’

‘’What happened to him? Obviously he got remarried, otherwise you wouldn't be here," you joked, brushing his hair back.

‘’He married one of the girls who had accused Sarah, but because he needed an heir. It wasn't a happy marriage, according to his diary and... he always regretted betraying her," Jaemin responded, looking thoughtful for a moment. He bringed his hands to your back and pulled you back towards him, kissing you softly on your lips. ‘’He continued writing about her and…,’’ the stoped, eyeing your lips.

"And...?" you asked with curiosity, urging Jaemin to continue after he stops. He closes his eyes for a few seconds and then opens them, his face illuminated by the faint light of dawn coming through the window, giving Jaemin a soft appearance.

"And he always had nightmares, until he died. About her. He saw her hurt, crying for him, and burning at the stake... he regretted everything he made her go through, he wished he had helped her escape or hide," Jaemin explained, sitting with you still holding you in his arms for a better reach to your mouth. He kissed you gently, hugging you by the waist. Then he added: ‘’He didn't believe she was bad, it was impossible. Sarah was the kindest woman he had ever known, according to him. He wrote about her until the day of his death, she is the last entry in the diary.’’

"But everyone sees him as a hero or something like that. He was the one who lit the fire," you murmured, unable to avoid thinking about how terrible it must have been for both of them... but especially for Sarah.

Jaemin sighed and pulled at the shirt you're wearing until he takes it off, and this time you let him. "But people don't know the diary exists, baby. Everyone believes the story they've heard, the version Hyuck told last night. The official version of the town.’’

"Why haven't you told them, Jaemin? You know the truth, that Sarah wasn't an evil witch," you said, frowning, letting Jaemin change positions, lying you down on the bed and positioning himself on top of you, parting your legs with a tender but firm touch.

"And who said I won't tell it soon?"

The leader of the Founders smiled at you, and for a moment, you can do nothing but just look at him, feeling your heart soften and explode at the same time, feeling so in love that you forget how to breathe. You felt the electricity inside you like every time you're with Jaemin and sparks fly, vibrating with anticipation when his touch becomes intimate and sensual. Your body arched against his as you both kissed deeply, your breath quickening with each passing second, unable to control some moans that escape you when you feel him hard against your stomach. His slow kisses traveled to your neck, kissing and sucking as well, causing your body to fill with shivers.

"Jaemin, wait-," you stopped him, having one last question before continuing, holding his face so he looks at you. ‘’The last entry in the diary... What did he write?’’

Your favorite smile from Jaemin appeared on his lips, full of teeth and tempting lips, but filled with a pure sweetness he has reserved for you, sporting that expression of bright and mischievous eyes that drived you crazy. He comed near your mouth again and kissed you slowly, full of love.

"That he wished they could be together in their next life."

The days went on, and so did the little accidents, as the townspeople and tourists tried to enjoy the various activities of Season of the Witch. The highschool choir lost their voices and couldn't participate in the reenactment of the burning of the witch Sarah in the town center, and in the middle of the play, the judge's table broke, causing the poor actor to fall and making the audience laugh. The haunted house of your sorority had so many problems that they weren't selling many tickets, so Rosé simply decided to cancel it, giving up after the damn fuses burned out for the tenth time in the little time that had passed in the month.

Chenle was determined to catch the one who had blown up his pumpkins at home, convinced that it was the same person who had blown them up at the frat and who also had a new prank, breaking the witch figures that the neighbors hung in their yards. The basketball team captain was sure that the culprit was some university student who had dared to take their pranks further and make an enemy by puncturing all the balls in the team's storage until they were deflated. Chenle was so furious that he was going to break the culprit's teeth when he caught him, as he had sworn to Renjun when the team couldn't have a practice game that day.

Renjun's room had flooded, ruining his university books and papers, so he had to spend the days leading up to Halloween redoing them to study for his exams the following week. He was convinced that one of his fraternity brothers, like Hendery or Yangyang, was playing pranks on him, because his new notes kept disappearing until it stopped being fucking funny.

Mark and Doyoung were becoming irritable because they were having constant nightmares and not sleeping well. Doyoung tried taking some pills to rest, but they were worse—trapping him in horrible dreams without being able to wake up and throwing them out the window the next day. Mark was grumpy and a bit paranoid, insisting that his cross necklace, originally inherited from the reverend, had disappeared and that he heard noises when he was alone. But Johnny was sure it was because Mark had the messiest room and his system was full of Redbull and he was sleeping little. Mark had reached his limit when he found a couple of dead flies on his desk and freaked out. He refused to sleep in his room, now being Chenle's temporary roommate.

Poor Johnny went through a few days of mourning when the shelves of his wine cellar gave way and broke without warning, shattering all the hundreds of precious, expensive wine bottles that he and his father had collected together. The worst part is that no one had noticed for a few days, so the wine was left there until the smell of rot filled the room and the floor had to be replaced.

Donghyuck's car tires had been slashed, the fuel tank filled with water, and as if that weren't enough, they had scratched the entire exterior, leaving the crowbar perfectly wedged against the driver's side window after finishing the job. He had tried to look at the security cameras like Chenle, but just like his, they didn't work. The image looked blurry until it went black as if there was some interference, so he had to accept that his car was ruined without catching the culprit for the moment.

Jeno realized that his protein shakes tasted like crap and didn't understand why, maybe because he was trying a new brand and flavor. It wasn't until he realized that the milk in his fridge was sour and spoiled, which was confusing. The milk hadn't expired, but when she smelled it through the package, the rotten smell made him gag. He bought a new pack at another store—just to be sure—and when he tried his shake at the gym, he spat it out in front of everyone, feeling that disgusting rotten taste again.

A few days before Halloween and the NCT party, the six Founders barged into Jaemin's room unannounced and surrounded him. The leader raised an eyebrow and lowered his phone, pausing his game, looking at them all without understanding anything and annoyed by the interruption.

‘’What?’’

"We need to talk," Doyoung started, crossing his arms. "We have a problem."

Jaemin sitted down and put his phone away, giving his brothers his full attention. ‘’What’s it? The TXT frat is fucking with us again? I thought I was clear when I punched the president at the spring party.’’

Chenle went straight to the point, sitting in a chair in his leader's room, face unreadable as he’s wearing his classic black sunglasses hiding his eyes. ‘’We have a witch in our hands.’’

Since you had woken up on Halloween day, you felt like everyone had reached their peak weirdness. The days before, when you saw Jaemin's friends around campus, they wouldn't even look at you; in fact, you thought they were avoiding you. Jia was acting similarly, making excuses about having a lot of homework and exams, which you understood. Your relationship with Yuna had been in a strange place since the night of the witch burning, and things had worsened when your ex friend started to take an increasing interest in Jaemin. Apparently, Chenle was a thing of the past and your friend wanted another Founder, with her eyes on the leader. Despite everything, it was strange to get ready alone in your room when you were used to doing it with your friends.

Everyone on campus was going to the annual NCT costume party that night, known for being one -if not the most- wild of the year, epic and out of control. The Founders paid the university to look the other way and not interrupt, letting them do whatever they wanted. Of course, the deal worked successfully every year.

You had chosen a somewhat cliché fallen angel outfit. You were wearing small black wings and a lace top of the same color to match your cute body-hugging skirt and high boots, definitely a sinful angel, as Jaemin had said when you sent him a photo before going out. You didn't really feel like putting too much effort into your costume, although you did want to look good. Really bloody and terrifying costumes weren't your thing anyway, in fact, nothing of that sort at all.

You made your way into the NCT house, a bit surprised by the party's budget. The broken decorations had been replaced with new ones, and the entire front yard had tombs, moving figures of ghosts and vampires, obviously a witch; there was even a smoke machine that added a terrifying touch. It looked like it was straight out of a fucking horror movie, and people had followed the dress code to the max, the costumes you saw had high production value and quality. Jaemin hadn't told you he was going in disguise, but you had a slight suspicion when he sent you some tweets of Ghostface and asked if you liked the mask.

You entered the house with deafening music and colored lights, filled with people dancing, others playing games and drinking, and some even kissing in the corners. It was a typical frat party, but the night felt different... maybe because it was Halloween. Supposedly it was a night of witches and demons, right? The air felt tense, as if something were about to happen but you didn't quite know what it was.

You were looking for Jaemin when someone suddenly crosses your path and says your name. Yangyang takes off his Art the Clown rubber mask to greet you. "What are you wearing?" he asked, a bit offended, observing your outfit and frowning. "It's supposed to be Halloween, not the Victoria's Secret fashion show. Hey, not that I'm complaining, anyway! Are you sure you want to date Jaemin and not me?" He speaked quickly, looking at you mischievously without letting you get a word in.

"Yes, Yangyang, I'm sure," you responded immediately, without paying attention to his comments. "Have you seen Jaemin?"

‘’Nope! I haven't seen any Founders, actually," he frowned as if he was realizing it at that moment and shrugged, lowering his mask. ‘’Anyway, don't try the punch! I put way too much rum in that shit when Kun wasn't looking," he warned, giving you a kiss on the cheek and quickly fleeing while laughing like an evil and silly gremlin.

You continued your way through the party and decided to skip some places, heading directly to the stairs to go to Jaemin's floor. You were walking down the hallway and don't notice a door opening behind you as you pass, a black figure in a hood appearing. He followed you a few steps, acting quickly when he realizes you felt him behind you. The stranger grabbed you and pushed you against the wall, making you scream in surprise, calming down only a little when you realize it's Ghostface the one holding you. His hand covered your neck and squeezed it slightly, feeling your pulse race with fear.

"No, Mr. Ghostface, don't kill me! I want to appear in the sequel!" you laughed, breaking free from his grip with a shove and running towards his room before he can catch you again. You opened the door feeling the adrenaline fill you and you are about to close it behind you when Jaemin put his foot in and pushes it open. You slowly backed up to the bed while Jaemin locks the door, taking off his mask and tossing it aside.

''Do you think it's okay to keep escaping from me? Angel, angel... You never learn your lesson, do you?” Jaemin asked, moving towards you slowly, speaking in a tone of mock sympathy. You felt excitement wash over you, your thighs rubbing together as you stared at him and he noticed, clicking his tongue in annoyance. “Kneel,” he ordered, resting a hand on your head to press you down. “You didn't think I was going to forget the punishment I owe you, did you?”.

“N-no,” you replied, your knees hitting the floor. Jaemin's hand gently caressed your cheek until he slided his fingers up to your mouth, rubbing them against your lips. ‘’Nana-’’

He slapped your cheek with his other hand, not too hard but firm enough to make you gasp and shut up. ''I thought so. Always so chatty, so defiant. But don't worry, angel, I know the best way to shut you up. Open your mouth, pretty slut.’’

You licked your lips and then part them, looking at Jaemin with pitiful eyes. He slipped his fingers into your mouth and you sucked on them immediately, swirling your tongue over them and cupping your cheeks to suck them eagerly, breathing through your nose as he takes them deep into your throat until you choke. He did it again and again until saliva begins to drip from the corners of your lips, feeling it dripping down your cleavage. You inhaled air through your mouth as he wiped away the wetness on your lips, making you more of a sloppy mess. He grabbed your hair and hold it in his fist as he shooted you a stern look as your hand groped the bulge in his pants covered by the black robe of the costume.

''So fucking needy, can't you wait for my cock, mm? You better not close your mouth, understand?” he said, releasing you to unbutton his pants. You obed him and keep your mouth open, tongue hanging out and feeling the saliva dripping down as you wait for him. He looked at you with smug satisfaction as he pulled his cock out of his boxers and rubbed it up against your pretty face, the thick, long cock rubbing your cheek and nose, even brushing against your tongue as Jaemin stroked himself in front of you.

You moaned when Jaemin let out a rough growl as he pressed his balls against your tongue and you flicked your tongue along them, feeling so powerful as you pleasure him. Jaemin grabbed your head as before and drived his cock into your mouth, thrusting lazily as your lips wrap around it and sucked on it, your tongue circling his thickness. You sucked him at his pace, slow, deep lunges that made you moan around him, feeling him hard in your mouth and giving you the occasional gag when he stayed too long at the back of your throat.

He only pulled out when you blink and a few tears escape, smiling down at you from his height and letting you breathe for a few seconds before plunging back into the back of your mouth, pushing his cock until your nose bumps against his pelvis.

He placed both hands on your head and holded you down, fucking your face more rapidly, making you gag around his cock and reaching a hand between your legs, stroking your swollen, throbbing clit. ''Fuck, so fucking good, sucking cock like the whore you are,” he grunted, slamming it down your throat over and over as you gagged and tried to relax your jaw, taking his huge cock with your slacked mouth.

You breathed shakily as you let Jaemin continue to fuck your mouth, moving your fingers around faster on your clit and even sliding one finger into your aching pussy, moaning as you moved them in the same pace as Jaemin was using your throat and even slidded another digit in.

''A dirty angel, preparing her pussy to be fucked without my permission,” Jaemin scolded you, pushing his cock's tip against the inside of your cheek and smacking it, making both of you moan from the sensation. ''Get on all fours and lift that ass up like a good slut for me.''

Jaemin pulled his cock out of your mouth and you couldn't help but cough a little and swallow, feeling your throat dry. You stood up trembling and sniffling through your nose from the tears, hurrying to obey Jaemin. You slowly leaned over the bed, giving him a view from under your skirt as you position yourself, revealing that you were not wearing any underwear. Jaemin's breath catches when he realizes you're not wearing anything under your skirt, seeing your pussy glistening with moisture, swollen lips that you part with your fingers, moaning his name to provoke him.

"Jaemin, please, I need your cock filling me," you said, turning your head to look at him, resting your face on his pillow. You spreaded your legs to show him more of your dripping pussy, biting your lower lip and begging with your eyes. "I want you to fuck me full of your cum," you moaned, giving your clit little slaps, moving your hips to rub your fingers firmly against it.

You saw Jaemin's eyes darkening and you smile pleased internally, knowing you have him right where you want him. You loved the way he dominated and fucked you, but you also liked to play with him and provoke him; pulling his strings until you got what you wanted. The way he positioned himself behind you and kneaded your ass made you moan in need, a possessive feeling filling you up as you know he is yours, feeling so overwhelmed that you can't help but shudder when you feel the tip of his cock pushing into your entrance, driving himself into your pussy so deep that his balls hit your ass.

‘’Nana, you’re so big,’’ you cried in pleasure at the feeling of stretching and a bit of pain sting, your walls getting used to Jaemin's size as they throbbed around his cock, scratching the sheets with your hands. You clinged to them when Jaemin started fucking you hard and deep, both of you moaning like two animals in heat while his hands grip your waist tightly.

"Taking my cock so well, this pretty pussy is made just for me, right?" He gived your ass a smack, causing more of your moans, and Jaemin growled as he fucks you hard while rolling up your skirt, gripping the garment as he moved in and out of you quickly. "You’re never going to leave my side, always being filled up with my cock and cum," he breathed heavily, groaning hoarsely as he feels your pussy tighten at the sound, feeling out of control. ‘’You’re going to let me breed you like the good girl you are-’’

Your eyes filled with surprise when he said that, and your body reacted, your pussy getting wetter and liking the idea, a sensation of pleasure forming in your stomach that has you whimpering with need while Jaemin railed you hard and fast. ‘’Yes, Nana! I’ll let you—fill me up, please," you begbed, your mouth slightly open, drooling on his bed as he used you however he wanted, giving pleasure and excitement, whining with each thrust of his big cock inside you.

"Fuck, begging like the pretty little whore that you are- I'm gonna fill you up so much, angel," he promised while thrusting into you, feeling drops of sweat fill his nape. Jaemin slapped your ass again and grabbed the flesh of your cheeks, kneading them possessively and spreading them apart to see the small hole of your ass.

He lets a thread of saliva fall slowly onto him, surprising you with the sensation and making you whimper, looking at him with imploring eyes as Jaemin begins to slide his index finger over it in a caress, spreading his saliva on it. "I’m gonna fuck this tight hole next, fill it with cum too."

You moaned from the overwhelming sensations and nodded repeatedly, gasping and tightening around Jaemin's cock, feeling your climax approaching as he inserted the tip of his finger into your ass, making you gasp in surprise at the unexpected but welcome touch.

"Come on my cock my pretty slut, milk me," he ordered, and you could only moan, feeling a tremor in your legs and your core fill with heat and moisture, soaking Jaemin's cock with your slick. "Beg for my fucking cum."

‘’Jaemin, please! I want all your cum, breed me," you said breathlessly, moaning non-stop even as you cummed, a wave of pleasure hitting you and leaving you dazed as you enjoy it. You stretched your hand back, caressing Jaemin's stomach and looking at him again, smiling provocatively. "Fill me with your cum, I want it to drip from me for days, please-"

‘’Take it, it's all yours, angel, fucking take it," he moaned, finishing deep inside your pussy, making you whimper from the warm feeling of his semen filling you up. Jaemin clinged to you as he finishes and tried to catch his breath, staring intently as his cock buried in your pussy, coating your womb with his cum. He gave you a gentle thrust and you moaned from the sensitivity, a masculine satisfaction filling him as he continued moving, some remnants of his cum coming out of your entrance and being pushed back in with the tip of his cock. ‘’Shit, baby. This pussy is driving me crazy," he murmured as he continues playing with his semen, floating his cock between the folds of your pussy and then gathering the white liquid to push it back inside you again. ''Such a pretty hole, dripping with my cum.''

You made a small sound and let your body fall forward, closing your eyes with a happy sigh and a bit of tiredness. You moved you hand behind you, slipping it between your legs and gathering the remnants of semen in your pussy, spreading it slowly between your folds too while looking at Jaemin with lustful eyes and softly moaning. You swore Jaemin's pupils dilate and he lunged at you, kissing you hungrily while his fingers intertwine with yours, both slowly caressing your poor, used pussy until you sighed contentedly and looked at him mischievously afterward.

"Put the mask on, I want to ride Ghostface now."

You didn't know how your legs were able to, but you found a strength to leave the bed and go down to the kitchen while the party continued and Jaemin followed after you, both hungry and thirsty after fucking two times non-stop. Your angel wings were long gone, and thankfully Jaemin didn’t tear any of your clothes this time, so you were presentable. It was way past midnight and the Halloween party was peaking, not noticing anyone you knew, not even your friends when you passed the living room scanning the people dancing. Jaemin was leading you by holding your hand, put you let it go when someone pushes with force against your body, making you move back.

‘’What's up, pumpkin?’’ Johnny smiled at you, you noticed first thing he was not wearing a costume. ‘’Are you enjoying the party?’’

‘’We do, man,’’ Jaemin answered for you, putting his arm to your shoulders. ‘’Are you going to the woods?’’

‘’Yeah, are you two coming? We’re having another bonfire, this time it's beer, tho. I haven’t had the time to refill my wine cellar,’’ the tall man said, winking at you as he murmured your name. ‘’You’re coming too, right? You know our leader won’t come if you aren’t there.’’

‘’Of course she’s coming, right baby?’’ Jaemin smiled at you, kissing your temple. You looked at him strangely because that wasn't your usual routine. You two were the cuddling type, so after having sex both will laid in bed for hours, just making up and chilling. Going to another stupid bonfire wasn't part of that ritual, that was weird. ‘’It will be fun, you’ll see, angel.’’

You entered the same entrance in the forest where a few days ago burned the witch dummy, but this time there wasn't any garland of light illuminating the path. The wood looked dark and creepy, the full moon rising on the sky and you admired it for a moment. Johnny and Jaemin chatted about sports and you don’t really heard them, missing the bed you were in before.

As you three came closer to the forest’s clearing, you noticed there’s no bonfire, but light up torches in the Founder’s hands. You crossed your arms as you walked towards them, feeling the tension thickening as you came closer. You sided eye Jaemin, feeling kinda uneasy, none of the Founders- and your friends who were there too not talking or laughing or drinking, they just… stayed there, illuminated by the fire in the torches.

But as you were about to say something to Jaemin, his hands pushed you to the ground hard, making you gasp in pain and confusion. His hand grabbed your hair and yanked your hair, forcing your eyes to see the Founders coming close to you. ‘’Jaemin, what the fuck! Let go!’’

‘’You’re forbidden to speak, witch,’’ Donghyuck sayid, kicking the ground so dirt lands on your body. ‘’This is a trial by the council. Bring the witnesses, Mark.’’

Mark did as told, making a hand gesture to Jia and Yuna to come closer. They do, Jia looking shaken up and Yuna more composed, eyes shining at you with an emotion you can’t put your finger on. What the fuck was going on?!

You intended to speak again, but as you about to you felt a jab of pain to your face, Johnny giving you a strong slap to your cheek that already leaves a mark behind.

‘’Shut up witch, you can’t speak,’’ he grunted and then looks at the girls. ‘’Tell what you told Chenle before.’’

‘’I saw her pinching her finger with a needle and didn't bleed,’’ Yuna is fast to accuse, staring at you in what appears to be fear, but you didn't buy it. ‘’And she- she didn't like Chenle, she said that she wishes he could go to hell, too.’’

‘’What!? What the fuck is going on, I never said-’’ A new wave off pain washed over your face, this time being for the hand of the named before. Chenle growled at you with so much hate- you actually feared him. You tried to catch Jaemin’s eyes, begging silently, but he didn't even looked at you, stare still on his friend.

‘’This is your witch trial, fucking demon. You really thought you could fuck with us? You think you scares us?’’ Chenle said, smiling at you in a mocking way, shaking his head. ‘’You don’t have any fucking idea what you’re got yourself into to.’’

‘’What are you talking about?! I’m not a fucking witch, have you all lost your minds?!’’ You yelled, terror filling your voice.

‘’She’s always strolling around trying to seduce men,’’ Jia said, and sended a quick look towards Jeno. ‘’J-jeno told me you always give him flirty eyes, even right after you come to town. Aren’t you ashamed? Being that young and taunting him with your short skirts?’’ She asked, voice filling with anger and jealousy, making you snort incredulously.

‘’Is this a fucking joke? What are you even on- I don’t even speak to Jeno,’’ you defended yourself confused by that accusation, watching your friend like they were crazy and you frown your eyebrows. ‘’Short- what? Jia, we had the same uniform,’’ you reminded her desperately, gripping Jaemin’s fingers in your head and trying to let go of your hair with a cry. ‘’Our skirts were the same length! We were sixteen! Are you even listening what you’re saying?’’

‘’So you don’t deny you tried to seduce him, right? I am a witness myself, knowing damn well you’re a little minx, showing your legs and tits in your tight outfits,’’ Donghyuck said, his eyes scanning your Halloween costume and you cursed under your breath.

‘’She always goes to the forest to study,’’ Yuna accused you before you could defend yourself again, ‘’but now I know she wasn't doing that. The night of the bonfire I saw her and Jaemin! She was naked and dancing in front of him, s-she was speaking in tongues,’’ her voice cracks, hugging herself and seeming like she's about to cry at any minute. ‘’She was bewitching him! Witch!’’

You stared at everybody completely in shock, they’re all lost their minds?! You felt a new pair of hands as Johnny grabbed you easily away from Jaemin and started dragging you across the ground to somewhere while you screamed and kicked until you were in front of what appeared to be the point where they burned the dummy witch last time. With a new stake.

‘’You were behind all the shit going down, the fire and the explosions,’’ this time Renjun accused you, coming next to you, giving you a disgusted look. ‘’You knew what happened to the original Founders and you did it to us too,’’ another slap landed on you, shocked that a quiet, cold Renjun could act like that. ‘’You made fun of us, thinking we won’t realize, don’t you? You give us nightmares and tried to fuck with your minds.’’

‘’Jaemin told us he found Mark’s Reverend cross in your room,’’ Doyoung seethes and you shaked your head, making him more furious. ‘’Stop lying, fucking witch!’’

‘’I don't! I didn't steal anything, I swear!’’ you cried confused and scared, trying to see Jaemin behind you. ‘’Nana, what’s all this?! Why did you said that?! It's a lie!’’

‘’Our leader would't lie or betray us, no matter how good your pussy is. He hates fucking, evil witches just like us,’’ Donghyuck defended his friend, voice proud. ‘’And we will clean our town of them, just like the founders did.’’

‘’This was his idea,’’ Johnny said, smiling at Jaemin. ‘’It wasn't difficult, right? You follow him around matter what. Did you had fun at the party, doll? I hope you enjoyed, it was your last time.’’

You stayed silent and freezed as you realize what’s happening. The accusations, the torches with fire, the stake- your eyes get bigger and your body trembled, realising you’re completely alone. No one knows you were in the woods, just Jaemin, the Founders and your friends. And none of them were gonna to help you, you thought starting to cry more desesperately.

‘’You are guilty of the crimes of witchcraft and the council has decided tonight you’ll burn for it.’’ Jaemin's voice filled your rigning ears, making you sob harder.

‘’Please, please! I’m not a fucking witch! You’re all insane!'’ You screamed in panic, your voice shaking while trying to convince someone. Your eyes found Yuna and Jia. ‘’Jia, please, help me. They’re gonna kill me, please make them stop,’’ you begged them, crying desperately.

Next to her was Yuna, porting the same sad face Jia wears, but none of them moved your way. Jia cried silently, staying still as she watched you beg. You shaked your head, realizing they chose their side and it was the Founders.

‘’Yuna, please! You said you will never let me alone, remember? W-when we met on my first day in h-highschool, you said you’d take care of me,’’ you reminded her, your voice tainted with not just fear, but sadness and a boiling rage filling your chest.

‘’Shut up!,’’ Mark groaned, pushing you to the ground with a kick to your back. You landed fist face and felt seconds after the blood coming from your nose and mouth, slip lip. ’’Dont speak to them, witch.’’

You saw Jaemin standing a little behind and you cry in anger, immobilized to the ground while Marks tided your wrists tightly and you sobbed, thinking about your night Jaemin back at the NCT frat. How you two kissed and fucked, until you two were just one body.

‘’How could you do this to me, Jaemin? Please, help me, please-’’ you begged once again, voice cracking with fear and closing your eyes when another sob tembled in your chest. ‘’Please, I’m not a witch!’’

Your sobs and desperate cries for help echoed through the forest without receiving a response, your cheeks soaked with tears that run your mascara. You lowered your head to avoid seeing Chenle starting pouring gasoline on the bonfire, hiding your eyes behind your hair like a curtain. A few moments passed and your crying morphed into small laughs that interruped your sobs, until you were laughing hysterically, throwing your head back and looking at the full moon that illuminated the night.

A breeze stared to sweep through the forest, growing stronger with each passing second, making the treetops and the flames of the torches shake violently to the rhythm of your crying. Mark, who were behind you, begins to stepped back and hold the cross around his neck, looking at the others who also tense up with your laughter, glancing at each other with distrust.

The scared and tearful girl was someone completely different, watching them with a maniacal smile as you slowly straighten up, sitting on your heels, and letting out a chuckle at the surprise on their faces.

You looked completely insane, with your bloody face and the fear erased from you, a pleased, mocking grin in your lips. ‘’Well, well. Aren't you guys a couple of damn good detectives,'' you laughed, tilting your head to the side. ''It must run in the blood, right?''

They all react differently, Yuna and Jia being actually gasping in a mix of shock and fear. Chenle and Doyoung looked like they wanna chop your head off at any minute, Johnny, Jeno and Renjun were porting similar stances, tense and looking cautious. Donghyuck, on the other hand, seemed conflicted and a little bit scared, just like Mark, who you listened was praying with his voice low.

But Jaemin…he just stared at you with an empty face. It’s like he was wearing a mask. No emotions, not the pretty glow in his eyes or his enchanting smile, no fear of hate radding off his body. He just… looked at you with the most blank face, making your heart twist with anguish at his disinterest.

"Witch," Doyoung spited through clenched teeth, his hand trembling with fury as he holded his torch. "You’re a liar and a sinner, and you’ll burn in hell for it."

‘’Me? I’m the one going to hell? Dodo,’’ you responded in a teasing tone, laughing to yourself, ’’you don’t think you’re going too? Or at least to prison, this looks like a group murder attempt to me. But I think we should ask the expert, where’s the future lawyer? What do you think, Junnie?’’

‘’Shut the fuck up, evil demon,’’ Renjun said in the iciest tone you’ve ever heard from him.

You pouted squinting your eyes at him. '’Sheesh, I just wanted free legal counseling, is that a sin?’’ You joked, laughing again when they stayed silent, letting out a surprised yelp when someone grabbed your tied arms from behind and lifted you up, dragging you to the stake. You turned your head to see Mark and you grinned at him. ’’Oh, the pastor’s son! Wait, are we having a moment just us or something? How does this actually go? I wanna confess, Father, let me confess!’’

You felt this body tensing at your mockery tone while you tried to shake his hands off you, fighting against him. Chenle joined in and grabbed your hair in his fist, throwing your head back with painful force until his face meets yours.

He slapped you with the fame force as before, done with your little jokes. ‘’Who are you? Why’d you came to this town?’’

You whimpered from the pain and licked your dry and hurt lips, tasting the new blood decorating them. ‘’Sarah,’’ you explained with a sigh, ‘’me and my mom- we have a coven. I'm connected to her, she’s my guide. She started appearing in my dreams, showing me everything,’’ you growled now, all the teasing and laughter gone from you. Your body shuddered with pure, red rage that made your veins and heart burn with anger. ‘’How the town treat them, how they tortured and her sisters too, how they… they took everything from them until the were nothing.’’

You let out some honest tears, and you didn't knew if they were yours or hers. You closed your eyes for a moment, thinking about all the violent scenes you’ve seen from years and years in your dreams. How the coven were betrayed by friends, blind by envy and jealousy. How they spend nights fearing for what’s next to come, who will be taken for tests or just tortured in the name of God. The way they burned her house and stole her animals, how they sent the youngest to her death by throwing into the deep waters with her ankles tied with rocks and watched how she drowned- and the way the people breathed in relief, knowing the town was being cleaned and guided by the lovable founders.

They weren’t just girls. They were poor souls, of course, and the Reverend reminded the people that they have to have mercy in their heart while praying for them, because the girls were tainted and marked by the Devil’s touch.

The same girls that helped the town in the best way they could, providing the pregnant woman special medicine to help their discomfort and even taking their late mom's place and help deliver some healthy babies. The same girls who gave milk and butter to the ones who didn’t get a good harvest before winter. The same girls that after a long day of work played like kids in the forest together, picking up flowers and singing to the moon.

None of that mattered. Everybody turned their backs on them.

The women accused them of seducing their sons, dancing provocatively and naked in the woods, having many testimonies about it. Their friends envying the way the girls will catch the attention with their beauty and the sound of their laugh, the way the Major will look at Sarah with so much desire. The men resented her and her sisters and the way the girls lived alone and unmarried, like they weren’t dignified enough to take their hand and bless the town with more members. Even more scandalous, doing men's work like taking care of the farm by themselves, why did the girls have more land than them? Why did the sisters ignore them and their advances?

And the Reverend… oh, how he loved it. The way they all listened to his sermons, how they believed his words, the direct voice of God coming off him. He was the salvation personificated, taking his precious town into the blessed gates of heaven. That power was so intoxicating. And when the accusations started coming in, he was just ecstatic. He was taking care of the town, he kept to remind himself with satisfaction even his thoughts were interrupted everytime the girls would scream nonstop at the torture room.

‘’They were evil beings, just like you-’’ Jeno said in a venomous way with his hands pressed tight in fists. ’’Playing games like you do, doing witchcraft and tarnishing the city with it.’’

‘’They were not! The town- they betrayed them! Just because you don’t understand what they did it doesn't mean they were evil,’’ you screamed, fighting again against Chenle and Mark with fierceness, not caring if you could get hit again, ’’and all of you are just like them, the mighty Founders,’’ you spited, ‘’fuck you!’’

‘’Shup the up fuck,’’ Johnny growled, coming to you and slaping you with force. ‘’You tried to curse this town again, just like Sarah. You bright harm to us, remember?’’

‘’I just gave you guys the real evil witch the town wanted for so long and I had fun doing it. But the final will be different this time.’’

You saw red, feeling so angry and hysterical, you couldn’t believe that after all this time, after centuries… they were still here. The judge, the banker, the notary and the commissioner, the medic and the reverend- even the major… They were still here, in the form of Renjun, Donghyuck, Doyoung, Jeno, Johnny, Mark and Jaemin. Even the accusers, who looked just like Yuna and Jia.

But I’m here too, you thought, trying to comfort yourself.

"All of you are just like them," you said with venom, looking at each and every one of them, ‘’believing yourself to be better, thinking of taking a life as if it’s nothing. The witches did nothing wrong, why was it a crime to appreciate nature and its gifts? But the council didn't care, did they? They locked them up, tortured them, and then staged that... fake trial, when they already knew what they were going to do with them.’’

Chenle and Mark tied you to the stake by the wrist, so tight it cuts your blood circulation. They all rounded the bonfire, the smell of gasoline filling your nose after Johnny wet the big wooden sticks placed on top of another and straw too. Their hot torches didn't come down yet, since they were waiting for their leader's signal, just like they always did.

‘’Some last words?’’ Jaemin asked next to your ear, soft lips tracing the side of your neck and his hands caressing your arms for what you think it’s a goodbye.

‘’I love you,’’ you felt his hand grabbing the restraints on your wrist and the cold edge of a razor against your skin there. You sensed the warmth of the fire from the torches coming close to you, ready to burn you when the leader says so. You turned your face to the side, wanting to see him as you whisper your words to him. ’’Jaemin, I love you.’’

‘’I love you too, my pretty witch,’’ he whispered, cutting the rope and taking a step back, freeing you. He turned around and collides against Chenle, who saw the whole thing and was rushing to the stake to stop it. With no words, Jaemin lifted his hand and in a fast and unexpected move he cutted the Founder's throat, slicing it open.

Everything happend so fast at the same time.

Chenle started coughing and splashing blood everywhere as he fell to the ground, the majority of the red liquid landing in Jaemin while Yuna and Jia screamed. Jeno lunged for the leader’s body tackling him as Mark and Johnny were in shock, Mark actually letting go of his torch on the ground to cover his mouth drowning the scream that comes out of it. Renjuns runned to his dying friend, trying to apply pressure on the wound on but it’s impossible, the blood coming too fast outta the sliced throat. Donghyuck followed Renjun, throwing his torch without a thought as he rushed to help his friends, turning hysterical.

No one payed attention to you for a moment, or how you moved your fingers in the dirt, making symbols as you sing softly but hurrying, the familiar warmth of power coming to your body. You digged your fingers into the ground and sing more fierceling, casting a powerful, dark spell until your eyes turned black. When Doyoung realiced what you were doing it’s too late, not able to took a few steps towards you when his body is suddenly freezing and his hand covers his aching throat in pain, gasping for air.

Everybody else follows, feeling their throats closing as if somebody was choking them with so much force, making their faces red and desperate right away. They tried to fight it but it was impossible, the invisible touch squeezing so hard until they start losing consciousness and some noses bleed, eyes coming out of their sockets, hands falling just like their bodies.

Your nose bleeded too from the power you’re using, body shaking but unable to stop, feeling deep inside you an intense satisfaction as you saw how the Founders were dying slowly, just like the seven sisters died so long ago; suffering. The muffled sounds of the Founders started to fade- even Chenle, who took his last breath.

Your body lied on the ground after everything comes to an end, trying to breath and feeling so exhausted. The whole thing leaved you completely weak in a way you never felt before, but then again, you never used your magic to something like this before. You were powerful, but this was a different type of magic that took almost too much energy- but you could swear you felt them, your past coven members inside you and of course, Sarah. In the middle of feeling completely drained you also felt a peace that warmed your heart. You suspected it was her.

While you blinked hard trying not to go into unconsciousness, for a second you throughout you saw the witches running through the trees of the dark forest with their hands intertwined, a distant chorus of laughter dying in the wind until the place was silent again. You didn’t bother to look around to see the bodies of the Founders and of your two friends, dead too.

You heared footsteps rapidly coming your way and the next thing you knew Jaemin was taking you in his arms, eyes darkening with worry and desperate searching your face and body for injuries, afraid for the first time in the whole night when he saw how hard you fell to the ground and stayed still for the most fucking long moments of his life.

‘’Fuck, baby,’’ he breathed, hugging you tightly against his body, shaking just like you, ‘’you scared the shit outta me.’’ Jaemin closed his eyes and inhaled in your neck, needing to feel your perfume in a mad manner. ‘’I thought you were really hurt- fuck.’’

You smiled, feeling a little pain on your face from the blows you took before, now dried blood stains decorating your skin. ‘’I’m okay, Nana,’’ you said, leaning backwards so you can see his face, ‘’I’m just- I feel so tired.’’

Jaemin hissed seeing the blood and some parts of your pretty face darkened in red- no doubt there will be bruises tomorrow. His face was beated too, taking some hard punches from Jeno as they were fighting before.

‘’Shit-’’ he started, tensed jaw and voice full of disgust, stopping himself as the leader felt guilt rushing to his heart seeing you hurt. ‘’Baby, I’m so sorry. I take it too far?’’ He questioned, frowning.

‘’I’m okay,’’ you repeated, kissing him gently on the lips. Your boyfriend kisses you in the same way, raising his hands to your face and holding it so softly and careful- it melts your heart. You tasted some blood too, noticing the splatter of it in Jaemin’s face and clothes when you separate a little bit, your movements slowed as you feel totally drained of energy. ‘’You did so well, Nana. It had to look real, remember?’’

Jaemin kissed you again, his thumb caressing your cheek. ‘’You looked so fucking hot back there,’’ he admited with a evil smirk.

‘’Jaemin, please! What the hell, stop!’’ you laughed incredibly scandalized at his words, a little bit ironic knowing what you just did, killing in revenge a bunch of people.

‘’What?’’ he laughed, that pretty, full of millions of white perfect teeth showing, ‘’I can’t adore my pretty witch?’’ He calmed a little, still smiling but now more like the lover you know, dark eyes sparking at you. ‘’I'm sorry for pushing you early-’’

‘’Nana, it has to be done, we plan it to be as real as possible. They couldn't suspect you,’’ you repeated one again, smiling to calm him down.

‘’I know but, shit,’’ he sighed, still sensing a little bit of stress rushing, ‘’I can’t ever see you hurt again like that, you understand?’’

‘’Okay,’’ you promised easily because it was true, wanting nothing more than a peaceful life with Jaemin. This time you kissed him, and you shivered with cold and excitement.

You were walking down the road with Jaemin, glued to his side, still feeling weak and exhausted, wishing for two or three days to spend only sleeping, so tired. You felt like passing out at any moment again, but you refused to let Jaemin carry you, who has already done so much for you tonight, besides taking a beating.

Jaemin let you, looking at you and knowing full well that you would end up in his arms in no time. Luckily there don't seemed to be any around, either sleeping or partying, as the night isn't over yet; but you and Jaemin don't stand up suspiciously anyway, your bloodied and beaten figures looking like a fucked up zombie couple costumes or something.

''Thank you,'' you said out of the blue, looking at your boyfriend, ''for everything, tonight. I meant it, Jaemin.''

Jaemin stopped and so do you, you were unable to help the smile on your face as he kissed you tenderly, taking special care with your wounded lips. You felt his arms around you pulling you closer to his body and you melt back into his chest.

‘'There's nothing in the world I wouldn't do for you, baby,'' he said, beaming at you as he nuzzled your bruised cheek adoringly. '’I knew it from the first time I saw you at school, my cute witch. The girl of my dreams, literally.”

You can’t help but laugh, feeling a little embarrassed thinking about the young you, still baby face and everything, pretty different from how you looked now. Jaemin told you once that he dreamed about you for years, seeing you between the rising flames of Sarah’s burning and calling for him.

‘’I will never forget that day,’’ Jaemin muttered. ‘’It felt like my heart recognised yours, angel. You were finally with me after so much time, it felt so right.’’

You felt your eyes well up with hot, thick, love-filled tears that threaten to escape and Jaemin wiped them away with his thumb when they do, smiling at you. “I would do anything for you too, Nana. I just love you so much,” you whispered to his lips, “so damn much.’’

''I love you, my pretty witch,'' Jaemin said as he gives you a small kiss, a sealed promise. ''This time I will never let you go.’’

#na jaemin x reader #na jaemin smut #nct dream smut #nct smut #jaemin smut #wicked season series

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taexual · 8 months ago

Text

sleepwalking ● 22 | jjk

pairing: jungkook x fem!reader

summary: due to unfortunate circumstances, you ended up managing your ex-boyfriend’s band. you thought you’ve both made peace with it, but suddenly he’s very eager to prove to you that first love never dies.

genre: rockstar!jungkook / exes to lovers

warnings: explicit language, suggestive themes, FLUFF, some angst, mentions of drugs (including descriptions of harmful use), very plot-heavy chapter, SLOW BURN

words: 18k

read from the beginning ○ masterlist

chapter 22 ► if you want an enemy, i’ll be the last one that you ever meet

Jungkook marvelled at how quickly he got used to the peace he felt with you in his hotel room. It was strong, too, this peace. Stable. It seemed to him, as you slept on the bed right by his side, that nothing could disturb the walls of his room.

Sid’s Instagram post had been nothing but a picture. Neither of you interacted with it, nor did you respond to him—although, like a true pest, he continued to message you both throughout the night.

The picture remained as it was: largely anonymous, because Sid, in his petulant haste to post it, had not tagged you. And, from the looks of it, he had not realised he hadn’t tagged you.

The people in the comments—Jungkook checked, after making sure you’d fallen asleep—tried to guess what was happening. Most of the comments, with usernames that made Jungkook chuckle, seemed to recognise him (well, a few people did, and others jumped on this bandwagon with a heedless excitement that brought another smile to his face—they were thrilled to find him in this seemingly random picture, and he was thrilled by their thrill), but no one could understand the context.

So happy for you, Sid’s caption read. But happy for what? Happy for whom?

You’ve both decided to raise this issue with the band before the concert tomorrow. There was very little you could have done this late at night anyway. All the staff had a day off, and you did not want to disturb them over a personal problem that had escalated into something bigger than you.

Jungkook was delighted by your choice to stay in his room. He interpreted your decision to wait until morning as a confirmation of your deeper desire to prolong your time together. He preferred to believe that this was the reason, rather than the circumstances, that allowed you to stay.

And since you were sleeping next to him right now, your chest rising and falling gently under the covers, it was all too easy to give in to this belief.

When Jungkook woke up a few hours later, the room was bathed in a golden glow. The sunlight filtered through a gap in the curtains that he must have overlooked last night.

You weren’t next to him.

Panic seized him almost instantly, and he realised that the peace he had felt last night with you beside him was not quite as stable as he had believed. Now you were awake, and you were not here.

He flipped on his back and pushed himself into a sitting position. He even searched under the bed in irrational desperation—as if you had decided to play hide-and-seek and give him a heart attack for breakfast. And then, as soon as he threw back the covers and scanned the room, he heard your voice—a lifeline, really, amid his suffocating thoughts.

You were still here, in the bathroom, either talking on the phone or to yourself. Honestly, that part did not really matter to him, as long as he knew you were here.

Outrageously relieved, he collapsed back onto the pillows and buried his face in his hands, a ridiculous smile spreading beneath his fingers as his heart continued to race in his chest.

He realised that he was a little out of his mind.

You were on the phone, as Jungkook would later learn, with the founder and CEO of Jett Records, Christian Jett—or simply CJ, as he insisted you call him, even though you’d only spoken to him once in your entire time at the company: right now. You figured one of the reasons he insisted on the abbreviation was that his full name could have worked incredibly well as a Christian rock band name.

If Jungkook had known who you were talking to, his panic might have resurged. Your hands were shaking, too, as you clutched your phone to your ear and took in CJ’s rapid news.

In just one breath, CJ shared his thoughts on Rated Riot’s reception in Europe and outlined his vision for the coming months. He also surprised you with some good news, and you tapped your fingers on the hotel sink, eager to tell the band.

Then, CJ, your new best friend by the sound of it, turned the subject over to you.

“Here’s what’s going to happen in the next few weeks,” he said, speaking so quickly that you barely had time to react. By the time your stomach clenched in anticipation, he had already informed you of his plans. “I’ve personally put together a team, just a couple of execs and someone from HR, to recruit support staff for you. We’re thinking two people should suffice for now.”

Your pause seemed incredibly long compared to his—which was virtually non-existent, and CJ opened his mouth to keep speaking.

“I was also thinking that—”

“I—sorry, uh,” you interjected, finally finding your words, “w-what support staff are you referring to, sir?”

“Assistant managers,” CJ replied with a chuckle. “I should’ve started with that, you’re right. You’ll have a team. Naturally, you’ll be promoted to Head of Management.”

You needed some time to process that. It was the “naturally” in particular that confused you because none of this seemed very natural.

When you woke up and saw ‘Christian Jett’ on your phone (the device even vibrated differently, almost nervously), you immediately assumed the worst: Sid had done irreparable damage to the band’s reputation by hard-launching a relationship that no one at the label knew about, and now you were going to be fired because you had not contained it.

That was the only thought you had when you took the call. But you were actually being promoted. Naturally.

Did he even know about Sid?

“That—that’s great,” you managed. You sensed CJ’s anticipation for a more effusive response and he grumbled in mild disapproval when you did not offer one. “I am very happy to hear that.”

“Yeah?” He chuckled again. He sounded like a train veering off its tracks when he laughed, which was very odd, yet somehow felt comforting. “You don’t sound much like it.”

“Oh—m-my apologies, I’m just surprised.”

“Yeah, well, you shouldn’t be,” he said. “Others are trying to scout you for their own bands—fucking Reconnaissance, of all people—so, of course, we have to promote you.”

Your fingers stilled on the cool porcelain of the sink.

He said they had to promote you: as if it was a decision forced upon them by some foreign threat, rather than your efforts and the unprecedented growth of the band.

It would have made sense to expand your team eventually—when the tour ended, for example, and everyone could see how far Rated Riot has come. But now, apparently, your career would abruptly progress just because you received an offer from another band.

“Respectfully, sir,” you said, avoiding his nickname, “may I ask how you came by that information? I was under the impression that the offer from Reconnaissance wasn’t official.”

“It’s a small industry,” CJ replied. “We consider any offer aimed at our talents official.”

He gave no further explanations. You had questions, of course, but did not know how to say What the fuck is that supposed to mean? in Corporate.

Instead, you said, “I see.”

“I’ll send one of my assistants and a couple of people from our legal team to go over the new contract with you in the next few days,” he informed you.

You wondered what time it was for him, wherever he was, because here in London, it was far too early to talk about legal teams. The magnitude of the situation made your empty stomach churn.

“Your new contract won’t be much different,” CJ continued. He sensed that the mention of lawyers had unsettled you, and his tone softened. “Bigger pay, a few extra tasks, a more defined division of labour. Your assistants will handle the routine chores, allowing you to concentrate on promoting and advancing Rated Riot. That’s the direction we’re moving in right now, and that’ll be your main priority.”

“I understand, sir,” you said, although you understood fragments.

They could have hired a marketing specialist instead of two assistants for you if they wanted to focus on the advancement of the band. Rated Riot did not even have their own publicist right now. There was one at the company, but she juggled several bands and rarely ventured beyond arranging an occasional interview for Rated Riot if someone contacted the company, and not you.

Evidently, they chose to promote you to Head Manager and Publicist instead of hiring a different person for that job.

“You’ll stay with the band and work on location,” CJ said. “That arrangement seems to bring the best results, especially regarding the band’s schedule. Wouldn’t you agree?”

“Yes, sir,” you replied, recognising that CJ probably had the authority to teleport you out of London immediately should you disagree with anything he said.

“Excellent,” he said. “I’d like to move forward with this while the band is still on tour, so you could train your assistants as soon as you are back. From then on, you’ll focus on effective representation and the strengthening of their brand, marketing strategies, bigger shows, more advertising—well, you know the drill.”

“Right,” you said. “Of course.”

You chose not to point out how far these new duties deviated from your original job description. You were already doing all that anyway, even if you weren’t, technically, required to. And they clearly seemed to think that your extra work came without saying—of course, you’d do everything. When have you not?

“And mostly everything else on the contract will remain as it is,” CJ finished. “The legal team will go over the rest with you. It’s the same things: compensation, conflicts of interest, obligations, bonuses, the whole bunch. You know. You’ve done it before.”

You haven’t done it before, actually. When Rated Riot hired you, the company emailed you the contract, you skimmed it, understood about half, and e-signed it without any meetings with HR, let alone the legal team.

Nevertheless, you responded obediently, “I understand. When can I expect to meet with them?”

“Let me check your schedule,” he said. You heard the faint clicking of a laptop mouse and assumed he had Rated Riot’s schedule at the ready. “Alright, you’re in London for the next few days, then almost a week in Paris. How about one of the days there? My assistant will email you later with a more specific time and date.”

“Okay, that sounds perfect,” you replied. “Thank you for taking the time to personally inform me about this, CJ. I—I’m very excited to start this new chapter with the band.”

“I’m excited as well,” CJ said, glad to finally hear your use of his name, even if you wavered while saying it. “Let’s keep this discreet, though, yeah? For now. I’ll mention the changes in management and the band’s upcoming promotions at the executive team meeting next week. Namjoon will update you on how that goes. Until then, let’s keep this within our circle.”

“I—of course, sir,” you replied. CJ allowed you a moment of thought and did not interrupt your silence this time.

You worried that his strong emphasis on discretion indicated his knowledge about something else. And even if it didn’t, you thought it would reflect badly on you later if you did not mention Sid right now, when you had the perfect opportunity for it.

“I’m—I would also like to address the recent speculation online regarding the, uh—bathtub picture,” you said, trying to choose your words without sounding like a three-year-old imitating a businessman. “I want to assure you that—”

“Oh, yeah, no—Namjoon called me earlier. He filled me in,” CJ said. “I hadn’t even seen the picture before he mentioned it. That Sid’s a weird character.”

Your heart jumped over a beat, chilling the blood in your anxious veins.

“Uh—yes,” you played along, wondering all the while where Namjoon was, and what he had done on your behalf. “He is.”

“I trust you’ll ensure no one else leaks the band’s album covers in the future, though,” CJ said. His words sounded like a demand—half a step away from a threat—but you could not recognise your reflection in the mirror all of a sudden and could not reply. “Maybe reset your systems or something.”

Namjoon had called CJ. He had deflected from your relationship with Jungkook and shielded you from what could have happened if someone discovered who the people in the picture were.

Sid leaked the album cover.

You took a fractured breath and leaned against the counter, closing your eyes for a moment.

“Yes—yes, of course,” you finally managed. “We’ll take every precaution to make sure these incidents are avoided in the future. Th-thank you, CJ.”

You could no longer tell if you were still coherent or just trying to be. CJ’s unusual pause seemed to indicate that he sensed your unease, but he chose not to comment on it. He thought you just felt uncomfortable that the album cover had leaked.

“Alright, happy to hear that,” he said. “Talk to you soon. Keep up the good work.”

He ended the call before you could voice any more platitudes about looking forward to hearing from him again. You weren’t. You were looking forward to finding Namjoon and possibly offering your soul to him to repay the debt.

Namjoon had resolved the issue that Sid had caused—the issue you considered personal, because you were keenly aware of the causal relationship between Sid’s post and your relationship with Jungkook: if you hadn’t spent so much time with him on this tour, if you’d kept your professional distance, if you’d closed the damn door in that hotel bathroom, there wouldn’t have been any picture at all.

However, there was more for you to fix. Namjoon had helped you now, but Sid was still at large, wild and unpredictable.

And as you glanced at your phone, you also remembered something else that CJ had said about your contract: conflicts of interest.

In your initial contract, you had declared none, despite already knowing that Jungkook was in the band. You hoped you could carry on quietly enough—as though you had never met him, really—and no one would mind. That more or less worked out, up until this point.

Now you wondered if you could still claim no conflicts of interest without any consequences. Was that what your relationship with Jungkook was, in the eyes of the company?

You took a deep breath and decided to ponder this elsewhere because the bathroom was getting stuffy and the clothes you’d worn for a comfortable film night suddenly felt suffocating against your skin.

Stepping out of the bathroom on the tips of your toes so as not to wake Jungkook, you turned the corner and locked eyes with him right away.

“Hi,” he murmured, the edges of his morning voice hoarse and groggy as he watched you from the mess of sheets on the bed.

Despite hoping to find him still asleep so you could slip back into bed and have the morning together that had been stolen from you, you didn’t feel disappointed that he was awake. He had a lazy smile on his lips. His hair was dishevelled and he kept bringing his hand through it.

There was a glow over your face as you approached the bed. “Hi.”

“I thought you’d left,” he said, his eyes following your every movement as you settled back next to him.

“Do you want me to?” you asked, tilting your head to the side, closer to him. He wasn’t sure if you were even aware you did that, it seemed subconscious, but it prompted his hands to reach for you.

He touched your cheek, running his fingers over your jaw before leaning in to press his lips to yours—quickly, just to remind himself that he could. And to steal just one breath from you.

“No,” he said then. “Never.”

He saw your eyes soften and your smile grow. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” He traced his thumb over your lower lip before pulling away to sit up on the bed. “Who, um—who was that on the phone?”

The question was expected, but you didn’t have an answer for him personally—you’d planned to explain everything to all of Rated Riot later today.

“Uh,” you leaned against the headboard of the bed, “the label.”

“Yeah?” he encouraged.

“The CEO, actually,” you added briefly. “But I should probably discuss this with the whole band.”

Startled, Jungkook gripped the sheets in his hand. He was worried—rather obviously—that this was about Sid or still about Reconnaissance, and he couldn’t decide which he dreaded more. He was absurdly quick to convince himself that the CEO had told you something so serious that you didn’t even see the point of talking to him about it.

“Did something happen?” he asked, feeling the tips of his fingers grow numb.

You recognised the concern on his face with half of a glance. “Yeah, but it’s something good.”

Relief, excitement, and curiosity replaced the previous anxiety in his eyes at an impressive speed.

He shifted on the bed with a newfound energy, crossing and uncrossing his legs. “Well, tell me!”

“We’ll have a meeting—”

“That’s fair,” he said, moving closer. “But tell me now.”

You were too excited to dwell on the fact that this was the precise conflict of interest that had unsettled your mind earlier—this perception of favouritism, this special treatment that others might assume Jungkook received because he was in a relationship with his manager.

“You’re doing festivals next summer,” you said, pausing for emphasis, “and they’re extending your tour. We’ll be going back to at least five countries in Europe for encore shows.”

You still had to confirm the dates with the venues and perform several additional bureaucratic tasks so your team could stay in Europe longer, but all of that seemed irrelevant in light of this news.

“Ah,” Jungkook replied—happy, but not nearly as exuberant as you’d hoped. “That’s cool.”

You realised quickly that he must have misunderstood.

“No, Jungkook,” you said. “In arenas this time—with a capacity at least three times larger than we have right now.”

Instantly, his eyes ignited with the flames you’d looked forward to before.

“Oh,” he said and now the tingle of adventure was finally there, glistening fervently in his burning eyes.

But he looked at you again, and he thought there was something you hadn’t told him yet. It was the way your lips curled—smiling, but not quite.

“But you look—was there something else you talked about?” he asked.

You were surprised. You had hoped—naively, you now realised—that you could continue to talk about the promising parts of all that CJ had told you, leaving the more questionable parts to wait until the rest of your thoughts had cleared.

“They’re, uh, holding interviews for assistant managers and promoting me to Head Manager,” you said. Jungkook raised his eyebrows, but you continued before he could interject, “they’ll send people to Paris for me to sign the new contract.”

“To—oh, shit. Fuck.” His shock turned to laughter. Just moments ago, he was worried you’d have to leave the band. Now you were signing a new contract to stay. “Oh, but does that—does that mean we will see less of you? Is that why you—why you don’t seem very happy about that?”

“No, it’s—I am happy,” you said. “I’ll stay on-site with you guys. But the focus is—they’re saying we’re focusing more on promoting you and ‘strengthening your brand.’ That was cool, by the way. Your brand. I liked that part. But, uh—that will be my main priority, apparently. I guess I’m not really sure how that’s going to go.”

That wasn’t the only reason for your apprehension, but you did not want to mention Reconnaissance and the unexpected impact that Nick’s offer had on your sudden promotion. You preferred to see Jungkook smiling at you from across the bed—even more so when he was smiling right next to you.

“Well, what will you have to do?” he asked. “I mean, exactly?”

“I guess I will be making phone calls the whole day,” you replied, hoping secretly that this would not turn out to be all you’d have to do. “It also means that none of us will be going home longer than it takes for you to record a new album.”

“Oh.” Jungkook attempted to control his facial expression. For him, this arrangement—album, tour, album, tour—sounded almost ideal. “Well, that’s honestly fine by me.”

You knew he would not mind. But you minded. You had not said anything about your own workload to CJ, but you were prepared to use any threats necessary to ensure that Rated Riot had enough time to breathe.

“You say that now,” you pointed out, “but it will eventually get tough, being away from home for so long.”

“I have you,” Jungkook said. “I am home.”

He said that like it was the most obvious statement in the world—the grass is green, the sky is blue—but subtle magic was laced in every letter of every word. When he closed his eyes, when he couldn’t see the unfamiliar surroundings of the hotel room, his senses recognised the warmth of your presence as home.

Unfortunately, the darkness in his thoughts was unforgiving, and he had to ask you something else—but then he lost his resolve momentarily when he met your soft gaze and realised that you’d placed your hand on his.

“I, uh—” he tried, but several more moments had to pass before he sobered, “he—did he say anything about Sid?”

You exhaled. “Yeah.”

Jungkook nodded contemplatively and took a breath, bracing himself. Although it was difficult to imagine what the label could have said about Sid, considering the abundance of good news, he knew better than to expect something positive.

Another book his grandmother had read with him when he was young suddenly returned to his mind, the dark cover with thick red lettering vivid in his memory: Something wicked this way comes.

The book had been sinister, completely unfitting for a child of his age at the time. Just like Sid.

“What was it?” Jungkook asked.

“That picture he posted,” you said, “is apparently the cover of your upcoming album.”

“It—oh.” He looked away, puzzled, suddenly, by the shade of the wallpaper behind the bedframe and the questionable events that had led the label to that conclusion. He tried to say more and managed a very successful, “ah.”

You lowered your head, tugging on the edge of the duvet. “Namjoon, uh—he took care of it before I got the call from CJ, so I don’t know much about what he said to him.”

Jungkook was not sure if he should have been relieved that Sid’s damage had been neutralised seemingly so effortlessly. He could never know with Sid; his refusal to give up rivalled only Voldemort’s immortality. Only Sid’s horcruxes were, apparently, pictures and videos he used to manipulate others.

“It’s a good photo for an album cover,” Jungkook finally said.

“It—it is,” you agreed. “And it’s also—well, you know. A good explanation.”

“Yeah.”

“I’ll inform the label about us before I sign the new contract, though,” you decided. “I’ll talk to them. I thought maybe this could wait, but they’re sending over lawyers, so it’s—”

Jungkook’s breath got lodged in his throat and he had to cough several times to clear his airways, interrupting you.

“H-hold on,” he said. “You need lawyers present when you tell them we’re together?”

“They’re coming for the contract,” you explained. “And I’ll have to talk to them before I sign it because I figure you might be my conflict of interest.”

A sudden surge of very different emotions made Jungkook purse his lips. He found himself wondering if there was any term starting with “my” you could have used to describe him that he wouldn’t have liked. My boyfriend. My source of headaches. My biggest nuisance. Ultimately, all of that still meant that he was yours.

Reasonably, however, he did not like the sound of this.

“Huh,” he mused. “Doesn’t work as a pet name. Call me something else.”

“Yeah.” You chuckled. “I don’t like that one, either.”

You did not look particularly troubled. Everything was going to be fine, you were sure of it. You just weren’t sure how soon, and what this “fine” would look like.

“Come here,” Jungkook said before you could begin thinking about the possibilities and the risks.

You moved closer, happy to relish in the warmth of the room for a few more minutes as he wrapped his arms around you.

This was the morning you were looking forward to. Everything else could wait.

The second you stepped out of Jungkook’s hotel room and headed towards yours to pack for the day, Maggie startled you by calling out your name in the otherwise empty, echoing corridor. She appeared a little worried when you turned around, and that was so unbecoming on her normally laid-back face that you took an instinctive step back.

“Is—are you okay?” you asked.

She seemed surprised to see your surprise.

“I slept the whole day,” she explained. She was carrying something in her hands, but she kept it behind her back. “Feels like I was out for a week, actually.”

You smiled. That was hardly anything new.

You remembered the fright of your life that Maggie had given you the first time the two of you went out together. She had an alcohol tolerance that should have been outlawed, so she always drank more than Jungkook could ever handle (though he would argue otherwise, of course). By the time you got her back to your apartment that night, she was already barely conscious.

She had collapsed on your bed and when you brought her a glass of water about three minutes later, she was already snoring. And she’d slept—you counted—for twenty-two hours and thirty-three minutes. You had spent the last eight hours keeping watch over her, periodically checking if she was breathing, with your finger hovering over the emergency number on your phone.

To your amazement, she woke up the next morning without so much as a hint of a headache, perplexed by the concerned look on your face. She looked a bit like that now.

“Yeah,” you replied, a little jealous of her dangerous, but seemingly foolproof ability to avoid hangovers. “Maybe we should have stopped before the tequila shots.”

“Hmm.” She scratched her forehead. It was hard to tell what she was feeling; hesitation flickered in her eyes when she looked at you. “Was, uh—was Jungkook in my room yesterday?”

“He—oh, yeah,” you recalled. “I asked him to check on you.”

“Oh.” Relief washed over her face, adding some vibrancy to her cloudy features. “Okay. So I didn’t hallucinate that.”

You smiled again. “No.”

“I took your jacket,” she said, revealing the item she’d been clutching in her hands. “I don’t remember doing that.”

She seemed to remember even less from last night than you did, which was not uncommon for Maggie. She had a terrible memory in general—she took notes and then forgot she took notes—but this time, you could not help her remember, either.

“Thanks,” you said, taking your jacket from her. It still smelled faintly of your perfume and too much liquor. “Jungkook told me you had it. I still have one of your shoes.”

“Yeah, I—I have yours somewhere, too,” she said. “I assume you have my phone, too, then?”

You looked up. “Why would I have your phone?”

“Hm?” she asked as her heart began to pump blood a tad more effectively than necessary; you hadn’t even properly answered her yet. “But—you—didn’t you put it in your bag last night?”

You stilled and the surprise inside your stomach grew large, floating inside you as if it were a heavy, helium and anxiety-filled balloon.

“I… I had my bag with me?” you asked very slowly, but Maggie still did not understand the essence of your question. She looked around as though she’d just realised she was accidentally having this conversation in a language she did not speak, and she needed someone to translate it for her.

You were baffled. You knew you’d left your phone in your room before you went out with the girls, it was entangled in the sheets when you woke up the next morning. But you couldn’t remember whatever happened with your handbag; you had assumed it remained in your room as well.

“I’m pretty sure you had it with you,” Maggie said. Your heartbeat sped up, matching the frantic rhythm in your friend’s chest. “You took our orders on my phone because you didn’t have yours. And I assumed you put it in your bag after that.”

You turned around, frightened goosebumps rising on the back of your spine as your trembling fingers fumbled with the lock on your door.

“Jungkook said I didn’t have my bag with me when I got back,” you said as you entered the room, your gaze sweeping the space with an ever-mounting sense of panic. “I assumed—I thought I just didn’t take it with me. Nothing was missing. I had my keys in my jacket—I took them out at some point, before the jacket ended up with you—a-and my phone was here.”

You attacked the room, lifting suitcases and inspecting empty closets. Since you hadn’t fully unpacked, there were not a lot of places where your handbag could have been. Maggie tried to help you by holding up furniture for you to check underneath—just in case, she’d said—but it became increasingly clear, with every nook and cranny you searched, that the bag was simply not here.

“Okay, shit,” Maggie finally concluded as the two of you knelt side by side on the floor, the room in disarray around you.

Among the useless clutter, you found a lot of dust, someone’s phone charger, and a forgotten USB flash drive under your nightstand.

“Wait, so—wait, wait.” You stood up, stumbling slightly as your knees cracked. “So, you don’t have your phone?”

The question was redundant, but Maggie didn’t mind repeating herself. She was just as confused as you were. And the handbag was the least of your problems: you did not carry a lot of cash with you when you travelled, so if you didn’t find the bag, all that you’d lose would be a travel-sized container of hand sanitiser, an old tube of lipgloss, and a package of tissues. It was Maggie’s phone that you were worried about—you couldn’t even remember putting it in your bag.

“No,” she said, shaking her head. Her eyes seemed even wider than they had in the corridor. Her hair fell in chaotic curls over her face. “I couldn’t find it anywhere. I tried Find My iPhone today, but it didn’t show anything. Maybe the phone’s dead? I don’t know. I didn’t check right after we returned to the hotel, because I was sleeping. And then, this morning, I thought, well, of course the app won’t tell me where my phone is. Because you have it, and you’re right next door.”

You clenched your jaw. “Okay. Okay, I-I must have left my bag at the club. Or someone took it. We have to call them.”

“Call them?” Maggie repeated, standing up, too. She glanced around your room once more to make sure your bag had not decided to grow feet and return on its own. “What will we say?”

You did not mind the pointlessness of her question, either. Evidently, now was the precise time for stupid questions.

“That I lost it. I don’t know,” you said. “Let’s just see. Maybe I left it there.” But you hesitated as soon as you pulled your phone out. “Shit. Do you remember what the place was called?”

“Oh, yeah, I have the directions open on my pho—” She stopped tapping the pockets of her jeans, realising. “Oh, shit.”

“Fuck.”

It took you less than a second to find the solution to your new problem.

Luna and Taehyung’s room was just down the corridor, and Luna opened the door as soon as you knocked, almost as if she had been waiting for you to require her immediate assistance in this crisis.

She could not remember many details of how the three of you got home, but she readily supplied the name of the club. Then she joined you and Maggie in your room, where your friends tried to reconstruct the events of the previous night and you dialled the number of the club, your shaky hands and frazzled mind leading you to hit all the wrong keys on your phone.

Finally, the call connected, and a cheerful, young voice introduced himself as, simply, Tom, barkeeper—although your frantic mind interpreted that as Tom Barkeeper initially, which, honestly, seemed like a fitting government name for someone tending the bar.

“Hi!” you said, your nervous voice nearing a screech. Luna and Maggie stopped talking and turned to you. “My friends and I were at your club on Wednesday night, and I seem to have misplaced my handbag. Is there any chance I left it there?”

“Let me check, miss,” Tom Barkeeper replied. You heard the faint sound of his footsteps in the background. “Could you describe it for me?”

“It—well, it was black,” you said, your palm pressed against your forehead. “With a large grey metal zipper, and sort of a—a little chain on the—”

“Er, actually, no, we’ve got no handbags at the Lost and Found,” he interrupted. “Got five watches, though.”

He chuckled lightly, and you looked up at your friends. There was a frown on your face that they immediately took to mean danger, and moved closer, settling on either side of you to listen.

“Uh, right,” you said distractedly, putting the call on speaker. “Are there any phones, by chance? There was a phone in my bag.”

“We had a couple of phones left here, but both have been picked up by their owners,” Tom B. replied. “Sorry.”

You turned to your friends, silently asking them what to do next.

“Perhaps you left your bag somewhere else?” the barkeeper suggested over the phone. “A taxi?”

Maggie, who remembered glimpses of your taxi ride, shook her head.

“Hmm. Or it was stolen,” you speculated.

Tom Barkeeper seemed surprised by this and he stuttered for a second—he had a thick accent, and even his, “well, er—I’d—uhm—” sounded really quite elegant—until he finally composed himself.

“Well, it—it does get rather busy here,” he admitted, and his voice sounded even younger all of a sudden. “I—er, was it very valuable? You could try filing a report, then we’d get our security here and rewind the CCTV footage.”

You glanced at Maggie. She shook her head again. She doubted they could find her phone in time if it really was stolen; you’d be leaving for Paris soon. She was embarrassed, too. There was nothing she could tell the police if you filed a report.

When have you last seen your phone, miss?

I have no idea, officer. I was shitfaced the whole night.

“I think we—no, that, um—we’ll try to see if there are any other places where it could be first,” you told Tom, trying to come up with a logical plan on the spot. “And then I’ll—”

“Yeah,” the barkeeper cut in, sounding relieved. “You check and call us back if you haven’t found it.”

“Yes. Thank you. Sorry to bother you.”

“That’s alright, miss,” he said. “Hope you find it.”

You ended the call with a disheartened sigh and turned to your friends.

“Well, they don’t have it,” you declared, as if they hadn’t heard everything.

“That’s great,” Luna observed. She glanced around the chaos inside your room. “And it’s definitely not here?”

“You can go ahead and look,” you said, stepping back to gesture at the piles of clothes. “I don’t know where else it could be.”

“Okay, well, Maggie and I both remember you having it with you on our way to the club,” she said. She tapped her chin and, because she had her glasses on and wore a sweater with a long white dress shirt underneath, she looked a bit like a heroine from an old Agatha Christie novel. “I remember the pins on my dress getting caught on the chain on your bag in the taxi.”

“That’s right,” you said, pointing at her, although you weren’t sure if you remembered the moment under discussion, or just the way the three of you had laughed about it later that night.

“So maybe you left it there before we even got to the club?” Luna suggested.

“No, but she still had it with her in the club!” Maggie interjected, frustrated. Her hair kept growing wilder the longer she stayed here, tousling it nervously every few seconds. “When she took our drink orders! My phone and her bag were both there.”

You and Luna both groaned, realising Maggie had already mentioned this. You were aware that the three of you had turned into a mess after just one night of drinking. Perhaps the next time you went out, you should consider bringing a chaperone, because this right now felt a lot like the blind leading the blind.

“Right,” Luna mumbled. “Sorry.”

“It’s starting to seem,” you said, “that either I left it in the taxi at the end of the night, or someone grabbed it at the club.”

Maggie nodded, agreeing with these options, even if she did not know what to do with them. You didn’t, either. Was there a Lost and Found for items accidentally abandoned in taxis? Should you have filed a report with the police, after all? Surely, they dealt with drunk people losing their belongings all the time. And maybe they could search for the phone even if you were across the strait.

Then you noticed that Luna was biting her lip, seemingly lost in a recurring thought.

“What are you thinking?” you prodded. She did not react. “Luna?”

She looked up from the floor, surprised to be addressed.

“Nothing,” she said, hesitating. “It’s sort of a conspiracy theory more than it is based on actual facts. But, um, you did mention seeing Sid and Jude at the club.”

You watched Maggie pull on her hair so hard that a few strands stayed in her grasp when she let go. Neither of you liked how plausible Luna’s not-fact-based theory was.

“You think they took my bag,” you surmised. “But why?”

“I don’t know,” Luna replied. “Why does Sid do anything?”

Your frown deepened. She had a disturbingly solid point. Sid was diabolical.

“That’s…” you faltered, thinking. “Well, he could have—although I didn’t even have anything in my bag except for Maggie’s—oh. Shit.”

Your sudden realisation—and the subsequent horror flashing across your face—surprised both girls. Maggie stepped closer to you.

“What is it?” she asked.

You pulled out your phone and opened Instagram.

“Sid posted a—he posted the picture,” you explained, scrolling down your feed, then abandoning this decision and going directly to Sid’s profile. “The one Maggie showed us at the club.”

You found the post and turned your phone towards the girls. The expressions on their faces made it very clear that Luna’s hypothesis was not far-fetched at all. Maggie looked delightfully murderous.

“Jungkook thinks Sid got it from his phone,” you said, “but what if—wh-what—”

“My phone was in your bag. He could have downloaded it from my gallery,” Maggie concluded, staring at the screen.

She wasn’t just angry about her stolen phone or the filter Sid had put over a perfectly good picture. She was also angry about him using a photograph that she was proud of to stir up trouble.

“That fucking loser,” she said. “That massive fucking piece of shit. Fucking good-for-nothing rat. Motherf—”

“Yeah, Mags,” you interjected, knowing she might not stop for a while. Last week, she had kept mumbling curses under her breath for forty minutes straight after Jimin ate the last pack of tomato ketchup crisps that she’d brought with her on tour. “We agree with you.”

Luna continued to bite her lip until it took upon an angry shade of red. She did not want to be responsible if she’d just led you in the wrong direction. Maggie already seemed prepared to crush your phone in her hand as she stared at Sid’s post.

Luna tried to reason, “we don’t know if that’s really what happened, though.”

“No, but it makes sense. You have to be right,” you insisted, glancing at the clock above the door. “Fuck. I—I have to—I have to get the band together before their soundcheck, but after that, I’m—I’ll talk to Minjun.” You brought your hand through your hair, angrier at yourself than you were at Sid right now. “We should have left the club right after I talked to Jude. It was a shitty call to stay there. But we’ll find your phone, Mags. And if Sid was really the one who took it, he’s—well, he’s not going to be taking shit from anyone anymore.”

Some of the tension in Maggie’s posture eased at your words.

“Well, we couldn’t have known they’d do something like that when we decided to stay,” Luna said, her voice comforting. “If they indeed—”

“Alright,” Maggie interrupted, taking a deep breath and returning your phone to you. “Let’s kill him.”

The room fell silent. You did not know if Maggie was aware of the undeniable resolve in her voice. She’d said that like she would have said, “let’s get lunch,” while already holding boxes of take-out in her hands.

“Or, you know,” she added in response to your and Luna’s expressions, “let’s beat him up. That’ll work, too.”

You glanced at Luna and the smile spreading on her face made you lose your calm, too.

“We’ll do that,” you promised Maggie, grinning as you wrapped an arm around her shoulders and leaned your head against hers. “If we can’t come up with anything better.”

“Hell yeah,” Luna agreed, joining you on Maggie’s other side. “He’s got a few teeth left, right? We can start counting who knocks out more. Jungkook is in the lead right now, but I don’t like losing, so—”

You and Maggie burst into laughter so loud and sudden that Luna flinched in surprise. Maggie even had to clutch your arm for support as she bent over, struggling to breathe in between wheezes. Her laughter was so infectious that Luna couldn’t keep a straight face much longer, either.

You were convinced that you would fix everything.

You’d find Minjun and ask if he had talked to Sid or Jude since Wednesday. If not, you’d get to the two of them yourself. Maggie would take care of them if they had your bag. And if, by some lucky chance, they would turn out to be innocent, you’d go to the police to find the real culprit.

You gathered the band—and Namjoon, of course—in the changing room of the venue before the soundcheck. Mindful of your limited time, you started by sharing the updates from CJ – the festivals next summer, the arena tour, and finally, the strategic shift that Jett Records was planning for Rated Riot, including your promotion and the expansion of the management team.

Once the cheers and the high-fives died down, you asked the boys to settle down for one last thing.

“The opening act,” you said, scrolling to the very bottom of the meeting agenda you’d prepared on your Notes. “Ren is still recovering from his broken foot, so we—”

“Because Ren is a whiny baby,” Jungkook chimed in helpfully. He was leaning against the wall instead of sitting around the table like the rest of his bandmates.

You gave him a look that was not particularly grateful but lacked any real threat. He grinned.

“So, Poison Tongue might be out for the rest of the tour,” you went on. “We’re talking to several other bands that might join you instead. Ivy will continue to support you on the upcoming shows in London and Paris.”

The band members nodded. They’d grown accustomed to Ivy’s presence—she used to be a tattoo artist and brought her equipment with her when she travelled, which everyone on tour appreciated. You and your girls personally found it wonderful to have another girl around.

“Alright. That was the last thing on my list, but it—there’s something else we have to discuss,” you paused, glancing around the room to keep your voice steady. Jungkook gave you a firm nod of support from the back of the room, no longer fooling around. “Uh, there was a picture posted last night. I’m sure you’ve all seen it. Namjoon took care of it; he informed the label that it’s the leaked cover of your upcoming album. But I want to emphasise that it doesn’t have to be the cover of anything. We can say it was one of the options, but we settled on something—”

“I like it,” Taehyung interjected. “The picture, I mean. I think we could use it as the cover for our next single, at least. It fits, right?”

“It does,” Yoongi agreed. You felt a tingle of unease creeping down your spine. “The lyrics match the picture very well.”

That was understandable, given the subject matter of the lyrics, but you were grateful that Yoongi did not elaborate further. You felt Jungkook watching you from across the room and your skin was burning.

“And it fits in with the rest of our album covers, too,” Hoseok joined, solidifying the consensus.

The decision had already been made, so Jungkook only shrugged when your eyes slid over to him.

“I say we use it,” he said. “It’s a great shot.”

For the first time since you joined Rated Riot, you genuinely worried that you might not keep your composure.

Every person in this room—and many people in the corridors, working on Rated Riot’s show—knew that you and Jungkook were the people in the photograph, and they all agreed to help you hide your relationship in plain sight. Aching discomfort and heartfelt gratitude fought a fierce battle inside your chest.

“Well, then, alright,” you said, your voice quivering slightly on the last syllable. You fixed your gaze on the white table. “That’s, uh, settled, then. Thank you, Namjoon, by the way. That was great quick thinking on your part.”

“No problem,” Namjoon replied. Hoseok leaned back in his chair to pat him on the shoulder and Namjoon gave him a smile before explaining, “I didn’t mean to jump the gun, but—”

“No, no,” you cut him off. “You did great. It’s—well, it’s good PR, claiming he just leaked the cover art. Thank you.”

He shrugged. “Maggie’s the one who took a great picture.”

Hums of agreement filled the room, and you nodded, too. Maggie had always been a field photographer. She felt claustrophobic in a closed photo studio, she needed the space, the action, the emotion. And she knew how to capture it all. It was a great picture. It was a shame what Sid was trying to do with it.

“She did, yeah,” you said before noticing the time on your phone. “But, uh, anyway, that—that was all. Any quick questions?”

No one spoke, and the momentary silence in the room felt a little disconcerting. These were the loudest people you’ve ever met, so you did not enjoy feeling like a teacher, asking for volunteers to solve an excruciating equation. Actually, you did not enjoy standing here at all right now; pins and needles chased each other all across your body.

“In that case,” you locked your phone and set it down on the table, “go out, and get ready for the night. It’s going to be a good one.”

Someone cried out, “fuck yes!”—it was hard to determine who, due to the immediate shouts of agreement that followed—and the boys tumbled out of the room, making as much noise as they could. Right away you felt a little better. Everyone had already been excited about the concert tonight, but the news about the extended tour and bigger venues only amplified their emotions.

You ended up watching each of the boys leap over the threshold of the door for no reason whatsoever, just to see who could jump the farthest—until Jungkook smacked his head right into the top of the door frame.

Pouting, he walked over to you after everyone else had finished laughing and left. You fixed his hair, trying to bite back your laughter, and he pulled you into a hug, groaning in disapproval when he felt you chuckle softly against his chest.

“Is your head okay?” you asked, the humour in your tone undeniable, despite your attempts to suppress it.

“No,” he said, tightening his grip on your waist until he heard your quiet gasp. “Oh, now it’s a little better.”

“Oh, it’s better,” you retorted, evidently taking up the challenge. “I see.”

The force of your grip was nowhere near as strong as his—although it was very impressive, he had to admit; he did lose his breath for a split second—but you felt his smile spread as he leaned his head against yours, and that was good enough.

He hummed against your neck, swaying with you in his arms, and you realised that you could not think about Sid’s picture or Maggie’s phone now that it was just the two of you in the room. That was good. You wouldn’t have wanted to speak to Jungkook about any of that right before his concert anyway.

“Now it’s okay,” he whispered. “Fifteen more minutes and I’ll be good as new. Maybe twenty.”

You smiled, but one of your hands had stopped drawing soothing patterns on his back.

“You have to go, though,” you reminded him reluctantly. “Jin will rip you a new one if you’re not on stage in two and a half minutes. He and Jimin got into an argument with one of the local sound engineers earlier today, so he wants to finish the soundcheck as quickly as possible.”

Jungkook groaned, releasing you, but keeping his gaze on yours.

“Can I just tell him I hurt my head,” he asked, “so I deserve special treatment?”

“Not sure,” you replied. “I think that only works with me.”

His laughter was loud and unapologetic. Before you could say anything else, he wrapped an arm around your waist and pulled you back into his chest again, resting his forehead against yours.

“What are you doing?” you whispered, concerned about his poor time management and the relatively open space that you were in. The door was closed this time, but not locked.

“Nothing,” he replied softly. His lower lip brushed against yours as he spoke. You felt dangerously light. “If you say I’m late.”

“Well, n-not yet... You have about,” your breath hitched momentarily when he pressed a gentle kiss just under your jaw, “a minute and forty-five seconds left.”

“Well, then,” he lifted his eyes to look at you again, but only for a moment, “I have to make the most of my,” his lips touched yours slowly, but firmly, “one minute and,” his quick kiss gained more force, “thirty seconds.”

You were laughing by the time he kissed you again, and he could not stop himself from smiling, too. He knew he was running late, but he kept his lips on yours, the kiss focused, lingering, and locked your taste in a separate part of his brain—a part so full of you that it was beginning to overtake other, much less important parts.

“I love you,” he whispered, pulling away.

His lips glistened slightly from your gloss. Your heart, having already finished three laps around the venue, had now taken up parkour in the crevices of your chest.

“I love you,” you replied. You ran your fingers down his cheek, forgetting yourself, almost, when he leaned into your touch. Then you pulled back and nodded at the door. “Go now. I’ll see you after the show tonight. There’s, uh—I have a plan I want to discuss with you.”

Jungkook was about to object—you couldn’t remove your hands from his skin so abruptly, there was a certain procedure you had to follow to ensure he could still breathe when you were no longer touching him, similar to replacing nicotine patches for someone trying to quit smoking—but then he realised what you were saying.

“Oh.” He raised an eyebrow and stayed still despite your utmost attempts to push his shoulder to get him to turn around. “About Sid?”

You nodded. “Yeah. But I’ll explain later.”

You expected him to question this, to try to find out what the plan was right now, but he did no such thing. He felt happy and optimistic—kissing you might have helped with that—so he did not need to know more. You could have said that you were taking all of your staff to Argentina to escape Sid, and he would have grabbed his sunglasses.

“Okay,” he said. “I’m in, either way. Operation Cobra-Rabbit.”

“Operat—” You scoffed, suddenly remembering your conversation after the film yesterday. “We’re not calling it that. It’s not a secret operation, it doesn’t need a name. You’re going to your soundcheck now, and then we’ll—”

“How about Operation: Escape from London?” he suggested, dragging his feet as you pushed him towards the door. “Since, you know, we’re in—”

“No,” you said. “Go.”

He didn’t protest this time, because Seokjin’s angry, hurried footsteps were already reverberating down the corridor, and Jungkook did not want to piss him off more. Still, he paused again by the door, giving you one last overly dramatic nod over his shoulder as if he were in a spy film. Then he left with a triumphant fist in the air after finally earning a chuckle from you.

You shook your head as he shut the door of the room behind himself, leaving you alone—not for very long, however.

Less than a minute later, as you returned to the table that Hoseok and Yoongi had dragged to the centre of the room for your meeting, you heard the door open again. You lifted your head, ready to scold Jungkook, and saw Namjoon instead, peeking inside sheepishly.

“Hey,” he greeted, hesitating in the doorway. “Didn’t want to interrupt your meeting, so I, uh, waited until it’s over. Do you have a minute?”

A knot tightened in the pit of your stomach. There were too many things that already took you by surprise today. You were not sure how many more of them you could take.

“You wouldn’t have interrupted,” you said, mustering a smile. “You’re part of the team. Come in.”

Namjoon slipped into the room without any sound at all and took a moment to close the door, his hand lingering on the engraved knob.

“Yeah, uh—I just want to have a quick word with you,” he said, turning around. “About why I called CJ in advance.”

“Oh. You don’t have to explain that,” you said. “It—that was a good decision. Thank you for thinking of it. You might have really saved—”

Namjoon started to speak in the middle of your sentence as if he hadn’t heard you.

“I was with Yoongi in his room, working on the song, when we saw Sid’s post,” he said, clearly battling his guilt about the extra attention the picture had gained because of him. He wanted you to know that he had no bad intentions. “It was about four in the morning when we—well, actually, a fan sent it to Yoongi, and asked, “oh my god, is this the cover of your new album?” Obviously, Yoongi and I thought that was impossible; we haven’t even decided when we’re releasing this new song. We could tell that Sid was just trying to mess with Jungkook, and that it had to be you in that picture with him.”

Self-conscious when he gave you a questioning glance, you brought a hand over your neck. “It is.”

“Yeah. So, I called CJ right away,” Namjoon continued. “I don’t think I even had a clear plan of what I was going to say to him or what time it was for him. But he picked up, and I just blurted out, “our album cover leaked,” because that was what that fan had assumed. And why not, you know? If the fans think that’s what happened, why not utilise that to eradicate whatever Sid was trying to do? The picture’s really good. Might as well use it for—for a good cause, instead of whatever Sid was hoping for.”

“Right. Yeah. Exactly,” you said. The more words you used to agree with him, the clearer it became that you still wished you could have escaped this situation. “And now Sid’s caption makes it seem like he’s just—”

“Congratulating them,” Namjoon finished for you. “Happy for you, he’d said. Makes sense.”

“Yeah.”

The two of you allowed for several quiet moments to pass, lost in your own thoughts. Namjoon shifted his weight to his right leg and tucked his thumb into his belt loop.

“I, um—I’m sorry if that made you uncomfortable, though,” he said, looking up. “I knew things might get… weird if I didn’t do anything. The picture itself might not have caused any harm, but given the speculation surrounding it, and your upcoming promotion… I thought that using the picture as an album cover was just safer.”

“Yeah, it—no, I—I’m glad you did that, really,” you said, a little thrown off by the mention of your promotion. “I don’t know if I would have thought of a solution like that.”

Namjoon believed you would have come up with a similar plan quite easily. The problem was that you did not want to draw even more attention to the picture.

“Y-you said—um,” you added, “did you know that CJ was going to call me?”

His pursed lips turned into a timid smile.

“I heard some things…” he admitted.

You arched a surprised eyebrow. “And you didn’t tell me?”

“I hear a lot of things you wouldn’t want to know.”

You nodded. You were fortunate to work with many amazing people, but you had heard their stories. You knew what this industry had been like to them before they reached this point. And you felt very blessed that these same people now shielded you from the negativity that they had not been able to escape themselves.

“Alright,” you said. You were glad, all of a sudden, that CJ had not elaborated on his decision to suddenly promote you. “That’s fair enough.”

You returned to your belongings, sliding your phone into your pocket, and Namjoon observed you in silence for a second, only moving to assist you when you began to push the table back to its original place by the window.

“So,” he said, once the room was restored to its former order, “how come you look so worried? Head Manager! That’s great.”

“Oh,” you said. “It is great.”

Namjoon knew there was more. The two of you hadn’t had many chances to have private conversations during this tour, but usually, you were the person he came to talk to about the problems in his job, and he expected the same from you.

He gestured towards the couch next to the table and waited until you took a seat before sitting down next to you with an expectant look on his face.

“It—well, really, this is great,” you said, clasping your hands together as you rested your elbows on your knees. This was standard, Namjoon knew. You needed a minute to admit what was bothering you. “I’m grateful. There’s just a lot of stuff going on right now. Nothing I want to trouble you with, but, uh, this promotion feels… well, it feels like my work had very little to do with it. They found out about Reconnaissance and just decided to promote me. I’m happy, of course, but I wish they had waited until after the tour, so I could say, with confidence, that this was due to everything I’ve achieved with Rated Riot. And not just because Nick Zhou called me one time.”

Namjoon appeared to be highly interested in one specific crack in the floorboards.

“But this is because of everything you’ve achieved with Rated Riot,” he said, not looking up. You wondered if he did that on purpose, to make you feel less like you were talking to a specific person, and more like you were just talking—so you would not feel bad about sharing your troubles. “You took the abstract concept of a European tour and brought it to life. And then Rated Riot got on stage, and the whole Europe fell in love with them. But you brought them here. You looked after them. And the staff. And, actually, their personal belongings. Sorry about Tilburg.”

You smiled, recalling the Lost Laptops of Tilburg.

“It’s nothing. I was just doing my job,” you said. “And everyone on this tour looks after one another. That—well, that’s the whole point, I—”

“No,” he disagreed, finally giving you a look. “You’re never just doing your job. You’re always doing more. You earned this. Accept it.”

Namjoon had used a very similar tone to defend you from bitter, middle-aged men who had a problem with your promotion after CJ’s assistant had brought it up at the last Zoom meeting with the executives at the company. Their issue was your young age. Namjoon did not think a person needed to start balding to be awarded for their great work.

“CJ actually didn’t even give me the option to refuse,” you said, your smile turning wry. “He just told me I’m getting promoted and I felt like I had to go along with it.”

Namjoon nodded knowingly. He had several similar experiences with Christian Jett before. He had even played tennis with him once and called him Chris—not CJ—by accident. Luckily, he managed to duck before a tennis ball came hurling at his head. Namjoon knew CJ did not give suggestions; he gave orders.

“Would you have refused, if he’d asked?” he asked you.

“No, but…” You spun your ring around your index finger and settled back against the couch. “Can I be honest?”

“Of course.”

“I am—honestly, I’m also worried about my relationship with Jungkook,” you said.

Namjoon noted that this was the first time you brought this up to him without encouragement. Despite his surprise, however, he did not want to let the awkward silence take over the room, so he coughed politely into his fist and tried to reply, not particularly smoothly.

“What do you—what are you worried about?” he asked, even though that was obvious.

“I talked to Jin the other day,” you said. “He said that as long as the band makes a profit, no one’s going to care—which is true enough. But with this happening, with Rated Riot growing more and more popular, with my promotion… they will have to care. Our relationship has, obviously, never been strictly professional. And now it could hinder their plans for the band.”

Namjoon mulled over this for a minute, his gaze drifting to the expanse of the empty room. He had obviously had similar thoughts as you when he made the call to CJ, but now he realised that this was only half the picture.

“If they’re promoting you,” he began, his voice steady against the subdued air in the room, “that obviously means they want to keep you in the company. So, when they learn about your relationship, they definitely won’t immediately decide to fire you. I suppose they will ask you to end the relationship, or they won’t care about it at all. Those are the only two logical possibilities, right?”

“Right,” you agreed.

“If they tell you to end it,” Namjoon continued, “I think you’re in a position to present them with a similar ultimatum. Tell them that you will leave if they won’t accept your relationship. That is risky, I’ll admit. But they need you. And, from what I hear, they know you have other options.”

There was a quality about Namjoon that you really admired. Often, when people wanted to make someone feel better, they said things that they knew would lift their spirits—you appreciated that as well, just in a different way. Namjoon, on the other hand, managed to offer comfort tempered with rationality.

You took a deep breath and stretched your legs.

“Yeah,” you said. “Negotiate, is what you’re telling me.”

“Yes. More or less,” he confirmed. “But, of course, you have to decide what, uh—what you will do if they refuse to do it your way.”

You shook your head.

“I’ve already decided,” you said. The smile on your face was as sad as smiles could be. “If they will tell me it’s one or the other, I won’t choose to stay at the company. I’ll choose him.”

Namjoon nodded and hung his head. He hoped you would think he did that in solidarity, but, really, he was trying to hide his smile. Of course, he was a little worried about the label’s reaction. But he was also happy for you and Jungkook.

Not to mention, he had been roped into joining the bet about your relationship backstage—Seokjin was very loud, and Namjoon embarrassed very easily—and now he might have been the first to find out that he’d won.

He couldn’t resist the urge to ask, “I—are you guys, um, back together, then?”

“Honestly,” you said, snickering at the absurdity of your position, “at this point, it feels like we never even broke up.”

Namjoon’s smile was too big to hide it. “So, you are, then.”

“We are. And, it’s—you know,” you said with a shrug that was not one bit nonchalant, despite your best attempts to make it seem so, “I’d love to still be able to keep working with you guys despite that, but, uh—I’ll deal with whatever happens. If they will think this is unacceptable, I’ll leave.”

“It may not come to that,” he said, his tone reassuring, yet grounded. “There’s still a good chance that the label won’t care. I mean, Taehyung is in a relationship.”

“Yeah,” you gave him a skeptical look, “but Luna isn’t working with him.”

“True,” he acknowledged before pursuing his point further, “but that relationship only has a positive impact on the band. He’s relaxed when she’s here, her presence helps him cope with the stress of the tour… on and on this list goes.”

That was a great observation, of course. Not to mention, you enjoyed having Luna around, too. But you knew that there was more to the story.

“I had to fight for that, though,” you said. “Jett Records didn’t think we should allow any girlfriends, friends, or relatives on tour. I had a different opinion.”

Namjoon did not know this, but his surprise quickly turned to pride.

“Oh,” he said, beaming. “But you won, though. They allowed our loved ones to join. You got your way.”

“Yes, but that could be because they didn’t think the tour would be this successful,” you countered. “Sure, most of the dates sold out before we came here, but it—that’s the minimum requirement. You know that. So, alright, the label already knew that Rated Riot would gather two or three thousand people every night. But they didn’t realise there’d be another thousand waiting outside the venue in every city we visited. Their attitude might change now that they know about the level of interest in the band.”

Namjoon noticed a tentative smile tugging at your lips. Despite your concerns about the future, the fact was that this tour—with all its mishaps and accidents—had already surpassed everyone’s expectations. Rated Riot were on a clear path to success and the unexpected crowds at each venue made it impossible not to feel excited, no matter what happened next.

“That’s just the thing, though,” Namjoon said, his eyes kind. “When you came to manage Rated Riot, they were still playing in bars and restaurants. All they had was potential. But with you, they’re starting to live up to it. Not to mention... there has to be a reason why Nick wanted to scout you for Reconnaissance. The label knows they need you. Otherwise, they wouldn’t be in such a rush to promote you without even asking if you agree.”

You realised you hadn’t thought of it like that. But Namjoon was right. Everything he’d said to you was true.

You loved your job, and you were good at it. It was just this one hiccup in your otherwise excellent performance as the band’s manager that made you doubt everything you’ve done for them: you were dating the lead vocalist.

But you listened to Namjoon now, and you realised your thoughts weren’t fair. Your relationship with Jungkook did not—and never would—impact your ability to do your job, and do it well. It was not an indicator of the quality of your work. It was not proof of your lack of effort or motivation.

You were learning, through agonising trial and error almost every day, that these two roles—manager and girlfriend—could co-exist. You did not need to relinquish one to succeed at the other.

Namjoon noticed that your eyes seemed brighter, your shoulders were less hunched and you no longer averted your gaze when he looked at you. The melodic strains you heard as the band finally started their soundcheck likely helped you calm down, too.

“I realise,” you admitted, “that I am nervous about big changes. About multiple big changes, concurrently.”

Namjoon had to lean in closer to be able to hear you—Hoseok pounded his drums behind the wall as if his life depended on it.

“I think that’s normal,” he noted. “Who wouldn’t be?”

He hoped to remind you that it was very easy to get lost in your feelings and experiences, and convince yourself that you were going through them alone—but you weren’t. And you saw that very clearly today.

“And it’s okay,” he continued. “I can’t make decisions for you, but you’re—you have us. We’ll always have your back. We won’t sit idly if we find out the label made you resign.”

You took a breath and finally allowed the gratitude in your heart to really settle.

“Thank you,” you said. “For everything. I really liked your advice about standing my ground. I think I’ll try to follow it.”

Namjoon smiled at this and nudged your shoulder with his. Smiling in response, you nudged his right back.

You’ve found your family when you met Rated Riot. They made bets about your relationship, they teased each other at nearly every possible moment, they complained and argued, but they supported each other with unwavering loyalty. And you were prepared to fight, if it came to it, to stay with them.

You were convinced that CJ had put a hex on you, because you had to spend the rest of the day on your phone, arranging interviews, giving comments about the band’s plans for the future, and pacing in the corridors of the venue. You could not even return to the hotel to pick up your forgotten laptop, you had to do all the work on your phone.

You still had to figure out what happened to Maggie’s phone, but you resolved to track down Minjun and ask him about Sid and Jude later, after the incessant calls stopped. For some reason, everyone demanded to talk to you in Dutch or Swedish or something that sounded vaguely German, and all you could gather from their speech was ‘Rated Riot’ and a questioning tone at the end of the sentence.

You still hadn’t finished by the time Rated Riot began their set on stage, so you had to return to the dressing room for some silence, no matter how much you’d missed hearing the way the audience responded to the band. Thankfully, you only had two more calls to get through—both in Swedish, much to your enormous joy.

After you left the changing room to finally join Luna by the stage, you heard a peculiar sound—a soft, conspiratorial shushing from somewhere in the corridor backstage, like someone trying to beckon a cautious cat.

“Psst. Psst. Pss—hey!”

You did not immediately realise that this was aimed at you. Stopping, you looked around warily until you finally spotted Minjun’s head peeking out from behind the corridor wall. He was trying not to attract too much attention to himself, so he did not use your name.

“What’s going on?” you asked, approaching him. “Why—”

“Come with me.”

“Wh—” you began, but Minjun’s hand darted out from behind the wall, joining his head, and he seized your wrist.

He pulled you down the corridor with an urgency that made your heart drop to your knees and he refused to stop no matter how much you struggled to watch your steps.

“What’s going on?” you demanded, altering between genuine fear and irritation.

“Jude’s here,” Minjun said and tripped over something as soon as he did, forcing you to stumble, too.

“Jude—with Sid?” you asked, your insides stirring with newfound horror.

Jude never went anywhere alone, and you did not like this rush that Minjun was in to get to him. You tried once more to stop running, or slow down at the very least, but Minjun was a train, running late on schedule.

“No,” he said, his grip on your wrist firm, his eyes frantic. “Alone.”

“Why?” you pressed.

He did not reply until he brought you to a halt outside the door at the far end of the corridor, leading to what appeared to be either a utility closet or an unusually small dressing room.

“Come in,” he said then, without any explanation, and held the door open for you.

You pushed the door further.

Jude stood before you inside the room. He looked more transparent than he had at the club the other night, and you weren’t sure if this wasn’t just a hazy memory. He was holding your handbag in his hands.

You wished you were back on the phone with the impatient Swedish journalist from before.

“Hi. This is yours,” Jude said awkwardly, extending your bag towards you.

You stood in the doorway and did not move. “How did you get that?”

Minjun had to gently push your arm with his shoulder so he could enter the room. Jude appeared very small as he held out your bag and tried to find his words.

“I, um—after I talked to you at the club,” he said, “I told Sid that I saw you, and he—he made me hang around and wait until you weren’t paying attention. I told him I knew which table you and your friends were at, and he thought—h-he wanted your phone.”

He waved the handbag, his alarmingly thin arms growing tired, and you finally took it from him. Maggie’s phone was inside, snug among scattered receipts.

Luna had been right—not that you doubted her for a second. And it made sense now, why Jude had lingered that night: he was waiting for Maggie and Luna to pick a table.

“I ju—I just had to wait until you all went dancing,” Jude continued, his voice unsteady. “A-and I was supposed to grab your phone. Sid was—he was desperate.”

Your posture was rigid, your eyes locked on Jude in a way that stopped him from breaking eye contact, and even Minjun felt a little uncomfortable. He knew more of what happened, after all; Jude had to explain it all to him to persuade him to find you. Minjun did nothing to interfere now, however. Jude was the one who wanted to talk to you, so he should have been the one to convince you to listen.

“Why?” you asked finally, your voice cutting through the tense silence, and slicing into Jude’s fragile confidence.

He glanced at Minjun, who gave him a small nod. Encouraged, Jude rubbed his hands together and began to speak. He could taste bile at the back of his throat, but the bitter sensation had been there for a while.

“He was looking for something to use against you and Jungkook,” he explained. “He hoped to find an old picture or video of the two of you together. When you were—when you dated. He wanted t-to cause a little trouble. If he couldn’t find anything, then h-he would have called Jungkook from your phone to, um—to give him the wrong idea.”

You gritted your teeth, reminding yourself that Jude was the accessory and the messenger. Your desire to slam someone’s face into a wall was not aimed at him.

“This isn’t mine, though,” you said, nodding at the phone inside your bag.

“Well, wh—it doesn’t matter,” Jude dismissed it with a shrug that seemed to propel his whole body backwards. “There were a lot of pictures from backstage in the gallery. Sid thought that was good enough.”

You wished Luna or Maggie were here with you right now, maybe both. Granted, Maggie might have attacked Jude—and you weren’t sure if you would have tried to restrain her, given your own urges—but at least you wouldn’t be standing here alone, trying to make sense of what was happening. Minjun’s quiet presence in the corner of the room did not offer much comfort. He was poised to intervene as if he was waiting for you to throw a punch.

“And why are you here?” you asked Jude.

You noticed that he was leaning slightly to one side despite standing firmly on both feet, and you wondered if this was a sign of how accustomed he was to standing on Sid’s right. Or maybe he was just drunk or under the influence of something stronger.

“Because you—you don’t owe me anything,” Jude replied, and you felt even more confused. His eyes looked watery, the edges of his pupils blurred. “You hate me, actually. And you have that right, I haven’t—I haven’t been very nice to you over the years. But you—you’re the one who told me to be careful. And Sid—I was—he left me for dead when he got bored later that night.”

You frowned, meeting Minjun’s brooding eyes across the room. He knew about this, you could tell. But he wanted Jude to do the talking.

Jude continued, “it started with a nosebleed. Then, I couldn’t breathe all of a sudden. I don’t—I don’t know what happened. Sid tossed me another bag of ice as if I hadn’t already taken enough.”

You were slow to grasp that “ice” did not mean frozen water in this case, and you wondered how many different ways to describe meth Jude knew at this point.

Then you needed another second to stop your heart from overexerting itself. Your initial plan for Sid paled in comparison to the new one burgeoning in the dark depths of your mind.

“A-and then he left the hotel between my third and fourth wheeze,” Jude finished. “He said he didn’t have time for this shit.”

You allowed Minjun to give the appropriate reactions to the story—and he nodded empathetically every few seconds—while you were only half-listening.

This happened in their hotel room, then. And Jude had said, another bag.

How many bags of methamphetamine did Sid keep in his hotel room in a foreign country with possibly very strict drug regulations?

“I-I remembered you, sud—suddenly,” Jude stammered when you did not respond. You looked up, surprised by the weight of your presence in his memory. “You told me to drink water. I drank a lot that night, but it—it obviously wasn’t water. Water was—it’s not what we usually drink. I didn’t—but there was half a bottle in the room, so I finished that. I could see a little clearer after that. Or so I thought. I went to the sink, and—and drank as much tap water as I could bef—before I threw up.”

“You might have overdosed,” you observed, studying his appearance again. His bronze complexion had taken an unsettling, ashy pallor. His hands were shaking and he kept rubbing them together. He looked cold, but beads of perspiration glistened on his forehead. “Are you—”

“I don’t—it’s not my first time taking a bit too much,” he said, wiping the sweat from his brow after he sensed your scrutiny. You blinked and looked away. “I’ve never really—never thought I would die before, so that was new. B-but I don’t think that I—I didn’t overdose. I think I just lost track of time because I was—I was waiting to steal your bag. For Sid.” His right hand trembled so awfully that he had to clutch it with his left to steady himself. “I’m really sorry.”

“Jude, I’m—”

“He left me for dead,” he reiterated before you could suggest calling a doctor. “You were right. He doesn’t care. I-I could have—I was de—dehyder—”

“Dehydrated,” you supplied.

“Yeah. That,” he affirmed, pausing to give you a grateful smile, then looking at Minjun for approval. Minjun did not move. Jude lowered his gaze again. “A-and he thought I was being a nuisance. He thought another dose would help me, and he just left.”

“And are you sure you don’t need help?” you finally asked. Your tone was strict, but Jude was touched by the sentiment so much that he swayed slightly on his feet. “You look like you could use some.”

He cast a pleading look at Minjun, and you feared that he was teetering on the verge of tears.

“Shit—y-you see,” he said, though it was not clear if he was addressing you or Minjun. “That’s what I mean. I don—I am—I’m fine now. I’m—I’ll be fine. I’m going home. I won’t go back to the hotel.”

Your surprise was quick and obvious, prompting Jude to launch into a hurried, almost fanatical explanation. He was eager to break through the formidable barriers of his usual reticence, which felt awkward and embarrassing now that Sid wasn’t here to tell him to keep quiet.

“I don’t want shit—I don’t want to deal with his shit anymore,” he said. “I’m flying home. I’m sorry. I wanted to tell you that. Y-you don’t even—you didn’t have to say anything to me, especially after all that I’ve done, but you said that, you told me to look after myself, a-and I don’t know. You might have saved my life that night. And—and you’re—y-you want to help me now. I’m—I’ll be okay. I’m just—I’m sorry.”

You winced at his exaggeration about your conversation at the club, but Minjun was the only one who’d noticed it. Jude was oblivious in his fervent need to get the words out, to explain, to apologise, to tell you how thankful he was.

You thought his gratitude was misplaced. He would have realised what to do in that situation anyway; he’d said something similar had already happened before, even if it hadn’t been as severe. He knew he had to drink if he took substances that could lead to overheating—you just happened to repeat it to him at a convenient time.

But just as you prepared to reply, the words died on your tongue.

You realised you could use his gratitude and guilt.

“Jude,” you said, breaking the rhythm of his laboured, frantic breaths. “If you really are okay, how—how would you feel about getting even with Sid for treating you like that?”

He stopped breathing for a second, confused. “W-what do you mean?”

Your gaze shifted to Minjun, whose initial surprise quickly melted into a realisation that lit up his features. He nodded enthusiastically.

“I have this idea,” you continued, returning your attention to Jude, who remained anchored against the back wall of the room, resembling a child caught drawing on the walls with a permanent marker. “But I would need you to stay in London a bit longer. Just a day or two. Could you do that?”

“That would be fair, I think,” Minjun added hastily. Jude hadn’t even processed your request yet. “It’s the least you can do after she practically saved your life—which she really didn’t have to do. I mean, you stole her bag.”

“I—but Sid asked me to do that!” Jude protested, panicked once more. He looked at you, his brows knit in an expression of profound desperation. He genuinely felt indebted to you, and he was dying to make it right. “I wouldn’t—I didn’t want to. You’ve never done anything wrong to me.”

“Well, exactly,” Minjun continued before you could respond. He could tell that Jude’s abnormally energetic apologies troubled you. “You kind of owe her, you know?”

Jude knew. You could tell he knew because he began to rub his hands together faster, his fingers restless, agitated as they ran over his calloused skin. He looked frightened. He looked like half of a person.

You felt the first threads of remorse coil around your mind for taking advantage of him in a state like this.

“Well, I—I—o-of course, I guess,” Jude acquiesced, though his compliance seemed strained—much like the rest of his actions, really. He needed to lie in bed for a week or two. “W-what would I have to do?”

You turned back to Minjun, who appeared to be waiting for you to give Jude any command whatsoever. Jude, in turn, appeared willing to comply with any command.

It occurred to you that perhaps Jude’s obedience to Sid did not stem from a specific attachment to him. Perhaps Jude had simply chosen to surrender his free will, and now he gravitated towards anyone who could make decisions on his behalf—as long as he could justify it to himself: a decades-long friendship with Sid, or a perceived debt he owed you.

Jude—as Minjun had suggested before—just didn’t know any better. And it was so easy, so very simple for him to just let someone else take the reins. To float down the stream instead of fighting it.

“Just keep spending time with Sid like you used to, okay?” you instructed. “Act as if nothing happened between you, like everything’s alright. Yeah? And we’ll be in touch with you.”

“Yeah,” Jude replied slowly. It took him a few seconds to grasp what had been said to him. You wondered if he’d always been this way, or if this was a lingering effect of all that he had to endure in the past twenty-four hours. “Yeah, I can do that.”

“That’s great,” you said. And then, because he continued to look smaller than his shadow, you added, “I, um—I understand you’re not a fan of hospitals, but how do you feel about pharmacies? They have a great selection of supplements I think you should try.”

You handed Minjun your handbag and he watched, in bewilderment, as you led Jude out of the room. You gave Jude step-by-step instructions—in excruciating detail that Minjun thought Jude did not deserve—about what to say at the pharmacy, which vitamins to seek, what nutritional products to consider, how to drink water, what fruit to buy on the way back to the hotel, and what to tell Sid if he asked questions about any of this.

Jude wrote it all down on his phone—a process that consumed an additional twenty minutes outside the venue—before he finally thanked you, apologised another dozen times, and walked away, leaning against the side of the building for support.

When you rejoined Minjun, you felt like you had just finished teaching six kindergarten classes.

“He’s gone,” you announced, sinking into the only armchair in the cramped room. Your foot came to rest on the handle of a discarded broom. You still weren’t sure what the purpose of this room was.

“Why’d you do all that for him?” Minjun asked, handing you your bag and leaning against the wall.

“Because I don’t want Rated Riot’s opening act to be Jude dropping dead,” you retorted. “He’s severely malnourished. Does he even eat when he—anyway. I don’t know what’s going on with his nervous system, he was shaking the whole time he was here. I don’t—I’m not Sid. I can’t stand to talk to someone half-dead without trying to do something.”

“Yeah,” Minjun said, still a little amazed at your lack of hesitation when you walked Jude outside. Jude had certainly never been as terrible as Sid, but he was still Sid’s closest friend. Yet, you were eager to help him feel better, when even Minjun had given up. “You’re not Sid. That’s what got us to this point. But you, um—you still didn’t have to go to such lengths for Jude. He… he’s always had withdrawal issues. He’s going to take something as soon as he goes back to the hotel, and he’ll probably be fine again.”

You exhaled. Probably was a very heavy word to carry on your shoulders everywhere you went.

“Yeah, but at least now my conscience won’t keep me up at night,” you said, stretching your arms over your head. “Besides, we’re kind of using him, so we obviously need him alive.”

“True…” Minjun faltered, his eyes shifting to the only minuscule window in the room and squinting. He could not see anything beyond the thick glass, obscured by rain residue. “It, uh—it’s great that Jude can be our man on the inside. I’m glad he realised what a fucking bag of shit Sid is. But, honestly, I’m not sure we can trust him if we send him straight back to that hotel. He might have a change of heart.”

“I know,” you admitted. Even if Jude felt indebted to you and demonstrated that by returning Maggie’s phone, his gratitude could prove temporary. Sid had an exceptional talent for coaxing good people into bad deeds. “That’s why I’m not telling Jude anything else we’re going to do.”

Minjun turned back to look at you, intrigued. “And what is it that we’re going to do?”

“I need to do some research first,” you said, your thoughts speeding a hundred miles per minute. “Did Sid reach out to you at any point over these past few days?”

“No.”

“Alright, so it’s just Jungkook, then.” You leaned forward, considering this. “I-I don’t get it, to be honest. I mean, I get that Sid is the spawn of the devil, but really, why is he—why does he care so much? Because this isn’t some prank. He’s digging up old videos, posting pictures that could have serious consequences for us, and he’s—he made Jude hang around the club to steal my fucking bag. That’s so stupid and over-the-top that I’m not even—I mean, does he really have nothing better to do?”

Minjun did not seem to share your confusion, and your shoulders slumped in disappointment. Clearly, Minjun did not think this was out of character for Sid at all.

“Well, yeah, he doesn’t have anything else going on,” Minjun said. “He doesn’t have a job. He has money and twenty-four hours in a day. Might as well torment people. Besides, he feels wronged. He won that bet he had with Jungkook, but—”

“No, I get that,” you interrupted, your gaze drifting to the same window that Minjun had attempted to look through before. “He’s always done this. But it makes no sense to me. Fucking with people just because he thinks they’re not miserable enough. That has to be some sort of a latent inferiority complex, this need he has to prove to everyone that he’s better than them. But I don’t—he’s going to have to take his insecurities elsewhere. He’ll have to fuck off. We’ll leave him no other choice.”

When you did not succeed in seeing past the thick fog over the glass, you turned back to Minjun again. He was grinning, for some reason, his bright smile standing out against the sombre atmosphere in the room.

“What?” you asked.

“Nothing.” He chuckled, excitement twirling in his eyes. “I’m glad you and Jungkook are back together.”

You looked away, pensive.

“Come on,” he said, pushing himself off the wall. “Let’s go defeat evil. I’ll help with your research.”

Minjun ended up providing fantastic assistance, and by the time the two of you had exhausted all the keywords in your Google search, you had a rough outline of what you’d do with Sid. You and Minjun both agreed that you needed Jungkook’s input, so the three of you would need to meet sometime later to finalise your strategy and set it into motion.

In the meantime, you had to find your friends, return Maggie’s phone, and update them on everything that had happened since you’d last seen them.

When you entered Rated Riot’s dressing room, the walls were pulsating with the beat of an old Arctic Monkeys song, blaring unapologetically from Yoongi’s Bluetooth speaker. You had thought you felt completely drained from this day, but the sight of everyone celebrating as they always did—as if it were the final show of the tour, the venue filled with their laughter, the floor wet from their spilt drinks—lifted your mood and your energy levels immeasurably.

Maggie was the first to catch your eye in the crowd of people. As soon as you returned her phone, a tipsy Yoongi interjected affectionately, “you find everyone’s lost eletornicks!”—which was almost an actual word, so you figured he still had room for more alcohol. He drifted away before you could say anything else, moving his shoulders to the rhythm of “Snap Out Of It” and joining Hoseok by the drinks table.

Luna noticed the slight commotion and approached you. As soon as you finished telling the girls what happened to your handbag, she broke into a surprisingly graceful, but very, very drunken performance of flailing her limbs and singing, “I knew it! I fucking knew it!” while Taehyung watched her from the doorway with unmistakable fondness. He had genuinely never looked more in love.

Then Maggie caught you off guard by wrapping her arms around you—as if you’d crossed Middle Earth and battled Smeagol for her phone—and you realised how safe, happy, and comfortable you felt here. It was such a stark contrast to the unease you had felt in Jude’s presence that you found yourself laughing, your chest feather-light.

Someone behind you suddenly cleared their throat—with such force that it sounded like they coughed up half of a lung—and Maggie pulled back, allowing you both to turn around.

Jungkook looked like he had been waiting for you to notice him for a while. Your friend snickered and hugged you once more before taking an intentionally ostentatious step back and bowing.

“She’s all yours if she wishes,” Maggie proclaimed to Jungkook, who turned to you, his eyebrows raised.

You nodded. “She wishes.”

Chuckling, he pulled you close. He was still high from the concert and just as lively and animated as everyone else in the room. The second he wrapped his arms around your waist and buried his face in your neck, he refused to let go, finding that only fair since you had ended up missing his show tonight.

You realised, while fighting for breath in his suffocating grip, that the two of you did not look strange or inappropriate to anyone who noticed you, despite standing almost in the middle of the room, wrapped around each other. You expected to feel anxious about the public display, and were surprised to feel comforted instead.

No one cared.

Unbeknownst to you, the bet backstage had ended, and now that everyone here knew that you and Jungkook were back together, they were no longer invested. They won their money—or lost, in a few cases—and moved on to make bets about whether Taehyung, who was too prideful to sing without his bass, would start singing along to Luna’s playlist on Yoongi’s phone.

No one cared.

Surrendering to Jungkook’s touch, you abandoned your other plans and relocated with him to the far corner of the room, separated from most of the dangerous festivities—Seokjin and Hoseok had bumped foreheads while dancing just as you walked past them—by a heavy rack of clothes.

Jungkook lied down on the couch with his head on your lap, recounting how he had accidentally turned off his microphone in the middle of his break during the encore and had to yell his speech at the audience because he couldn’t turn it back on.

“I’m glad your throat is alright,” you remarked. The warmth of your touch and the lightness of your tone filled him with something that tasted like honey on his tongue. “The rest of the guys also sound like they just got off the tallest ride at the amusement park.”

Jungkook’s laughter was soft, laced with a lingering echo of the concert that still reverberated in his mind amidst the lively chatter and the music in the dressing room.

“After the show,” he said with an unusual gravity in his tone, juxtaposed against the serenity in his eyes while you ran your fingers through his hair, “someone asked Yoongi and me about our new music. They asked if the picture on Sid’s account was a leaked album cover. We said yes. So, that—that’s confirmed now.”

Your hand stilled, and Jungkook lifted his head. He did not like the emotion he saw in your eyes when he looked at you and he felt melancholy, all of a sudden, for the moment you’d just shared. He wished he hadn’t said anything.

“Oh,” you replied. “That’s good.”

But it didn’t feel good. He couldn’t shake the memory of the way you’d looked after the band had unanimously decided to use the picture as the cover art for their next single. It seemed like the fact that everyone knew about your relationship was physically weighing on you.

He hadn’t said anything to you earlier, not wanting to exacerbate your anxiety, but he couldn’t keep this to himself now.

You’d promised each other communication.

“I—uh,” he sat up properly and you felt an odd ache inside when his head was no longer resting in your lap, “I know you’re not comfortable with us using the picture for that, um—for that particular purpose. And—and I get that. I just, uh—I just wanted to ask if y—if the actual problem here is that others know about us.”

The look on his face was an echo of your conversation last night. It threw you off balance, this statement, not even an actual question, and you were all the more aware of the loud beating in your chest and in your head. The music drowned out any chance of others overhearing your conversation, but it also muffled your thoughts.

You took a deep breath, so you could explain everything.

“No,” you said. Then once more, to make sure he heard you, “no. That’s not it. I don’t want—my problem is that we barely had one day together, you know? I would have liked some time alone with you before it all exploded. But Sid posted that picture, and now—now everyone in this room knows we’re definitely together. I mean, they already suspected it, since we’re not as discreet as I liked to think. But, uh, still. I am learning to be okay with others knowing, though. And I want you despite that. Despite others. Despite everything. I want to be with you. I just wanted to reveal our relationship to the public in our own time. Not Sid’s.”

Jungkook was not sure if you said anything else after I want you, because he certainly had not heard a word.

Frankly, he didn’t care about any public pictures. He wouldn’t have cared if a hurricane swept through the place, tearing down buildings and leaving debris that spelled out your names in the shape of a heart. But he knew you cared.

And yet—I want you despite everything.

He was crazy. Positively mad. A raving lunatic, really. He wondered if there was any medicine to subdue his symptoms because he did not think this was good for his health.

“Okay,” he said, looking down to get his feelings and his thoughts together. “I’m sorry.”

“No, you’re good,” you said. “It was—a lot of things happened today, and I was—I feel like I’m losing my head a little bit. But you and I are not—we’re not one of the things I’m confused about.”

He gave you a concerned look as he settled back on the couch. “What happened?”

You took a breath and recounted the story about Maggie’s missing phone, Luna’s observation—manifestation, almost—and Jude’s visit, which sparked the idea to include him in your plan to retaliate against Sid.

Jungkook spent a minute nodding, rubbing his chin, and moving his eyebrows up and down and sideways.

“Okay, that—that’s a lot of—and, uh—” He leaned forward, feeling a bit like the two of you had lived through an entire decade in one day. He could not summarise it all in one word. “What’s your plan?”

You took another breath. You and Minjun had checked and double-checked everything, so you were sure you had this part of your research right. The challenge of your plan came from the parts that couldn’t be researched in advance—the parts where you needed Jungkook.

“Did you know,” you started, “that the penalty for methamphetamine possession in the UK is up to seven years in prison? Apparently, it’s a class A drug.”

Furrowing his brows, Jungkook gave a slight nod of his head. “Uh… okay.”

“Right. Well, see,” you were sitting on the very edge of the couch, restless suddenly, “Jude mentioned tripping on ecstasy and speed that night I saw him at the club. And now, while returning Maggie’s phone, he mentioned Sid casually giving him a bag of meth. Just there, in his hotel room.”

“Mmhm, he—wait.” Jungkook straightened. “W-what are you saying?”

Someone jostled the rack of clothes next to your couch, causing a few hangers to clatter to the floor. You heard an excited shriek, followed by laughter, as two pairs of hands scrambled to pick up the clothes and hang them back in place.

You lowered your voice and moved closer to Jungkook on the couch. “You know what I’m saying.”

“I’m—”

“If a penalty exceeds twelve months,” you continued, “a person may be deported. That also sounds alright.”

Jungkook paused to listen to the sounds inside the room: the clothes rack had now been pushed back, shielding you from the rest of the room again, but limiting his view. He could hear Taehyung singing along to “Do I Wanna Know?” by the drinks table while Luna and Maggie waved the flashlights on their phones dreamily for extra ambience in the dimly lit room. He could also see, most unusually, the way Hoseok and Jimin seemed to be exchanging money right behind the two girls.

Jungkook leaned in even closer to you.

“You want to deport Sid?” he asked. You could feel his warm breath on your cheek when he spoke. “A-and lock him up?”

“Actually, I want to wring his neck and use his head to scare off pigeons,” you said. “But that would result in me getting locked up, and I really don’t have time for that right now.”

You watched the corners of Jungkook’s lips twitch as he tried to suppress a smile.

“No?” he teased, unable to resist. “I might like that. Think about all the street cred I’d get with a jailbird girlfriend.”

You snorted. “Yeah? Two one-hour visits every four weeks sound hot to you?”

“Hmm.” He pursed his lips. “No. You have a point, that won’t do it. I need you with me. Should we—should we tell Minjun about this plan, then?”

“Minjun knows. We’ll talk more about it tomorrow, okay? But I—I promise we’re going to teach Sid a fucking lesson,” you said. “And then I’m going to tell the label we’re together, and all will be right in the world for fucking once.”

Jungkook didn’t think he’d ever wanted to kiss you more than he did right then. The air around you felt static, and the bodies behind the clothes rack did not feel particularly corporeal. The side of his chest was pressed against yours and he could feel your heartbeat speed up when his gaze flickered to your lips.

“You know, you can be really evil sometimes,” he remarked, chuckling when you raised your eyebrows. “I love it. Count me in. Sid won’t know what fucking hit him, and I want to be there to see it. Not going to lie, though, it does sound like Operation: Escape from Londo—”

“No.”

You thought you could feel his laughter resonating in your chest.

“Can we do that, though?” he whispered after a moment. “Can we—you know? Deal with Sid? In-between dealing with the label?”

You nodded. You were determined to find your happy ending and, watching the faint lights reflected in Jungkook’s eyes, you thought you could already see it, waiting for you in the distance.

“If we handle Sid,” you said quietly, “we can handle anything.”

Jungkook liked the sound of that very much—almost as much as he liked the song playing in the background while he breathed in your scent, while he allowed it to engulf him, to drown his senses, to annihilate any sanity he had left.

However, he was aware that for a long time before this moment, he had been making all the wrong choices while dreaming of the right outcomes. It would take some time for him to adjust to the fact that he lived a different life now—a life where you were by his side, and his reality was suddenly significantly better than his dreams. He would need to hear you tell him that it was going to be okay just a few more times.

“And if the label says that no, we can’t, actually?” he asked, his tone hushed.

He was very close and you could no longer look at him without your vision clouding. Your head spun so much that your thoughts felt tipsy. You lowered your gaze to his chest, avoiding the sight of him biting his lip.

“I’ll just leave, then,” you replied.

Jungkook pulled back suddenly. “You—but—no.”

You were breathless and slightly disoriented when you raised your head. The room was very dark, and he was very far away.

“We—we’re staying together regardless,” you said, distracted.

He still looked wounded.

“But that’s not fair to you,” he argued.

You shook your head and sighed. The Arctic Monkeys song on the speakers faded, changing to Rated Riot’s “Cursed,” and the room erupted into cheers as if the band members themselves had stood up to perform the song. You shivered under Jungkook’s gaze.

“That—it doesn’t matter,” you said. “I already told you before. If that’s the only way we can work, I don’t mind leaving the company. I’ll miss everyone, but I’m—we’d stay in touch anyway, I’m sure.”

Jungkook was torn. He wanted to tell you not to go—cast a spell or a curse, whichever worked—but his song played in the background, and you were trying very hard to keep a straight face on the couch next to him. It felt like a spell had already been cast.

He didn’t want you to leave, and in this moment, he felt convinced that you never would. You were not meant to.

“At least fight back,” he said, “if these fucking lawyers have a problem with us being together.”

A smile finally broke through your restraints.

“I will,” you promised. “You want me to punch someone? Knock out their teeth for good measure?”

He grinned, too. His black eye had already healed, save for a few stubborn cuts around his cheekbone. The altercation he’d had with Sid seemed a lifetime away—a lifetime that he was not sure belonged to him anymore.

“Please,” he said.

“Hmm.” You leaned in closer, brushing your fingers over the side of his neck. “I’ll see what I can do without joining Sid in prison.”

He felt the way his skin came to life, the way all of his cells leapt up and screeched, as soon as you touched him. He thought that perhaps he had contracted some sort of eye disease on top of his blatant insanity, too, because the dark room had brightened all of a sudden.

He knew he had gone right out of his mind, and he’d never felt better.

“I love you,” he whispered, and his nose touched yours when he said it.

“I love you,” you whispered back, and the happy ending that you had seen in his eyes felt no more than a breath away.

It approached you in silence, dimming the lights in the room, and in the building, and on this side of the world, so it could light the ones in your eyes and your chests.

“I’m glad you’re here,” Jungkook whispered, the tips of his fingers tracing tenderly over your cheek. He felt it coming, too. “And I hope you stay.”

You closed your eyes. “I promise I’ll do everything to stay.”

Your lips finally touched his, and he discovered that you tasted exactly like the medicine he needed to halt his descent into madness, to calm the anxious beating of his heart, to clear his uncertain mind, and to dry the ink he’d used to engrave your name onto his soul.

chapter title credits: bad omens, “exit wounds”

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