#other side - minjun

[cherrylgc]

sweet or spicy

as much as cherry was excited to once again have her own apartment (though it lacked very badly in furniture), it could get boring to live alone. yes she had visitors, but majority of the time when she was in her apartment she was alone. that had changed recently, as she’s bought a hamster, and though she spends a lot of time with that hamster, she can still find herself bored in her apartment. so she tries to find new hobbies, but she sucks at everything, so that isn’t too fun.

she’s not a good baker nor chef, she usually lives off of take out and whatever she can find in seven-eleven, but lately she’s tried her best to gain the skills of being able to cook and bake. and she’s done something successfully.

her bored brain thinks a lot, and it comes up with a idea, though it’s not april fools, she’ll be attempting to prank a friend. she carefully thinks about it, who and how. she does what she needs to do, and the next day she shows up with a box with two cupcakes in, searching for her target. 

“minjun! just the person i was looking for” she smiles at the other, “i made you a cupcake!” she holds up the box, the smile remaining on her lips as she opens it. “it’s with strawberry” or, one is with strawberry, the other is with chili, haha, wait… which is which? cherry looks down into the box for a few seconds before deciding, handing one to minjun and taking a bite of the other. she chose wrong. she drops the cupcake “ah! why did i make it so spicy?!”.

written for... @lgcmjun

[deliwrites]

𝕐𝕠𝕦'𝕣𝕖 𝕆𝕦𝕣𝕤 // Saja Boys & Huntr/x

// DATE // 30th of June 2025 → 1st of July 2025 // PAIRING // Huntr/x x Fem!Reader x Saja Boys // WARNING // !!!Mention of a su*c*de attempt through song lyrics!!!, Morally gray actions, involuntary chocking, harassment, more award show shit that I struggle to write xD // WORDS // 3.3k+ // SUMMARY // At a music awards show, Y/n unexpectedly wins a coveted prize, thrusting her into the spotlight with a powerful, raw performance that captivates everyone — but behind the scenes, tensions simmer as old wounds and unseen dangers threaten to unravel her hard-won success.

// Part One // Part Two // Part Three // Part Four // Part Five //

“There are only a few awards left to be given to some truly incredible artists!” Minjun says almost like he’s sad it’s nearly over.

“Oh absolutely,” Seyeon nods enthusiastically. “You know what I look most forward to?”

“What’s that, Seyeon?”

“The performance the next winner will be giving us!”

“Oh my, you’re right!” Minjun gasps in playful realization. “And it’s for none other than the ‘Heartfelt Voice Award’! I hope you guys are ready to cry. Because I sure am!”

“Wait…” panic settles into my chest. “Can- can you guys-“ I can't finish as breathing becomes to difficult. Even if it wasn’t certain yet, I couldn’t stop the panic at having to perform so unexpectedly.

“What’s wrong?” Romance asks, noticing the fast rising and falling of my chest.

“-Undo it.”

“Undo what?” Miras voice is laced with worry.

“I- I,” I stammer, my eyes not leaving the hosts as an envelope is brought to them. Watching the envelope like I can see through it and read the name on it.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Rumi pulls me into her chest, grounding me. “Take a deep breath,” she takes one waiting for me to take one with her. Then gently lets it out, I do the same but mine is shaky. “Try again.”

“I can’t perform,” I whisper, voice trembling, shaking my head finally turning to look at her. “I can’t do this.”

“Sure you can!” Jinu says with a confident grin on his face. I just shake my head.

“Y/N!!” The shout of my name startles me. I freeze, eyes returning to the stage. My picture presented on the big screen. The hosts look somewhat puzzled. As do I.

There is polite clapping as Rumi gently nudges me to get up. I leave my small clutch with them, looking back at them as I hesitantly start walking. “You’ve got this!” Zoey says giving me two thumbs up, beaming.

“She wasn’t supposed to win,” it’s a grumble that she doesn’t hear while she slowly makes her way to the stage. But the others do. Eight pairs of eyes turn toward the voice. Jaewon. Staring daggers at the back of his head. None of them say anything… but the message is clear. Standing up, clapping louder than anyone else in the room. A push. A warning. And she needs it. Every last bit of it.

My legs feel like they might give out with every step I take, my heart still bounding in my chest. Once I reach the stage and am given the award I awkwardly stand in front of the mic. “Thank you, I-“ my words falter, my eyes meeting a glaring Jaewon. But then excited movement from above him brings a smile to my face. A wave, encouraging smiles and a nod that says ‘you can do this’ from Jinu. “I didn’t expect to win tonight,” I say honestly. “But it is truly an honor, thank you so much to those who listen to my songs, support me and especially voted tonight,” looking at the award as the words settle within me. “Really… thank you,” Stepping back from the mic I’m met with more applause a bit more sincere this time.

“Let me take that real quick,” Seyeon says gently, taking the award from my hands. “Good luck!” With that she and Minjun disappear at the side of the stage. The lights dim just enough to shift the mood, and then my song starts playing. Closing my eyes, I take one last breath and sing.

Finally hit the ground I'm at the bottom now Never thought I could be this low Felt like falling down an endless hole No, I don't see the light And I don't hear God Crawling in the dark Now my limbs are cold Screaming out "Help" but it just echoes

A silence falls over the room. Everyone listening with bated breath. All consumed by the unexpected depth of my voice. By the ache woven into every note, the weight of words no one dares to speak out loud.

Only one way out of here I don't think I can reach it Everything I hold dear Erased by all of my demons My sorry is sincere I've just lost all of my reasons Reasons left to stay

When I open my eyes, I’m stunned to find I’ve become the center of attention. No one is talking, everyone is quite literally staring. Wide eyed, stunned faces, confused but pleasantly surprised. As if they expected a whisper but got a storm.

So, if this is goodbye Please, don't count my cry as a sin No, I don't wanna die But it keeps getting harder to live And I put up a fight But now I've got nothing to give So, if this is goodbye, goodbye, goodbye I hope someday to see you again

The song is emotional and raw. It captures everyone in the room even the ones who didn’t know her before this very moment. She had already captured their attention when she walked in. Clumsy, quiet, walking with uncertainty. But hearing her sing this song live, it hit different.

It’s like a string got pulled tight between them and her. A need to protect. To have. To understand. And something more dangerous; an obsession.

There's nothing you could've said Nothing you could've done different It was always between me and my head Never meant to hurt you in the process But I just can't keep holding on Wish I could believe that things will get better Wish I could just flip a switch in my mind Then I could fix how I feel altogether Then I could mean it when I say I'm fine It's never that easy and neither is life Don't think I wanted to leave you behind I tried, I tried, I tried

This song, it wasn’t for Jaewon. That much was obvious. But who was it to?

The answer.

Herself.

So, if this is goodbye Please, don't count my cry as a sin No, I don't wanna die But it keeps getting harder to live And I put up a fight But now I've got nothing to give Nothing, nothing So, if this is goodbye, goodbye, goodbye I hope someday to see you again If this is goodbye I'll see you If this is goodbye Open up my eyes I don't know where I am And everything is blurry My mom's holding my hand Turns out I was in a hurry But God had other plans He said my goodbye was early Now I've got a second chance

I stood in pure silence for a moment. Everyone shocked at the emotional impact this song had on them. In the end a couple of tears were shed.

“That… was…” Seyeon enters the stage once more. Tissue in hand. Letting out a sigh as she shakes her head struggling to find the right word. “… beautiful,” is what she settles for. That seems to put the room back in motion as applause suddenly, loudly rings around the room.

Startled, tears gather in my eyes. “Thank you,” I smile through tears.

“This award,” Minjun starts as he too returns. Holding up my award. “Is extremely well deserved,” I thank them once more before exiting the stage. Climbing my way back up the stairs. I’m stared at, even get a bow here and there as I pass them. I bow back like I don’t deserve their respect.

When I get back to my seat Zoey and Rumi are crying while Mira is obviously holding back her tears.

“That was so… ethereal,” Zoey sniffles. Standing up to pull me in a hug. “You deserved this award! Even if you didn’t think so.”

Taking her phone from her clutch while she talked to the girls was almost too easy. Even when she sat back down she hadn’t noticed how Baby easily manipulated the device to unlock with his demon powers. First he found her phone number, saving it in his own phone.

The causality of how he handled it and the guys keeping her distracted made it go unnoticed for much longer. The guys had quickly noticed what their maknae was up to. Making sure he would get it done. Easily installing spying software, hiding it from her, but making sure it worked from his own device. It wasn’t about invading her privacy. It was about keeping her safe.

By the time she reached for her clutch again, it was back in it place, exactly where she thought she’d left it. Missing the pointed look Mira gave the maknae as if to tell him he better share what he finds.

“Wow,” I sigh, grabbing my clutch, using it as a fan. “Thank you,” glancing both ways trying to meet their eyes. As I thank them for their - undeserved - support. “I would not have been able to do that if it wasn’t for you,” a blush tinting my cheeks but I blame it on the heat in here. In reality there is air conditioning in the room making sure everyone was comfortable.

“Of course,” Abby smirks, but I know he’s genuine.

“It’s nothing, you needed a push,” Mira shrugs casually. “You deserved it.”

“Thank you, anyway,” I make sure they know I’m being sincere. “But I really need the bathroom now,” I chuckle awkwardly receiving understanding chuckles back. Getting up I follow the signs to the bathroom.

Inside the bathroom, I take a moment to freshen up a bit, I look at myself in the mirror. A genuine smile still playing on my lips. “I did it,” I mutter, barely believing my own words. “I actually won.”

Taking my phone from my clutch, my notification wall is full. There are new followers on every social media platform I have. Mentions of my performance. Clips, screenshots, reactions. And of course all the posts the Saja Boys and Huntr/x created to support me and my song.

Mentions of my other songs too. People finding them, loving them. It makes me feel warm. Loved. Seen.

I exit the bathroom relax, distracted even. A bit too distracted apparently when I get the air literally knocked out of me. Pushed into the wall right at the archway to the venue hall.

“Wha-”

“Shut up!” I recognize the voice immediately. Anxiety lighting a fire in my being. Eyes wide, they find his. His face is contorted in anger. “You weren’t supposed to win,” his hand balls into a fist, rising, but he knows he’s still in public. Lowering the fist he grips my upper arm instead. Tight enough to create bruising, making me squirm and whine.

“Let go of me,” my voice is small. The fear in my eyes only making him chuckle.

“No, this is how you should have looked,” he continues, voices nearly growling the words at me. “I orchestrated this. Made sure you were nominated for a song no one even knew. Made it so you had to sit with those you looked up to,” tears form in my eyes. I knew it... I knew I shouldn’t have been here. His other hand lands on my shoulder, thumb laying at the base of my neck. Pressing hard, making it uncomfortable to talk or swallow.

It seems my arms decide that they now have the strength to try and push him away. But it doesn’t work. He’s stronger than me.

“You should have ran out of here, crying! Like the weakling you are,” his voice stays the same, unfazed by my trembling attempts to push him away from me. “How did you win?” there is real anger laced with genuine curiosity. Thumb pressing harder onto my throat.

“Because she deserves it,” the voice stuns both me and Jaewon. It’s Mystery. Before I can react, Jaewon quickly pulls me to his chest. I cough with the pressure now gone from my throat. He acts like he didn’t just have a bruising grip on me. Like all he wanted to do was hug me as a way to congratulate me on the win. Even if it was all a lie to protect his image.

The way Mystery was positioned had given Jaewon the false idea that no one had caught his cruel actions towards her. But Mystery knew. They all knew, even Huntr/x who were currently performing unable to protect what was theirs. Even if she didn’t know it yet.

“Oh, I wasn’t accusing,” Jaewon continues, feigning sincerity, but the sharp tone in his voice betrays him. “Congratulations on your win, Y/n,” the way he says my name. It's sharp and I know it’s a warning. Mystery takes my hand, pulling me closer to him so I’m not in Jaewon’s reach.

“Thanks,” it’s forced and breathless as it leaves my lips. I let Mystery lead me back to our seats. Trying to fake my confidence like nothing happened.

They all know something happened, but don’t point it out. From the way she walks and sits down stiffly. Trying to portray that genuine happiness she showed earlier. Only it doesn’t reach her eyes. They know now is not the time to talk about what they all witnessed. Instead, they watch quietly, guarding her in their own way.

The rest of the award show luckily goes by swimmingly. I hate to have to say goodbye to the eight who already meant a lot to me. Now more than I ever thought possible.

But I knew this was probably the first and only time I would get to talk to them. At least for a good while. The girls gave me a hug, squeezing me tightly. Letting me know once more that I deserved the win. I’m not sure how to say goodbye to the guys. Jinu just tsk’s, and pulls me in for a hug as well.

Even if he makes it seem nonchalant he can’t stop himself from breathing in her hair as she hugs him back.

Mystery makes sure to squeeze tightly, like a reminder that he’s there for her.

Baby playfully rolls his eyes at her, poking her sides to make her jump before giving his own hug. Gently petting the top of her head.

Abby smirks, teasing her. Saying that she only wants a hug so she can feel his abs. She chuckles genuinely, making all their hearts melt.

Last is Romance who will gladly take a hug, lingering for longer than needed. Placing a peck on her soft cheek, causing a soft flush to her face.

Missing the way the girls glare at the boys with envy.

My manager had been surprisingly quiet the next day. Normally he would start calling me the moment the sun woke.

Now it’s Monday, two days after the K-pop Rising Stars Awards. Still, it’s radio silence from my manager. I had messaged him myself to ask if he saw my win. He hadn’t even read it. Nothing.

With Luminara Entertainment right around the corner from the dorms, I headed there early. I needed answers. Arriving around 8 am, I waved at Juna at the reception desk. She smiled gently but there was something almost rehearsed in it. Shrugging off the feeling I head for the elevator making my way to Kyungsoo’s office.

Outside the office door I heard voices. So I at least knew he was in. Knocking softly on the wooden door, I wait. The conversation grew silent immediately. When Kyungsoo finally cracked the door open, his eyes barely met mine.

“Hey, I messaged, but I didn’t hear from you,” I tell him, confusion clear on my face. Partially because he’s just peeking out of a small slit in the door but mostly because I hadn’t heard from him.

“Y/n, I’m so sorry,” I can tell immediately that it’s not sincere. Voice flat, lacking his usually somewhat warmth. “I’ve just been really busy. Just continue working on your songs in the studio. I’ll check in with you soon,” before I could respond the door closed again.

Busy or not, it was clear I wasn’t a priority. He didn’t even congratulate me. Tension rose in my shoulders like something was up but I couldn’t put my finger on it.

His phone dings with a new familiar chime. Y/n opened her phone. Picking up his own from where it rested on the coffee table.

They had been given an off day after holding a concert on Sunday the day after the Award show. The five of them relaxing a bit. Though that wasn’t the only thing going on.

Mystery had done a full deep dive on Jaewon, turns out the only reason NIOR7 was doing as well as they were. Was because of daddy’s money.

Jinu, who sat next to Baby, recognized the sound too. All of them knew what it meant, having observed her activity since she left the venue. Including making sure she actually got home safe. Not leaving the outside of Luminara dorms until they saw her face in one of the windows.

A new message came in.

Jaewon Enjoying your win

She didn’t start typing, but didn’t move away from it either. Why had she not blocked him yet? As if she heard their thoughts, she excited the chat. Going to her blocked numbers. A list of at least seventeen blocked contacts showed up. All named Jaewon.

It didn’t matter whether she blocked him. He would just get a new number and keep tormenting her.

Jaewon Not for long, I'm sure

What does that even mean? What is he up to?

Abby who stood behind the couch looking at the screen with them. “I’ll call the girls.”

When they had gotten back to Honmoon Tower after making sure Y/n had gotten back safely. The girls insisted on making a pact. Not believing they would actually share everything with them if they didn’t make a pact. They vowed to keep each other updated on everything happening with Y/n. No secrets.

The pact sealed with a tattoo of a tiny flame appearing on their ribs as a reminder, and as punishment. If they were to forget to share something, important or not. The tattoo would slowly start burning, growing stronger the longer it takes. Only stopping when the information is shared.

All they heard was Abby saying ‘It’s about Y/n’ and they appeared in their living room. Worry clear on their faces. Dressed in gym clothes, a sheen of sweat covering their skin. Still a little breathless.

“What is it?” Zoey ask, finding a seat next to Baby as Abby hangs up the phone. Rolling his eyes at their appearance playfully.

“Jaewon, he just wont stop tormenting her,” Jinu explains. “I think it’s a threat but I can’t be sure,” taking Baby’s phone from him to show Jaewon’s last message to her.

“It has to be,” Mira confirms, obvious anger at the man harassing their girl. “What else can you do with this?” she asks, talking about the mirror image of Y/n’s phone.

“A lot,” Baby smirks. “When she’s asleep I can activate her phone and look through it.”

“And if she is using it? Can you listen to what she’s saying?”

“I could yeah,” Baby nods, going to the settings and activating the mic on her phone and the speaker on his own. Her voice immediately filling the space.

“What are you talking about?” I chuckle at the absurdity of my current situation. “You’re dropping me?”

“Yes, I am,” Kyungsoo says. There is uncertainty in his voice, his posture stiff. “Effective immediately.”

“What? But my contract-”

“It’s doesn’t matter,” he cuts me off. “Because of a morality clause. The label believes it’s best to part ways with the recent… controversies surrounding you.”

“Controversies? What controversies?” he avoids my gaze as I dig for more answers.

“That’s not for me to say,” he shrugs awkwardly casual. “You have 24 hours to get out of the dorms.”

“Twenty-fo- What? That’s not enough time! Where am I meant to go!?”

“You’ll figure it out,” with that he walks out, slamming the door to the studio.

“What?” my voice a quiet whisper as I sink back down onto the couch. “What am I gonna do?” I ask myself, my voice shaky.

Bzzz…. Bzzzz

Glancing at my phone which still sat on the coffee table where I left it when Kyungsoo came in.

Unknown Hey, how is your day? It’s Romance by the way.

// Part One // Part Two // Part Three // Part Four // Part Five //

Taglist:

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I hope everyone got tagged correctly!

[jihyoruri]

❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ CONSUME (richgirl!yn | chaewon x reader )

❀ ͘ ⴰ previous chapters | richgirl ⭢ that girl (she’s delicious) ⭢ idon’t smoke ⭢ pretty when you cry ⭢ homesick ⭢ super rich kids ⭢ girl, so confusing

— BONUNS CHAPTER | the dark sides of the moon family

JUNE 21st 1994

“On June 21st today at exactly 3:14 am Moon Minjun son of Moon Joonho was found unconscious in the road. The 18 year old has been rushed immediately to urgent care and is reported to be okay, but this has us all wondering how and why was he found in this state?”

In the heavy silence of the room, the camera lingered on minjun's face, his expression tense as he glanced between his father and mother. his father scanned the documents in front of him, offering no reaction, while his mother placed a steadying hand on his shoulder, a hint of worry in her eyes..

a reporter finally broke the silence. "Minjun, can you explain why you were found in such a state?"

minjun cleared his throat, shifting in his seat with a forced composure. "I was... out with other young professionals in similar family businesses," he began, his tone carefully measured. "and, well, I believe someone may have slipped something into my drink."

gasps rippled through the crowd as reporters exchanged looks of shock. he nodded slowly, letting the words sink in before adding, "I have my suspicions about who it could be, but I won't be disclosing that in this press conference."

he kept his face neutral, holding the lie in place with an almost practiced precision. but behind the mask, the truth remained locked away, hidden from the prying eyes of the public.

the real reason was overworking and exhaustion and maybe a little bit of over drinking, but nobody would know the conditions of the family.

the headlines were off the rails two weeks later.

KIM SUBIN UPCOMING LEADER OF K.I IS NOW IN CUSTODY FOR SPIKING MOON MINJUN’S DRINK WHICH LEAD TO HIM BEING FOUND IN THE ROAD

poor subin.

FEBRUARY 14th 2014

“On february 14th five members of the Moon family held their monthly conference. The youngest that we know as 12 year old yn was sitting in between her two older brothers while Their father was talking. From what we could see from the video Moon Yeonjin gestured for yn to get a water bottle for her brothers which the she complied to but she didn’t get far after completing collapsing after two steps. An insider reported that the cause was due to lack of food and fluids, which makes us wonder why a 12 year old girl is lacking those nutrients.”

the camera zoomed in on yn’s gaze that nervously swept across the rows of reporters and journalists in front of her as her family stood solemnly behind her. she cleared her throat, mentally rehearsing the words she had been given, each syllable feeling heavier than the last. for some in the audience, this scene was painfully familiar.

a reporter leaned forward, his voice laced with concern. "How are you feeling today, YN? Have you eaten well?"

a faint smile broke through her nerves, and she replied softly, "yes, I've been okay. I had a big breakfast." Her answer brought a ripple of fond laughter from the crowd, a brief moment of levity that softened the tension.

"can you tell us if there's a reason why you weren't able to meet your basic needs?" he continued, a hint of sympathy in his tone.

yn’s heart raced, the weight of her words pressing down on her. "I had been sick the week before," she began, keeping her voice steady. "I didn’t have an appetite and couldn’t keep anything down. I was still recovering during the conference."

the lie words left her lips smoothly, a perfectly crafted explanation. she didn’t dare look back at her family, praying her carefully delivered answer was enough to satisfy the room’s prying eyes.

and make her family proud.

DECEMBER 23rd 2018

“On December 23rd the every single person apart of the Moon family was called into an emergency press conference regarding the business but the business was the last thing on peoples minds after seeing the terrifying look of the family.

People described them as sick looking and pale. The family has never looked like this before in public which is causing a lot of worries onto why every single Moon in the room looks like this, take a look at the video.”

the cameron zoomed in on minjun who looked rather pale his eyes steady on the papers in front of him, the room had an scary silence to it.

the camera went into to zoom in on every single member of the families face, all of them draped in chanel, they all talked normally and acted normally but looked unusual, like a tim burton animation.

they looked sick.

when the camera finally landed on yn, she looked directly into the lens, her eyes hollow, her gaze unsettlingly steady. it was the killing shot of the whole video, an unspoken message from the youngest member of the family, leaving viewers to wonder what unspeakable truth lay beneath the moon family’s facade

[polarisjisung]

LOVE ON THE COURT | 29 NOT AGAIN

SYNOPSIS | every college student has their struggles, but raising her younger brother has Y/N top of the list, struggling her way through college whilst balancing her academics and basketball captaincy is difficult no doubt and with Jaemin, her ex best friend and captain of the guys basketball team, and his growing one sided hatred towards her, it doesn't seem to be getting any easier

WARNINGS | sexual innuendos, swearing, mentions + pretty detailed description of a panic attack, lwk abandonment issues

NOTES | the girls are fighting... you didn't think I'd let them make up this fast did you?? a much shorter chapter today I'm sorry 😓

15:27pm , after the game

Y/n knew ningning inside out, they'd been friends for their whole life, best friends for a number of years, they'd spent longer together than apart.

Y/n and ningning were practically sisters. They'd fought over stupid things like if apple juice was better than orange juice, they'd stolen each others clothes, done each others nails as post breakup therapy— they'd experienced love and loss, and they'd always experienced it together.

It was and always had been them against the world.

Personal problems had always existed, but they'd face them head on and, most importantly, together.

So y/n knew what ningning was feeling, maybe not exactly, but she certainly knew why ningning felt the way she did.

And sure, Ningning's words had hurt y/n too, but that was the thing, they'd said the best and worst things to one another.

Being so close to someone can be a double-edged sword. Knowing their triggers and insecurities so well that in the heat of the moment, it’s almost too easy to throw those daggers. The intimacy shared can turn into a weapon of knowing exactly what to say to hit them where it hurts. In those moments, it’s like being caught in a toxic cycle, where love and pain intertwine.

Regret sets in as soon as the words leave the mouth, but the damage is done, leaving both people feeling raw and vulnerable. It's a harsh reminder that knowing someone deeply can sometimes mean knowing how to wound them just as easily. So y/n knew that Ningning was showing nothing but her concern.

But equally, she understood she deserved somewhat of an apology as well, even if Ningning's words had come from a good place, they'd hurt, and perhaps they hurt even more so coming from her.

It seemed a simple explanation why this argument of theirs had rested at the forefront of her mind for so long too, because Ningning was the only person in her life who Y/n couldn't imagine losing. And after everything that she'd been through, after the people she'd lost, and the relationships she'd seen go with them, she knew she wouldn't let herself be to blame. She wouldn't let herself lose a friend, least of all Ningning, just because she didn't communicate.

Or at least that was her plan, as she made her way down the hallway of the hotel, her hair still dripping from the shower she'd just taken, gripping way too many snacks for the two of them to share. Minjun followed after her, still gushing about having seen his older sister play for the first time, begging her to teach him how to dribble the ball like her, a grin plastered across his face. It was endearing, really.

And Y/n swore she only turned to smile at him for a second, but in the next, she felt her heart drop and her blood run cold. It felt like the ground shifted beneath her feet, and suddenly, she was trapped in a whirlwind of way too many thoughts, coming way too fast.

There, stood across the hallway, was a man she had made many desperate attempts to forget. To no avail, of course.

She blinked, rubbing her fists against her eyes hurriedly, as if he was nothing but a figment of her imagination, that when she looked up again he'd disappear and this would be nothing but a bad dream. But there he was, struggling to open the door to his room, angrily staring down at the key card with furrowed brows.

He seemed older. His hairs greying and wrinkles setting in across the feafures she recognised so well, his smile lines deeper than the last time she'd seen him.

The last time she'd seen him.

Her breaths quickened at the sight of him, becoming deeper yet each inhale felt shallower than the last, and her chest tightened like a vice. This wasn't happening, it couldn't, not here, not now.

She could hear the muffled voice beside her asking why they'd stopped walking, she could feel minjun's grip tighten around her, she could see the way the man turned his head at the realisation he was no longer alone in the haway, but it all felt distant, like she was underwater.  Unsure how to answer, she stood silently, gaze locked on the man, blinking rapidly, questioning if he was really, truly stood in front of her at all. As soon as he locked eyes with her, she felt the bile rush up her throat and a distant ringing in her ears, her hands beginning to shake against the smaller ones that held hers. Y/n felt like she was drowning. But she knew she couldn't. It was a luxury she couldn't afford, and the soft skin brushing against her hand was a reminder of that.

Panic surged through her, and y/n fought the urge to break down, feeling the walls closing in on her. The bright lights overhead felt too harsh, illuminating the doubts swirling in her head, making it hard to focus. Calm down. She thought, but she couldn't. She couldn't think she couldn't move, and worst of all, she couldn't calm down. She convinced herself this was nothing, voiced out lies in her mind that echoed with uncertainty. Breathe, she thought. But she couldn't. It was as if every unresolved feeling crashed over her like a tidal wave, leaving her gasping for air and desperate for an escape. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to ground herself, but the memories flooded back faster, unrelenting and unforgiving.

Y/n found herself tugging harshly against the smaller wrist that was still loosely resting in her grip, making a sharp 180 and jetting off down the hallway, with shaky steps and ragged breaths.

She had to go, she had to leave, she had to do it now. Her phone vibrated in her hands only seconds later, a painfully familiar contact flashing across the screen, and all y/n could do was throw the device into the bottom of her bag, stuffing her belongings in on top, making no effort to answer the questions coming from the confused young boy who watched her. The blood rushed to her head so quickly, too quickly, in fact, and she swore the room in front of her begun to spin.

Her dad hadn't called her in years, not a single message, not a single word, so why now was he calling? Why was he reaching out now? Just because he'd seen her? Did some sort of shitty parental guilt kick in at the sight of his now grown children? Did he feel inadequate, maybe even jealous that they were doing just fine without him? Y/n didn't know, and she didn't care, but seeing him was still enough for her to take an unwanted trip down memory lane, reliving every moment since he'd left. Her chest tightened, the lump in her throat growing to the point that she couldn't breathe no matter how hard she tried. Still, she kept going, scanning the room to make sure she hadn't left anything behind.

Minjun had never seen his sister like this, so close to breaking down, and y/n didn't plan on letting that change today, sucking in deep breaths and wiping her teary eyes as she pulled his jacket around him. It was getting cold outside now, and she wouldn't let one careless mistake from her because of something so trivial, leading to him becoming sick.

Y/n could barely function, struggling to pull the zipper loop up and through the jacket, still she kept going. Her body ran on autopilot, muscle memory taking full control as she silently pulled the bags through the door and held a hand out for minjun to follow. Too occupied in her own thoughts she rushed out of the hotel with urgency, taking long strides towards the cabs that waited outside, only realising she was moving way too fast for Minjun to keep up when his small rushed breaths filled the air. She needed to calm down, she wasn't alone and she had to act like it. Minjun was her responsibility, and she needed to take care of him.

She muttered out an apology, quick, sincere, but short and found herself falling back into the  cycle of her own thoughts again. Comfort was a thought far away, but the surety of heading home, caused the racing of her heart to ease just slightly, a dull ache developing in her arm now that she'd finally set down all her bags inside the cab, a cramp settling in.

In that moment, y/n felt the overwhelming feeling of solitude press down in her, honing in from all sides, and the ache of abandonment crept into each corner of her heart. The pain was bitter and fuck, it ran deep.

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[svmjaeyvn]

LOVE MAZE — 심재윤

chapter 10. dress up. pairing: trust fund baby!jake x college student fem!reader

An unfortunate encounter, drunken mistakes, and a sort of (definitely) stalker lead to Sim Jaeyun 'dating' his best friend's childhood crush!

or, your life gets intertwined with a rich boy’s in an attempt to not get sued by his crazy personal fangirl and like with all good cliches, sex overcomplicates things. 

10. DRESS UP

prev   masterlist  next word count - 2.6k note - erm kinda cliche, kinda rebuilding the plot to create conflict, rich boys 02z line, little mention of yoongi cause that's my man, minjun making obvious dumb decisions but yk.. anyway! yeah, cute little 02z moments with you, sunghoon my beloved and jake attached to your hip lol

"SMALL PROBLEM," JAKE smiles innocently, leant against the kitchen counter flooding your space. You raise a brow, looking up from the fruits you were amidst cutting for him to continue. His phone was in hand, the screen still lit up from ending the call he had disappeared to take a few minutes ago. "Okay, more like big problem but don't freak out,"

Your shoulders drop, completely disregarding the half cut strawberries on the cutting board. "Jake," You warn, not one to be fond of dancing around your problems.

He winces, placing the phone down on the counter and running his hands over your sides. "You know how you went to that gala dinner for Jay last week?" You nod, confused by the sudden mention while Jake mirrors your gesture. "You two made an impression, word got to my parents 'cause Jay's folks and the other partners spoke highly of you,"

"That's.. good, isn't it? Proves that I'm good for our relationship?" You frown, not following what was the bad aspect while Jake shrugs, nose scrunched up evidently concerned.

"Yes, but, they want to meet you now," He finally admits, waiting for your reaction but you merely blink. You tilt your head, confused as to why it was such a big deal considering pleasing rich families could've been a quality trait on your resume by this point.

"I mean, I figured they would at some point while we're doing the whole ‘dating’ thing," You shrug, lightly hitting his shoulder for working you up before turning back to the half chopped berries.

"Well they don't exactly like the connotation of you being Jay's regular date when we're supposed to be together," Jake trails off, your body stiffening at the new piece of information. "My family, they care a lot about appearance. My mom thinks it would be good to come out in public at the Seoul Charity Gala next week as a couple,"

"We're not getting married?" You scoff, surprised by the sudden jump and monumental attendance you were requested of. Seoul was two hours away, the charity gala, an annual event which high class celebrities and business owners were in attendance of—not you, a common college student who played dress up once in a while.

"I know," Jake sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I think it's because of Bianca, she's still been spreading that we're going to get together soon—"

"--and that makes you look like a playboy to the richest family in the market right now," You finish, the reality of the situation weighing in and you understand why the sudden escalation was in effect. You groan, dropping the knife with a huff. "God, is she ever gonna get over you? Seriously, it's concerning,"

Jake hums, truly understanding the sentiment with a puff of air blown out of his cheeks. "My dad’s just tired of her dad breathing down his neck about it, and my mom thinks that since I'm portraying a long-term, happy, relationship that I'm not willing to get rid of, going out in public for as many high-level people to see, will finally make Bianca behave. I mean, she can't keep running her mouth making claim on me if everyone knows your name and us being happily together with their approval,"

You nod, fully aware of the circumstances but that didn't stop the pit of dread in your stomach. Dramatically, you throw yourself on the island counter, pouting like a child. "This is stupid, she's insane,"

"I know baby," Jake agrees, a small laugh bubbling from his lips at your antics. His hand reaches your back, running up and down in a soothing manner. "On the bright side, Sunghoon's family was already confirmed to go and I can put Jay's on the list so at least you'll have a few familiar faces and people to stand behind you?"

You sit up, hands placed on your hips as you begin to brew ideas of an outfit in your mind. "Perfect, my own personal security of Korea's most sought out bachelors, totally won't drag out more attention,"

•☽────✧˖°˖☆˖°˖✧────☾•☽────✧˖°˖☆˖°˖✧────☾•

            "I'M GONNA THROW up," You mumble, deep breaths heaving from your chest as you feel lightheaded under the bright lights. You felt Jake's hands at your sides, running up and down your arms soothingly.

"You're fine," Jay tuts, his hand waving the card-stock pamphlet in your face as a makeshift fan.

You rolled your eyes, meeting his gaze and though he attempted to seem nonchalant for your sake, you saw the hint of nervousness in his expression. To your left, Sunghoon silently held out a perfectly rolled peppermint in the palm of his hand.

"It'll help with the nausea," He offers, a pitiful smile sent your way. Jake took it, quick to unwrap the candy treat and slip it into your mouth although you protested at first. "Keep it under your tongue, it'll help your nerves too,"

"Look at you, Mr. Holistic life saver over here," Jay whistles, nudging Sunghoon's shoulder with his own.

Sunghoon rolls his eyes, digging in his inner suit pocket to pull out a freshly opened back filled with peppermint candies. "I fucking hate coming to these things," He mumbles, eyes glancing around with a stoic expression but just as worked up as you beneath the surface. "My mom started giving me candy when I was a kid as a distraction during events, I found out in high school that peppermint works best,"

The boys hum, seemingly understanding the sentiment and although you didn't want to admit it, the red and white treat seemed to be working. The tightness in your chest eased, regaining your composure and stopping Jay's fanning as you were sure it was beginning to ruin your hair that you and Yeji nearly cried over doing this morning.

"I walked a red carpet?" You finally manage to get out, words slightly jumbled due to the mint under your tongue as directed. The three nodded, allowing for you to process however needed but you let out a scoff of disbelief. "This is insane, how are you real? I saw the three of you fight over a slice of pizza last night but you're telling me you're actually loaded?"

"To be fair, this is the first time I've attended one of these," Jay interjects. Leaning toward you, he whispers his next words but they are still heard clearly by Sunghoon and Jake. "I told you, whole 'nother level, Crazy Rich Asians,"

"Yeah, congratulations on finally making it to the club," Jake snickers condescendingly while Sunghoon rolls his eyes.

"You literally bet on random shit with us for sport?" You point a finger at Sunghoon, a scoff of offense leaving your lips as you think back to all the dumb bets made between you and spare cash you've lost to him.

He smiles, this time genuine with his pearly fangs peaking out. "Gotta stay rich somehow," Sunghoon offers, a light laugh coming in response to your visible disapproval. "To be fair, it's always a 50/50 chance. Not my fault you all suck at guessing,"

Before you could retort, Jake clears his throat as he pulls you closer. An older couple made their way through the previously empty corridor you all occupied, bidding pleasant ‘hellos’ to one another, you watch them enter the extravagant hall where the gala was being held.

"Alright, no more stalling," Jake mumbles, clearing his throat and straightening his suit for the umpteenth time since you've entered the limo—yes, limo, that was sent to collect you earlier. "Time to win yourself an Oscar,"

You let out a shaky breath, only able to send Jake a half smile at his attempt in lightening the mood. Jay pats your shoulder, a silent act of encouragement while Sunghoon slips a small handful of candies into your purse, just in case.

"Alright, we only have to convince everyone that we're together and that I belong here. No biggie,"

•☽────✧˖°˖☆˖°˖✧────☾•☽────✧˖°˖☆˖°˖✧────☾•

"MIN, FUCKING, YOONGI, knows I exist," You mumble for the third time within the same minute. Jake sat to your left, comfortably slumped in his chair and sipping from the champagne glass you had just brought back to him where said interaction occurred. Albeit simple and out of mere pleasantries, you were able to introduce yourself to a long term celebrity crush and managed to make him laugh.

Even with all the nerves from the day, you'd be glad to do it again simply for that interaction that you'd be sure to cherish. And it wasn't all that bad as you expected.

Impressing Jake's family was far easier than you thought. You had mentally prepared yourself to jump through hoops, practiced your patience, and were ready to politely handle any sort of judgment or criticism that was said between playful banter and faux smiles.

But you didn't need to, in fact, it felt like a normal conversation you would've had with your own family. His dad, although oozing with authority, was practically a big kid in disguise—an evident soft spot for his daughter-in-law and potential future ones as that was what he wished for but ended up with two boys.

His mother, although perfectly poised and allowed for not so much as a slip, had a comfort she carried. Welcoming and caring, her smile was full of warmth, genuine interest in who you were rather than what you came from. His brother, much like his mother, was rather stoic but inviting, a complete softie for his wife who was excited to meet the presumed girlfriend that managed to capture Jaeyun's heart.

Nani, Jake's sister-in-law, had no problem inviting you into her space. It was obvious she had no care for the overly strict unspoken guidelines, encouraging you to feel at ease in the bubble that surrounded the Sim table as it was like a barrier from the rest of the peering eyes and no one would dare utter a word to you unless granted permission.

Jay's family sat a few tables away from yours, within direct eyesight and your Aunt had managed to slip you away for a short while to bid greetings and teasing remarks about being coupled up. Sunghoon's family sat a few further away, away from the direct middle which held the most foot traffic, something you were sure he and his sister were thankful for as they preferred to stick to the sidelines as it was.

The banquet had occurred, cocktail hour coming and going and the previously intimidating atmosphere would be laughable later when you went home and thought about the night. Your dress stayed clean, hair withstanding the humid air from outside, and makeup managing to look flawless even though you were sure you had sweated it off earlier out of nervousness.

You knew people were watching, piercing eyes and whispers shared picking apart every fiber of your being but Jake's presence wrapped around you like a shield. His body stayed connected with yours, be it his arm wrapped around your waist or the reassuring touches underneath the table, or even the whispers of reassurance in the shell of your ear, it made a loud and clear claim who you were to him.

And you almost thought the night would end without a hitch. How naively innocent, the temporary facade your table had did nothing for when the hall had begun to clear out, a significant amount of money donated and everyone going about their night.

The Jones family had made a rather late appearance, sat on the opposite side of the room from where you were. You had barely managed to catch a glimpse of Bianca earlier, silently in tow of her parents but not once bothering to leave from her seat. It was refreshing, you were sure she was mulling in anger seeing your surprise presence, but Jake's father headed to their table in the middle of the night to withstand the pleasantries, allowing for the rest of you to do as pleased.

Jake had his hand on the small of your back, a protective bubble placed around your waist to keep anyone from accidentally bumping into you or stepping on the train of your dress. You had bid goodbyes to those necessary, Jake taking it upon himself to end the night early once the first family had made the move. Sunghoon and Jay were in tow, the plan to meet the shared limo in the valet line already prepared for you to head home together for the two hour trip. 

"No shot," You heard Jay scoff from behind you. Your brows frown, looking up from your feet that were carefully stepping so as to not trip over your dress in the relatively crowded area. Thankfully, the exit had significantly less paparazzi compared to before—the flashing lights bearable and less overwhelming as you knew what to expect.

You felt Jake's hand tighten around your waist, subconsciously pulling you closer to his space. You let out a laugh of disbelief, utterly dumbfounded with the inkling of irritation igniting in your chest near instant. "Is he fucking crazy?"

"Keep walking," Jake mumbles, words a warning to not let your emotions override your rational. You bite your tongue, rolling your shoulders back and looking ahead without a hitch.

Kang Minjun was many things, but childish enough to be linked arms with Bianca and indulging in the paparazzi questions shouted out behind the cameras was something you wouldn't have guessed. It was baffling, how days ago he waltzed into your work claiming you and Jake were far too different for your family status while showing up with the tycoon princess when he truly had no business being there.

Minjun came from a middle class family. His parents owned a chicken shop and you were 99% sure prior to you, he'd never had a dress shirt to iron. They weren't poor, he was provided with a comfortable life and all he asked for, even now, but there was no etiquette or discipline that had been engraved in him like it was for you having grown up with the Park family as your own.

A hypocrite, and a desperate man he became simply because you finally put your foot down. A year ago you were begging for a second chance to fix what wasn't even broken, you simply weren't enough for him while being the best another person could've imagined.

The boy’s flooded your senses, Jake glued to your side while Sunghoon and Jay were a step behind, practically daring anyone for an attempt. Your eyes locked with the seemingly picture-perfect new couple, Bianca giggling to herself as her hand trailed up Minjun's blazer.

He cleared his throat, putting on a front that you saw through instantly. You bit your lip, refraining from a visceral reaction and the annoyance you felt washing over you came in waves.

It was obvious, entirely more so compared to yours and Jake's fake relationship because at least you had something and have grown to know each other so things fit naturally before making a very public appearance for all to see.

You climb into the limo first, the security holding open the door and Jake helped gather your dress inside. It was silent as you four settled, the A/C creating a cool atmosphere to settle your raging nerves but goosebumps rose on the exposed skin of your arms. Jake noticed, slipping off his coat to drag it over your shoulders, his eyes watching you carefully, trying to pinpoint what you felt.

The other two had sat across from you, their eyes peering out of the tinted window and watching the mayhem outside. Jay shook his head, understanding your sentiment and feeling overly protective while Sunghoon sighed.

He leant an arm against the window, popping one last mint into his mouth as he peered in the opposite direction. "She could've at least got him a suit that fit properly,"

[taexual]

sleepwalking ● 25 | 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, depictions of smoking and excessive drinking, fluff, a whole lot of flirting, some angst. it’s the final chapter, friends!!!! and that’s a warning in itself lol

words: 23.7k

read from the beginning ○ masterlist

chapter 25 ► can’t promise that things won’t be broken, but i swear that i will never leave, please stay forever with me

The flight to Paris the next morning began quietly, but as was often the case with Rated Riot, it quickly descended into chaos.

Despite Yoongi’s adamant claims that he was “perfectly fine,” he was too hungover to keep his eyes open for more than two seconds at a time. Hoseok, equally plagued by his own hangover, took it upon himself to guide his friend down the airplane aisle. The two of them moved slowly, holding onto seats and, occasionally, the backs of other passengers’ heads. They were, almost literally, the blind leading the blind.

When you stood up to ask where they were going five minutes after the seatbelt sign was turned off, Jungkook gently pulled you back to your seat.

“Leave them,” he said, adjusting his earbud that had almost fallen out when you stood up, pulling on the wire. “They’ll figure it out.”

A soft gasp was heard a few rows ahead when Hoseok accidentally grabbed a woman’s ponytail. Confused and disoriented, he turned to apologise to someone on the other side of the plane.

“I’m not sure they will,” you replied to Jungkook. “They’ll find the emergency exit and try to pry it open.”

“And don’t underestimate them,” he said. “They will succeed at that.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of.” You stood up again. “Give me one second.”

Jungkook grinned but did not try to stop you again.

Yoongi sighed in visible relief when you touched his shoulder. He quickly tried to explain the situation to you, making it sound like Hoseok had led him into a dark, haunted cave, instead of merely managing to guide him—in large, distracting circles—away from the bathrooms by mistake.

Back in his seat, Jungkook wondered about the rest of his friends on the plane. He didn’t know what the other members of his band had been up to after he’d returned to the hotel with you, but he could tell, just by watching Yoongi and Hoseok struggle, that everyone was fighting the after-effects of last night.

Minjun was asleep behind Jungkook, looking rather faded. Jude, meanwhile, had remained in London, where he was waiting for his flight home as he had originally planned.

Jungkook then looked over at Taehyung and Luna, who were seated just behind Minjun. They were pretending very diligently to be engrossed in the film playing on their screens—Jungkook had heard Taehyung cursing earlier as he tried to sync the film for them both—but they were dozing off, too.

Even though not everyone was aware of Sid’s arrest yesterday, it was evident that they all had still unknowingly celebrated the occasion.

“Alright,” you whispered as you returned to your seat after depositing Yoongi and Hoseok in the care of the flight attendants. “If you hear any screams, let me know so I can go back and check if they’re still alive.”

Jungkook gave you an amused look. “You think they’d be screaming if they were dead?”

“You never know with them.”

He chuckled and settled back into his seat now that you were next to him. He picked up a dangling earbud—you had developed a new fondness for wired ones after losing too many AirPods across Europe—and handed it to you, making sure that the one in his left ear was still in place.

You put the earbud back in and leaned back, allowing him to rest his head on your shoulder and resume the Sleep Token song you had been listening to.

“I’m really glad we’re finally on this plane,” he whispered. You turned your head just slightly to hear him better, your chin brushing over his hair, and he was tempted to start speaking in tongues just to feel you even closer in your confusion.

“I know,” you replied. “There were moments when I thought we’d never leave London.”

You felt his head move against your shoulder in agreement.

“Great venue,” he remarked. “But fuck if I didn’t want to get out of there and head straight to Paris.”

You snickered. “You think we’re romanticising Paris just because we won’t have to deal with Sid there anymore?”

“Absolutely,” he replied. He felt uneasy, all of a sudden, as he ran his hand over his thigh, trying not to focus on the unpleasant feeling that Sid's name alone evoked. “I-I’m glad it’s Paris, though. I was ready to pack up to go to the Arctic to get away from him.”

“Oh, penguins,” you said, a playful smile on your lips. “Sounds nice.”

A flight attendant rushed past you in the aisle, on her way to attend to some urgent matter, and even Jungkook raised his head when you began to look around to check if the band members were all in their seats. Yoongi and Hoseok had just returned, bumping into each other and the surrounding seats as they walked back.

“Yeah,” Jungkook said, drawing your attention back to him, as he looked out the window, counting, as it seemed, the patches of clouds. “But I didn’t pack a lot of appropriate clothing.”

“Hmm,” you mused, “and I reckon you’d get bored pretty quickly in the Arctic.”

He shifted his gaze from the endless expanse of clouds to give you a very serious look. “You think so?”

“Yeah,” you replied, grinning at the genuine concern in his eyes. “Penguins probably don’t appreciate alternative music as much as you do.”

He observed you for a moment, his own lips stretching into a smile as his eyes briefly flickered to your mouth. The song in your earbuds switched to Friday Pilots Club’s newest single.

“Well,” Jungkook said, just a tad hypnotised by your tongue running over your lower lip, “I’m sure I could change their minds.”

“Oh, most definitely,” you said, having no doubts at all that if Jungkook set his mind to it—if he viewed it as a challenge—he could convince penguins to fly, too.

He appeared very pleased with himself for a moment, and his satisfaction only increased when he returned his head to your shoulder, and you leaned your head against his.

“You’d have to come with me,” he said.

You raised an eyebrow but did not pull back. “To the—to the Arctic?”

“Mhmm,” he affirmed. “It’d be just us two and a bunch of penguins. Fucking rocks, come to think of it. Maybe we should go there straight after Paris.”

You tried to stifle your laughter to avoid disturbing the drowsy plane.

“Or how about we go somewhere warmer?” you suggested. “We’re finished with Sid anyway. Let’s leave the penguins alone.”

Jungkook felt his muscles tense once again. He still felt the weight of Sid’s name on his chest every time it came up, despite having “finished” with him.

To be fair, he didn’t expect this heaviness to disappear soon, but he figured he could learn to live with it. Carrying this weight felt like a reminder of everything he’d survived—of the chains he’d broken, if he wanted to be dramatic about it.

“That’s cool, too,” he said. “I like those cuddly ones—what are they called?—those little ones, with sand-coloured fur, love the sun. Sort of a tiny, pointy face—”

“Meerkats?” you offered.

“Yes!” He snapped his fingers, enthusiastic. “Let’s go where they are. They were cool when we saw them at that new zoo near my house, remember?”

You remembered, of course, even though that had been four or five years ago. You couldn’t recall the dates very well, but you always remembered the moments.

“Oh,” you said, “when a lemur followed you around the room the whole time we were there?”

Jungkook pursed his lips. He remembered the lemur, too; he’d felt a little unsettled around it. Not scared, though. He was never scared of living creatures.

“Hmm,” he nodded, grumbling the next word, “right.”

“You can’t go anywhere without an animal falling in love with you,” you teased. “It’s a bit annoying, actually.”

You placed your hand on his and Jungkook turned his palm over, lacing his fingers with yours.

“Why?” he asked smugly. “Do you feel threatened?”

“Should I?”

“No. What I had with that lemur wasn’t serious. It—”

He had to pause because you laughed, and the pride that suddenly swelled in his chest distracted him from his next words. He rarely made jokes these days unless you were in the room to hear them.

“It had crazy eyes,” he continued after a moment, “kind of like Sid does when he’s been sober for a few days in a row. Freaked me out.”

“Ah,” you said, nodding in amusement. “That explains why it followed you. Could be Sid’s distant relative.”

He snorted. “We’ve gone from rodents to lemurs. I don’t know if that’s an improve—”

“No,” you cut him off, no longer joking. Jungkook raised his head to look at you, surprised by the sudden change in your tone. “Sid’s a rat. He wishes he was something more.”

He lowered his gaze, his own expression growing serious for a moment.

“Yeah,” he said. “Actually, maybe we should have called animal control on him instead of the police.”

The idea brought a wry smile to your face. “He did seem feral the last time we saw him.”

“Hmm. I’m sad that I missed it all.”

“You—no,” you countered again. “You haven’t missed anything. It’s a good thing you weren’t there. Sid didn’t deserve to see you one last time.”

Jungkook knew that. But he still wished he could have seen the look on Sid’s face when he was dragged—kicking and screaming, according to what you’ve told him—into the back of the police car.

“Well, if your plan works as expected,” he said, “I’ll never see him again.”

You noted the hopeful tone in his voice and remembered, suddenly, your conversation in Stockholm, when you had advised Jungkook to find better friends, and he had seemed very remorseful in turn. Back then, he had clung to his friendship with Sid almost desperately, even though the two of them only had their shared history and nothing else in common.

Jungkook had buried it all now—he buried it the moment he realised that there had always been one name standing between him and you, and that name did not belong to either of you—and it still felt strange, but it also felt promising.

“I fucking hope not,” you said. “I hope he gets a fun cellmate and rots in a prison far, far away.”

His smile finally returned. He had been thinking a lot about what Sid would go through once he was arrested.

“I bet he’ll be paired up with someone fantastic,” he said. “When Minjun and I were arrested, we were put in separate cells, and I ended up with this guy—do you remember? He called me ‘sweetheart’, which was very nice. Until I mentioned that we weren’t allowed to smoke here, and he tried to gouge my eyes out. So, the honeymoon phase didn’t last.”

It was remarkable how quickly you laughed. There was a time, not that long ago, when you couldn’t find anything amusing about Jungkook’s arrest at all. You’d been convinced of his guilt and closed your eyes to everything that could have shown even a glimpse of his innocence.

You realised now that you might have just been waiting for Jungkook to do something—a final something—so you could give in to the fear that had been whispering in your ear about the impermanence of relationships since your first date.

I knew it, you had thought to yourself as you headed to that police station. Of course, this would happen. Of course, we’d break up eventually.

Nothing was meant to last forever, that much was true. But now you had come to believe that some people spent their whole lives building their relationship—brick by brick—never growing weary of this never-ending project. You were looking forward to becoming one of those people.

“I remember,” you said, your voice softened by the shift in your memories. “He told me to watch my back when I picked you up. I still don’t know what that was supposed to mean.”

“Maybe he thought I was a proper criminal,” Jungkook suggested.

You scoffed, earning his disapproving glare.

Despite his menacing frame, tattoos, piercings and deliberately provocative clothes, there was nothing truly threatening about Jungkook. He could hold his own in a fight—he was very proud of that—but he had the personality of a gently melted marshmallow. Someone would call his name and his whole face would light up. Someone would make a joke, and he would clap his hands and lean forward as he laughed, even toppling over sometimes—and then he’d do a somersault before landing on his feet.

He was only dangerous if you loved him as much as you did—to the point where it hurt sometimes, but never enough to truly leave.

“You got arrested because Sid set you up,” you said, responding to the scowl on his face with a warm smile. “Not quite as impressive as whatever your cellmate was in there for, I’m assuming.”

Jungkook shrugged, not arguing. “Yeah, it was his fourth time in that cell, he said.”

“Oh, that’s—”

“That week.”

“—fun.” You cleared your throat. “Four times in one week? Why did they keep releasing him?”

“It’s usually small misdemeanours,” he explained. “Urinating on some embassy building, drinking in a public park. That sort of stuff.”

“And,” you said, “he told you about all that while trying to poke your eyes out?”

“Yeah,” he said, chuckling. "It was very Joker.”

You snorted. “Well, this guy sounds like someone Sid would get on well with.”

“Mhmm,” Jungkook agreed. “I think so, too.”

You turned your gaze to the window on his side. There was something very exciting about the possibility of Sid finally experiencing the kind of harassment he had dished out to others. Revenge wasn’t always the answer, but here it fit.

Just like yours, Jungkook’s desire for vengeance burned fiercely beneath the surface, too. It was too strong, however—and too unrealistic, he knew—to fully quench. He knew Sid might not get the justice he deserved in the end, and he couldn’t help but feel a little dispirited.

“It just sucks,” he said, after fighting himself on it for a minute, “that Sid might find a way to make this situation more comfortable for himself.”

You thought about it, but refused to find anything negative in Sid’s current predicament.

“That’s fine, though,” you said. “It’s really bad for him this time. No amount of luxury he can attain in this position will be enough. His reputation means nothing here, but he fucked it up anyway.”

“So, he’ll be even angrier,” Jungkook observed, still not satisfied.

You shrugged. “Good.”

“And he’ll do everything to retaliate.”

“Well,” you remained unperturbed, “we already know that, right?”

“He—”

“Actually,” Minjun popped his head into the gap between your seats, startling you both. Your heavy gasps forced him to pull back a little. “Sorry. I was—I overheard your conversation. I spoke to my dad this morning; he heard that Sid had been arrested. It’s bad. For Sid’s family, I mean. My dad’s taken a day off today, but Sid’s mother is calling an emergency meeting with their shareholders because, obviously, their image has been tarnished. Everyone’s talking. They’re not pleased.”

Jungkook glanced at you. Your raised eyebrows seemed to reflect the excitement he felt rising within him.

“Oh,” Jungkook said slowly, not wanting to get ahead of himself. Sid had a knack—in the form of several black cards—for wriggling out of the deepest holes he’d dug himself into. “That sounds promising.”

“Yeah,” Minjun said. “My dad thinks that Sid’s mum will have to make a choice. It’s very dramatic, but so fucking funny. You know how Sid’s family is very—well, traditional, right? Sid’s mother is the only daughter, she has four older brothers. Her father doesn’t care much about her. Or about her kid.”

Both you and Jungkook remembered Sid’s grandfather. Although you never met him, you heard stories from when Jungkook and Sid worked on restoring cars from his Chevrolet collection. He was a lenient man, accepting of most things, as long as Sid did not step out of line.

“So, if Sid’s mum doesn’t get Sid out of this situation herself,” Minjun continued, “then no one else will. And if she can’t handle it discreetly—and it doesn’t look like she can, it’s already too late—then her father will likely advise her to distance herself from Sid in order to protect the company’s reputation. So, she’ll have to choose between her son, whom she loves so dearly, and the company that she’s worked so hard to build. Kind of poetic, I think.”

You didn’t realise how wide you were grinning until you tried to speak and felt just how far your cheeks had stretched.

“I appreciate what that implies for Sid in both scenarios,” you said, coughing a few times into your fist to compose yourself.

Minjun was less constrained in his glee. “Right? We’re done here. Sid has much bigger things to worry about than plotting revenge.”

Jungkook kissed his index finger and pointed it to the sky, gazing up. “Merry fucking Christmas to us.”

You laughed as the two boys high-fived over your head. Minjun pulled back then, sliding his headphones back on, and Jungkook turned to you again. He was finally able to inhale something that felt like real oxygen instead of the stale air he’d been breathing before.

“So,” he said, pressing his shoulder against yours as your arms rested on the armrest between you. “Meerkats, then?”

You nodded, an eager smile on your lips. “And penguins later.”

He raised an eyebrow, leaning back to get a better look at you. “You changed your mind?”

You shrugged. The two of you hadn’t paid any attention to the past three songs playing on the pair of earphones you were sharing.

“I’ll go anywhere you go,” you said—with an ease that made Minjun groan behind you with such a deep dedication to his displeasure that you felt your chair vibrate from the sound.

Jungkook was positively beaming, his eyes shining with all the colours that existed in the world, some of which were yet to be discovered.

“Well,” you said, your expression almost turning bashful, and Jungkook’s whole face seemed to start sparkling, “I think I just made Minjun’s soul leave his body for a second.”

“I know,” Jungkook said. “I don’t think I’ve ever loved you more than I do right now.”

“Oh—” your words dissolved into laughter. “I mean, I knew you were into praise, but not to such an extent.”

“Oh, to such an extent,” he boasted. “Tell me how good I am, and how you’ll never leave me, and you’ll really never get rid of me.”

The affection in your eyes turned a mischievous shade. “I already can’t get rid of you.”

His proud expression did not falter one bit. “It’s because I can sense how much you need me.”

“Ah,” you snickered again, “is that so?”

“Yes.” He reached for your hand again, intertwining your fingers. “Really, I’m being very charitable here.”

Your eyes were locked on the smirk on his lips. “Public service, now, is it?”

“Mhmm,” he said. “Paying off my sins by doing a good deed.”

“I see,” you played along. “Trying to get into heaven after you die?”

He placed your hands on his lap, his thumb caressing yours. “Actually, I’m already there.”

Minjun smacked the back of Jungkook’s seat with enough force to dislodge your earbud from your ear.

“Please go back to talking about meerkats,” he asked from behind you, his tone pleading.

Jungkook laughed, and his unapologetic expression made you smile, too. You finally broke and leaned in to press your lips to his cheek, melting, very successfully, all that was still left of his heart.

“I love you,” you whispered with a look in your eyes that he would have gone to war for.

He squeezed your hand and leaned into you, his cheek grazing yours before he connected your lips, whispering into the kiss, “I love you.”

Your hotel in Paris was an intriguing combination of marble floors with opulent chandeliers in the lobby, and peeling wallpaper with questionable stains marking the walls in the corridors outside of your rooms.

The lift was not working—you’ve already grown used to this in London—so you had to haul your luggage up the creaking stairs. Somewhere around the second floor, Jungkook decided to take a break. He sat down on his dark grey, metallic suitcase, and accidentally rolled down at least five steps before grabbing the railing to stop himself from returning to the lobby on his ass.

The commotion caught the attention of a few porters—who seemed in no hurry to assist you with your luggage—and they informed you, very ominously, that several rock bands before yours had been kicked out of the hotel for “disorderly behaviour.”

Everyone in Rated Riot understood the warning, but you were concerned about the expressions on the members’ faces. There was a certain allure to these threats. Jungkook, in particular, seemed thrilled to see how much he could get away with without getting kicked out.

Fortunately, your first night at the hotel was as quiet as it could be, considering that silence was a relative concept for Rated Riot. Taehyung and Luna had accidentally torn the curtains in their room while “getting ready to sleep,” and Hoseok managed to lose a shoe outside his window, but the hotel staff remained blissfully oblivious about it all. You decided not to ask questions, either.

However, when you woke up the following morning, you almost regretted not giving the members an educational speech about good behaviour in any case, because Jungkook wasn’t in the room with you.

He had never woken up before you in all the years you’ve known him—regardless of how late your last night had been—so you were understandably alarmed. Surely, you thought, he was up to something with the rest of the band.

But then, as you pushed the covers off, the door of your room suddenly opened, and Jungkook walked in, alive and seemingly unharmed. He was surprised to find you staring at him, but his face lit up with a grin as soon as the early morning sunlight from the window behind you caught his silver necklace, momentarily blinding you.

“Hi,” he said. “You’re finally awake.”

You were at an unfortunate loss for words for at least half a minute. It was eight in the morning, and Jungkook had never used the words ‘finally’ and ‘awake’ in the same sentence unless he was referring to himself.

“I finally am,” you replied, your voice hoarse. His smile grew wider as he made his way back to the bed. “Sorry I’ve kept you waiting.”

“Oh, it’s alright,” he replied easily, plopping down beside you. “Should we grab breakfast before your meeting? Or would you prefer after?”

This relaxed demeanour was a characteristic trademark for Jungkook—although it usually concealed much deeper anxiety—but it felt surreal to encounter it so early in the day.

“Where—why are you up?” you finally asked, rubbing your eyes in a futile attempt to force them to stay open.

He shrugged. “Just excited for the day, I guess.”

You noticed a flicker in his gaze as if your question had intimidated him, and you could tell there was something else going on. But he looked genuinely ready for the day, and you didn’t want to risk stirring any tension that you’d been expecting to find this morning but hadn’t.

“Alright,” you said. “Maybe let’s eat after. Do you want to just stay here for a minute?”

Jungkook wanted to stay here for much longer than a minute, and he scooted back to his spot on the right side of the bed. You leaned back into the pillows, closer to him, and he pulled you into his chest, pressing his cheek against yours before turning his head to place a quick kiss on your lips.

It was a grounding kiss—to make sure you were really in this bed with him—but you still felt your anxious thoughts stop, place their hands in their laps obediently, and settle down in his presence—powerless, it seemed, when Jungkook was in the room with you.

It hadn’t really occurred to you how worried you were about your upcoming meeting—the empty room had worked as a sufficient distraction—until Jungkook’s quiet breaths, muffled by your lips pressed to his, took your mind off everything.

Your phone buzzed on the nightstand, startling you into pulling away. Jungkook sighed, having expected the interruption. He was already getting used to never having you all to himself for too long.

You gave him an apologetic smile and leaned over the bed to check your phone—on the screen was a preview of an email you had been waiting for all week.

“What is it?” he asked, noticing your expression.

“I’ll tell the whole band later,” you said—and elaborated before he could insist on being told first, “but I’ve found a new band to open for you guys for the rest of the tour. They just confirmed they’re available and interested. I don’t know if this is the last thing I’m doing as your manager, but if it is, then I’m quite happy with that. I obviously haven’t signed them yet—they’ve only agreed to discuss the details. But I watched all their performance videos tonight; they’re great.”

Jungkook looked—and very much felt—deflated all of a sudden. “Don’t say that.”

You gave him a puzzled look. “No, really, Maggie said she listens to them, and she—”

“Not that,” he cut in. “The other thing.”

He meant you leaving Rated Riot, of course. But after tossing and turning half the night, you had mostly come to terms with what your life would look like if the label decided to revoke your promotion and terminate your position as Rated Riot’s manager once they learned about your relationship with Jungkook. That would make your meeting twice as unpleasant, of course, but you’d figure it out.

You’d fight to stay, but you’d leave if you had no other choice. You’d find something else to do. And if nothing else worked, Nick’s offer with Reconnaissance was still open—you planned to call him today either way.

“It’s okay,” you said. “We’ll see what happens today.”

Jungkook mumbled something unintelligible under his breath.

“Also,” he said then, louder, “what do you mean you watched their performances tonight? Where was I?”

“Asleep.”

He frowned, his expression nearing offence. “And you weren’t? And you didn’t wake me?”

He quickly deduced that you hadn’t slept because you were too nervous. He should have known you would be, and he mentally scolded himself for not realising that sooner. He supposed he missed falling asleep next to you too much to worry about anything else.

“You can hardly say anything when you haven’t told me where you were just now,” you pointed out.

He changed his mind about complaining that you hadn’t woken him.

“I—wait, w-who is this band, then?” he asked instead.

You glanced at your phone after it lit up with another notification—this one from your calendar, reminding you, pointlessly, that you had a meeting in an hour.

“Nyx and the Insomniacs,” you replied, swiping the notification away. “You heard of them?”

Jungkook needed a moment to place the name.

“Yeah,” he said uncertainly, recalling the band but not why they sounded familiar. “I-I think Yoongi knows someone there?”

It wasn’t surprising, considering Yoongi seemed to know someone in every band.

Before you could respond, however, Jungkook added a very determined, “and it’s not going to be the last thing you do as our manager.”

“I hope not,” you said. Not wanting to linger on the topic and lose the few moments you had together before your meeting, you lied back down on the bed and turned to your side to face him. “Now tell me why you were awake so early. I mean, really.”

He sighed—sadly, somehow—at your question. He’d promised the rest of the band he wouldn’t tell you anything just yet. You’d find out where he was soon enough anyway.

“No good reason,” he said, carefully tiptoeing around the truth to avoid a deeper conversation about this. “Nervous, I guess. You and I slept in shifts, apparently.”

“Apparently.”

“Why do you keep asking?” he asked, leaning in closer to nestle his face into the crook of your neck. “Did you want to wake up with me that much?”

“Hmm, I’m conflicted about that,” you said, feeling a rapid wave of shivers run down your spine when his lips touched your neck in a tender, almost imaginary kiss. “Y-you suffocate me in your sleep, so it was nice to breathe for an hour or two.”

His laughter was muffled as he kissed your neck again, moving down to your collarbones and holding you tighter when he felt you squirm in his arms at the feeling.

“Breathing is overrated anyway,” he said.

“Yeah, so I’ve heard.”

You turned your head, and he looked up, smirking first—always—and leaning in to kiss you second. He held your lower lip locked between his, believing—very firmly—that if your head wasn’t spinning after he pulled away, he hadn’t truly kissed you. But as he ran his tongue over your parted lips, his stomach clenching in anticipation of your familiar taste, he heard your phone vibrate once again.

Groaning gibberish curses, he rolled away so you could pick up the device, your expression a mix of amusement and guilt.

“It’s the last time something interrupts us, I promise,” you assured, swiping away another notification as soon as you looked at it. You had decided to only respond to urgent emails this morning to avoid overheating your brain and to prevent Jungkook from scolding you about working too much again. “But I have to—I need to start getting ready.”

He suppressed all further complaints he had prepared to delay you from leaving the bed and forced himself to nod.

“I understand,” he said. “Send me the link to your playlist.”

You had already shifted to the edge of the bed and had to turn back to look at him over your shoulder. “Hmm?”

“I’ll listen to it while I wait for your meeting to finish.”

You turned away again, mumbling an exasperated, “God.”

“Come on,” he urged, crossing his ankles as he watched you from his side of the bed. “I’m awake and bored. Who knows what sort of tomfoolery I might get up to if you leave me unattended.”

“I knew I should have enrolled you in kindergarten.”

He snickered, sitting up suddenly. The more you resisted showing him the playlist, the more he wanted to hear it, and he could not stay still.

Thumping his palms on the mattress with every word, he chanted: “Give—me—the—link—to—”

“Fine, fine,” you relented—he made sure to leave you no other option as his volume grew—and stood up from the bed to unlock your phone. “But don’t open it until I’m out of the room.”

“I won’t,” he said, bouncing on his knees. He looked about ready to roll over and play dead, too, as long as you showed him the playlist.

You glanced at him, avoiding eye contact with the green Spotify circle.

“Promise me,” you said—more to delay what had become inevitable than for any other reason.

He tilted his head, his intrigued smile now bordering on absurd. “Is it that bad?”

“We will never speak of it once you listen.”

“Alright, shit.” He sat down, crossing his legs under himself even though he knew he wouldn’t stay in this position very long. He felt like a Christmas ornament—outrageously jittery and tingly. “I promise. Send it to me.”

“Alright.” You scrolled through your library, digging your teeth into your lip. You felt like you were eighteen again, starting this playlist after Jungkook had taken up residence in your mind without having said one word to you. You had never thought you’d show all these songs to him one day. “Let me find it first. Imagine if it’s gone.”

He sneered. “Imagine if I wouldn’t believe you.”

You glared at him over the top of your phone. He maintained his grin with slightly pursed lips, clearly enjoying your flustered state.

“It’s here,” you said, clicking on the playlist, but deliberately not looking down at the songs.

“Is the title just a row of pink hearts?” he asked and received another glare in response.

He chuckled. He could tell that you were on the verge of bolting for the door in hopes that he wouldn’t chase after you. He absolutely would.

“No,” you said. “It’s actually ‘why?’ in all caps.”

He cleared his throat, looking away. “I don’t get it.”

You finally grinned.

Jungkook already had another question at the tip of his tongue—one that would undoubtedly result in you tackling him—but his phone buzzed with a text notification from you. Glancing down, he grinned. He’d named your contact “LOML <3” a few days ago to annoy Minjun, and now he smiled every time he saw it.

“Got it,” he said, noting the Spotify link in the preview of the message. “Can I open it now, just to check if you sent me the right—?”

“Absolutely not,” you retorted. “I know I sent you the right link. Don’t click on it until I’m out of here.”

Biting back his amusement, he locked his phone and demonstratively pushed it away from himself on the bed.

“Okay, here,” he said, extending his hands to demonstrate the distance between himself and the device. “I’ll entertain myself by watching you put on make-up, then. That works, too.”

You didn’t object—in fact, he saw a smile flash briefly on your features—and he climbed off the bed, following you to the small bathroom.

It was not a pleasant room: two out of three lightbulbs in the fixture on the ceiling weren’t working, so the perpetually foggy mirror on the wall was useless. Most of the wall tiles were cracked, and the bathtub was an odd shade of yellow. But Jungkook wrapped his arms around your waist, resting his chin on your shoulder as he watched you rummage through your cosmetics bag for your toothbrush, and you did not notice any of the flies or the cobwebs by the bathroom window. You did not notice how long you had to wait for the water to turn warm.

At one point, he sniffed your eyeshadow palette—for no reason whatsoever—and began to sneeze so violently and uncontrollably that you had to sit down on the edge of the tub to control your laughter, forgetting all about the awful bathroom and the daunting meeting with the Jett Records’ legal team.

However disruptive he was, Jungkook distracted you from everything that might have brought you down, and you were very grateful to have him here with you.

Sadly, your carefree morning didn’t last long.

Now that Jungkook was no longer with you, you paced outside the conference room on the ground floor of the hotel, obsessively checking your phone. Despite only getting a few hours of sleep tonight, you felt perfectly alert—the stress was great at keeping you sharp—and you noticed the Jett Records representatives as soon as they climbed down from their rooms.

An executive producer, Salma, whom the band had worked with before, showed up in place of CJ’s assistant. She’d left a good impression on you when you first met her, but now she was accompanied by two intimidating lawyers.

The one who introduced himself first—making a joke out of his lengthy full name and asking you to simply call him Reggie—had kinder eyes than the one who talked to you next. He was Duke, and he looked like he ate bricks for breakfast and knit spider webs as a hobby.

Fortunately, Reggie was the one who took the lead in the conversation, promising a quick—“five minutes tops, really”—introduction to the changes in your new contract.

Unfortunately, he ended up keeping everyone in the conference room for over half an hour. The lack of air conditioning in the old hotel, combined with the four of you in the confined space, made the room stifling. You felt yourself beginning to sweat.

“Do you have anything you’d like to ask, or can we move on to some routine questions before we sign the contract?” Reggie asked, pulling out a white handkerchief to wipe his forehead.

“No questions right now,” you replied, restlessly tapping your knee with your left hand under the table.

“Perfect,” Reggie said. “Could we open the window maybe? Would you mind?”

“Oh, actually, I’d prefer it,” you said, and the lawyer let out a sigh of relief. He glanced at Salma, who was sitting closest to the window, and she got up to open it.

It took the producer a minute to figure out the wooden window frame, but once she managed to pull the latch, a gust of eager wind finally blew into the room. The rustling leaves outside and the distant hum of Parisian traffic provided a melodious backdrop, but not even that could ease the knot of tension in your stomach. You felt like you were in the waiting room of a dentist’s office.

“Alright,” Reggie said, setting the papers he had been reading aside and grabbing another stack from the table.

You felt a new wave of heat wash over you, dreading another half hour of monotonous reading, but Reggie blissfully turned to the last few pages.

“We know about your previous job experience,” he said. “But do you have any other sources of income that we should know about?”

“No,” you replied, keeping your responses concise as you flipped through your own copy of the contract to find the page Reggie was on.

He scribbled something down with his engraved Montblanc pen. Duke looked bored next to him as he lazily chewed something—dead bugs, you assumed. Salma, in the meantime, was completely absorbed in her phone.

“Possible conflicts of interest?” Reggie asked, pulling your attention away from the other people in the room.

You took a deep breath. “Yes.”

Reggie turned his pen and asked, without looking up from his papers, “go on.”

“I am in a relationship with the lead vocalist of Rated Riot.”

Gripping the arms of your chair, you held your breath, anticipating raised eyebrows, disapproving glances, and, eventually, a termination of your employment.

But neither Salma nor Duke turned to look at you. Reggie was silent for a moment as he scanned the documents in front of him. You imagined he was searching for a clause outlining the consequences of this particular offence. Your nerves prevented you from checking your own copy.

“That’s already here,” Reggie finally said.

“It’s—hmm?” You straightened in your seat. “Sorry?”

“It already says so here,” Reggie repeated, pointing to a section on his paper and sliding it towards you. “Anything else that we should add?”

You looked down at the text he had indicated. It read, “Private interest of Employee: undisclosed consensual personal relationship without a direct hierarchical link.”

You did not understand what that meant. Skimming the whole paragraph, you caught sight of Jungkook’s name—but Yoongi, Hoseok, and Taehyung were mentioned, too, just a few lines below.

“I-I’m sorry,” you stammered, your hands trembling as you held Reggie’s paper to prevent it from blowing away in the gentle breeze. “The label—it says here that I am in a relationship?”

You felt incredibly foolish to ask for a translation of the words that were written in a language you, technically, spoke, but you couldn’t not ask, either.

“Well, yes,” Reggie confirmed, looking a bit perplexed by your reaction.

“A-and they—how did they—”

Duke was the one who responded to your stuttering.

“HR conducts a background search before they hire someone,” he said as if this was the part you struggled to understand. “This information was included in your contract when you started to work with Jett Records. Didn’t CJ go through this with you?”

He sounded absurdly pleased with himself when he spoke, not even realising how little sense he made. When you joined Jett Records, Rated Riot weren’t signed yet; the band had barely been formed. Your relationship held no relevance to the label. And your position certainly wasn’t important enough to warrant a thorough consultation with the CEO.

“No, he didn’t,” you said, reflexively matching your voice to his condescending tone. “Are you sure this was included in my initial contract? Because Rated Riot weren’t even signed with us when I came to Jett Records.”

Finally, Duke removed his elbows from the table, looking slightly uncomfortable. He seemed to have realised that he had misspoken, and now he’d have to tell you something he wasn’t supposed to.

“It’s, uh—” Duke started to say, then glanced over at Reggie. Reggie glared at him, not willing to help, so Duke tried again. “It—what HR does is more exhaustive than just double-checking everything on your application. They can—if they come across certain information at any point of your employment, and they think it could be, uh, relevant, they inform CJ about it. It appears that he—they probably updated your employee file before you began to work with Rated Riot, that’s why it’s on the contract.”

You kept tucking the strands of your hair behind your ears—a nervous habit that you were too overwhelmed to control.

CJ knew, then. He had an “employee file” about you, and he knew you’d dated Jungkook before he hired you for Rated Riot. You could not understand if he simply didn’t care about your relationship or if said relationship was exactly the reason why he hired you.

“And,” you said, “is there anything else that HR has included in my file?”

This made Duke pull even further back from the table. Reggie sighed. It appeared that they both knew that this—your lack of awareness about how much HR pried into your personal life without your knowledge—could pose a serious problem for the label.

“Well,” Reggie said, skimming over the pages in front of him again, “there’s nothing that could be considered a real conflict of interest.”

“So, we don’t have any problems, then?” you asked, your tone sharper than you’d intended. “Legally?”

The two men across the table from you exchanged a glance.

“Not about the, uh, relationship,” Reggie said, speaking slowly to avoid any further confusion. “Our contracts only prohibit employer-employee relationships. And your direct employer is Christian Jett, not Rated Riot. So, no, in your case, there are no legal issues. And, if anything, from a strictly business perspective, employee relationships, especially those within the band, could be—well, almost profitable, really.”

You continued to watch him, your gaze fading out of focus, and Reggie looked back down at the papers in front of him, very uneasy again. He’d thought he was easing your worries about your relationship being public knowledge, he didn’t expect to make this even worse for you.

Profitable, then. From a strictly business perspective, CJ could have found your relationship profitable, so he hired you for Rated Riot.

You came into this meeting thinking Jungkook was your biggest risk. Instead, your relationship with him was profitable.

You felt too dazed to move.

Duke, meanwhile, observed you with a newfound fascination and a slightly raised brow.

“You, uh,” he cleared his throat, “you weren’t aware of this, then? That your relationship with anyone in the band wouldn’t be a—”

“No,” you replied. “I thought I’d need to formally declare it. I didn���t know it was already in my file.”

You didn’t know there was a file at all, actually—because employees weren’t supposed to know.

And now you wondered what else HR has deemed relevant for everyone at the company to know about you. Nick’s call to you about a job opening with Reconnaissance must have made it to the file, too.

“Hmm.” Duke nodded to himself, then turned to his colleague. “Well that finally explains the email, doesn’t it, Reg?”

Reggie clenched his jaw but did not look up from his papers and did not respond. He did not think this was an appropriate discussion to have right now.

“W-what email?” you asked, almost apprehensive.

Duke turned back to you, studying your expression for a moment. He was trying to determine if your confusion was genuine. To his surprise, it appeared to be. And here he assumed you were the one who had orchestrated this.

“This morning, Min Yoongi sent an email to Jett Records on behalf of the band,” Duke said. “It’s quite late over there, but CJ’s assistant saw it and forwarded it to us.”

Duke went on to explain that it was a scanned copy of a formal letter. The members of Rated Riot stated that they understood the consequences of terminating their contract early, but they would leave the label regardless, unless you continued to work as their manager. All four of them had signed it.

You felt, suddenly, like you had just been catapulted to the seventieth floor—sixty floors above the hotel’s tallest floor—and reached the top in about two seconds. There seemed to be cotton in your ears that made the rest of the room sound foggy somehow.

You realised where Jungkook had been this morning before he returned to your hotel room.

“I see,” you said, and then tried, very poorly, to articulate your thoughts, “I was—I wasn’t—I see.”

You remembered Namjoon telling you once that he and the band would not sit idly if they found out that the label made you resign. You supposed that a part of you had thought it was simply a nice thing to say, and nothing more. You hadn’t expected him to really mean it.

Reggie finally looked up, glancing from Duke’s scowl to your uncomfortable expression.

“Okay,” Reggie said, finally returning to the page in your contract where he had paused earlier. “So, are there any conflicts of interest that we should know about?”

You swallowed, your stomach still clenched as you attempted to process everything, not feeling any relief just yet.

“No,” you said. “There aren’t any.”

“Okay,” Reggie said again. “Shall we proceed then?”

“Yes. Let’s proceed.”

“Perfect. We—”

“Actually,” Salma interjected, putting her phone down. “There’s another matter that CJ wanted me to bring up. If you don’t mind, Reg?”

Reggie pulled back from the papers on the table, a little annoyed, but he motioned for Salma to take over anyway. Duke gazed out the window, completely unfazed by Salma’s disregard for him.

“Alright,” the producer said, turning to you. “The leaked album cover, then.”

You blinked, not having expected to discuss the bathtub picture today. You wondered if that would be a conflict of interest, but decided not to ask. It might turn out to be profitable, too.

“I’ve, uh, explained to CJ that it won’t happen again,” you said.

“We know,” Salma replied. “But CJ is thinking if we should sue. Or, at the very least, threaten legal action? If someone’s spying on your servers—”

“Someone—uh, no,” you scratched the back of your neck, “to be honest, we’ve already taken steps to prevent any future breaches. Anything more than that would be a, uh... waste of resources, really.”

You weren’t lying; you had really contained Sid. And there was no need to divulge more information about that, you thought bitterly. Or they might include that in your file, too.

You still half-expected someone in the room to directly mention Sid anyway, even despite not knowing about his connection to the album cover. He got arrested during the band’s show in London, after all. But no one said anything about him, and you didn’t either.

You felt glad that, aside from publicising the bathtub picture, Sid now held as much significance to your life as the random hotel guest singing loudly outside the conference room window: vaguely bothersome, but largely irrelevant.

“Oh, well, I’m happy to hear that,” Salma said, glancing at Reggie across the table—he was reading something on his phone and didn’t notice her gaze. “I talked to Namjoon for a minute after we arrived last night, but he didn’t mention anything. Has the band decided on a release date for the first single?”

This whole meeting turned out to be something you hadn’t prepared for, and your anxiety didn’t quite know how to handle it.

“Uh, soon,” you replied. “They’re still working on it.”

Salma smiled. Sensing your unease, she reached over to give your shoulder a friendly squeeze.

“Namjoon said exciting things are coming,” she said. You appreciated her light tone. “I can’t wait.”

“Yeah. They definitely are.”

“Alright, well,” Reggie cut in as he put his phone down. His voice sounded a little impatient, but he remained more composed than Duke, who yawned, bored again, and spun in his office chair. “Let’s finish this up, yeah? Still got three more pages to go.”

The three pages ended up taking another half an hour to get through as Reggie went out of his way to explain everything, checking and double-checking every questionable clause, and asking you about all the things that he had initially planned not to ask about. He was still worried about the company’s laid-back attitude towards employee privacy, you could tell. But you were so tired of this that you were almost ready to sign anything just to finally leave this room.

Once the meeting finally concluded—and you did, in fact, have to sign at least ten dotted lines—you found out that Reggie and Duke had decided to stay in Paris to see Rated Riot’s show. Salma promised them it would be great and took them to lunch at a café a few blocks away, giving you a wink as she left. She saved you from more small talk, and you made a mental note to buy her a drink sometime later.

There was another important conversation you needed to have today, and dialling Nick’s number after everything you’ve already endured turned out to be very easy.

You hoped to explain everything to him quickly, maintaining a good relationship with him in case of potential collaborations between the bands you managed. But you ended up being a little too diplomatic: you had to repeat your refusal to join his team three times before Nick understood what you were saying.

He was not surprised. He said that he’d been hearing a lot about Rated Riot every time he went out with someone from his staff, so he understood your decision to stay with them. And then, most unexpectedly, he asked if you could arrange for him and a few Reconnaissance members to attend one of Rated Riot’s final European shows in Italy.

This time, it was Nick who had to repeat himself three times for you to comprehend the request.

You were well aware of the admiration and reverence that Rated Riot had for Reconnaissance; the number of times that the boys had attended their concerts was too inappropriate to mention out loud.

Now, the members of Reconnaissance were interested in attending Rated Riot’s show. And despite your skin tingling with excitement, you were almost afraid to share this news with the band, fearing they might break something—namely, their necks—once they heard about it.

As promised, Jungkook waited until you left for your meeting before he ensconced himself in your empty hotel room, anticipation pulsating a lively rhythm in his chest.

When your playlist loaded on his screen—actually titled, ‘why?’ in all capital letters as you’d said—he checked the duration and briefly considered finding heart drops before he began to listen.

Scrolling through the tracks, he noticed the dates when you added them to the playlist, offering him a clear roadmap of your emotions over the years. He wasn’t sure what to do with himself as he reclined on the bed and tried to relax.

The first song was added about two weeks after the Freshman event where you claimed to have noticed him for the first time. It was a song by Dashboard Confessional—“My heart is yours to fill or burst, to break or bury, or wear as jewelry, whichever you prefer”—and Jungkook accepted that not even heart drops could help him get through this playlist.

When, three songs later, he reached Bring Me The Horizon—“Your voice makes my heart skip beats, so keep quiet before it flatlines”—and realised that he still hadn’t talked to you at this point in the playlist, he felt his hands begin to shake.

It was true, then. You had really seen him for the first time at the same moment he had seen you, and you’ve had a crush on him since then, too.

The lyrics of the next song by Black Veil Brides—“One look and I am sold, you got me on my knees”—were a prophecy, because this was where it all began. You’ve added it just one day after your first conversation outside of class, and it marked the point where Jungkook recognised every word of every upcoming song because he’d experienced them all with you.

Bad Omens’ “Crawl” brought back your first date in the park under the pouring rain, where the two of you had revealed everything that weighed on you, despite only knowing each other for a little over a week. Jungkook recalled a sense of disbelief at how easily the two of you had connected. Logically, there should have been barriers between you, things that you kept to yourselves for fear of scaring each other away. But sharing everything from that very first moment had felt right—it was later that honesty became scary.

Between the city's gates and nowhere is where I'll be, my dear. Ghost of soldiers will greet you and point the way to me, my dear.

Sleep Token’s “Fields of Elation” reminded him of your second date at the carnival, where he had stumbled over his thoughts, attempting to ask you to be his girlfriend. You’d said yes, despite not understanding his jumbled question. He remembered the anticipation he’d felt back then, too: he wanted to kiss you so much that he was nearly vibrating, nearly spinning on an invisible propeller attached to his chest. And when he finally pressed his lips to yours, he thought he’d never pull away again.

Your name is a sin I breathe like oxygen, caught in the careless arms of lust again.

Biffy Clyro’s “Many of Horror” was a song that echoed through every significant moment in your relationship. Jungkook noted that you’d added it a few days after the first time he’d stayed over at your dorm room. It had actually been an accident: you brought him back after a campus party to help him sober up a little, and he ended up falling asleep on your bed. He woke up sometime at three in the morning, and the two of you stayed up talking and listening to music for the rest of the night.

If Jungkook closed his eyes right now, he could still see you watching him as he sang along to the song for the very first time, your hands intertwined on the pillows on your bed. You had always looked at him with something magical in your gaze, and he remembered how long it took for him to get used to maintaining eye contact with you without feeling dizzy.

I still believe, it’s you and me ‘til the end of time.

He reached Paramore’s “The Only Exception” shortly after that, and had to play it twice because the first listen had emptied his thoughts. You’ve added the song—with a line that he could not get through without his breath hitching: “That was the day that I promised I’d never sing of love if it does not exist, but darling, you are the only exception”—at least a month before he first told you he loved you under a canopy of blooming cherry blossoms.

There was also an Architects song on your playlist right after that—“I used to think that I knew better than those around me, but something changed along the way, and you’re the reason I’m wanting to stay”—and he remembered, right away, all the fears the two of you used to have, and all the fears you were still fighting to this day. You had never been sure if you believed in love, and he struggled to accept that he didn’t need to work in order to deserve love. But all of that had seemed trivial back then, almost irrelevant when you were staying up until the sunrise in your dorm room, your eyes bright, your hearts awake. Jungkook could tell, as he listened to your playlist, that you were already in love.

Your communication used to be so effortless back then. It only became harder to keep talking to each other when your relationship grew into the most meaningful aspect of your lives. The fear of damaging it made you both retreat into silence.

Now, you had both grown enough to understand that it wasn’t silence that saved a relationship; it was the willingness to talk about it.

There were a few Reconnaissance songs in your playlist, too, and Jungkook smiled again, knowing he was the reason you’d added them. He remembered the excitement of attending the band’s show for the first time. You’d been there with him, even though you hadn’t heard their music before, and he’d felt elated when you admitted how much you enjoyed it.

It would be beautiful, Jungkook thought in a sudden moment of solemn reflection, if you went on to manage Reconnaissance now. But it’d be equally as beautiful if you stayed with him, allowing Rated Riot to surpass the one band that he had admired for most of his life.

Checking the time on the corner of his screen, Jungkook concluded that your meeting must have already started. Taking a deep breath, he skipped the next few Reconnaissance songs.

Def Leppard’s “When Love And Hate Collide” played next, and Jungkook chuckled at the memory of your first Valentine’s Day together. You had gone to a restaurant for dinner, and you’d both had a little too much wine. This song had started to play and despite hearing it for the first time, he tried very hard to serenade you from across the table: “one night alone is like a year without you, baby.” His tongue kept getting caught on his teeth as he tried to guess the next lyrics, but you were making half-hearted attempts to shush him as you laughed, and he silently vowed to spend every Valentine’s Day with you for the rest of his life.

He doubted he grasped how serious he was about this promise back then. There were only two Valentine’s Days that he had to survive without you—and he drank them both away, understandably—but since you re-entered his life, he had kept his word.

He was drunk when he sent you flowers for Valentine’s Day that first February after you started to work with Rated Riot. He was rarely sober at the time, so this wasn’t unusual, but he had enough brain to leave an anonymous note with the flowers. He knew you might quit on the spot if you learned that the bouquet of roses was from him.

Honestly, he couldn’t explain why he felt compelled to send you the flowers at all. You were broken up for two years at that point, and he prided himself on having moved on. But then he sent you another bouquet the next Valentine’s Day, just a few months before the start of this tour. He didn’t know why he did it that time, either.

He told himself that it was tradition, ignoring the blatant truth that he was still excessively in love with you. Claiming that this was just a habit was simply a good way to justify his actions to himself.

You never mentioned anything, so he assumed you never suspected him to be behind the flowers—and he was relieved. He knew he would have had to downplay it if you confronted him about it, and he didn’t want to. He wasn’t joking. He’d meant every stem, every sharp thorn, and every scarlet petal.

An overwhelming number of Arctic Monkeys songs in your playlist followed your first spring together: double-dates with Kihyun and Chloé, meeting each other’s families, attending campus parties together, and spending nights in your dorm room where you’d study and he’d do everything to distract you.

The lyrics of “R U Mine?”—“Unfair we’re not somewhere misbehaving for days”—reminded him of one night when the two of you were smoking outside of a party, on the corner of the library building. You had used his lighter to burn the first letters of your names on the wall, with a heart in between. You were drunk, of course, but this was the first time he’d seen you break the campus rules by defacing a public building.

A few months later, when you were walking around campus with Kihyun and Chloé, Kihyun had spotted the two initials on the wall of the library, and paused.

“Wait,” he’d said, eyeing the burn marks, “this kind of looks like—”

“Yeah, I did that,” you’d cut him off, and walked away without looking back.

Surprised, Kihyun turned to him, and Jungkook grinned proudly, running to catch up with you. He knew, at that moment, that he would be truly, wholeheartedly yours forever.

Your summer roadtrip songs came next in your playlist, and Jungkook could no longer sit idly as he listened to Papa Roach’s, “you know I love it when you’re down on your knees, and I’m a junkie for the way that you please.” He remembered you singing along and stealing kisses as he drove the two of you down coastal roads in a rental car. He remembered chasing you down the beach, stumbling over abandoned sandcastles, and washing the sand off your skin every night. He remembered every moment vividly and he was very close to tearing the mattress with his nostalgic bouncing.

Bring Me The Horizon’s “Follow You” marked your first anniversary, and it was easily one of the most played songs during your relationship. Jungkook remembered having a dream, months before your anniversary, about renting a convertible and taking you to a restaurant that he definitely couldn’t afford. And he made it happen—even despite some unexpected challenges along the way, like your battle with bugs and the wind in the car. Still, you managed to arrive at the restaurant two minutes before your reservation was cancelled. And all that this experience taught him was that he was perfect with anything, no matter how messy and downright chaotic, as long as you were with him.

So you can drag me through hell, if it meant I could hold your hand.

The Ramones’ “Do You Wanna Dance?” took him back to the days in your dorm room when you were practically living together: you’d come back after class and spend the afternoon eating snacks, watching films, sometimes going out to get groceries and drinks. And you’d dance a lot—although, at first, you merely nodded your head or tapped your feet while he got entangled in the curtains with his ridiculous, extravagant moves. He always pulled you in to join him, sooner or later. And despite your accidental kicks to his shins, you soon found yourself at complete ease. You had never thought you’d dance without getting drunk first, and Jungkook took pride in pushing you out of your comfort zone. He hadn’t yet realised—not fully—that he was your comfort zone.

Do you wanna dance and hold my hand? Tell me, baby, I’m your lover man.

You added Fall Out Boy’s “Homesick At Space Camp” to your playlist during your hospital stay six years ago, and Jungkook had to remind his heart to keep beating as he listened to the song. You had argued so much back then—you were mad that he’d wasted his time by calling an ambulance for you, and he was mad that he had no other choice. You were mad that he’d failed his exam, and he was mad that he couldn’t tell you the real reason he’d failed. But the underlying truth behind all those arguments was that you both cared about each other too much.

The song also reminded him of you fainting on this tour. You protested and complained that time, too. But you’d stayed in bed. You’d listened. And you’d finally accepted, he could tell, how much your well-being mattered to him, and how deeply he regretted taking you for granted.

My smile’s an open wound without you.

Hearing Backstreet Boys in your playlist next made him shake his head to himself. He couldn’t escape the nightmares from the birthday party when he’d performed “As Long As You Love Me”, but he supposed he didn’t really want to escape that much anyway. This night had brought you so much joy. Really, that was the only reason he sang that song for you—he saw the way your eyes glittered, the way you clapped your hands and laughed as he set up the chair for his performance. He would have done far stupider things to see you laugh like that again.

Several more Architects songs, vastly different from the ones he heard before, marked your second Valentine’s Day. That was the year he gave himself a concussion and earned a month-long suspension for “stealing” the laboratory projector. You’d spent that month together in your dorm, and even despite his many blunders, Jungkook could sense from the songs in your playlist that your relationship was still going well.

He scrolled past several uplifting dance hits and slower love ballads, listening to a few seconds of each—just so he could taste the memories of those days on his tongue. Just so he could remember humming these songs in your ear before you fell asleep on his bed, your feet cold against his ankles. And he felt his chest expand at the thought that you were listening to these same songs without him, too. It thrilled him to imagine that you thought of him before falling asleep as often as he’d thought of you.

He found many songs that his grandmother had recommended in your playlist, and his heart warmed as he played Black Sabbath’s “Symptom of the Universe”, Mötley Crüe’s “Helter Skelter”, Corrosion of Conformity’s “Albatross” and several others that the two of you had come to love. He recalled how touched his grandmother had been—almost as much as he was—when she saw your eyes light up at her music collection. You had earned her endless affection when you complimented her taste in music and wrote down the song titles to look them up later.

Jungkook lingered on the first of the several Type O Negative tracks in your playlist, reminiscing about the countless moments when he felt your weight behind him on one of the motorcycles he’d borrowed from Sid to take you on a ride. Although you never played music on his bike, certain songs still revoked memories of your hands tightening around his waist as he accelerated, the city lights blending into a blur around you, the wind catching your hair when he helped you remove your helmet.

Now close those eyes and let me love you to death.

Sleeping with Sirens’ “All My Heart” brought back the summer when he had dyed his hair pink. That summer, the two of you travelled across the country to see Reconnaissance live for the third time. That same summer, you bought him the “JK” keychain (he’d already reattached it to the keys to his Katana). He played basketball with your little brother that summer, too, always letting him win. Actually, he would never admit this out loud, but he’d stopped holding back eventually, because your brother proved to be exceptionally—unfairly, even—skilled. Jungkook had joked and laughed, and hoped you would think he was missing his shots on purpose.

Those late summers we may stay up talking all night. I ask, “you think we’ll ever make it?”, you say, “I’m sure, if it’s right.”

Next came I See Stars’ cover of “Latch”, and Jungkook felt his smile grow wider. You fell in love with the song on your second anniversary when both of you had the flu and spent that entire week in bed in your dorm room. Technically, Jungkook had gotten sick first—but you refused to leave his side, and the two of you ended up celebrating the occasion with cough drops and swollen lymph nodes. You weren’t awake enough to watch any films that week, but you were just lucid enough to listen to music and cough rhythmically.

Now I’ve got you in my space, I won’t let go of you. Got you shackled in my embrace, I’m latching onto you.

He closed his eyes as he listened to the songs that followed, feeling himself return to the days you’d spent baking in the cramped kitchen of his dormitory, the long roads home you’d taken after class just to spend more time together, the many instruments you’d tried to learn and failed miserably.

These were the days you’d wait for him before classes with two paper cups of coffee. The days you’d send him silly selfies and threaten murder if he kept them (he kept them). The days you’d throw notes at him in the middle of your shared lectures, intentionally aiming for his head: you’d draw a heart in the middle of the paper, and nothing else. These were the days that he dreamed about, years later, when he was missing you too much to breathe.

But then, looking down as though caught in some crime, Jungkook realised that there was something else in between these memories. There were nights he’d spend drinking and drag-racing with Sid and the others. There were arguments with you and childish silent treatments. He remembered how much time he’d spent trying to find a way to make it up to you, but never actually did.

Nothing But Thieves began to play “Afterlife” on your playlist, and it reminded Jungkook of the day you went with him to get his first tattoo. He’d gone out with Sid the night before—he usually did back then—and the two of you had argued about it again. But despite the tension, you’d grabbed your bag and left for the tattoo parlour with him.

Looking back now, he realised—with a violent stab in his heart—that this might have been the last good moment in your relationship before it all fell apart around you. You had laughed and teased him that whole day, but he couldn’t forget the look on your face after he’d walked you home later. He couldn’t even touch you then because he was carrying his gym bag in his left hand, and his right one was bandaged to protect the fresh ink.

“You’ll take care of it, right?” you’d asked him outside of your dorm. “Don’t get an infection.”

“I’m not sure I’ll manage,” he’d teased. “You might have to keep an eye on me.”

And you’d smiled, but it hadn’t quite reached your eyes. You’d promised to come over and look at the tattoo for him—and you had, every day—but your voice sounded weary. He’d kissed you before leaving, and you’d kissed him back, but your lips quivered when you pulled away.

He’d seen all the signs, but he had not known what to do.

It was only ever you, it was only ever you, my baby. It feels like a lifetime, oh God, I don’t think I could do two.

Your third-anniversary song was Asking Alexandria’s “I Won’t Give In.” It was significantly less happy compared to some of the previous songs, but your third anniversary was significantly less happy, too. Jungkook had wanted to make it special for you—to make up for all the days that weren’t—so he bought tickets to a special screening of Howl’s Moving Castle at the small cinema outside of campus. He persuaded the lady at the ticket office not to sell any other tickets with a heart-wrenching story about how he was trying to save his relationship—in retrospect, he didn’t think he was lying—so it’d just be the two of you in the theatre.

He had brought you wildflowers that he’d picked himself because he only remembered the flowers halfway to your house. But he had a bruise running alongside his forearm from where he had driven the car that Sid had gifted him into the metal fence of an abandoned factory, and you understood right away what he’d been doing that whole week. You saw his bruises, saw the incessant messages lighting up his phone, and sighed, telling him that you were too tired to go out tonight.

“Maybe another time,” you’d said.

“But,” he’d tried to argue, his voice a whisper, “it’s our anniversary.”

“I know,” you’d replied, and he saw the regret in your eyes when you stopped avoiding his gaze for a second. “Maybe we could stay here instead, and—”

His phone had started to vibrate, cutting you off. He’d glanced at Sid’s name on his screen, then put his phone away.

“Sorry,” he’d said, ignoring the call. “We made plans to meet up later, but Sid can’t tell the time.”

He hadn’t even realised what he’d said—not even when you swallowed and clenched your jaw.

“You’re meeting later?” you’d asked.

“Yeah, but just for a few hour—”

“It’s okay,” you’d said. “You can go ahead and meet up now. I don’t feel like doing much today anyway.”

He had started to protest, of course. He had enough sense to understand that it wasn’t right, he couldn’t just go out with Sid on your anniversary without celebrating it with you first. But you’d closed the door in his face—gently, but the sound of the lock clicking still echoed in his head years later.

When this night returned to haunt his dreams, Jungkook always knocked on your door again. He begged and demanded you let him back inside. He stayed outside your door the whole night, waiting for you to come out.

He’d done none of that back then. He’d turned around and answered Sid’s call.

I gave you everything, I never thought we would end up like this. I gave you everything, if I can’t let you go, save me, please.

Jungkook could see now that he had reached the point in the playlist where every track worked like kerosene on his burning skin. He listened to several Bullet For My Valentine and Invent Animate songs, skipping them after the first verse, not even making it to the chorus, because he knew what the lyrics reminded him of, and he did not want to remember.

However, a Biffy Clyro song that you’d added to your playlist a few days after your break-up made him turn on his back on the bed, every muscle in his body tensed. He would listen to this one because he had to—even though he knew the lyrics by heart.

You can’t understand that I won’t leave ‘til we’re finished here, and then you’ll find out where it all went wrong.

It really did take him years to understand. You’d stayed with him through entire weeks of silence, through numerous break-up songs, and he had been too blind, too paralysed—too fucking distracted—to do anything. He’d convinced himself that if he didn’t acknowledge your troubles, the two of you would be okay. He hadn’t even bothered to think about how bad these troubles were.

You were hoping you’d be okay, too. And you stayed until it was clear that you wouldn’t be.

Your playlist changed after the two of you broke up. And, as he scrolled down a bit, Jungkook noticed a pattern. He doubted you were aware of it, but the songs seemed to progress, like a true textbook case, right through the stages of grief. And his heart sank when he realised that the first stage—Denial—had started while you were still together.

Asking Alexandria’s “Killing You” was the start of the Anger stage, and Jungkook forced himself to listen to at least half of each song, his jaw tightening with every lyric that ripped another splinter from his heart.

Three years of torment and torturous love, stained with tears and mistrust, enough is enough.

As your playlist reached the Bargaining stage, Jungkook felt the room closing in on him. Bad Omens began to sing “The Letdown” and he forced himself to sit up again. This was the song that he’d spent many sleepless nights praying to.

He listened to it now and realised that he’d never gone through Denial or Anger. You’d left him and he moved right into Bargaining, and he’d stayed there for the entirety of those four years that he wasn’t with you.

If I could make it simpler, if I could get back to the start, I would keep you even closer so that I could hear your heart.

He tried to tally up the amount of alcohol he’d consumed through those years without you, and the amount he’d consumed after you started to work with Rated Riot.

And he realised now that a subconscious part of him might have been conditioned into believing that if he drank too much—if he drank just enough for it to be too much—then Sid would call you to pick him up, and you’d come.

So he drank a lot.

There was one night in particular when his drinking nearly killed him: he’d assumed you were out on a date with someone else and he abruptly lost all purpose. Sid had called you that night—of course—and you came to pick him up—of course. Jungkook slurred through a “where were you?” that he knew he had no right to ask you, and you’d said, “I had dinner with the executives. We were discussing your band.” He couldn’t remember what happened next; he must have blacked out. He was hungover for three days straight after that—and you yelled at him every day for the next two weeks—but he felt ridiculously relieved.

Your playlist transitioned into Depression and the air around him thickened. Jungkook listened to Nothing But Thieves again, and he thought he could feel the cold, tiled floors of his bathroom under his feet—the bathroom where he’d woken up on so many afternoons, his head resting against the porcelain of the toilet, the room spinning out of control around him. It used to take him about three seconds to recognise his surroundings and remember the state that his life was in, and he would start seeking a remedy for his throbbing sobriety again.

And now it hurts what we’ve become ‘cause you taught me how to love. It’s me who taught you how to stop.

Your playlist continued and Jungkook recognised fragments of his life—both, after your break-up, and after you’ve started to work together—in every song that played next, starting from blink-182—“I feel like the moon is spinning off into outer space without you, the universe an empty place without you”—moving into Slipknot—“I still press your letters to my lips and cherish them in parts of me that savour every kiss. I couldn’t face a life without your light, but all of that was ripped apart when you refused to fight”—and finishing with Bon Jovi—“It’s been raining since you left me, now I’m drowning in the flood, you see, I’ve always been a fighter, but without you, I give up.”

These were the songs that you used to listen to together, some of them not memorable enough to leave a lasting impression, others not reflecting your feelings at the time. You didn’t add them to your playlist until after you broke up, and the lyrics started to resonate. Jungkook had listened to the same songs when he couldn’t sleep—not to cure his insomnia, but to drown out his thoughts. To have someone else narrate his memories so he wouldn’t have to listen to himself.

It dawned on him just then that you’d come full circle: from waiting a year to talk about your crushes on each other, to waiting several years to talk about all the years that you’d spent not talking to each other.

Swallowing hard, Jungkook continued. He listened to Sleep Token’s “Blood Sport”—“Even if the sky cracks in mourning and the heavens just won’t open up for me, would you invite me in again?”—and hesitated here, afraid of the next song. Here, you were still hopeful. Still bargaining. He didn’t think he was ready to find Acceptance in your playlist.

But “Patience” by Guns N’ Roses followed up next—“If I can’t have you right now, I’ll wait, dear”—and Jungkook started to fidget. He only listened to a few seconds of the song, just long enough to brace himself, and then scrolled down to the very end of your playlist.

He paused it immediately.

The final song on your playlist was “Hollow Crown” by Architects. You’ve added it eleven days before he saw you in the meeting room at Jett Records, with CJ’s arm around your shoulders as he introduced you to Jungkook as Rated Riot’s new manager.

These wounds have bled and pages fly by, the lyrics of the song went. I need to feel you right by my side.

It was truly incredible how quickly the song healed his heart, how quickly it dispelled the thick tar of dread in his stomach—because it wasn’t Acceptance that finished your playlist. It was the same otherworldly sentiment—the one you had refused to name or even acknowledge for years—that started the playlist, too.

You didn’t add any more songs after you started to work together, but you didn’t have to. Jungkook knew what happened next. And now he knew that you’d been waiting for him for as long as he’d been waiting for you.

His phone suddenly vibrated in his hand, and he jumped up, exiting the Spotify app in surprise. It was a text from you, and he stood up immediately.

You were saying you’d meet him in the lobby in half an hour, but he couldn’t sit still for that long.

He went down to wait for you.

Jungkook wasn’t in the lobby when you arrived. You saw him in the courtyard through the window, carefully balancing on the edge of the decorative circle in the stone tiles.

When he caught sight of you in his peripheral vision, he stopped and you paused in the doorway of the hotel, too. The sunbeams danced in his eyes when he turned to you, the silver piercing glinting against his lip as his smile stretched.

You were so in love with him that it shouldn’t have been possible.

He waited for approximately a quarter of a second once he saw you take a step towards him—a reaction speed that could have made Formula One drivers envious—before breaking into a sprint towards you. He met you halfway and wrapped his arms around your waist in a tight embrace that nearly knocked you both to the floor.

He held you without saying one word for an obscene amount of time. He had always struggled to describe what he was feeling, but he usually tried to find something to say anyway. Now he wasn’t trying anymore—and all of his feelings had never been louder.

“You listened to my playlist, I take it,” you said, one hand tracing the contours of his back, the other tangled in the edges of his hair.

Jungkook nodded, attempting to respond, but the wind and the roughness of your jacket against his cheek swallowed his words. So, he held onto you tighter, thinking, all the while, that the only true peace he was able to find in his life was with you. And he’d been scared for so long—terrified right out of his mind—that he would never feel this peace again. That he would never feel you again.

“Why didn’t you show it to me before?” he asked, his hesitant voice reaching you in the form of shivers on your spine.

You gave a careful shrug.

“It’s embarrassing,” you said—but your arms remained around him in the middle of the courtyard, in plain view for everyone inside the hotel to see, and it was a little hard to believe that there was anything you wouldn’t have done with him or for him, embarrassed or not.

He lifted his head to meet your gaze, a quizzical eyebrow arched on his otherwise warm features. “Loving me is embarrassing?”

You smiled, lowering your hands from his hair to the back of the silver chain around his neck.

“No,” you said. “Pining over you is.”

He observed you for a moment, trying to read your expression to gauge how your meeting went without having to ask. You weren’t saying anything, and he immediately assumed the worst.

Taking a deep breath, he stepped back, but kept his hand on your elbow to keep touching you, however faintly.

“So, how was it?” he asked. “When are you leaving?”

He had only given you one option, but he appeared to dread the thought of you confirming his fears.

“Never,” you said, a little amused by his extreme pessimism. “Can you wait that long?”

The sudden fire in his eyes suited him better than any piece of clothing or expensive jewellery ever could.

“Yeah?” he asked, returning to his spot right in front of you, his chest brushing against yours.

“Yeah,” you confirmed with a smile that he’d been looking forward to for days. “I’ve signed the new contract. The lawyers are staying here to attend your show. It looks like we’re taking over the world. Life is good.”

“Fuck yeah, life is good!” he shouted, the happiness in his voice reverberating off the buildings around you.

His relief was immense and almost impossible to contain within. You’d already promised him that you’d stay together no matter what happened today, but he wanted you here. And you were here. And now he could finally start righting his wrongs and creating new playlists with you—ones that wouldn’t hurt to listen to years later.

Before you could say anything, Jungkook sneaked his arms around your waist again and lifted you slightly off the ground—just enough to spin you around in a dizzying, ecstatic circle.

“Wait, wait, wait—” you pleaded, but your surprised laughter sent his heart straight past heaven, and he could not wait. “Th-the email. Why didn’t you tell me anything?”

He put you down but kept his hands on your waist to steady you.

“What emai—oh.” His gaze drifted past you, then dropped to the ground. “They got it, then?”

You nodded. “They got it.”

“I assume it made no difference.”

“It made a difference,” you said because that email was the only thing from that meeting that you wanted to remember. Jungkook glanced at you, but the gratitude in your eyes was so intense that he looked away again. “It could have been a huge risk. Why did you do that?”

He shrugged. It was an easy decision. No one in the band had objected when Yoongi suggested it before the last show in London. They hoped that the threat of leaving would be enough, but if it came to it, they were prepared to actually leave the label with you.

“I go where you go,” he said with a soft smile, repeating the words you’d said to him on the plane to Paris. “And my band and I are a package deal.”

You grinned, and even though the sky above you was now the colour of muddy, melted ice—a clear reminder that summer was over—you felt like you had just emerged from a dreadfully long and stressful hibernation. Your skin tingled with an almost insatiable urge to experience it all: the rain, the sunshine, and all that came in between.

“Thank you,” you said. “I want to stay with all of you.”

“Yeah?” He was close enough to touch your forehead with his, his lips curling into a smirk. “But with me the most, right?”

You took advantage of the moment when he glanced down to your lips and leaned in to kiss him—for just a second, before you pulled back to see the surprised wonder in his eyes.

“Of course,” you said. “You’ve always been my favourite.”

In an instant, Jungkook found himself back there again—somewhere in the days between Bad Omens and Biffy Clyro—dancing on the creaking floors of your dorm room, sneaking away to a random balcony during campus parties to steal a moment alone with you, and making up scenarios of what your future together would look like.

He realised that the two of you had never truly left those days; you’ve merely paused them. But the music—your music, together—continued to play.

In a split second, he pulled you as close to himself as he could, and pressed his lips to yours in a proper kiss. Your hands came to rest on his chest as you kissed him back, your taste so captivating, so completely tempting, that he lost several heartbeats on your tongue. He knew that your kiss would kill him one of these days, and he pitied everyone who would keep living.

“Oh!” you gasped suddenly, breaking the kiss and nearly causing him to flinch. He loosened his hold, alarmed. “The label—they thought we were together this whole time, by the way.”

Jungkook blinked, then frowned, then blinked a few more times—frozen for one, two, three seconds before taking a cautious step away from you.

He regarded you with scepticism for a long minute. Then his left eye twitched.

“What?” he asked.

You bit your lip, nodding at the absurdity. “I know.”

Jungkook continued to look like he had just witnessed the second coming of Christ, and it wasn’t quite what he expected.

“So, what was all of this for—”

“I don’t know,” you replied, the clutches of anxiety in your stomach finally easing. “A good song came out of it all, though.”

“A good so—yeah, and a heightened risk of a heart attack at twenty-six,” he snapped, furrowing his eyebrows again. “How do—what do you mean they thought we were—how? The whole time?”

“Yeah.”

He began to pace around you in the courtyard, his hands rising higher and higher with each attempt at a sentence. He seemed to be talking to spirits that only he could see.

“And they—and you didn’t—so we could have just—”

You nodded empathetically. “Mhmm. Seems so.”

He finally stopped and turned to you. “Am I asleep right now? Is this a joke?”

“No, they knew about it all along,” you said. “Actually, it gets worse. It seems that CJ might have hired me for Rated Riot precisely because we had dated.”

Jungkook widened his eyes for only a moment, still appearing a little perplexed, but no longer outraged. He turned away, lost in thought all of a sudden, and poked a loose tile with the edge of his boot.

“What’s—what are you thinking?” you asked, a little concerned about his abrupt silence.

“I—nothing. I’m just—that reminded me of something,” he replied, sliding his hands into the front pockets of his jeans. “After we signed with Jett Records, there was this, I don’t know, weird moment. We came in for our first formal meeting with CJ, and he kept staring at me. The band had jokingly told him that I was the lead songwriter—which I’m definitely not—so I assumed that was the reason. And then, as we were leaving the room, he shook my hand for a whole minute and said, “I have incredible things planned for you. Let’s make that “Haunting” Part Two happen, yeah?” I didn’t think much of it at the time, but it—I don’t know.”

You didn’t like how quickly Jungkook offered a story that supported everything that Reggie and Duke had told you earlier today, and you frowned, struggling to grasp the multitude of thoughts and questions in your mind.

“That was—“Haunting” was the first Rated Riot song that CJ heard,” Jungkook added.

Although he’d written this song to be as inconspicuous as possible, he never tried to hide that it was about you—if people asked. And CJ had asked.

Jungkook had been vague that time, claiming it was about “someone important” to him, but perhaps CJ got more curious about the meaning of the song than he’d initially let on. Perhaps he’d done additional research.

“It’s the song that made him want to meet the band,” Jungkook continued. “H-he could have—if he knew about us, and he knew that I wrote “Haunting” about you, then he might have hired you for me to—so that you and I—”

“He hired me to give you a jolt,” you finished, “hoping it would inspire you to write songs that would bring the label as much money as he thought “Haunting” would have brought.”

Jungkook let out a breath. “Yeah. That—that’s kind of fucked up.”

You nodded. That was the regular way to describe this situation – “fucked up.” But you’ve learnt today that, in business, they called it “profitable.”

Although a lot of your previous anxiety was now replaced with irritation, your relief still lingered. CJ’s plotting had caught you off guard, but ultimately, you were right where you wanted to be, and nothing could change that.

“I had some questions about why they contacted me four—five?—months before you even released your debut album,” you said, “but I—well, you know. I was just happy to stop fillng spreadsheets and do some actual work. Even if it meant driving you to the studio every morning, and back home every night. Did you—did you even add any new songs or make any changes to the album after I started to work with you? You said you had most of it done by that point anyway.”

Jungkook swallowed and did not respond.

You were right, the album was mostly finished when CJ offered you to work with Rated Riot that July, but Jungkook wrote eight new songs in the first week of working with you. Three of them made it to the final cut of the album.

“Shit,” you said, his silence a good enough answer. Half-joking to counter your discomfort, you added, “so, it wasn’t destiny, then. It was CJ.”

Jungkook snorted humourlessly. “Yeah. What a waste of fucking time, though. All the fucking—all this time we worried. And we could have just—wow. We could have just fucking been together.”

That was true, you would have saved a lot of energy if you didn’t have to worry about telling the label about your relationship. But you weren’t sure that it would have helped you stop ignoring each other and yourselves.

If you hadn’t received the trial by fire on this tour, if all your fears and insecurities hadn’t been exposed, you and Jungkook likely wouldn’t have ended up here.

“Yeah, this is…” you faltered, searching for the right word. “This is some heavy shit to process right now, but—I mean, we’re fine. We’re okay. You know? We made it this fucking far.”

The courtyard was empty except for a few pigeons pecking at the dark rocks of a flower garden nearby. Jungkook counted the pavement tiles beneath your sneakers before looking up.

“I’m still having a crisis,” he decided.

You laughed—in a way that he didn’t think he’d ever hear you laugh again, and it sounded like a promise to him. A reassurance that things wouldn’t have to go back to the way they once were, because they were better now. In spite of everything, you were better now.

You took his hand and stepped around him towards the street. “Come on. We’ll be fine. Let’s get something to eat.”

“No, but—we wasted so much time!” he protested, but followed you down the courtyard anyway. It was a reflex more than a conscious effort: you went, and he followed. He was far from being embarrassed about others knowing how completely in love with you—whipped, they would have said—he was.

“We didn’t,” you said. “We still have plenty of time.”

“Not unless I drop dead right now,” he mumbled, stubborn.

“I’d prefer it if you didn’t,” you returned. “I quite enjoy having you alive.”

You felt a tug on your hand when Jungkook suddenly stopped walking. Despite your raised eyebrows, he held your hand and simply watched you for a minute, not explaining his thoughts.

“Do you remember,” he said then, “when we were in Amsterdam, and I asked if you thought we’d ever be here?”

You nodded, not yet following his train of thought.

“What about this?” he asked.

“Paris?”

“No.” He shook his head. “Us. Did you ever imagine we’d still be together, seven years after we met? Did you imagine that some old guy would start an entertainment company, and seek us both out, one after the other, so we could work together and make him money?”

You smiled wryly at the quick—and very accurate—summary. But there wasn’t much to think about here, not really. There was a reason you held onto this relationship for so long that first time, even after it became clear that it was coming to an end.

“I didn’t expect the old guy,” you said. “But I did imagine us together.”

“Despite everything that happened,” he continued, “and every wrong decision that we made over those years?”

You swallowed, finding everything that he’d heard in your playlist reflected in his question. You understood why he needed to ask, but you had no doubts about your answer.

There were times, years before you met him, when you’d feel an abrupt longing—so intense that it would lock you in bed, squirming desperately as you tried to shake yourself out of it. There was no apparent reason for it, no action on your part that could have explained the oppressive heartache that felt a lot like forceful separation from something crucial for your survival. Your heart screamed for it back.

You thought you were in love with him before you even met him.

“Everything that happened still led us here,” you said slowly—unaware that Jungkook was holding his breath as he waited for your answer. “Every time we messed up, every time something went wrong, we were on the way here. And—I mean, I don’t know. I think we would have ended up here one way or another. Actually, it might have taken us longer to get here if everything that backfired on us hadn’t backfired. You know what I mean? We’re a mess.”

His grip on your hand tightened as he watched the smile on your face. He remembered this—you telling him what a mess the two of you were when he kissed you outside of the hotel on your first night in London, right after you’d decided to be friends.

“Do you really think that,” he asked, “or are you just saying it so I don’t have a heart attack?”

You squeezed his hand back.

“I do really think that,” you said. “But also, please don’t have a heart attack.”

Finally allowing himself to breathe, he took a step closer to you. He lifted his hand—the one holding yours—to his chest, and leaned in to kiss you. You could feel his heartbeat under your fingertips when your lips touched, the warmth of his hands melding into yours.

“I love you,” he said, slowly pulling back.

“I love you,” you replied and leaned in to touch his lips with yours again.

Hearing these words over and over again—and feeling you draw him closer to prolong the kiss over and over again, too—seemed like a prospect so delightful that he feared it was a little manic. He was convinced there were fairy lights beneath his skin and fireworks in his chest.

He kissed you fervently, but quickly. A moment later, he was already pulling away and leading you towards the pedestrian crossing.

“Let’s get coffee,” he said in response to the disappointment in your eyes.

“Wait,” you resisted his pull, attempting to slow down his brisk pace, “what’s the rush now?”

“The label thought we were together for two years,” he explained, his grip firm as he paused at the busy street, waited for the light to change, then guided you across it. “We have so much to do to make up for lost time.”

You stepped over the curb but still struggled to catch up as he careened down the street. “And you plan to do all that in one day? Starting from this?”

“This is not even the beginning of what I plan to do,” he replied, winking at you over his shoulder. “If you know what I—”

“If you finish that sentence,” you warned, “we’re going to have our first fight as a couple.”

“Oh, so many new firsts to experience.” He sighed wistfully. Your eyebrows remained comfortably raised as you listened to the reminiscent tone in his voice. “Do you remember our actual first fight as a couple?”

“No,” you replied. “We had so many.”

“Right, but the very first one?” he prodded, finally slowing down so you could match his pace. “I broke your window. You threw a potted plant at me.”

You gasped in protest. You remembered the broken window: it was the result of a three-night drinking binge that he went on without you, only to make a dramatic return through your fire escape, smashing the glass of your window with his elbow. It was an accident, he’d meant to open it the regular way, but he figured this would work, too.

“I did no such thing,” you said.

“You did!” he argued, amused by your selective memory. He was drunk that night, but he remembered the flying pot—and what remained of it after it hit the wall behind him. “It was an Aloe, I think.”

“I’d never throw a plant at you,” you insisted. “I love my plants.”

He looked at you, offended. “Okay. Hello? I’m your boyfriend.”

“I know,” you said, your lips curving into a smile. “Somehow, you require a lot more maintenance than plants.”

“Ah, now I see your point,” he said, turning back to face the street ahead, “we really are about to have our first fight as a couple.”

You chuckled and tugged on his hand to indicate the signboard of a café in the building on your right. “Coffee first?”

“Oh, yeah.” He took a step back to return to your side and kissed your cheek. “Definitely.”

You managed to organise a quick meeting before the show that night to officially announce your promotion and all that it meant for the band. You didn’t get to mention the new opening act, however, because the members erupted into deafening cheers.

Their follow-up reactions—after you brought up the email they had sent to the label—seemed almost comical. All four of them stopped shouting as if on cue and glanced around the room, avoiding your eye and desperately feigning nonchalance.

“We—we’re family,” Yoongi finally said. He struggled to mask his discomfort at your gratitude the most, because you looked at him the most—he was the one who had suggested the email. “One for all, and all for one. Or whatever.”

You nodded with a grin. “Or whatever.”

Hoseok was the first to extend his hand, and the rest of the band followed, stacking their hands on top of each other. You placed yours on Jungkook’s, and with a loud battle cry—an anthem for the band, at this point—all five of you broke apart. The boys hurried out of the room to escape any more sentimental conversations and to get ready for the show.

The first concert in Paris was a dizzying spectacle of flashing lights and intoxicating sounds. You were a little astounded at how Rated Riot still managed to captivate you as if every night was your first time watching them live.

However, for the first time since the start of this tour—it was a miracle this hadn’t happened before, actually—two people in the audience fainted.

You had to run backstage to speak with the venue staff and demand air conditioning, then climb up to the side of the stage to warn the band to control the pit. It was the rhythm section intermission—where Taehyung and Hoseok engaged the audience with sounds that were nearly hallucinogenic—and the barricade was shaking.

You attempted to get Yoongi’s attention because he was the closest to you. But it was Jungkook who noticed you first, climbing off Hoseok’s podium and jogging over to you. You gave him a quick update on the situation and asked him to keep an eye on the crowds. This wasn’t the first time the show got a little too hot, and there were enough paramedics available for first aid, but you still wanted to prevent future accidents.

Jungkook nodded, then turned back to the stage—but stopped, suddenly, as though realising something. You barely managed to part your lips in confusion when he walked back to you in three determined strides, gently lifted your chin and pulled you in for a quick kiss. Then, just as swiftly, he returned to the front of the stage to thundering screams from the audience.

Stunned, you watched Jungkook fall to his knees in dramatic support of the band’s instrumental break. He raised his head to look at you, very proud to be able to do something that caused the dazed look in your eyes, and it took you another minute to force yourself to turn around and return backstage.

Fortunately, by the time the show ended, everyone was alive and well.

You were late to the gathering backstage because you had stayed behind to listen to Seokjin yell—he claimed it was a “peaceful lecture”—at the venue staff about cutting off the air conditioning in the middle of the show. You had to gently coax him to let it go when the local stagehands began to respond to him in aggressive French.

Upon returning to the waiting area, you both noticed that Rated Riot’s dressing room was eerily quiet. Naturally, you started to worry that someone in the band had killed each other. But once you two peered through the gap in the door, you discovered something worse: Hoseok was standing on the table, tapping his lighter against the rim of his glass to get everyone’s attention. He was about to make a toast.

“For those of you who don’t know,” he began as you entered the room, “our manager just got promoted. She’s still our manager, but she’s cooler now. She’s Head Manager.”

Your hopes of finding a drink before you started to feel embarrassed were dashed as the room broke into applause, Namjoon and Jimin leading the way with unnecessary whistling. Cringing into yourself, you nodded in uncomfortable gratitude and made your way to the bottles of beer on the windowsill across the room.

“Our team is expanding,” Yoongi took over then, but he did not join Hoseok on the table, “which naturally, means we’re growing, too. That’s nice and all, but I really hope we can keep fucking drinking like this after every show, even after we sell out Wembley.”

“Wembley next year!” Hoseok cheered, and the rest of the room joined in, raising their glasses. “Here’s to getting drunk every night no matter where the fuck we are!”

It was a loud affair once the band set their contagious excitement loose, but you enjoyed watching their never-ending energy spread to the rest of the room.

“Congratulations,” someone suddenly said from behind you.

It took you a moment to realise that someone had spoken over the noise in the room, and the person touched your shoulder just as you were turning around.

Despite your discomfort with the unexpected attention, you were very happy to see Namjoon. He was beaming proudly as if he was the one who had been promoted tonight, and you extended your hands for a quick hug.

He laughed, patting your back and whispering a soft, “you deserved this.”

“Thank you,” you said, pulling back. “The meeting didn’t go the way I expected, but, uh, all’s well that ends well.”

He nodded, a little dejected. You’d texted him a quick summary of your meeting right after it ended. This time, even Namjoon was surprised about CJ’s ulterior motives.

And he worried, just a little bit, how you would react. He remembered how disappointed you were when you assumed that the offer from Reconnaissance was what prompted CJ to promote you. It had taken you a while to accept that it was your efforts, and not Nick’s call, that had brought you here.

Namjoon knew that there was not much that he could say to convince you of your worth if you focused too much on CJ’s primary reasons for hiring you for the band. It very simply had nothing to do with your skills—but you’ve turned it all around, and every ball that CJ thought he’d hoarded was now in your court.

“Yeah, I’m very excited that you’re staying here,” he said, “but I, um—I’ll admit I don’t know how I feel about CJ exploiting your relationship like that.”

You pursed your lips. You haven’t decided how you felt about that, either. But likely for the first time in your life, you felt too excited for all that was coming to dwell on all that had already happened.

“It was a far stretch, though, wasn’t it?” you said, surprising him with your light tone. “I wonder what he would have done if Jungkook and I had killed each other. Or if every song he wrote was about Sid instead, for example.”

Namjoon smiled, but shook his head. He didn’t think it was a far stretch. He’d encouraged Jungkook to write about real experiences, too, and he was the silent partner on “Haunting.” He’d always known what the song was about.

“It worked out, though,” he said, because you were joking, but he could see the look in your eyes. Being used like this did not feel good. “I mean, for you. Probably not so much for CJ, since you bullied him into giving the band 50% of their last album sales revenue. And then you proved so indispensable that he had to promote you, to stop you from leaving to work with a bigger band.”

You turned away. “I didn’t bully him.”

He grinned, remembering the chaos at the executive meeting after CJ announced the changes in Rated Riot’s royalties. The CEO was on the verge of suggesting that you had a gun pointed to his head to explain why the band’s percentage had doubled.

“I recall there being threats,” Namjoon said.

“Well,” you tsked, “he deserved those. If he only hired me to provoke Jungkook, then he doesn’t deserve the full profit of anything Jungkook creates.”

Namjoon appeared even prouder now, his dimples prominent on his cheeks.

“I agree,” he said. “And you made sure that the label can’t afford to lose you. That sounds like a pretty cool payback for CJ’s questionable decisions.”

You glanced at him, then at the carpeted floors underneath your shoes.

Regardless of how you joined Rated Riot, you and the band have come so far. You’ve endured all that the industry had thrown at you. It shouldn’t have been surprising that the members loved you as much as you loved them, but their support today still felt breathtaking.

It was them, more than anyone, who had made sure that the label couldn’t afford to lose you.

“Did you hear about the email the band sent today?” you asked Namjoon.

“I did,” he confirmed, his grin growing wider still. “They picked up that tactic from you, I think.”

You shook your head, but a small smile had made it to your lips. “No. I think I’m the one who’s learning from them. And from you.”

“Either way,” he said, ignoring the appreciation in your voice and placing a reassuring hand on your shoulder. “You’re all doing great.”

You finally met his warm gaze and nodded. You weren’t going to fight him on this anymore; you knew that Rated Riot had worked hard to get to this point, and you had, too.

Namjoon was thrilled to see this determination in your eyes. You and Rated Riot together were a force to be reckoned with, and he was happy you’ve finally allowed yourself to accept that.

“Thank you,” you said. “Wembley next year, and the rest of the world the year after that, right?”

“Oh.” He laughed and gestured somewhere in the direction of the window, where the collection of alcohol was. “I’ll drink to that.”

A few minutes later, after the Jameson bottles—a kind gift from the promoters—had been emptied, the room seemed to ignite. The people around you began to move much more easily while the music that Seokjin had chosen played in the background, an interesting mix ranging from Kid Cudi’s classics to Coldplay’s latest album.

You and the Rated Riot members found yourselves in a haphazard circle in the centre of the room, each with a new bottle in hand.

“Nick mentioned that some Reconnaissance members are interested in seeing you play,” you told the band. “So now I’m trying to get them in, even though all your upcoming gigs are not just sold out, but already over capacity. That’s a problem I didn’t think we’d have so soo—”

“Hold on, hold on,” Yoongi interjected, holding up his hands and the already-empty bottle of beer. “Reconnaissance want to see us?”

“Yeah,” you confirmed, watching the members exchange glances, their eyes gleaming all of a sudden—another source of light in the room. “I called Nick to decline his offer and update him on everything, and he said—”

“Wait, wait, wait, wait,” Yoongi interrupted again, placing a confused palm over your hand, “so not only did Reconnaissance miss out on the best manager in the industry, but now they want to see us play?”

You caught a glimpse of Jungkook’s grin out of the corner of your eye. He took a quick swig of his Heineken to hide it.

“Well,” you said, still not drunk enough to accept praise without overwhelming discomfort, “if-if that’s how you want to—but yeah. They are coming to see you.”

Yoongi looked simply dumbfounded: his mouth was open, the corners of his lips upturned, his eyes squinting. It was a beautiful sight. You met Luna’s gaze behind Taehyung, and she, too, was beaming as she joined your circle.

For a long time, the members of Rated Riot had measured their success against Reconnaissance at their age, and they had always felt behind. And despite the extended tour, despite moving onto bigger venues, now was the first time when they felt like they were catching up.

“I can’t believe this,” Hoseok said, the exhilaration in his voice prompting the other boys to start high-fiving and exclaiming passionate ‘hell yeah’s.

“Well, so, what—uh, what’s the consensus?” Yoongi asked, snapping out of his daze. “Do we fucking rock or what?”

“Well, I don’t know!” Hoseok played along, the pitch of his passionate voice rising. “Let me check the latest data,” he paused dramatically for two seconds, “alright, the numbers are in. We fucking rock!”

Loud cries followed as the band broke into excited laps around the room. Seokjin, Namjoon, and Jimin—clearly entertained by whatever ritual they’d assumed the band had just held—joined in by attaching themselves to various members: Seokjin picked Jungkook, nearly choking him with an iron grip around his shoulders, while Namjoon and Jimin flocked to Hoseok. Yoongi was already huddled between Taehyung and Luna, repeatedly high-fiving them both.

You were right to feel anxious about telling them about Reconnaissance because the sudden burst of their already intense energy was a little dangerous. Even Yoongi—who was usually as lively as a well-trained turtle—was spinning in the middle of the room. He smacked into you as he whirled, already dizzy, and you grabbed his arm to help him regain his balance.

“I can tell,” you said, chuckling as Yoongi ran a hand through his hair and returned, swaying his drunken hips, to his spot next to Taehyung, “that the rest of this tour is going to be even more exciting.”

“I’m actually not sure if that’s even possible anymore,” Taehyung said, grinning as Yoongi leaned into his side to catch his breath. “After everything that’s already happened.”

He was alluding to more than just the positive excitement of the night—and Jungkook tensed as he made his way to your side—but you pointed your beer bottle at him, disagreeing.

“To be honest, we’re not doing too bad this time around,” you said, moving closer to Jungkook to make room for Maggie and Minjun in your circle. “Last time you guys were on tour, Jungkook got a concussion and dislocated his shoulder.”

Jungkook raised his eyebrows, caught off guard by the sudden attack.

“There was also,” Yoongi said, still breathing heavily, “the dancing incident in New York.”

The rest of the band chuckled—still holding their laughter back—while Jungkook groaned loudly enough for the people outside the room to hear.

“And Taehyung left the tour for a short while,” Hoseok added. “It was a new mess every day.”

You noticed Taehyung’s gaze drop. Luna had mentioned their brief breakup to you before, so you knew why Taehyung had suddenly left that time.

“Jimin got airsick one time, remember?” you offered your own addition to divert the topic. “So, you guys performed without functioning in-ears. Was that in Boston? You—”

“Oh my God, yes,” Maggie joined in, gripping your forearm in her excitement at the memory. “All the photos I took at that show were worthless. They were all staring at the ground the whole time as if that would help them hear better.”

Laughter filled the room as Jimin grumbled about leaving the band instructions for their in-ear monitors—which they cheerily failed to follow without Jimin guiding them every step of the way.

“Oh, and we lost Namjoon once, too!” Hoseok said, laughing even before he finished the sentence.

All eyes turned to the producer, but before Namjoon could offer an explanation, Seokjin scoffed indignantly.

“He was the one who lost us,” he declared. He had been responsible for looking after a drunk Namjoon that night in San Francisco, and he would never admit how poorly he handled that very simple task. “I looked away for one second, and he was gone.”

“He’s like a little kid when he’s really drunk,” Yoongi reminded him. “You should have known that.”

Seokjin rolled his eyes.

“You found him passed out,” you said, remembering the frantic phone call you’d received at three in the morning, “on top of the slide at some nearby playground, didn’t you?”

“Yeah,” Seokjin said, sending the band into a screeching fit of laughter. “I called his name, he opened one eye, and his body just slid down the slide. Fucking comical, and he’s not even trying to be funny.”

You snickered when Hoseok smacked Namjoon on the chest, holding onto his shoulders for support as his knees wobbled from laughter.

“Alright, then, how about the time we thought Yoongi’s guitar was malfunctioning during one of the shows,” Namjoon said, eager to deflect before the tips of his ears turned any redder, “but it turned out that he actually forgot to plug it in? No one even noticed it until the third song on the setlist.”

Maggie had already begun to wheeze when Luna interjected, “wait—wasn’t the third song, technically, Hobi’s drum solo?”

Hoseok looked very impressed that she remembered, and she gave him a smile and a nod. His drum solo used to be one of her favourite parts of the early Rated Riot shows.

“Yeah,” Yoongi said, snorting. He was no longer bothered by the incident. “I strummed a few chords backstage, and it made no fucking sound.” He suddenly glared at Seokjin. “You convinced Jimin to put me in time-out for not plugging it in.”

“You know very well you deserved that,” Seokjin returned, finishing his drink.

You joined in the laughter. Seokjin and Jimin had relaxed some of their strict policies this time around, because they discovered that the tour couldn’t function if three-quarters of the band were standing in different corners of the venue, waiting to be taken out of time-out before they were supposed to go on stage.

“What about Hoseok personally buying everyone drinks after each show?” Jungkook suggested. “He practically spent half our earnings in random bars.”

Agreeing nods and murmurs followed, and Hoseok merely shrugged, not denying the accusation.

“And what about you finishing most of the drinks that Hoseok bought?” Minjun bit, grinning at Jungkook.

Minjun, unlike Sid and Jude, had actually been invited to join the band for drinks sometimes—although, by the end of the night, he was usually forced to babysit Jungkook.

“What about it?” Jungkook shot back. “I can hold my liquor.”

Jimin blew the air out through his mouth, almost spitting as he half-wheezed, half-scoffed.

“You literally cannot,” he said. “Remember that time in Chicago when you, me, and Seokjin spent hours searching for a public bathroom after you finished five bottles of—”

“I told you I could have used the one that was closed!” Jungkook interrupted before Jimin could finish.

“It wasn’t closed. It was chained,” Jimin retorted. “Did you want to get arrested for trespassing and public urination?”

Jungkook rolled his eyes. “Who says I would have gotten arrested?”

“Are you kidding?” Seokjin chimed in. “You were shouting the lyrics to Billy Idol’s “Rebel Yell” as you rattled the chains.”

“That doesn’t—”

“In the midnight hour,” Seokjin demonstrated, shouting over the noise in the room and vigorously shaking his hands, “she cried more, more, more.”

Everyone was laughing so passionately at this point that it was impossible to hear the music in the room.

“Fine, fine,” Jungkook muttered, shuffling on his feet and moving partially behind you—his refuge from the teasing. “I get it.”

You didn’t know about this particular incident, but you remembered feeling relieved whenever Jungkook would leave the venue with the band members or someone from the staff, rather than his friends.

Sid had been omnipresent during the band’s first tour; he’d stayed even when Minjun and Jude had to return home. And during the only week that Sid wasn’t here, you’d had one of the most meaningful conversations with Jungkook—and certainly the longest—since your breakup.

It had been in Los Angeles, were Rated Riot were set to perform three shows that week. One night, you had found him alone, seated on one of the road cases outside the concert hall, a bottle of beer in his hand. You’d called his name, and he looked up at you with a gaze so familiar that you seemed to forget about all the months you had spent avoiding direct conversation with each other.

You’d been looking for him that night because you suspected that something was wrong—you didn’t know about his grandmother yet, but it was her condition that bothered him the most in those days.

“I’m fine,” he’d said after you asked him what was going on. “Just tired.”

So, you sat beside him on the road case, grabbed his bottle, and took a long swig. And he had watched you, completely mesmerised, just as he was watching you now.

That night, as you handed the bottle back to him, you’d asked him about his goals and what he wanted to achieve with the band.

“The whole world,” he had replied. And you’d smiled, making him smile, too. Your reaction convinced him that reaching the whole world was a completely feasible goal.

He hadn’t dared to ask why you’d agreed to work with Rated Riot, although you’d expected him to. Instead, he asked about your family, evading questions about his own. He asked how you’d met Luna, where you’d gotten the scar on your knee. He tried—you could see it now—to fill in the gaps of all the years you’d been out of touch.

And you remembered struggling to fall asleep that night in Los Angeles after you and Jungkook returned to the tour bus—because you’d finished that bottle of beer together. Because he’d given you his jacket as you walked back to the bus, even though it wasn’t very cold and the bus wasn’t parked very far. Because your hands had brushed as you walked side-by-side. Because he’d offered you a cigarette and you had declined, and your heart had started to hurt for seemingly no reason.

A year later, you raised your head, bringing your thoughts back to the present moment in the dark red dressing room of Cabaret Sauvage in Paris, where your family was laughing around you and your heart was beating next to you.

You turned to look at Jungkook and met his smiling gaze. He still stood behind you and, quietly, while everyone else continued their conversation, he lifted your linked hands to his lips and pressed a soft kiss on your knuckles.

“I remember when Taehyung had the flu, too,” Hoseok said, returning your attention to the group as they burst into shouts of agreement again. Jungkook wrapped an arm around your waist, bringing your back to his chest, and took another sip from his bottle.

“When he started to walk in his sleep?” Luna asked—she’d taken the brunt of that time her boyfriend was sick and refused to stay in bed. Everyone else was very grateful they didn’t have to handle his fevered tantrums.

“Yeah—he scared the shit out of me,” Yoongi recalled, shaking his head. “It was like four in the morning, I looked up from my bunk, and he was just standing there, staring right at me. I went, ‘what the fuck?’ and he just said, ‘the pipes broke’, then turned around and walked away.”

Amidst the laughter of the group, Jimin wheezed, “what pipes?”

Taehyung clicked his tongue and shook his head.

“I had a fever,” he said. “And it was nowhere near as bad or annoying as Jin actually stealing all of our socks from the bus back in Atlanta.”

Seokjin was opening his next beer bottle and did not feel fazed by the attention at all.

“You stole their socks?” Maggie voiced the question of the group.

“Now, listen,” Seokjin said, his tone relaxed, if only a little annoyed to be bothered about this. “We had a deal. I told the guys to stop after one encore, but they went on to play three. I need to sleep, you know. Can’t stay up dismantling the stage until six in the morning every night.”

You closed your eyes and leaned back into Jungkook’s embrace, calm and unreasonably content as he gently rocked side-to-side, both of his arms around you.

“Okay, I guess that makes sense,” Maggie replied. “But why socks?”

“I thought it’d be the biggest nuisance,” Seokjin explained simply. You smiled. The band members had come to you back then, complaining about someone messing with their belongings, and you had to buy socks in bulk until Seokjin returned them. “I was going to go for underwear, but I know that some of you don’t mind not wearing any, so socks seemed like a safer option.”

You opened your eyes to catch Seokjin giving Jungkook a meaningful glance over your head.

“I—” Jungkook began, but did not get much further than that.

“What?” Namjoon asked with a groan. You turned to see his nose wrinkled in blatant disgust. “Please tell me you’re all wearing underwear under your stage outfits right now.”

Yoongi, Taehyung, and Hoseok all shrugged and gave nods with varying degrees of conviction. Jungkook, meanwhile, snorted indignantly.

“No,” he said. “I prefer to wear mine over my stage outfit.”

Namjoon rolled his eyes at the unnecessary wit, but Seokjin was quick to down his beer and begin sparring.

“Is that your new costume?” he taunted. “Would fit well with the pirate eye patch.”

Jungkook inhaled sharply. “We do not speak of the eye patch.”

“Aye, sir,” Seokjin replied, grinning as he exaggerated his Rs. “We wor-rrr-ship the eye patch.”

Jimin’s laughter erupted in hiccupping waves that sounded oddly like a screeching cat in heat, and it was unnaturally infectious. He turned away to catch his breath, but you and Maggie had already succumbed to fits of giggles.

Jungkook, irked that this amused you so much, tightened his grip on your waist. You craned your neck to look at him upside down, traces of laughter still evident in your expression, and he placed a quick kiss on your forehead before turning back to his friends. You lowered your head, flustered by his abrupt affection—and Jungkook felt very happy again.

“No, no,” Namjoon was saying in between waves of laughter, “what we really worship is the mythical ramen Taehyung had promised to make us for dinner every night, but I’ve only tried it once so far. What’s that about? Did you think we would forget?”

Taehyung straightened and looked at Luna for help. She only smiled and shrugged, knowing better than to interfere with the band and their food.

“I never said I’d make it every night,” he replied, although somewhere at the back of his mind he vaguely recalled promising this very thing.

“You lost the bet,” Seokjin reminded him, “so you have no choice. You owe us five pots at this point, probably.”

You raised your eyebrows, but Luna beat you to the question. “There was a bet?”

“Of course,” Seokjin said, pausing to take another swig from his bottle. “There usually is.”

“What did you bet on?” she asked.

“This was in Oslo. All three of you,” he gestured towards you, Maggie, and Luna, “had gone out. We bet that Taehyung couldn’t go one hour without texting his girlfriend.”

You grinned while Yoongi gave Taehyung a comforting pat on the back. Jimin finally turned back around to face the group, and even Minjun had to bite back his laughter at the sight of Jimin’s wet eyes, tears of laughter still visible on his cheeks.

“I lasted ten and a half minutes,” Taehyung gloated—as though this was the best he could do, and this record was already so incredibly impressive that he wouldn’t even attempt beating it. Luna kissed his cheek, further encouraging his smugness.

“Ten and twenty-five,” Jimin, who had kept the time, corrected him, rubbing his fingers over his eyelids. “You were terrible. Complained the whole time.”

Taehyung grimaced but resisted the urge to stick out his tongue. “I’m nowhere near as bad as Jungkook, though.”

Jungkook blinked, caught by surprise again.

“What?” he asked, growing defensive once he understood the accusation. “I would have easily lasted an hour without texting my girlfriend.”

Just as you lowered your gaze to control your expression—you’d known Jungkook for seven years; surely, you would stop shivering at the sound of your relationship status some time soon—Hoseok reached over to press a hand on Jungkook’s shoulder.

“My friend,” he said, bowing his head, “you wouldn’t have lasted two minutes.”

The group launched into a series of examples to support Hoseok’s claim—with Minjun taking the lead, of course—and Jungkook couldn’t keep up with the barrage of playful accusations. They were correct, each and every one of them, but he still felt the need to explain himself.

“Alright, come on, leave him be,” you ended up interjecting, your tone light. You reached up, blindly finding Jungkook’s face behind you and gently patting his cheek. “We’re all very dependent on each other here anyway.”

Jungkook closed his eyes to focus on your touch. He felt pride first and foremost, but he also felt stunned that you’d defend him so openly: you were surrounded by your closest friends here, that was true, but they were also your co-workers. Yet you stood up for him and leaned into his embrace as the cheerful conversation continued around you.

He thought he’d finally done it. He reached the goal he’d once told you about – he had the whole world right here.

“You know, speaking of you two,” Seokjin said, swivelling to face you. “I know you drank my champagne in Amsterdam.”

Surprised, you pulled back from Jungkook and instinctively glanced at Hoseok—who had dragged Minjun away to help him bring the group more drinks.

“That was Hobi’s,” you said, remembering Hoseok’s party and the puddle of champagne on the bathroom floor—immortalised in Rated Riot’s upcoming single—after you and Jungkook discovered the hidden bottles and decided to have some.

“Please.” Seokjin scoffed. “You think he would hoard champagne? It was mine. And you two—”

“We only drank one bottle,” Jungkook interrupted, preemptively stopping you from denying the whole incident.

“Only on—you drank at least two,” Seokjin said, his unsteady legs wobbling slightly. You wondered how many bottles of beer he’d finished tonight—the extraordinary focus he was paying to enunciate every word indicated double digits. “That was my special champagne.”

He seemed to believe he was merely tipsy as he continued to watch the two of you with a look that he must have assumed was stern. Really, it was cloudy and obviously out of focus.

“What makes it special?” Jungkook asked.

“It was mine,” Seokjin replied, banging his palm against his chest a few times. You waited for him to elaborate on what he would have done with six bottles of champagne all by himself, but he decided he’d said enough.

“We’ll pay off the debt,” you offered. “Two bottles?”

“Two,” he confirmed, then cleared his throat. “But since I’ve had to wait so long for you to admit your wrongdoings, I’ve suffered emotional damage, too.”

“Ah, emotional damage, of course,” you repeated, exchanging a smile with Jungkook. Even drunk, Seokjin was an expert negotiator. “Two and a half, then?”

He pretended to consider it. Everyone else in the room had started a conversation about Yoongi’s sleeping habits—particularly how he stayed awake for three days straight and then slept for a whole week—and it distracted him for a second.

“Three,” Seokjin finally decided, “and we’ll call it even.”

“Alright, three bottles,” you agreed, turning to Jungkook again. He gave you a nod and unfastened himself from you, taking your hand instead.

“We’ll go out to get them right now,” Jungkook said, leading you to the door of the dressing room.

Seokjin seemed surprised when you gave him a quick wave.

“No, you—” he began, then hiccupped and shook his head at the interruption, “—you don’t have to go now.”

“But we must,” you said, pouting your lips very empathetically. “Can’t let you suffer because of what we’d done any longer.”

Seokjin looked as if he wanted to respond, but his intoxicated mind was too sluggish. Still, you saw the hint of a grin tugging at his lips as the door of the room closed behind you; Seokjin knew exactly why you were so eager to leave. It was how you’d found his champagne back in Amsterdam: the two of you would take any and every opportunity to be alone together.

And so, you and Jungkook found yourselves alone on the dark streets of Paris, walking around the park that surrounded the venue, supposedly on a mission to find three bottles of champagne.

It became apparent rather quickly that you’d have to walk quite a distance from the venue to find a shop that was still open. You did not mind that.

Jungkook glanced up as he walked, and you followed his gaze to the sky. In the quiet corners of the cobblestone alleys, right between the streetlights, you could see the stars.

You’d seen these stars before, almost a month ago, when you went to Kihyun and Chloé’s wedding. You’d taken a detour because Jungkook wanted to show you the Champs-Élysées, and you remembered that night in explicit detail: the way the curls in his hair had looked, damp from the rain. The way his eyes had sparkled with an innate, undying excitement, playfully reflecting every street light around you. You remembered the feel of his hands when he instinctively touched you to guide you across the street. You remembered the scent of his cologne as he gestured wildly, recounting the stories about Paris that his grandmother had read to him when he was younger. His voice had sounded wistful, yearning.

The stars had looked beautiful back then—they had to. Really, you didn’t have many chances to look up at them. Jungkook had been right beside you, smiling, with gentle creases of delight by his eyes, and you didn’t even consider looking away.

The sky glittered with the same lights now, a never changing, constant presence over you. And again, you lowered your eyes to watch the reflection of the stars in his eyes instead. The night sky was no longer your favourite thing in the world.

“I think,” Jungkook said, “this is what my grandma meant when she said that she’s always wanted to visit Paris.”

You looked at the street ahead of you. It was hidden from the main paths of the park by dark, menacing buildings, and it looked like just about any other street in the world.

“What do you mean?” you asked.

“She wanted this,” he explained, raising your intertwined hands. “What we have right now. Strolling through these back alleys, forcing every streetlight to flicker and every gust of wind to change direction.”

You felt everything he’d mentioned in your chest—the silence of the alleys, the flickers of the lights, the gusts of the shifting wind—and you held his hand tighter.

“What does Paris have to do with this?” you asked.

“Nothing,” he said. “It doesn’t have to do anything, it’s just there for us to walk through it. But this isn’t really about Paris. It never is.”

You looked down at the pavement in a poor attempt to hide your smile. He could still see it. If you were smiling, he’d always make sure to see it.

“That would sound far more romantic,” you said, “if I hadn’t just seen a dead rat across the street.”

Jungkook threw his head back in sudden laughter. He’d seen the rat, too, but he didn’t want to say anything. You had just looked up at the stars in the sky; he thought it’d spoil the moment.

“I know,” he said. “This is why I said that Paris is overrated. I’m just trying to make it sound better.”

“It’s still beautiful despite these things, though,” you said as the two of you took a turn past the canal that ran across the park. The dark water reflected the dim lights of the streets and the persistent stars, too. “Despite the dead rats and unbelievable amounts of garbage everywhere.”

“Yeah?” Jungkook could not control the size of his smile or the sounds in his chest. “You think so?”

“Mhmm,” you said. “These things happen sometimes, I guess. You care about something so much that not even dead rats can ruin it.”

You’d clearly stopped talking about Paris, and he had to turn away from the look in your eyes before he accidentally led you right into the canal. The two of you turned a corner instead, leaving the reflections in the water behind you as you entered another sleeping street, the cobblestones stirring awake under your feet.

Squeezing your hand as he walked, Jungkook looked up at the numerous wrought-iron balconies on the building to your right and felt, for just a moment, as though the faint lights in the windows were watching the two of you. He hoped they were. He loved you so much that he wanted everyone to see.

“I think it’s a metaphor,” he said.

You turned to him. “What is?”

“The dead rat.”

That wouldn’t have been your choice of words to describe the rat, and you continued to watch him, bemused. “It’s a metaphor?”

“Yeah,” he said. “For a new beginning.”

You looked down to avoid twisting your ankles on the uneven street stones.

“I assume the dead rat represents Sid’s demise, then,” you said.

“Precisely,” Jungkook replied, and you turned another corner in the labyrinth of Parisian streets.

“I’ll take it,” you said. Then, nearly laughing, you nodded your head at the shadows ahead of you. “I think I see another one.”

He turned his head and squinted.

“Shit,” he murmured, spotting a pair of panicked, beady eyes. “That one looks alive. Maybe we should cross the—”

“Oh,” you pulled his hand to gesture at the rodent ahead, “you don’t want to say hi to Sid’s uncle?”

“That’s his cousin, I think.”

Laughing—nearly hysterically—the two of you crossed to the other side of the street. Another turn led you back to the canal, right on the edge of a bridge stairway. The massive abutment on this side of the canal and the wall of a parking lot next to it were decorated with years and years of graffiti history, and the two of you stopped momentarily to catch your breath and to analyse the art.

Most of the tags here had something unique about them—lizard tongues spewing out of the Os, crazy-eyed devils holding the letters. You noticed a few love declarations, too, when you leaned in closer. And you wondered, as you smiled at the hearts drawn around unfamiliar names on the grey bricks, if the initials you’d burnt into the library wall on your campus were still there.

“Smells like shit here, too, actually,” Jungkook remarked, breaking the spell.

You laughed again, pulling back from the wall.

“That’s good,” you said, returning to him so that you could continue down the road, curving slightly under the bridge. “Means it’s seen things.”

“It’s seen shit.”

You glanced at him, grinning. “So have we.”

“That’s true,” he said. Then, as soon as you emerged from under the bridge, he stopped and looked at you, his eyes slightly widened. “Hey, maybe all of this means that we were really meant to be here. You and me.”

The sudden epiphany he seemed to have had confused you. You looked around at the buildings towering on each side of the canal and the loose bags of trash flowing in the wind, scattering empty soda cans across the pavement.

This night did not seem special in any way, but Jungkook was looking at you like it was, and it took one glance at the hopeful smile on his lips for you to believe in the magic, too.

“Yeah,” you said softly. “Maybe we were.”

He was smiling at you—for you, really—and you knew that you would forget everything about your trip to Paris again: all the sights, the people, the concerts, and the drinks. Instead, you’d remember the way he was looking at you right now—and that was all that you really wanted to remember anyway.

During this tour, there were many moments where you felt like you were dreaming. You convinced yourself that what happened couldn’t have been real because it simply shouldn’t have been.

You and Jungkook had taken so many left turns where the only way was right. You’d caused childish problems and faced unnecessary challenges. It was practically impossible for you to still find each other at the end of the day.

But you were awake. And however impossible or unlikely it was, you’ve found each other.

It had been raining the last time you were in Paris, but the sky was clear tonight, and now you and Jungkook could walk down these streets, laughing and swaying your hands, and no longer lying to yourselves.

The truth was, your souls, like your hands, had always been intertwined—even when you tried to pretend they weren’t.

FIN.

chapter title credits: sleeping with sirens, “if i’m james dean, you’re audrey hepburn”

we're done, friends! 🥹 if you have read so far, i truly love you more than words can describe 🤍

if i had to explain what my life was like while i was writing this fic, it would turn into an ao3 author's note that's like "hey guys, sorry i didn't update, i was in prison" so i'm very grateful to have received your feedback and support over the past few months 🤍🤍

hopefully there will be more things i can share with you in the future, but for now, thank you and good night 🤍

prev ○ END.

[songmingisthighs]

Maudit

introduction pt. i | pt. ii | pt. iii

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ch. lvi - I'M STILL MAD

cursed!jongho × reader

genre : mythology!au, smau

rating : mature; crude jokes and filthy language

buy me coffee ?

wc : 1.4k

so long i've been here, so long are the stories i've written. of what i gathered and lost, loneliness becomes me and pain refuse to depart from me. i've embraced that which ate me away so when you came along, i had no part of me left to give.

You could have never imagined that your friend would be integrated with the people you had known to be gods. You had... thoughts because initially, you figured it would happen one way or the other because Mingi was such a big part of your life and you were working with Jongho so it was bound to happen. Never in your wildest dreams would you have guessed that Mingi was actually originally in their friend group and that you were the one being integrated.

On top of that, never would you have imagined that the boys could get even more rowdy.

Splayed before you was Mingi in Wooyoung's chokehold while San was tangling his legs with Mingi as Yeosang pretended to be a wrestling referee. Yunho was filming Mingi's "punishment" while cackling while Seonghwa was trying to make sure (begging) that they didn't break anything while regretting hosting Mingi's first "birthday" back. While the chaos ensued, Hongjoong and Jongho stood by the sides, nursing their drinks in their hands. Well, more so Jongho than Hongjoong who was goading the boys, telling Wooyoung that Mingi was slipping or telling San to use his ridiculously sturdy build to stop Mingi from squirming.

All in all, you expect Seonghwa to receive a noise complaint from the police in the morning.

To evade the chaos, you silently excused yourself to the kitchen, getting yourself another glass of soda. The kitchen was slightly deeper in the house but you could still see (and hear clearly) what was going on through the door. Despite how loud they were being, you couldn't help but be amused and perhaps slightly happy that they were finally together again. Sure, it was no fault of your own, but you felt that your involvement had had an effect so when your involvement got them together (in a way), you were even more happy.

"Can't stand the noise?"

You looked to the side to see Jongho coming in with his glass still full of his drink.

It was kind of embarrassing that he caught you as you were attempting to get the cookie Seonghwa hid from San and Wooyoung on top of his fridge. You underestimated the hiding spot and Jongho got front row seat to you absolutely embarrassing yourself.

With a raised eyebrow, Jongho leaned on the counter and nonchalantly poked at you, "What are you doing there, little raccoon?" You scoffed and immediately dropped to normal position, pretending that you hadn't been caught doing something embarassing. "Who are you calling raccoon? I was just... checking something," you muttered, choosing to open the fridge to get some ice for your drink (and maybe for you to dunk your face in because yowza).

Amused, Jongho chuckled as he rounded for the fridge, placing his glass on the counter before easily grabbing the cookie jar and plopping it next to you. "Should he ask, we'll blame this on Wooyoung hyung," he winked.

Had it not been for the cookie distracting you, you would have squealed at how Jongho was winking at you. But alas, you had your priorities straight.

"Hey," you called out mid-bite, "I've been going over your stuff for the past... God knows how long, and I just remembered that I wanted to ask you about that fox guardian guy? Jun something? Kyujun? Minjun? The flirt I met a while back." Jongho furrowed his eyebrow and took a moment to think as he grabbed a cookie for himself, "What, Yeonjun hyung? What about him?" "I think we should go back to him sometimes soon because I've been reading about lore books and one of them said that foxes are sly and cunning and they have special abilities and I know that you've been trying to find the reincarnation of someone from your past but that got me thinking about several theories and one of them is that Yeonjun actually knows who it is but he just can't give away such information freely. Like Hongjoong and Mingi and me, you know? Maybe he was... Pressured to keep silent or something, and unless you actually get him to talk, he might just keep things to himself. So, I just- why are you looking at me like that?"

Jongho didn't realize that he had been staring at you as you rambled through your theory to him, even his cookie was abandoned half-bitten in his hand.

Shrugging, Jongho smiled and cleared his throat, "It's just... Amusing seeing you so invested in my situation." Confused, you chuckled and raised an eyebrow at him, "Because your situation is very facinating? I've been telling for quite some time now Mr. Choi, you are a VERY interesting man with a VERY interesting life," then your eyes dropped to your hand and you hesitated, "And... I also feel kind of bad for being so... Self-absorbed, to say the least, for some time now and I just... I wanna help you as best as I could right now."

The moment you said those endearing words, Jongho felt like his chest was about to burst with giddiness. Inside, he was feeling butterflies punching his stomach, shaking his lungs, and playing his ribs like a marimba. But on the outside, he was keeping his cool by sipping on his drink to cover the blooming grin.

"You don't even have to think about helping me, (y/n)," Jongho stated, subconsciously stepping closer to you, "ou had just gone through something rough and frankly I was happy that you were able to trust me enough with this. But are you okay? I know incorporating Mingi hyung must be..." you cut Jongho off with a deadpanned look on your face, "Creepy? Illogical? Batshit crazy?" Jongho snorted at your choice of words, "I was gonna go with weird, but sure, let's go with your options." You cracked a grin at him and shook your head, "I mean yeah, it's crazy, unfathomable even. But... I'm actually fine, I'm happy to have Mingi back in my life and though chaos ensued outside," your words got cut off by the sound of Mingi yelping loudly and Hongjoong exclaiming 'my croissant!' just outside, "I'm truly glad the worst is finally over." You paused for a moment, hesitating to say another thing but Jongho, due to living with you for quite some time now, noticed that you still weren't done with your words. So almost casually, Jongho reached a hand forward and placed it on top of yours, gently caressing the skin on the back. He took the initiative by opening himself first, "And I'm glad you're fine now," he smiled. His genuine words made you feel warm and you took the initiative to just say what you wanted to say, "I'm only fine because of you, Jongho," without wasting a moment to hesitate, you leaned forward and gave him a soft peck on his cheek, taking him by surprise. A delightful surprise of course, but he still couldn't help but move very slowly, processing what you just did.

Realizing that Jongho was not moving, you flustered and scrambled to leave, muttering an excuse about needing to make sure that Mingi was fine.

Just as you were about to slip away, Jongho took a hold of your hand, effectively stopping you in your tracks. You halted and stared at him, confused as to why he was stopping you.

"You can always trust me, (y/n). I promise," he stated and surprisingly, he lifted your hand and pressed a soft kiss on the back of your hand, "Go save Mingi hyung from torture, I'll join you in a bit after I put the cookie jar away, okay?" He smiled.

You could only nod and follow his instruction, your brain too foggy with the affection Jongho had shown. So much so, that you completely missed the way Jongho slid down behind the counter, clutching his beating heart tightly with a stupid smile on his face.

He was down bad.

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[writingforstraykids]

Always back to you - Chp.4

Pairing: Minho x m!Reader (mention of 3racha)

Word Count: 7000

Summary: Minho gets a call from his ex-wife, asking to meet Minjun. Hesitating, he agrees to the meeting but not without you by his side. You both find your way around each other as the boundaries between friendship and love dissolve more and more...

Warnings/Tags: fluff, single dad!min, angst, domestic shit, emotional hurt!comfort, panic attack,

A/N: Thank you for all the love for the story and little Minjun so far. I hope you enjoy this chapter, some of you have been waiting for what happens here hehe🖤

PART THREE | PART FIVE

do not repost, translate, or plagiarize my works in any way here or on other platforms. ©️writingforstraykids 2024 -

The steady rhythmic sound of a knife chopping vegetables abruptly halts as the sharp, insistent ring of Minho’s phone pierces through the quiet kitchen atmosphere. Minho's hand stills, a sense of dread creeping up his spine as he stares at the caller ID. What? 

Minho glances out of the window quickly, seeing you and Minjun still playing peacefully outside. His eyes wander back to his phone and it takes everything in him to take it into his hand, his thumb hovering over the screen. He takes a deep breath before picking up the phone. "Hello?"

"Minho, it's Yejun," comes the voice on the other end, unmistakable and unexpectedly calm. The sound of his ex-wife's voice, not heard in conversations for years, is enough to make his heart skip a beat.

"Hi, Yejun...What's up?" Minho manages to keep his voice steady, though his grip on the phone tightens.

"I’ve been thinking. It’s been a long time, and I want to meet Minjun. I want to see our son," she says.

Minho feels as if the floor dropped from beneath him. The request comes as a shock, reopening a chapter of his life he thought had been firmly closed. He leans heavily against the kitchen counter, trying to gather his thoughts. "I...that’s quite sudden. I’m not sure that’s a good idea," he replies, the discomfort clear in his voice.

"I know it’s sudden, Minho. I just want to be a part of his life," she says.

“Mhm,” he hums sourly, feeling nothing but defensiveness bubbling up in him.

“What’s that supposed to mean, huh?” she asks sharply and Minho closes his eyes, swallowing down the memories that flood his brain at that tone.

“Means I wonder what makes you think you can leave and then come back once he’s old enough to do a lot on his own,” he says, chewing on his lower lip.

“It’s my right to see him, Min,” she says.

“Don’t,” Minho says firmly. “Don’t even start claiming it’s your right to meet him. You left him once he was old enough to drink from the bottle. You have absolutely no right to demand anything.”

“Gosh, Min, still so emotional, hm?” she groans and Minho puts his phone on speaker, slamming it down on the table and mocking her quietly. Her laugh rings in his ears as she starts talking again. “I want to meet him. If he doesn’t like me, I’ll go.”

“Gosh, Yejun, still taking the easy way out, hm?” he gives back dryly, bracing himself at the table. “Why now?”

“As you said, he’s easy to handle now. I’m curious,” she says.

“Curious…If you meet him, I’m there every damn second, you hear me?” he asks, and she agrees reluctantly. “If you hurt my son in any way, I’m taking him home, and that’s the last you saw of him.”

“Relax,” she snorts. “I’ll be in Seoul next week from Monday until Friday. Let’s meet up then.”

Minho agrees hesitantly, ending the call with a heavy sigh. As soon as he puts the phone down, a wave of nausea sweeps over him, his hand flying to his stomach as if to quell the rising sickness. Pacing the kitchen, he feels his mind race with worries about the past getting back at him, about the potential destruction of Minjun’s more or less stable but happy life.

You get back inside to refill Minjun’s water bottle as he quickly uses the bathroom in the meantime. You find Minho in the kitchen, his face pale, bracing himself on the table. "Minho? What’s wrong? You look sick," you ask worriedly. “You’re feeling dizzy again?”

Hearing your voice seems to ground him momentarily. He looks up at you with a mixture of fear and uncertainty. "That was Yejun," he manages to say, his voice a whisper of distress. "She wants to meet Minjun. She says she wants to be part of his life."

Your expression shifts from concern to shock. You’ve heard of her, of course, the woman who had left Minho to raise Minjun alone and caused much of his earlier heartache when you met him. "Oh, Minho," you murmur, stepping next to him. “What are you going to do?"

"I don’t know," Minho admits, his voice shaky. "Part of me thinks maybe it’s good if Minjun knows his mother. But another part...I can’t bear the thought. What if she leaves again? What if she hurts him? I can’t let Minjun go through that."

You nod, understanding his inner conflict. "This is tough, but whatever decision you make, I’m here. You’re not alone in this, Minho."

Minho looks into your eyes, finding peace in your unwavering support. Taking a deep breath, he tries to calm his racing heart. "Can you... Can you just hold me for a minute?" he asks, his voice barely above a whisper. He doesn’t know why he’s suddenly asking for that, but somehow, it feels right.

Without hesitation, you wrap your arms around him, pulling him close. Minho buries his face in your shoulder, allowing himself to feel vulnerable, to accept the comfort being offered. As they stand there, Minho feels a tiny fragment of his anxiety ebb away, the warmth and steadiness of your embrace lending him strength.

After a long moment, Minho steps back slightly. "Thank you, Y/nnie. For being here," he says, his voice thick with gratitude.

"Always," you reply, squeezing his hand.

Minho feels a little steadier, bolstered by your support. "Would you...come with me to meet her? I think I might need someone there, just in case. I uh…I don’t know how it’ll be seeing her again and everything."

"Of course, Minho. I'll be there," you reply gently.

-

The day of the meeting arrives with a tense air. Minho is quiet as you both drive to the cafe where the meeting with Yejun is scheduled. Every now and then, he glances at Minjun in the rearview mirror, who is blissfully unaware of the gravity of the situation, chatting excitedly about the new game you had taught him. He seemed excited to meet his mother, which was the only reason Minho decided to let them.

As you arrive and find Yejun already there, a chill runs down Minho’s spine. She looks different, yet somehow the same, and his stomach tightens as he watches her wave them over with a bright, practiced smile. Minjun gently tugs at his jeans, as always when meeting new people. He’s glad to have something to hold onto as he picks him up and soothingly pats his back. 

You stay close to them, looking at Yejun curiously. You had never felt the need to look up old pictures of Minho and her, so you had no idea what she looked like…and looking at her makes you realize she’s stunningly beautiful. Her dark, long curls frame her perfect face, skin smooth and accentuating her bright eyes. A red dress hugs her body in all the right places, and she looks delicate but elegant. God, no wonder Minho had a hard time getting over that. Getting closer, you realize Minjun must’ve inherited the freckles covering her nose, as well as the curly texture of his hair. 

"Minho, it's been too long," Yejun greets, standing to embrace him swiftly. She presses a short kiss onto his cheek that has Minho tensing up, eyes widening. Ah, lovely.

"Yejun," he nods, taking a few steps back, then turns to you. "This is Y/nnie."

"Nice to meet you," you say, offering a polite smile, though you feel the undercurrents of tension.

“And that’s..?” she asks, glancing at Minjun.

“Oh for fucks sake,” Minho mutters quietly making Minjun giggle and cover his mouth with his little hand. 

“Bad word, Daddy!” he protests, making you smirk.

“That’s some kid I stole on the way here,” Minho rolls his eyes at her. “That’s Minjun…obviously.”

“Oh…you’ve gotten big,” she nods, looking at Minjun curiously. 

“Well he was six months old when you left, go figure,” Minho says patiently, with a fake calm smile on his face. “Minjunnie, say hi to your mother.”

Minjun frowns at her softly before looking up at Minho. “Daddy? Mum who ran away?” he asks and you have trouble biting back a laugh at her perplexed face.

“Mhm, that one,” Minho nods, pulling himself out a chair. “She wants to talk to you, so be nice, buddy.”

“Okay,” he nods, getting comfortable in his own chair, blinking at her curiously. 

The conversation starts with trivialities, Yejun asking about Minjun's interests. But soon, she shifts the topic to her life in the US, describing her home, the parks, and the schools that she says would be wonderful for Minjun once he’s old enough.

Minjun listens, wide-eyed, clearly taken with the idea of such places. "Can I see them, Daddy? Can I visit her in America?" he asks, looking excitedly between Minho and Yejun.

Minho feels a pang in his heart at the words, his fear creeping back as he watches his son’s enthusiasm. He tries to keep his voice even. "We'll see, buddy. We're just talking right now."

Yejun leans forward, her tone persuasive. "I have a great life there, Minjun. You could have your own room, a big yard to play in... I'd love to show you around."

Minho feels sick watching the scene unfold, his hands clenched under the table. You notice his discomfort and place a reassuring hand on his knee. As the meeting draws to an end, Minho is quiet, lost in thought as Yejun makes plans to visit Minjun again. "Let’s take it slow, one step at a time," Minho finally says, not committing to anything more.

On the drive back, Minjun chats happily about the things his mother had told him, while Minho remains silent, his expression drawn.

Once home, Minho retreats to the kitchen, his movements sluggish, each step seeming to weigh heavily on him. You watch as he leans against the counter, his face pale and his eyes distant. Concerned, you approach him, your hand gently touching his arm. "Minho?" you call softly, trying to get his attention.

He looks up, his eyes meeting yours, and there's an unspoken plea for comfort. The day had drained him, dredging up past pains and uncertainties about the future. "I just... I don't know if I did the right thing today," he admits, his voice barely above a whisper. "What if she convinces him? What if he wants to go with her?"

You understand the turmoil he's in. The possibility of Minjun wanting to leave with Yejun is his worst nightmare coming true. Stepping closer, you wrap your arms around him, offering him a silent reassurance. "Minho, you're an incredible father. Minjun knows that. Whatever Yejun says or does, it won't change the bond you two have."

Minho rests his forehead against your shoulder, his breath shaky. "I hope you're right," he murmurs. "It's just hard not to feel threatened, to feel like everything we have could be disrupted by her return."

"It's understandable to feel that way," you reply, holding him tighter. "But remember, Minjun loves you. He's grown up with you. That connection, those memories, they're not easily broken or forgotten. You're his dad, the one who's been there for him every single day."

As you speak, Minho's tension begins to ease. He pulls back slightly, looking into your eyes, searching for the certainty he so desperately needs. Seeing the sincerity in your gaze, a small smile begins to form on his lips. "Thank you, Y/nnie," he says. "For being here, for supporting me through this."

"Always," you reply, smiling back.

The kitchen is quiet for a moment, the only sound being the soft ticking of the clock on the wall. Minho seems to ponder your words, letting them sink in. Gradually, the anxious lines on his face smooth out, replaced by a more resolute expression. "I won't let her take him away," he states, more to himself than to you. "I'll do whatever it takes to keep Minjun with me."

"And I'll help you," you assure him. 

As the evening sets in, you and Minho prepare dinner together, the earlier tension melting away into a comfortable routine. Minjun joins you, chatting excitedly about his day, blissfully unaware of the complex emotions his father has been grappling with. Watching Minho laugh and interact with his son, you feel a profound sense of admiration and love for him. 

Later, as you sit down to eat, the atmosphere is light, filled with Minjun’s laughter and stories. Minho looks over at you, a silent gratitude in his gaze. Despite the challenges, he knows he isn't alone. With you by his side, he feels ready to handle whatever may come.

That night, after Minjun has gone to bed, you and Minho find yourselves on the couch, a comfortable silence enveloping you. Minho leans his head on your shoulder, his earlier fears now calmed by your presence and the peaceful end to the day.

"Today was hard," he admits quietly.

"It was," you agree. "But you got through it. And you’ll get through whatever else comes your way."

-

Minho stands silently in the middle of the living room, the soft hum of the evening settling around him. The faint laughter and shouts of children playing outside drifts through the open window, a stark contrast to the turmoil brewing inside him. His hands tremble slightly as he turns over a small toy that Minjun had left on the couch—a constant reminder of his responsibilities, his fears, and his deep-seated insecurities about being a father. Minjun is staying with Felix and Chan for a few hours and you'll visit to work through a few important aspects of his schedule. 

The weight of his thoughts and the relentless pressure he placed on himself were reaching a boiling point. The room feels smaller, the walls closing in as each of Minjun’s innocent questions from earlier that day echoed in his head, “Are you happy, Daddy? Does Yejun like me? Can I go to America?” The questions are simple, filled with the childlike curiosity of his young son, yet to Minho, they are a reflection of his deepest fears—is he truly enough?

The anxiety that had been simmering throughout the day suddenly surges, a tidal wave crashing over him with suffocating force. His breathing becomes shallow, each inhale sharp and unsatisfying. His heart races uncontrollably, pounding against his ribs as if trying to escape. The room spins, and a nauseous feeling tightens in his gut. He's having a panic attack, the intense fear of failing his son overwhelming him completely.

Just then, you walk in. You stop in track at the sight of Minho, his face pale, his body tense and trembling. Dropping your bag, you rush over. “Minho! What’s happening?” Your voice is laced with concern as you reach out to steady him, your hands gripping his arms.

“I...I can’t breathe properly,” Minho gasps out, his voice shaky. “I feel like I’m not enough for him...like I’m going to fail him.”

You quickly lead him to the sofa, helping him to sit down. “Look at me, Minho. Follow my breathing, okay? In and out, slowly,” you instruct him gently, demonstrating deep, steady breaths.

Minho tries to mimic your breathing, focusing on the rise and fall of your chest. Gradually, his own breaths begin to deepen, the tight grip of fear around his chest loosening slightly with each exhale. You don't let go, your presence a calming force in the storm of his panic.

After a few minutes, as the initial wave of panic begins to subside, Minho feels exhaustion seep into his bones, replacing the adrenaline that had surged through him just moments before. He leans back against the sofa, his eyes closing briefly in fatigue.

“You’re doing great, Minho. Just keep breathing like that,” you murmur, your voice a soothing balm. “You are enough for Minjun, more than enough. You’re an incredible father.”

Tears prick at Minho’s eyes as he listens to your affirmations. “I’m scared,” he admits, his voice a broken whisper. “What if it’s not true? What if I’m not what he needs?”

You shift closer, your side pressing against his, a silent offer of solidarity. “Minho, look at everything you’ve done for him. He adores you. Your fear doesn’t define your reality. You are exactly what Minjun needs because you love him, and you show up every day for him, even when it’s hard. Especially when it’s hard.”

The sincerity in your words, the warmth of your body next to his, it all pierces through the fog of Minho’s anxiety, reaching a part of him that he kept walled off from everyone else. He turns to look at you, really look, seeing not just a friend but someone who has come to mean so much more to him.

Without thinking, driven by the emotions swirling within him and the need to be closer to the one person who seemed to understand him completely, Minho leans in. You hesitate, leaning in a little before you both stop for me a moment. Then you meet halfway, your lips touching in a kiss that is soft and hesitant at first but quickly deepened with shared urgency and emotion. But as seconds pass, the kiss deepens, driven by a mixture of long-suppressed desires and the comforting familiarity that has grown between you over countless shared moments.

All that matters is the here and now—the warmth of your lips against his, the gentle exploration that grows bolder with each passing moment. Your hands move to cup Minho’s face, your touch tender yet assured, pulling him closer, deepening the kiss until it is all-consuming.

Minho’s hands find their way around you, pulling you in, his heart pounding against his chest. The kiss grows more desperate, a silent confession of the feelings that had been simmering beneath the surface for so long. Your breaths mingle, quick and shaky, as the kiss ignites a fire within you both, a blaze that seems to fill the voids you had both carried inside.

But as the intensity of your embrace grows, so does a creeping fear in the back of Minho’s mind. His heart, scarred from past hurts and losses, begins to recoil at the vulnerability he is exposing himself to. The memory of his past, of being left alone when he had dared to love openly, surges forward, casting a shadow over the warmth he feels.

Your hands trace the line of Minho's jaw, gentle yet insistent, pulling him closer. Minho responds in kind, his hands finding the small of your back, pressing you together. The kiss grows more fervent, more desperate, as if you're trying to communicate every unspoken word, every suppressed emotion through this single act. 

As your breath quickens, Minho’s emotions swirl chaotically—a blend of exhilaration and deep-seated fear. The intensity of your connection right here is something he hasn't allowed himself to fully experience for a long time, not since his heart had been guarded against such vulnerabilities.

Suddenly, the weight of his past, the memories of abandonment, and the fear of experiencing such profound loss again surge to the forefront of his mind. It is overwhelming the way these fears claw their way up, threatening to overshadow the warmth and safety he had just been reveling in.

With a sudden intake of breath, Minho’s hands still, and he pulls back slightly, breaking the kiss. His heart is racing, not just with the passion of the moment but also with a creeping dread that he might be setting himself up for another heartbreak. His chest heaves as he tries to steady his breathing, his eyes wide and vulnerable as he meets your concerned gaze.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, his voice choked with a mixture of fear and regret. “I... I need a moment.”

Your face is a mixture of worry and understanding. You reach out, brushing a trembling hand against Minho’s cheek. “It’s okay, Minho. We don’t have to rush anything. I’m here, okay?”

Minho nods, feeling a lump form in his throat. He is terrified, not of the kiss or the connection but of what it signifies. To let someone in so completely was to risk being torn apart again. And yet, as he looks into your eyes, he sees a reflection of something pure and steady—a commitment not just to the joy of their relationship but to the struggles, too.

Minho takes a deep breath, each inhale laced with the scent of your skin, a reminder of the now. “I just... I’m scared of losing myself, of losing Minjun, of being left alone again if this... if we don’t work out,” he confesses, his voice barely a whisper amidst the quiet of the room.

Your expression softens, your eyes filling with empathy. “Minho, love doesn’t come with guarantees, but not giving ourselves the chance to experience it fully is a guarantee of regret. I don’t know what the future holds, but I promise to be by your side through the highs and the lows. You’re not alone anymore, and you won’t be.”

These words, gentle and reassuring, seem to stitch up the raw edges of Minho’s fears slowly. He allows himself to lean into you, feeling the solidity of your presence. “Thank you,” he murmurs, allowing himself to feel the full extent of his vulnerability.

“Thank you for not running,” you say, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips. The tension begins to dissipate, replaced by a cautious hope.

“Thank you for staying,” Minho shakes his head gently. 

You smile, your hand squeezing Minho’s. “There’s nowhere else I’d rather be,” you assure him. You lean forward, pressing a soft kiss to Minho’s forehead, a simple gesture that holds a depth of meaning.

Minho allows himself to be held, his head resting against your shoulder, feeling the steady beat of your heart against his cheek. It is comforting, grounding. Slowly, his breathing evens out, the immediate panic subsiding under the gentle rhythm of your assurances.

“You mean a lot to me, Y/nnie,” Minho confesses, pulling back slightly to look at you. “I don’t want to lose you, not because of my fears.”

You smile, your hands sliding down to grasp his. “And you won’t lose me. I care about you, Minho. We’ll face this together, okay? Step by step.”

“Okay,” Minho agrees, squeezing your hands. “Step by step.”

The moment is tender, a delicate truce between Minho’s fears and the possibilities that lie ahead. You stay like that for a while, simply holding each other, finding comfort in the presence of one another.

When it is time for you to leave, Minho finds himself not wanting to let go. The goodbye is lingering, filled with the promise of soon and more. You leave him with a smile, and Minho watches from the doorway, feeling a mixture of contentment and longing.

That night, as Minho lies in bed, Minjun peacefully asleep next to him, he thinks about the kiss - the way it had made him feel alive, the way it had scared him. He touches his lips, still feeling the ghost of your touch. The fear is still there, a quiet whisper in the back of his mind, but it is slowly being overshadowed by a stronger, more insistent feeling: hope.

He knows the road ahead will be fraught with challenges, but for the first time in a long while, Minho feels ready to face them. With you by his side, he isn't just facing the future; he is stepping into it, one kiss, one conversation, one promise at a time.

-

Minho nervously ties Minjun’s shoelaces, hoping his attentive little boy can’t see the anxiety written all over his face. He gently takes Minjun’s small hands into his and searches his eyes. “Minjunnie?” he asks softly.

“What, Daddy?” his son asks curiously.

“Daddy loves you a lot, okay?” he asks, and Minjun nods contently. “I’m sorry I can’t always be there, I’ll try to get better.”

“It’s okay,” he says, gently patting his father’s head.

Minho giggles at him and pulls him into his lap. “I will always love you, okay? No matter what happens.”

“Always?” he asks softly, and Minho nods firmly. “Always come back?”

Minho cups his face, smiling at him encouragingly. “I’ll always come back to you, buddy.”

“Good,” he smiles brightly. “Yejun now?” he asks, and Minho nods.

“Yeah,” he says, almost feeling a little ashamed for being so relieved about Minjun not calling her his mother.

You open the door, glancing inside. “You two are ready to go?” you ask. “I’ll drop you off at the café, make sure everything’s in place at the location for the shoot, and then come back. I won’t be gone longer than ten minutes, it’s on the other side of the road.”

“Sounds good,” Minho nods, subconsciously chewing on his lower lip. He pushes himself back up and meeting your eyes, you can tell he needs a hug. 

“Come here,” you say gently, opening your arms for him. Minho laughs weakly and hugs you tightly, fingers gripping the fabric of your shirt. “It’ll be okay,” you tell him, earning a timid hum in return. 

“Daddy?” Minjun frowns up at you two worriedly. 

Minho leaves your warm embrace, picking him up. “I’m okay,” he assures him, his one hand finding yours. Your fingers intertwine almost naturally, and you can feel his hand tremble in yours a little. 

“Liar,” Minjun says softly, not even sounding like he’s judging him for it.

Minho chuckles weakly and searches your eyes. “Minjunnie? You really like Y/nnie, right?” he asks, watching you with a gentle smile.

“No,” he shakes his head, making your heart sink for a moment. “I love Y/nnie, Daddy.”

You both laugh softly, and you gently poke his cheek. “I love you too, Minjunnie…and I care a lot about your Daddy too.”

“I…I love Y/nnie too,” Minho says quietly, and your world stops turning for a few seconds. 

“What?” you ask just as quietly, swallowing hard as tears brim Minho’s soft chocolate eyes. 

“I love you, Y/nnie,” he tells you again, a little less shaky this time. “I do,” he says as if he has to reassure you both he put it into words.

“I love you too, Minho,” you whisper happily, your heart warming. Minho squeezes your hand, searching your eyes timidly. You don’t think much, closing the distance between you two and kissing him softly. Minho sighs quietly, feeling at ease here in the moment of kissing you.

Minjun squeals making you break apart again. “Eww, but yay,” he says with wide eyes, making you giggle.

“Okay, let's go,” you laugh and gently shove Minho out of the room. 

You drive them to the café and Minho shares another quick kiss with you before getting out. You quickly cross the street to check the set, hoping it won't take long. 

-

The tension in the air is thick as Yejun sits across from Minho at a small, brightly lit café in the heart of Seoul. The noise of the bustling city outside does little to fill the silence that hangs between them. Minho watches her observantly as she tries to talk to Minjun, who’s busy coloring in the book she gifted him earlier.

"Minjun, you would love it in America," Yejun begins, her voice infused with excitement. "We have huge parks, and there are so many fun things you can do. There's Disneyland, with all the rides and characters you love."

Minjun's eyes light up at the mention of Disneyland, but his smile falters as he glances sideways at Minho, who sits silently, his expression unreadable. "Can Daddy come with us?" Minjun asks innocently, his voice tinged with hope.

Yejun’s smile tightens slightly. "No, it would just be you and me. But think of all the adventures we’ll have!"

Minjun��s face falls. "But I want Daddy...and Y/nnie," he ads, his small voice growing firmer. "I want them."

Yejun’s patience began to crumble. "Minjun, I’m your mother. I have a wonderful life set up for us in America. You need to think about what I’m offering you."

Minho, who has been quietly observing the exchange, sees the confusion and distress growing on Minjun’s face. "Yejun, that's enough," he interjects calmly. "You’re overwhelming him. He’s only a child."

Yejun turns her gaze to Minho, her eyes flashing with irritation. "You have no right to keep him from me, Minho! You’ve turned him against me, huh? You stole my son!"

The accusation stings, and Minho’s voice grows stern. "Yejun, I haven’t stolen anyone. I’ve been here for Minjun every single day since he was born. He’s my son too, and I have been his only parent for years."

“Well, I’m his mother and-”

Tears well up in Minjun's eyes as the tension rises. He can tell his father is upset and trying not to show it, he may be young but he knows him well. The woman opposite him glares at him and he doesn’t like that at all. "You're not my mum, Y/nnie is!" he cries out, the emotional toll of the conversation beginning to show. "Y/nnie plays with me. Y/nnie makes me food. Y/nnie cuddles me!"

Yejun blinks, her face contorted with a mix of shock and disgust. "Y/nnie? That babysitter? You think he's a better mother than me?”

“Yes,” he says stubbornly, staring down at his coloring book again.

“Minho, what the fuck have you done with this child?” she asks frustratedly.

Minho reaches out, taking Minjun’s hand in his, providing a comforting touch. "Y/nnie has been here for him. What Minjun is trying to say is that family isn’t just about blood; it’s about who cares for you, who’s there for you."

Yejun’s anger flares, and she stands abruptly, her chair scraping loudly against the floor. "He is my son, and you’ve turned him into this...this weak, dependent child clinging to a man who has no business raising him!"

Minjun’s tears spill over, and he buries his face in Minho’s side, sobbing. Minho wraps his arms around his son protectively. "He is not weak. He’s a child, Yejun. And you’re upsetting him."

“I can’t believe you’re letting his babysitter take my role!” she protests loudly.

“That babysitter is my boyfriend,” Minho says firmly. Technically, the two of you aren't there yet but he couldn't care less right now. “So you better watch your mouth now.”

“Really? Dating a man?” she scoffs. “Did I break your heart so much you’re too scared to face another woman?” she spits out.

“What?” Minho almost chokes on his breath.

“You’re stupid,” Minjun states, pouting at her through tears. He doesn’t like how she’s talking about the two most important people in his life. “Daddy loves Y/nnie. Not you.”

“You’re coming with me now, if you like it or not!” she says firmly, reaching out for him.

"Don’t touch him," you snap, your voice icy as you move to block her path. "You need to leave, Yejun. You’re only causing him distress." You can’t believe what you got back to here.

Yejun stares at you, her anger boiling over. "He’s my son, not yours! You have no right—"

"He's not your son!" Minho interrupts firmly, standing up to face her, his voice echoing in the small space. "Not if you can’t see the damage you’re doing right now. Minjun has made his choice!"

“Not my mummy,” Minjun agrees. Still clinging to Minho, he peeks out and yells in his small, fierce voice, "Go away! I don’t want you! I want Daddy and Y/nnie!"

The raw honesty in Minjun’s voice seems to hit Yejun hard. For a moment, her resolve wavers, her features softening as she looks at her son. But the bitterness and resentment are too deep, her expression hardening once again.

“You’re disgusting,” she says toward Minho who stares at her quietly. “One day, he’ll leave you just like he left me,” she tells Minjun, who whimpers, clinging to him. 

“You’re such a bitch,” you tell her and stare her down until she storms off. “You forgot your stuff!” you call out for her and she spins around, stomping back to get it. 

“Fuck you.” With that, she turns sharply and storms out of the café, leaving behind a heavy silence. 

Minho kneels down, wiping the tears from Minjun’s cheeks. "It’s okay, buddy. She’s gone now. You’re safe," he murmurs, his voice soothing.

Minjun sniffles, nodding as he leans into Minho’s embrace. "Stay with me, Daddy. Stay with Y/nnie."

"We will, Minjun. We’re not going anywhere," Minho reassures him. “Always back to you, remember my sweet boy?”

“Yes, Daddy,” he nods bravely.

-

Back at the company Minho walks straight to Chan's studio, telling you to go and get some snacks with Minjun first. He closes the door behind himself and starts cursing as soon as it clicks shut. “I swear that woman is insane! I don't know what the fuck I saw in her but it's gone!”

Chan slowly pulls off his headphones and Jisung clicks his pen, blinking at Minho worriedly. “Mate, what happened?” Chan asks gently. 

“Yejun happened!” Minho snaps. “She just tried to pull Minjun away from me so he'd go with her! She called him a weak, clingy child for wanting to stay with me!” 

“Okay, take a deep breath,” Chan says soothingly. 

“I don't feel like taking a deep breath right now,” he says fuming with anger. 

Changbin picks up a pillow and throws it at him. “Scream into that for a moment. Let it all out. You haven't told us much but I suspect Minjun needs his father to be calm now.” Minho blinks at them stunned before doing as they say, his scream getting muffled by the pillow. “Better?”

“A little,” he nods, making them all laugh. Minho flops down onto the sofa between Changbin and Jisung, huffing softly. Then he tells them about everything that happened, all of them growing quiet, exchanging shocked glances. 

“Not to be that type of person but..I never liked her,” Jisung snorts and Minho hums agreeingly. 

“I know…but I wouldn't want to miss the time I had with her. I'd miss my little boy,” he sighs and rubs his face. 

“If she starts causing trouble you let me know, alright?” Chan asks. “Everyone of us can tell whoever needs to know that you've always been there for him and raised him well so far.”

“Thanks, hyung,” he smiles gently, looking up as the door opens and you and Minjun enter the room. Minjun runs up to everyone handing them their favorite snack and smiles proudly at the many encouragement he gets. Minho scoots over and pats the space next to himself, gently tapping your hand to make you sit. 

“Can I talk to you for a second?” you ask and Minho nods, getting up quickly. 

As soon as you leave the room Minjun climbs into Chan's lap and nibbles on his chocolate. “Exciting day?” Chan asks gently. 

“No. Yejun’s a bitch,” he announces dryly. Chan bites back a laugh and Jisung nods proudly. 

“Woah, that's a strong word,” Changbin laughs. “Did your daddy teach you that?”

“No, Y/nnie,” he tells them. 

“You like staying with your daddy more, right?” Chan asks amused. 

“And Y/nnie,” he nods happily. “Y/nnie and Daddy.”

“Yeah? Y/nnie stays with you a lot,” Jisung agrees. 

“Daddy loves Y/nnie.”

“Loves?” he asks curiously. 

Minjun nods and leans up to Chan, kissing his cheek. “They did that.”

Chan giggles, exchanging a glance with his friends. “They kissed?” he asks curiously. 

“Mhm,” he nods and continues munching his chocolate. “But not there,” he says, pointing at Chan's cheek. 

“No?” Chan asks stunned. 

“No. Like uncle Lix and you,” he announces making the whole room go silent. 

“You mean here?” Chan asks, pointing at his lips. 

“Yes,” Minjun nods. “Y/nnie is my new mum.”

“That's so cute,” Jisung whispers, smiling at him adoringly. 

The door opens and you two are back from your short talk about everything that happened. You sense something's off, judging by the way the three are glancing from Minho to you and back again. “Minjunnie, are you ready to go home?” you ask him. “Daddy has to work but he'll come later.”

“Work?” Minjun asks heartbreakingly timid. 

“I'm sorry, baby,” Minho tries, swallowing hard as Minjun climbs off Chan's lap and walks over to him, his small face scrunching up. Minho scoops him up, hugging him tightly. "I'll be back before you know it, okay? And Y/nnie will be with you," he reassures, glancing over at you with a grateful smile.

Minjun seems somewhat calmed by this, nestling his head against Minho's shoulder. "Promise?" he mumbles, his voice muffled.

"I promise, buddy," Minho affirms, pressing a kiss to his son's hair.

You can't help but feel a pang of warmth at the scene, your heart swelling at the depth of their bond. As you prepare to leave with Minjun, Minho sets him down, adjusting his little backpack and smoothing down his hair.

"Be good for Y/nnie, okay?" Minho instructs, kneeling to be eye level with Minjun.

"I will," Minjun nods solemnly, then looks up at you with those big, trusting eyes. "Let's go, Y/nnie."

As you lead Minjun out of the studio, his hand in yours, you glance back to see Minho watching you both, a mix of love and a tinge of sorrow in his eyes. It's clear how torn he feels, the duties of his work pulling him away from moments he cherishes with his son.

Back at Minho’s house, the evening unfolds with a quiet kind of normalcy. Minjun plays with his toys in the living room, occasionally chatting about things he remembers from the day or asking questions about what tomorrow might bring. You keep your answers light and reassuring, mindful of the emotional turmoil he’s endured.

Later, while Minjun is absorbed in a cartoon, you step into the kitchen to prepare a simple dinner, your thoughts wandering back to Minho. The way he had leaned into your kiss, the vulnerability he showed—it all painted a picture of a man deeply in love but equally scared of the implications. Your heart aches for him, wishing there was more you could do to ease his fears.

As you set the table, Minjun comes running into the kitchen, his earlier worries seemingly forgotten in the wake of his current excitement about the cartoon.

"Y/nnie, did you see? The superhero saved everyone!" he exclaims, his eyes sparkling.

"I saw that, buddy. It was pretty cool, wasn’t it?" you smile, lifting him onto a chair.

"Yeah! I wanna be like that," Minjun declares, his chest puffing out proudly.

"I think you're already a hero, Minjun. You know that?" you say, ruffling his hair.

He giggles, beaming up at you. "Really?"

"Really," you affirm, serving him his dinner.

Dinner passes with playful chatter, and soon it's time for Minjun's bedtime. As you tuck him into bed, he hugs his beloved bunny. 

"Daddy comes home soon?" Minjun’s voice is small, tinged with the weight of his earlier tears.

"He promised, didn’t he? And your daddy always keeps his promises," you reassure him, smoothing down the blanket. “Did you know your daddy's animal of the group is a bunny?”

Minjun nods proudly. “Yes.”

“There are plushies of his bunny, just like yours here. Would you like one?” you ask gently and Minjun nods with wide eyes. “Then you can cuddle it if he's not here.”

Minjun nods contently, curling up with the plushie. "Night, Y/nnie."

"Goodnight, Minjun. Sweet dreams," you whisper, turning off the light and leaving the door slightly ajar.

Once Minjun is asleep, you sink onto the couch, the quiet of the house settling around you. You're startled by the sound of the front door opening—Minho is home.

He looks exhausted, the lines of his face deeper, his eyes shadowed. But when he sees you, a smile, tired yet genuine, crosses his lips.

"Hey," he greets softly, dropping his keys into the bowl by the door.

"Hey," you reply, standing to meet him. "Rough day?"

"You could say that," Minho sighs, pulling you into a hug. It's a long, tight embrace, one that speaks volumes.

As you pull back, you hold his gaze. "Talk to me," you encourage.3

Minho shakes his head slightly, a weary chuckle escaping him. "Just the usual chaos. But coming back to this—coming back to you—it helps more than you might think."

Your heart skips a beat at his words, the simplicity of his statement underscoring the depth of your growing bond. "I'm glad," you murmur, your hands resting on his arms.

"We didn't get much time earlier... to talk about... us," Minho hesitates, searching your face for signs of what you might be feeling.

"No, we didn’t," you agree, feeling the momentous weight of the conversation that looms between you. "But we’re here now. We can talk."

Minho nods, taking a deep breath. "I meant what I said earlier, before everything with Yejun. I love you, Y/nnie. I know it’s complicated, and I know my life is... a lot. But I want you in it, in every way."

The earnestness in his voice, the open vulnerability—he’s offering you his heart, and it’s yours to take. You smile, your decision clear. "I love you too, Minho. And I’m in this. All of it, with you," you say.

The relief that washes over Minho's face is evident. He pulls you close again, his lips finding yours in a kiss that seals the promise of a future together, come what may. In that moment, wrapped up in each other, the challenges that lie ahead seem manageable. With love as your anchor, you both feel ready to face whatever comes next, together.

PART THREE | PART FIVE

MASTERLISTS | PROMPT LIST | GUIDELINES

Taglist (Please let me know if you want to be added to or removed from the taglist):

@atinyniki @galaxycatdrawz @silverstarburst @aaa-sia @lilmisssona @kthstrawberryshortcake @channieaddict @soullostinspaceandtime @rebecca-johnson-28 @lixie-phoria @kibs-and-bits @xxstrayland @ihrtlix @pheonixfire777 @mellhwang @palindrome969 @michelle4eve @harshaaaaa @rylea08 @heeyboooo @manuosorioh @gisaerlleri @andassortedkpop @lailac13 @bbokari711 @kazuuuaaa @rssamj @wolfyychan @stellasays45 @chrizzztopherbang @ionlyeverwantedtobeyourequal @silentreadersthings @myforevermelody143 @sapphirewaves @lost-in-avoidance @moonchild9350 @spicxbnny @queer-possum @james-is-here @roriiror @minholover1 @cb97s-laptop @iknowyouknowminho @iatethem @constrellar

[love--and--venom]

I Make You (You Make Me): Chapter Three

Summary: You fill the boys in about the phone call. You learn the meaning behind one of your soulmark's colors. A cute moment with Heeseung.

Warnings: I don't think there's anything? Lmk if I should add any. Super not proofread.

A/N: I did swap Jungwon and Heeseung's colors, so no you're not crazy. Jungwon is now pink and Heeseung is now red.

Series Masterlist

“Hey, Y/N, you should wake up.” A gentle hand shook your shoulder. “You’re not gonna be tired tonight otherwise.” With a groan, you cracked open one eye. Jay hovered over you, tracing patterns on your skin just to see the trails of green left behind.

“What time is it?” You sat up, rubbing the remnants of sleep from your eyes. 

“Almost 4:30,” Jake said as he passed through the living room. You groaned again, pissed at yourself for taking a four-hour nap. Sunoo plopped down next to you while the rest of the boys went to change. He relaxed into the cushions and turned to you.

“So are you gonna tell us why Jungwon started freaking out in the middle of the shoot?” He arched an eyebrow, playfully pinching your knee. You considered that progress in terms of skinship with the fox-eyed idol.

“I’ll tell you once everyone is out here.” He hummed and both of you pulled out your phones to catch up on notifications. You grumpily deleted three job rejection emails. Hopefully Minjun could get an answer about the backup dancer position soon. Jungwon was the first to return to the living room, stealing the spot on your other side. He immediately grabbed your hand, threading your fingers together. One by one, the others filed into the room.

“What happened?” Jungwon’s forehead creased in concern, squeezing your hand. Whether he was trying to calm you or himself, you couldn’t really tell. 

“I got a really concerning phone call. Long story short, the woman that called knows about me and the soulmates of Xikers and TXT.”

“What?!” Jay snapped, jolting upright from where he was laying on the floor. “How is that possible? We've all been so careful.”

“I don’t know. But it sounds like she wants to expose me and the other girls for, uhh…” you trailed off, unsure if you should tell them about the mystery woman’s insults.

“Expose you for what?” Sunghoon urged you to continue, but you hesitated, pressing your lips into a thin line. 

“Y/N.” Oh, fuck, Jungwon used his leader voice. “Expose you for what?”

“She wants to show everyone that we’re,” your voice dropped down to a mumble. “Whoring ourselves out to you.”

“Y/N,” Jungwon sighed, rubbing his temple with his free hand. “Please don’t make this difficult.”

“She called us whores, okay?” 

“No fucking way,” Jake scoffed. “That’s bullshit.”

“I know. Minjun is going to contact the managers for the other groups. He said I should stay in the dorms while they coordinate with the police,” you explained. 

“Is the phone number still in your call history?” Riki tilted his head back to rest on your crossed legs. He sat on the floor in front of the couch, legs sprawled out across the carpet. You nodded, prompting him to continue. “Do you think we should try calling them?”

“No, definitely not.” 

“Why not? We might be able to figure out who it is or what they want,” Jake continued. All eyes fell to you as you huffed in irritation.

“Think about it. First, we don’t even know if this is a real phone number. Second, what would even say to her if she did answer?” You raised a brow, looking between Jake and Riki. The younger shrugged and closed his eyes, pulling your hand down to his hair. Jake coughed and picked at his nails when he couldn’t find an answer.

“Let Minjun and the other managers handle it. She’s safe here and at the company,” Jungwon firmly stated, ending any lingering arguments.

“Well, in better news, I think I know what your colors mean,” Jay switched the topic with a point to your fingers.

“Really? How?” You perked up a bit, eager to learn more about your soulmark.

“Sunoo and I were three pages deep on google during our lunch break.”

“It was the first time I’ve ever gone past the first page of results. I thought I was on the dark web,” Sunoo dropped his voice to a raspy whisper toward the end, wiggling his fingers at you. 

“And what did you find on the dark web?” You wiggled your fingers back at him.

“Sunghoon was right for once-”

“Hey!” Sunghoon complained and threw a pillow at Jay. They started bickering, so you turned to Sunoo.

“The different colors do represent different bond types,” he said while pulling out his phone. “Uhh, hang on, I screenshotted it.”

“What are the types of bonds?” Riki asked, cracking open one eye.

“That’s what I’m looking for, doofus. Oh, here it is! We found this on a sketchy blog, but everyone seems to agree. For one of the colors, at least.”

“Sunoo, please just tell me,” you whined. 

“Oh, my god, you’re all so impatient. The only color people can agree on right now is red. It represents soul bonds that are both romantic and sexual in nature,” he read from the post. Your eyes widened and you deliberately ignored the stares from Jay, Sunghoon, and Heeseung.

“Oh! That’s…” You trailed off, feeling awkward for the first time around the boys.

“Hot.”

“Heeseung!” You squeaked and hid your face behind your hands. He cackled at your reaction, only making you sink further into the couch.

“Chill,” Jake smacked the eldest on the shoulder half-heartedly. “You’re embarrassing our soulmate.”

“I’m sorry, baby, but you’re way too cute when you blush.” You glared at his poor excuse of an apology, your bright red cheeks took the sting out of it. “I’m right, though.”

“Oh definitely.” “I’m sayin’.” Sunghoon and Jay agreed at the same time. The three of them high-fived, making you groan dramatically.

“You’re so mean! I’m staying with Jake tonight,” you stated and crossed your arms. The Aussie cheered while the laughter from the other three turned to loud protests. 

“I have a question.” Heeseung’s head popped into the doorway of Jake’s room. You looked up from your phone, moving from laying on your stomach to sit criss-cross on the bed. 

“Should I be worried?” You tilted your head, raising an eyebrow.

“No, of course not.” You gestured for him to continue. “I know you haven’t had sex–”

“Heeseung.”

“It’s not about that, I promise!” He suppressed a laugh, covering it by clearing his throat. “Can I continue, your majesty?” You rolled your eyes.

“I suppose.”

“Have you had your first kiss yet?” He leaned on the doorway, arms crossed loosely over his chest.

“Nope. I didn’t see a point in dating or anything since I knew I’d meet my soulmate eventually,” you shrugged, now mildly concerned by Heeseung’s growing smirk.

“Can I be your first?” His enthusiasm reminded you of an excited puppy. You already knew your answer, but decided to mess with him a little bit first.

“Awe, are you still pouting about me sleeping in Jake’s bed tonight?” You ran a finger down your cheek, imitating a tear falling.

“I was not pouting.”

“Mhmm, sure,” you giggled as he glared half-heartedly. “Yes, Heeseung. You can be my first kiss.” He rushed into the room before you even finished your sentence. He propped one knee on the bed in front of you, cupping your jaw in one hand and immediately pressing his lips to yours. You squeaked at the lack of build-up, fully expecting Heeseung to be a massive tease. It was barely more than a peck and you hoped that your slight disappointment wasn’t visible on your face.

“What?” Heeseung grinned at your dazed expression, still close enough to feel his breath fan over your lips. “Did you want more?” There was the teasing you had braced yourself for. 

“Heeseung,” you whined, definitely wanting more. It was your turn to pout as he dodged your attempt to steal another kiss. 

“Ask nicely.”

“What??”

“If you want a better kiss, ask me for it.” He was smiling but his tone was completely serious. His thumb brushed over your cheek as you stared incredulously at him. You hoped he would cave and just give you what you wanted, but it would seem the other members did wonders at keeping him in check. 

“U-um, can I have a kiss?” You asked once you realized he wasn’t giving up that easily. 

“Come on, baby, you can do better than that,” he purred with his lips just barely brushing against yours. Based on how red your ears currently were, Heeseung knew he was going to have fun messing with you. Maybe a little too much fun.

“Fine,” you huffed. After another moment of hesitation, you swallowed your pride and pulled out your best puppy eyes. “Heeseung, can I please have a real kiss?”

“We’ll work on that.” Before you could process what he meant, he pulled you back in, sliding his hand from your jaw to the nape of your neck. You sighed into the kiss, much more satisfied now that you could properly feel the way he molded his mouth to yours. He sank down onto the bed so you were more level, allowing you to drape your arms over his shoulders. Your heart skipped a beat when his tongue skimmed over your bottom lip. 

“Y/N have you seen my- oh my god!” You jumped at Jake’s sudden appearance. Heeseung smothered his giggles in your shoulder, unbothered by the interruption. You stared at Jake, both of your faces turning bright red. 

“Well,” Heeseung started once he composed himself. “You should get ready for bed. Goodnight!” He kissed your temple then slid past Jake, disappearing down the hall. You cleared your throat.

“S-so, you were looking for something?” 

“Yes! Yes, have you seen my braided leather bracelet?” He asked, shaking his head and sitting on the edge of the bed- his bed. You furrowed your brows.

“Yeah,” you said while holding up your wrist. His bracelet sat snugly between your crystal and metal bracelets. 

“Oh right, I forgot I gave it to you.”

“Jake, you physically put it on my wrist. How did you forget?” You chuckled, dropping your hands into your lap. He shrugged, standing and moving back toward the door. “You can have it back, if you want.”

“Nah. Heeseung is right, though. Get some sleep, I’ll be back in a bit.” Jake hesitated in the entrance to the hallway. He glanced back at you, seeming to mull something over in his mind. “You okay?” You asked gently. He hummed, returning to your side so he could give you a very, very quick kiss before practically sprinting out of the room. You grinned and tucked yourself under the comforter. Despite your extended nap, it didn’t take long to succumb to sleep, hoping that tomorrow would bring good news.

Permanent Taglist: @furfoxsake22 @babygirlskz98 @miniverse-zen @holly-here @corgilover20 @eastjonowhere @bookswillfindyouaway

Series Taglist: @wildtigerlili @jiyeons-closet @laylasbunbunny @channieismylove @tunafishyfishylike

Blogs in purple could not be tagged

[pinkbrries]

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐦𝐞𝐞𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠.

➞ summary. because a little bit of staring never hurt anybody, right?

➞ w.c: 0.7k words.

➞ tw: none, just heeseung being kind of whipped for june lol

↳ a/n: the first drabble for the first episode🤪 it’d be nice to hear what you thought about this one!! i’ve been wanting to repost this one since forever so enjoy^^

↳ a/n 2: i recommend you reading the first episode before reading this drabble !!

taglist: @nevyxx | find june’s masterlist here

Don’t stare too much, it could look weird… But maybe, he could stare a little bit.

It doesn’t matter, everyone else here was doing it too, staring never hurt anybody, right? Especially if it’s a known face.

A pretty known face.

Heeseung knows better, he heard some time ago about a ‘hidden ace’ training under hybe for two years already, but the last person he was expecting to show up was Lee Minjun, a very known trainee back in 2018 because she was part of a debut line-up without having an agency representing her.

The girl is smiling and waving at everyone, and it definitely made him smile too. There was something about the charisma the girl exudes with just standing there that Heeseung can’t help but keep his gaze on her.

Could this be… A crush? No, scratch that. It definitely couldn’t be that, he just happened to have eyes and recognize (just like everyone else in the room) that the girl was indeed beautiful. A plus was because he also watched her during mixnine and he knew how talented she was.

Maybe this was just admiration and respect, not a crush.

Yeah, let’s keep thinking that.

“Oh, Hi! Nice to meet you!” A voice takes him out of his train of thought, so looking up, he meets some pretty brown eyes looking at him with a dazzling smile. The girl bows, and Heeseung feels dumb because he just answers with a bow back instead of saying something. Before his face starts getting more red, the girl talks again, pointing towards the two empty seats beside him. “Can we sit here?”

The nervous laugh Heeseung let out wasn’t part of his plan at all, but he just tries to shrug it off.

“Sure.”

Getting caught by Minjun’s friend wasn’t part of the plan, either.

Heeseung tries his best to keep his eyes right on the front, but when he accidentally meets eyes with Kim Jiho when he was trying to peek a little bit, he again starts feeling the heat creeping up his neck, hearing some small chuckles from his right side.

He allows himself to freely look at her (finally when Jiho is also distracted), thinking that, beside the visuals and the obvious talent, the girl was also a very nice and amiable person.

While he was talking with Jay and Sunghoon, Heeseung noticed how the girl fell into easy conversation with some other boys there, laughing and even joking with them as if they’ve known each other for a long time now.

He also wanted to talk to her, but he didn’t know how, and just when he’s trying to find a way, he realizes that goddammit Lee Heeseung, you did the staring thing again.

And this time, Minjun was the one that caught you.

Before his eyes can show the panic he’s feeling in that moment, the girl giggles. “Hi again, I’m Lee Minjun,” yeah, he knows, “but you can call me June, nice to meet you.”

“I’m Lee Heeseung, nice to meet you too,” the boy smiles, pausing a little bit as if he was thinking on how to word the next sentence, “I–uhm, I actually watched you on mixnine, so I’m really looking forward to your performance today.”

Did that sound creepy? Heeseung thinks that maybe it did, but when June gasps and her eyes brighten up a little bit more, he feels relieved that she didn’t find it strange.

Heeseung sees how she puts a hand on her chest, smiling so big that it makes him instantly smile too.

“Oh my god, thank you! I know everyone here must be really talented too, so I’m really looking forward to seeing you too!”

There’s something about the way she expresses herself in a very sincere manner that it makes him have this weird feeling in his chest, so giggling at the compliment he just received, he thanks her.

Racking his brain in search of finding a way to keep the conversation alive, Heeseung opens his mouth to add something. However, he doesn’t count on someone interrupting him.

“Hi, hello, nice to meet you,” a hand gets extended at his back towards June, making the girl laugh, “I’m Jay, and this is Sunghoon,” the dark haired boy beside Heeseung points at the other quiet boy, him doing a little wave as a greeting.

“Hi! I’m June,” she accepts his hand and shakes it a little.

And just like that, Jay and June start an easygoing conversation between the two, sometimes Heeseung (or even Sunghoon) adding a comment here and there.

Yes. You’re trying your best, Lee Heeseung.

[cravetive]

𝔸 𝔽ℝ𝕀𝔼ℕ𝔻 𝕆𝔽 𝔸 𝔽ℝ𝕀𝔼ℕ𝔻 | ℂℍ. 𝟠

| 𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: 𝐀𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐛𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐜𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐚 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐝 𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐠𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐞𝐞𝐤 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐞 𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐭 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐰𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐛𝐞 𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐝𝐫𝐚𝐰 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐮𝐧𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐥𝐲 𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐨𝐫.

|𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞/𝐚𝐮: 𝐄𝐧𝐞𝐦𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬,𝐬𝐦𝐮𝐭,𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐦𝐞, 𝐥𝐨𝐭𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐭, 𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐝 𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐠𝐞 𝐚𝐮, 𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐬, 𝐬𝐦𝐮𝐭.

| 𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐉𝐉𝐊 𝐗 𝐅𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

| 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 7k

| 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐨𝐱𝐢𝐜 𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩𝐬, 𝐚𝐛𝐮𝐬𝐞, 𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐝𝐫𝐮𝐠𝐬 & 𝐚𝐥𝐜𝐨𝐡𝐨𝐥, 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐮𝐚𝐠𝐞 ( 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤), 𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐨𝐫𝐠𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐳𝐞𝐝 𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐦𝐞, 𝐦𝐮𝐫𝐝𝐞𝐫, 𝐬𝐦𝐮𝐭, 𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐥 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐭𝐡, 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤, 𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐬𝐞𝐱𝐮𝐚𝐥 𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 (𝐥𝐨𝐭𝐬), 𝐬𝐞𝐱 ( 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐬), 𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐠𝐮𝐧𝐬 & 𝐝𝐫𝐮𝐠𝐬, 𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞

| 𝐀/𝐍: 𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐬 𝐟𝐚𝐬𝐭-𝐩𝐚𝐜𝐞𝐝 𝐬𝐨 𝐈 𝐚𝐩𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐢𝐳𝐞 𝐢𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐟𝐮𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐲; 𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲, 𝐈 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐨𝐟𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐢𝐭 𝐨𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐦𝐲 𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐢𝐬 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐛𝐲 𝐚 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐠𝐮𝐲𝐬 𝐬𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐦𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐛𝐞 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐫𝐬.

previous chapters

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You lay exhausted on the floor, sweat trickling the sides of your cheeks as you looked up at the ceiling in despair – there was no air in your lungs, and it was not like you were trying to breathe. breathing would only make this harder for you. you couldn’t get the ringing in your ears to subside no matter how much you concentrated. You were burnt out, heavy lids blinking in slow motion whilst you lay limp on the matted floor. In moments like these, you tried to find beauty in sacrifice, but no matter what color you tried to paint it, no matter what museum it would be hung on for others to observe, there was nothing beautiful in defeat.

 the sound of the man yelling above you echoed through the room but even whilst he continued barking for you to stand, there wasn’t a fiber in your body that was willing to comply.

It had been like this for months, exerting your body through painful training – pushing yourself to the brink of death every day. you had spent sleepless nights worrying about a future out of your grasp, planning down falls under closed doors and hushed tones.

“You have no one! No one wants you; no one needs you if you don’t get up and fight, no one will do it for you!”

You permitted your lips to part and within them a heavy breath climbed out, hallowing your chest and in its trail leaving a pounding ache inside your head. You had grown accustomed to being cruel to yourself, knowing that the enemies you would soon form would show you no mercy, offer you no time to regain your breath.  

“Y/n get the fuck up!”

You sat up quickly, spitting out the mouth guard that had been wedged between your teeth and finally allowing yourself to breathe. Your brief tango with affixation results in a sour and painful aftertaste in your mouth.

“that’s enough for today Y/n, don’t ever underestimate your opponent they will always be stronger and bigger than you, it is then when you have to rely on your technique, it's never about strength” your Jiu Jitsu instructor yelled, displeasure in his expression as he stormed out of the room, the sound of the door slamming behind you causing your body to jolt. You stared down at the matt under you, a sense of contrition settling in your stomach.

“don’t take it to the head, he's just trying to push you” Minjun, your opponent spoke as he reached down to offer you his hand. You looked up at him with a glare, smacking his hand away, and standing up on your own.

“I don’t” you spat, limping over to your gym bag and reaching for your phone.

This had been your routine for some time now, whilst other wives planned out parties and prepared to birth children, you found yourself working on becoming an enemy competent enough to go against your husband and his affiliates, the fact alone was ridiculous but one that you had learned to accept, nonetheless.  

You would like to say that these circumstances hadn’t changed the way you viewed life, yet it had been a rude awakening to the all too cruel reality that even if you gained your liberty, you would never be the same. You had made relations with men whom in other instances you would’ve ran from and now when you looked in the mirror, you were too someone your past self would’ve screamed out to in fear.

The beauty in sacrifice.

Yet, you were no longer alone in your resentment. The feeling that you had detested for so long had made a home inside of you, a home that you had found yourself sharing with others. As you assisted your father-in-law with his campaign, you also worked on gaining connections and allies, finding that within this bubble that you lived in existed those who were far crueler than the men who had stripped you of your life.

All with the help of Yoongi of course, the strongest of your allies. He still was a censored scripture, a page that contained no words for you to understand but he was helpful, and you decided it would be best to not probe into his business. Knowing a man like Yoongi meant losing a part of yourself and there was already so much you had lost.

Your phone vibrated with an incoming call from Myung, her 5th attempt at trying to fulfill her job as the double agent she was. You took a deep breath trying to collect your thoughts, preparing yourself to morph into the person you had been pretending to be for the last few months. a shell of a woman, someone who complied in the name of revenge.

“Hello?” you spoke, gathering your belongings and heading towards the entrance of the building.

“Hello Ms. Y/n” Your eyes fluttered with exasperation, still struggling to find her voice pleasant; perhaps because she was a snitch, a mole placed into your life to collect information about your whereabouts for your husband, and based on her relentless phone calls it would appear Jungkook was not satisfied.

It was to be expected though, during this time you made various lifestyle changes, besides taking up self-defense training and visiting the shooting range 2 days out of the week, you had decided that a personal driver would no longer be necessary, opting to drive yourself to all your official and unofficial matters. It was the rational route to take whilst you plotted against your kin, even if it made Jungkook that much more paranoid.

“You interrupted a very important business meeting; how can I help you” You couldn’t control the harshness in your tone, feeling a bit guilty for the way you spoke to your assistant. You were still empathetic, still had a heart and she was probably a good person, someone with a life and bills to pay but nevertheless, a thorn cutting into your skin.

“I apologize Ms. Y/n- Mr. Jeon has been asking for you, he wants to know how his father's campaign is going.”

As promised Jungkook had temporarily taken the position of his father as head of their enterprise during his campaign which left him in complete control of the criminal empire, not that he wasn’t already a top player in that anyway; this only meant that he would have complete control of the decisions made whilst his father focused on pretending to be a civil member of society.

“I mean can't he call his father for this sort of thing” you huffed, opening your car door and throwing your gym bag across the passenger seat.

By now you knew Jungkook very well, could see right through his well-orchestrated intentions and this wasn’t about his father at all, this was a reminder. A reminder that he was still there, a stain on your perfectly clean plan.

“Well yes Ma’am but he requested to hear it from you.”

You rolled your eyes as you often did with these pestering requests, aside from your own personal assignments, you were already running his father's entire campaign, a job that consumed most of your time. you had gone above and beyond, promoting Mr. jeon like the god he pretended to be, influencing your most powerful acquaintances to finance his lies and deceits. All that and you still had to deal with his demonic son.

Naturally, you did have something to gain. being Mr. Jeon's campaign manager facilitated an ample path toward your goal, one the police couldn’t ignore, one that would set in motion the chain of events you had been preparing for. election day was tomorrow and in honor of that you had prepared a banquet, where everyone would celebrate the new governor because he would win, he had to win. You had made sure of that.

“Tell him we will see each other in his father's banquet” you responded, starting the ignition and driving away from the parking lot.

“But Ms. Y/n” Myung protested.

“And by the way Myung next time you even think about reporting back to your boss about what I do and where I am, I will kill you,” you snapped before ending the call.

Something deep inside you had changed; the girl that once cried out in agony at any misstep, at any injustice seized to exist. Perhaps influenced by the very men whom you now surrounded yourself with, who made you feel like you were worthy of a seat at their table.

You had done a proper job at disguising yourself as a content daughter-in-law, bowing down to all your father in laws orders, demonstrating to him you were trustworthy enough to handle his political affairs, making him appear like the perfect candidate in front of the cameras and to the community and maybe that made you a liar, but your lies had a purpose, nonetheless.

Mr. Jeon had found respect for you, admiration. He saw you as a gift that had been awarded to him by the heavens above and had gone as far as to say he was lucky to have you by his side. You had infiltrated yourself as the naïve wife to his golden child, someone who would do anything to please and comply, even if in the end you were just a trojan horse. The person who would destroy them from the inside out at the slightest opportunity.

Of the many things you were taught by your ruthless ally Yoongi and your loyal friend Jin, your preparedness was the only thing they shared. Their methods were different, but their intentions were all the same. While Jin taught you about this life, the rules and policies these criminals respected and therefore followed, Yoongi taught you how to disarm a gun, how to hold your head high during confrontations, all ensuring you were someone no one could fuck with.

You were a loaded gun with no safety, willing and able to end all those who crossed you.  

You could recall Yoongi’s voice in your mind, the memory of his hands wrapped around yours as he showed you the delicacy of firing a gun, he viewed it as an art whilst you shook in fear of the mere thought of being in the room with the damn thing.

‘First step, you load your magazine’

Convincing all those with the power to sit in one room in honor of your father-in-law had proved to be a difficult task but one you had been successful at. You needed an audience after all, an audience that could not be paid or coerced, one that would hold those who had fooled them accountable; there was nothing in this world that people with money hated more than to waste their time and resources.

You had spent hours meticulously plotting for this very moment, making sure everything flowed without a hitch and now only a day away you could see the end of the tunnel, a dream that you could almost grasp, almost taste.

It was simple really, if you take a man's reputation then you take everything he has.

Jungkook and his family will no longer be able to stand behind a glass of smoke, and all their deceit and crimes will be exposed, by tomorrow night everyone would know what they have done, and you would finally free yourself from the reigns that had been imposed on you, could finally tell the world the hell you have been through for the past year.

The anticipation alone gives a pep in your step.

You had ensured to hire the best of the best to work alongside you, infiltrating them into the political campaign all while under your pay role. If there was someone who understood how much power money had it was you. hiring the most skilled under the pretense of bettering your father-in-law’s chances all while they remained loyal only to you.

Yoongi had assisted you with gaining Park Jimin, one of the most efficient hackers in the country and he too now was under your payroll, there was no space for failure, there wouldn’t be a place on this earth that the Jeons could crawl to that you wouldn’t find them, there would be no more lies or escaping, they had to pay.

You entered through the door of your home for the last time, the place that had sheltered your deepest anguish. This would be the last day this place would ever see you again, if the Jeons couldn’t guarantee your freedom, you were going to take it back, and behind you stood an army ready to ensure you did. You had purchased a home on the outskirts of the city with the money you had made from your business, a place to call your own where no one could find you, where no one could imprison you.

You stood in the middle of the living room, eyes scanning each inch of the walls that watched you fall apart many times, it was a melancholic feeling, to say the least. The girl who first stepped into this home with dreams and aspirations, who lived unaware of the monster that lurked outside of her illusions, crumbled inside of you and for a moment you could say that you missed that naïve child.

The home was now unoccupied, you had sent Nali, Ha-Yoon, and Boram to prepare your new home, allowing them to live a proper life with independence, no longer under the command of the Jeons. It was the least you could do given their undevoted loyalty to you.

You made your way to your bedroom, taking a moment to reminisce on your time spent here. In your mind you liked to think you were doing this home a favor, offering it a break from witnessing your agony whilst unable to help, to reach out to you in comfort. Eventually, it would get a new owner, a family who could wipe away its past and replace your torment with their harmony.

Tomorrow, you would prepare yourself for the end of the beginning, gone would be the days you would weep within the darkness of your bed, lamenting over how things could’ve been different if you were a better daughter. Those were no longer your thoughts and you prided yourself in that. You concluded that whether you were a good enough daughter or not, no one deserved this. This jail, this life that had been gifted to you like a double-edged blade that caused you to bleed each time you indulged in it.

‘Secondly, cock your gun, make sure there is a bullet in the chamber’

You watched as your acquaintances filled the room, bright smiles on their faces as they greeted each other. You watched your plan come together from afar, pure satisfaction pouring through you with the knowledge that everything was going in accordance with your expectations. It was gratifying to know that all this sacrifice would ultimately bring you exactly what you deserved.

“Miss Y/n” you felt a whisper in your ear, and you turned quickly to find the voice. Jimin stood beside you with a wide grin, his black hoodie blocking your view of his face, you were accustomed to seeing him this way, he always appeared to be calm and quiet but once you got to know him, he was cheeky and sarcastic, and you would often forget he could hack into the government's database if he so desired.

“How are the polls?” you asked eagerly causing Jimin to chuckle.

“Relax Ms. Y/n, Mr. Jeon is leading as we expected” he shrugged, typing away on his phone. “Everything will go to plan, and you will get to see the results of your sleepless nights” he hummed which caused you to smile. You gave him a slight nod and then stepped closer to him, your voice dropping by decibels.

“What about the other thing?” you asked causing Jimin to bite down on his lip, his eyes searching yours knowingly.

“Everything is set, during your father in laws speech the screen there” he pointed at the stage, the black screen sitting tauntingly in your view “will show the crowd the detailed documentary of how the Jeons are a bunch of filthy animals” You couldn’t hold back the smirk that appeared on your face as the affirmation fell from his lips, you had chosen the hall with fewest exits, no running would save the Jeons from the shame and embarrassment of all their wrongdoings and when you glanced around the room again you could see the same men whose faces haunted you at night.  

Kim Taehyung, and Jung Hoseok whom you had never seen until today, all the major role players in their organization, would all be exposed too. Your eyes stopped on Yoongi who sat completely still, his head held high as it always did, a small smirk on his lips. He sat amongst them, peacefully waiting for the chaos to begin and the thought almost made you double down in laughter.

“Good work Jimin” you responded before stepping away and making your way to the back of the hall, your work was not over, you still needed to sell yourself as the helping daughter-in-law, your best role yet.

 You swiftly moved through the long corridor, you attempted to hold back the smile that threatened to show through your controlled demeanor, the feeling of triumph rushing through you only making you want to crave this revenge more and there would be nothing you wouldn’t do to keep it harbored inside of you.

It wasn’t like you weren’t nervous, if you were being honest the entire thing had you an anxious mess, but there were two kinds of fear, the kind that kept you completely still and the other that made you go into survival mode and right now you were hanging at the edge of a cliff and there was no way in hell you would allow yourself to fall.

You neared the door to the room in which your father-in-law sat, confident in his new achievement. If only he knew all the plans that you had for him, all of which would wipe away his entire distinction. No one else would be fooled or trapped into an unwarranted life like you and your family, this was for the well-being of everyone else, you were doing everyone a favor or at least, that’s what you told yourself.

Your body was suddenly halted by a hand on your arm, the person gripped and dragged you against the wall, causing you to whimper in protest. You readied yourself to fight, to throw punches as you had been taught but once you looked up into the eyes of the perpetrator you could only sigh and look away as Jungkook stood over you. his eyes glared into your skull as his grip remained tight against your arm.

The irritation alone causes you to want to break his hand.

You pushed back the vile taste in your tongue, caused by your one and only husband. You closed your eyes for a moment and then snapped your eyes back at him, a fake smile spreading across your lips.

“Husband” you chirped, annoyed by your own tone.

“Why did you threaten Myung?” he snapped causing your smile to falter for a moment. You pressed your lips together and glanced back at his hand still tightly wrapped around your arm. You reached your hand to meet his and squeezed harshly.

“Jungkook, can you please let go, it hurts” you whispered, your eyes looking in both directions in fear someone could come and find you both in this state. Previously you wouldn’t have cared if Jungkook’s true colors came into view but now, the audience would have to wait for the meticulous plan you had set in motion.

Jungkook sighed, dropping his hand from your arm. You rubbed your hand against it, noticing the guilt in his eyes but just as it had arrived, it was gone. Like a lightning strike and you doubted it was even guilt in the first place.

“What are you planning?” he accused but you remained passive, recalling the words of your mentor. You scanned his face carefully, trying to find out if his paranoia held any rationality. Did he know? Impossible, you had acted as the perfect wife and the perfect daughter-in-law for the last few months, even if it made you want to vomit at every turn.

“What are you talking about my love?” You whispered, a saddened expression settling on your face. He rolled his eyes, a scoff falling past his lips.

“My love? What is this act that you are putting on, just a few months ago you were declaring war against me and my family and now you want me to think that you’ve become this picture-perfect wife?” he spat. you furrowed your eyebrows, anger bubbling inside of your stomach, the evidence in your now flushed cheeks.

“Perhaps you’ve been a snake for so long you can't tell when someone is being genuine” you responded, Jungkook remained still, his eyes staring into yours for what felt like forever. It was uncomfortable to have him look at you in this way like he could smell the deceit off of you.

“There you are” he scoffed, a mug smile erupting upon his face, you noted how close he was standing to you now. The approximation intimidates you, making you feel caged in all over again.

“I'm only going to warn you once in honor of our marriage, you come for me or my family and I will make sure that you never see the light of day again” he stepped closer, causing you to press your body against the wall. he was only a few inches apart now, your noses barely brushing.

“I don’t trust you and I don’t trust your intentions” he breathed, his eyes falling on your lips as he spoke. Your mouth gaped as you looked up at him, his eyes holding contempt while yours reciprocated anger.

“That seems like a personal problem” you whispered, shoving past him.

You took this moment to run down the hall, briefly looking back at him as he held onto the wall for balance. You wish you could say it caused you great joy to see him this paranoid, finally, you had been able to withdraw some sort of emotion from someone who held none but there was no sense in that victory if it wasn’t pain.

You entered the main hall, air clashing inside your lungs as you tried to gather yourself. You reached to fix your skirt, and walked towards the main stage, displaying a bright smile as you passed the very people you had invited. You watched as your father-in-law took his seat in the center of the room, a proud smile on his face as he waited for his win, the one you would willingly give to him. Who were you to deny others their own ruin, he would get everything he wanted.

He would have a price to pay along with his son.

You climbed up the steps towards the stage, your hands forming into fists as adrenaline coursed through your veins, this was the moment you had yearned for so long. You had outdone yourself, reaching a point you didn’t even know you were capable of. This would be the moment you could finally breathe with ease; you couldn’t wait to see the looks on all their faces once they knew the truth.

“Welcome everyone” you spoke into the microphone, gaining the attention of the crowd who murmured within themselves.

“I want to thank everyone who has made themselves present tonight, I know it might have been a hassle to clear your schedules” you joked causing the crowd to respond with laughter. You giggled slightly and glanced over to your father-in-law who smiled from ear to ear. You looked back at the crowd and hummed “I promise that we have been working very hard during this campaign and you will not regret supporting our cause” You finalized, the crowd clapped loudly and you proceeded to take a seat next to Mr. Jeon.

You clapped as he bowed in front of the crowd, his humble demeanor urging a sick feeling inside of you. This family was so good at pretending as long as they got what they wanted, for a moment you couldn’t help but reflect on how similar you had become to them but at least you wouldn’t be hurting any innocent lives to reach your own goal.

You looked down at the technical team, noticing the way Jimin calmly typed away on his computer as he hacked into the system and prepared the video you had worked so hard to put together. Mr. Jeon sat back down beside you and gave you a proud nod.

“I knew I could trust you” he whispered into your ear, and you offered him a small smile.

“Thank You, Mr. Jeon, for entrusting me with such a beautiful experience, surely you will make a wonderful governor.”

And you'll fill the streets with your drugs, you'll increase the crime rate, and eventually destroy the lives of millions.

He gave you a small chuckle “I hope I can meet all the expectations and to think your father was worried about your capabilities” he shrugged before looking back at the crowd with a smile.

The statement caused you to freeze within the chair you sat in, a sharp stabbing pain taking over your chest. you blinked silently for a moment, trying to process the words that had fallen from his mouth.

“Excuse me?” you asked, bewilderment taking over your expression.

What did your father have to do with any of this? He was but a victim in Jungkook’s family scheme, sure he often took their side, but he didn’t know the kind of people they were, or how far they would go to reach their filthy desires. You couldn’t brush away the concern eating at your brain, something you had failed to calculate.

You searched the crowd and found your parents sitting calmly, a smile on both their faces. You turned away and quickly placed your hand on Mr. Jeon's shoulder; he looked back at you, recognizing the conflict in your eyes and concern flashed through his features.

 “I’m sorry you said something about my father?” you questioned him once again. he slightly shook his head, regret written all over his expression, like he had made a mistake, and you knew that stare, it was of someone who had just royally fucked up.

“don’t mind me Y/n, the years are getting to me” he chuckled but it did nothing to ease your mind, what role did your father have in all of this? And what did he gain from Mr. Jeon succeeding? You engrossed yourself in your mind, losing presence in the room you had so eagerly wanted to be in before.

The polls flashed on the screen and the crowd began to cheer, you managed to look behind you and Mr. Jeon was in the lead, but you couldn’t bring yourself to look away from your parents, they sat proudly as they always did. there must've been something wrong all this time that you couldn’t see. Were you too naïve to think your parents weren’t unaware of Jungkook’s actual job? Did they sell you off regardless?

You wanted to shake those feelings away, that was impossible. Yes, they had been cruel to trade you off for money, sure they had grown distant with you as time passed but so did you, there was no way in hell they too would be linked to the organization you sought to end.

You were shaken back to reality as Mr. Jeon sat up from his seat taking steps towards the podium and then his colleagues who also sat beside you stood up to cheer and before you knew it, his win had been announced. You had just made Mr. Jeon the governor of the city, you had allowed him passage to do what he wanted along with his corrupt organization. You blinked away the troubling haze from your mind and sat up quickly following closely behind him.

He waited for the guests to seize their cheering; he nodded his head knowingly, raising his hand in appreciation. You stood firm, overtaken by the events that had transpired only moments before, his words still echoing inside of your mind. You averted your eyes to Yoongi. He had remained seated, his face expressionless. He gave you a reassuring nod but he was too far to know the emotions that were flowing through you now.

Your head pounded painfully, overtaken by the possibilities of what Mr. Jeon truly meant, was he trying to discourage you? Did Jungkook tell him about your incident earlier? There was no time to make sense of all of this, you looked back at Jimin who watched from behind his computer. The screen flashed the news, naming Mr. Jeon the new governor, and the loud thoughts inside your mind silenced.

“I want to thank you all so much for your support, I promise that as governor of this great city, I will ensure to keep the city safe and offer my support to every single one of our citizens who are struggling whether it be economically or health-wise, let us join together to make this a better community.”

‘now, pull the trigger’

As the words fell from the mouth of your father-in-law, you raised your hand to brush a strand of your hair behind your ear, the cue you and Jimin had practiced many times before. The small gesture that meant for him to begin the destruction of the family who had taken everything from you. The screen behind you went black but Mr. Jeon remained focused on his speech to notice the sudden change and suddenly the video began to play.

A picture of his face appearing on the screen with blood rolling down his eyes, an idea Yoongi had been very adamant had to be used to cause shock, which as always turned out to be correct. The crowd gasped loudly, clutching their companies and sitting at the edge of their seats, you watched in awe at the realization of a dream that seemed too far-fetched.

“Do you know who Mr. Jeon really is?”

A deep voice spoke from within the speakers, the video continued with pictures of all the unspeakable crimes that Jungkook and his father had committed throughout the city. All the bloodshed and illegal activities on full display for everyone to see. You watched the media roll in with their cameras, focusing on the face of Mr. Jeon who looked enraged at the screen behind him.

You couldn’t help but smile at the presentation, knowing every word by heart as the man continued to narrate the information that had been tightly kept hidden by the police and The crowd continued to gasp as more pictures were presented.

“The hands of our new governor are covered in the blood of the same people he claims he wants to protect and assist when all along his plan has been to murder our people and deepen his earnings with his drug and weapon trade.”

Your eyes scanned the room, havoc taking over as people began to scream, anger and impotence taking over them as they finally knew the truth, the same anger that you had lived with in silence for so long. You looked over at your parents, their faces morphed into that of disgust and then the video continued to the money laundering and watched as your father realized what you had done, his company named in the long list of businesses who had fallen victim to the Jeons money laundering scheme.

He was a victim, right?

Mr. Jeon snapped his face in your direction, the calm and collected facade dropping from his expression and replaced by complete anger. He glared at you, his eyes flaring with fury, and it felt like he was burning you alive.

“FIX THIS” he yelled over the sound of the voice exposing all his dark secrets.

You stood emotionless; your head held high as you remained unfazed by his sudden outburst. If you were to be completely honest, you didn’t know why you were even scared in the first place. He was just a shallow man, a man who bled just like you did.

“Fix what?” you barked, and his eyes widened in comprehension. you took a step back and began walking away from the angered man, you watched as the crowd began to scream and soon the media began asking him questions you knew he didn’t have the answers for, you were the one behind his speeches after all, all this time you had ensured he was viewed as the perfect candidate and now you had left him with nothing.

You made your way back to the corridor leading to the exit, a car waiting for you outside. After this, everything would be over and even if you ended up hurting your parents with the truth it was better that they knew, now there would be no more secrets, no more guilty tears spilling from your eyes. It wasn’t your burden to carry anyway. You had been protecting them and now it was time for them to protect themselves.

“Where do you think you are going?”

The voice made your steps halt and you turned on your heel to face Jungkook as he came running down the corridor, you could see the disgust in his eyes, but you weren’t scared to face him, if anything you had been prepared for it.

“Do you know what you just did” he shouted, your silence only further lighting the fury flowing past him. He snatched your arm causing your feet to stumble in place. You reached for his hand, forcing his touch away from you. his eyes held disdain but yours flashed war inside of them, you reached forward to twist his hand away from your skin, but he was relentless, his anger making him incapable of feeling the pain you were exerting.

“Did you think my threats were empty? I will make you and your family suffer in the same way you have made mine suffer” you spat, pushing him back and taking a step away. He stepped towards you again, his hand reaching to grab you once again, but you moved out of the way, grabbing his hand and twisting it behind his back.

“Do you think you can just do what you want and leave unscathed?” he yelled causing you to flinch. He used all his strength to turn over and his hand locked in with your throat, he corned you against the wall, grabbing both your hands as you tried to fight him off and pinning them above your head.

He squeezed his hand tightly around your neck, interrupting the airflow to your lungs. Your vision began to blur, and your lungs cried out for oxygen, but his grip remained firm and you knew you were once again trapped.

“I want to remind you that your parents are sitting in that room right now and if you don’t pay for what you’ve done, they will” he bit. You screamed out in anger; his words enticing you to react violently, your knee came up quickly, clashing harshly against his groin leading him to collapse on the floor with a loud groan. You stood over him, your breaths labored as you approached his body on the floor.

“don't you ever try to threaten me or my family ever again!” You shouted. You felt dizzy, adrenaline rushing through you quickly as you tried to regain your breath, you heaved reaching the wall for support and then you felt his hand clasp around your ankle, and he pulled with as much force as he could until your body collapsed on the ground.

The drop knocked out the little air you had mustered to inhale, and your body tensed at the impact.

He climbed over you, using his body weight to keep you pressed against the ground and you screamed out in impotence, the anger running through causing hot tears to spill out of your eyes. “Let me go Jungkook!” You screamed, his face was mere inches away, and you could feel his labored breaths fanning against your face as you tried to twist away from his grasp, you kicked and slammed your hand against his chest, but he wouldn’t budge, he had you at his mercy.

“Y/n” he barked, and you stared into his eyes, you could see the agony in them, despair begging out to you. You looked away, a small sob escaping your mouth.

“Why can’t you just let me go?” you whimpered.

“Why can’t you understand that you can't just go around destroying everything because of your pride!” he shouted, and you looked back at him with shock in your expression, pride? He thought this was all because your ego had been hurt. He would never understand, no matter how much you poured out in pain, he would never get it.

You pushed him away with your arm and with the other you landed a punch in his face, his body swinging to the side, finally liberating yourself from underneath him. You crawled away and used the wall next to you to stand on your feet. you made a run down the corridor, the view of the exit door taunting you as your lungs burned.

It only took a moment for him to follow behind, his steps heavy as he ran after you.

This was your chance to escape, to leave behind all your torments and Jungkook couldn’t take this away from you.

You threw yourself against the door and swung it open, the car waited for you across the parking lot, but you could feel your legs begin to ache. You could hear him yell out your name, but you didn’t dare stop, not even when your heart ached, not even if you wanted to turn around and look at him one last time.

You had concluded that you couldn’t care, that even if you wanted with every fiber of your being to run in his direction, that was not your place, it never was. Being Jungkook’s wife was only a title, a title that was too heavy for you to carry and you hated yourself for the fact that you still felt some kind of connection towards that man, and you hated your parents even more for raising you in this way.

“Y/n don’t you fucking dare get in that car or I swear to fucking god-“ your legs gave out and you stumbled forward, your body colliding with the black SUV that waited for your arrival, you could hear him closing in and you reached for the gun strapped to your thigh, removing the safety.

You turned and pointed the gun directly at him.

He stopped running, his hands reaching to pull out his own gun, you inhaled sharply, the cold breeze cutting into your skin as you both stood face to face, guns drawn out ready to shoot at any twitch of a muscle. You soon realized that you had never been pointed at with a gun and it only made it that much worse that it was him pointing at you. Did he think that he hadn’t caused enough pain to you? Would this be the last thing he took from you? your life?

He was more skilled than you and probably had used his gun to take plenty of lives while you were just a novice, someone whose hands had only shot at fake targets.

“Y/n don’t be a fool put it down” he shouted.

You cocked the gun, setting a bullet into the chamber. He scoffed and then took a step forward causing you to tighten your grip on the weapon “Move and I’ll shoot you Jeon don’t tempt me” you responded.

“what are you a killer now? is that what you want? To be like every sick fuck in there?” he shouted. he knew what nerves to hit, what to say to make you succumb to your own thoughts, but it wouldn’t work this time, you had put too much on the line to let your guilt overtake you. you noticed the blood dripping from his mouth, caused by the punch you had landed on his face and your hand trembled.

“Come on you aren’t like this Y/n” he whispered, he took closer steps towards you and you raised your gun into the air, letting out 2 shots before pointing the gun back at him, you could hear the sound of his shoes halting against the grabble, his eyes widened in shock as he stared you as if he didn’t recognize you.

“You don’t know anything about me” you responded.

You heard the car door slam shut and then footsteps as your driver made his way by your side, his own loaded gun in hand. “Do we have a problem Madam?” his voice was calm, as his finger remained on the trigger, you glanced over at him and shook your head.

“No, I was just saying my final goodbyes,” your voice trembled.

Jungkook stood defeated, his hand reaching to brush away the blood trickling down his chin. You had never seen him react in this way, it truly made you reconsider the cold person you thought he was, all this time he hid himself under a mask of carelessness, and yet behind all of that was a man unraveling with emotions. You lowered your gun, your eyes fixed on him for another short while, you allowed the silence to simmer and then you slipped inside the car, ignoring the subtle pain in his eyes.

From the window you could see Jungkook standing alone, his eyes stuck on the black SUV in which you had just sped off in. You were supposed to be happy, to feel liberation coursing through your veins but instead, you only felt guilt in its place.

‘Lastly, reload your gun.’

-

𝐈'𝐯𝐞 𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐚 𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫

𝐇𝐞𝐲 𝐠𝐮𝐲𝐬! 𝐢 𝐡𝐨𝐩𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐞𝐧𝐣𝐨𝐲𝐞𝐝! 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐦𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐨𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 & 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐢 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐲𝐨𝐮!

𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐚𝐧 𝐚𝐬𝐤/𝐝𝐦 𝐢𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭!

© 𝐂𝐫𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞, 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐝.

@ane102,@thisartemisnevermisses,@jamlessstars,@cookysstuff,@gyeomibearr,@multiasf ,@lydinews,@vminkookgf,@chl0buggy, @peterstarkchrishiddleston , @koostrawberry , @jcrl99 , @coree730 , @melodiesforari , @taemond-in-the-ruff , @whoa-jo @jksusawife , @hoseoksluv89 , @piecesofapril11 , @coralmusicblaze , @junecat18 , @amiradumas , @mageprincess7 , @heartjiminie , @parkinglot-nights , @douknowbts , @str4gguk , @sarzkh31, @jjk970971 , @xwniazx, @jalexad, @hubbytaehyung, @wobblewobble822, @llallaaa, @gojosatoruhere, @defnotxara , @somehowukook , @jk-190811 , @googie-jeon , @melodiesforari , @harmonic55

[cherrylgc]

ducks got fast legs

safe to say, all this team unknown stuff was draining cherry. cherry was aware that compared to her trainee time, she pretty much sucked, with the speed she was learning in, she surely wasn’t becoming any idol before at least age fifty. cherry isn’t sure what happened. prior to auditioning for legacy, she’d worked hard by herself to grow in rapping, she’d quickly learned and she got accepted, but ever since then, she’s been learning slowly. she’s not sure what does it, if it’s because she’s a student besides being a trainee, if she’s lazy, not hardworking, she just can’t quite figure out why she’s learning so slowly.

all this intensive training is needed for cherry, she’s aware of that, but that doesn’t mean she’s enjoying these even more difficult than usual dance classes, cherry is surprised she hasn’t broken any foot yet. when practice is finished, cherry decides on that she needs fresh air, and though she usually isn’t a fan of walking by herself, right now she doesn’t care she’s alone. she reaches a park, with a little pond in it, the blonde walks over to it, watches as the water slightly moves due to the wind.

she’s not alone though, a few ducks are in the pond, cherry watches them, as she notices one swims her way, she takes a few steps back, and the duck leaves the pond, before she knows it, she’s running, getting chases by a duck.

“someone please save me!”.

written for... @lgcmjun

[lyracarvahall]

HeartBeat Sync PART 2

Chapter 2: Once In a Lifetime

What this proposition turned out to be involved a trip to Dallas, which thankfully Y/N was self-employed so getting time off was definitely doable. While her family thought that she simply worked from home, her music and writing of smutty romance novels has gotten her by.

Lexi accompanied her on this journey with a smug look on her face the entire time. They made their way to the airport lounge. They had a private jet awaiting them, much as Y/N tried to protest Eden’s investment. He insisted, however, that this would prevent delays since they had to make it in time for the show. Lexi wiggled her eyebrows as they entered the luxurious room.

Y/N scoffed. “Nothing to celebrate Lexi. Just a meeting. Don’t get excited.”

The smile did not fade a millimeter from her best friend’s face.

“Nothing to celebrate yet.” Lexi plopped down lazily in the airport lounge chair.

“I am still upset Lexi. I know you meant well but this could blow up in my face. I had a way I wanted to go about this and you forced me to expose myself.”

“Girl I know. I will never be able to say sorry enough. It will be made up to you once Eden offers you a job.”

Before Y/N could further argue the issue, a gentleman approached the pair. “Miss Y/N L/N and Alexia Thurgood, correct?”

Y/N subconsciously shrank away a little bit with the fact she was recognized. “Yeeeeees?”

“Apologies ladies.” A faint Irish accent could be heard from the tall and lanky gentleman. “I am Liam and I am to accompany you to your jet. Your pilot Minjun is awaiting you on the runway.” Lexi gasped wide-eyed, then shaking her head and hurrying to grab her belongings.

Quickly setting her drink down, and then nervously picking it up again to place a coaster under it, Y/N gathered her bags and followed Liam. The man had already turned on his heel and was heading towards the lounge exit. A few people eyed the girls with curiosity and Y/N shrank her face further into her hoodie.

After following the man through a large set of double doors and making their way through a concrete hallway (which totally would be the perfect place to KILL someone), they exited to the tarmac. Loud sounds from the engines and the employees wheeling luggage were very overwhelming and Y/N found herself hurrying past Liam to the small jet parked in front of them.

The side door slowly opened, revealing a set of stairs. At this time, Liam and Lexi caught up to Y/N. Everyone awkwardly stood around as the stairs slowly lowered, Liam and Lexi seemed particularly distant. Once the stairs lowered, Liam attempted to grab Lexi’s bag but she swiftly grabbed it back from him. “I’ve got it thank you.”

This wasn’t like Lexi at all so Y/N definitely needed some answers. She followed her best friend to one of the sets of seats facing each other with a polished oak table in-between them.

“The hell is going on with you Lexi? That was kind of rude…”

“You let a man do one thing for you and they expect you to fall under heel. That shouldn’t be the case, no matter what may try to make you say otherwise.”

At this point Liam passed the pair and set himself up at the back of the plane, quickly making a phone call, carding his fingers through his dark hair anxiously. Probably needed to let his boss know that the target had been acquired. He looked tired now, the friendly façade fading away to show another man clocked in to a job.

“Look Lexi, I know you are a strong and capable woman, but don’t be a bitch. Dude was just doing his job.”

“Ok fiiiiiine. I will apologize to him later. Eventually.”

“That’s the bestie I know and love.” Y/N smiled and squeezed Lexi’s hand.

Y/N took this time to look out the window and contemplate the events of the last couple of days. How had she ended up here? What was going to happen with her music? Was she going to make a fool out of herself in front of Eden. This just seemed like a bigger risk the more she thought about it. Her leg  jumped up and down with the anxiety.

“Y/N stop it. Everything will be fine. Stop being a nervous ninny.” Lexi looked up from filing her nails and raised a well-shaped eyebrow.

“You don’t know that!” Y/N said with a quiver to her voice.

“No, but I know the more you DO worry about it, the worse you will make it for yourself.”

“I hate it when you are right.” Y/N sighed and sank further into the leather seat.

“No you don’t. It is why you keep me around.” Lexi laughed at Y/N’s sulking and after no further exchange, she went back to filing her nails and turned her airpods on.

Realizing there was no further discussion to be had, Y/N went to look at her social media feeds for the first time in 48 hours. She had had to already block her parents’ numbers as well as her sister’s after a few degrading texts. Apparently they had heard about her identity reveal from a member of their church group. Y/N wasn’t nationwide news but somehow they had still found out.

Honestly Y/N wasn’t surprised and needed to finally have a reason to cut them off. She was tired of having to be someone she wasn’t just to keep them off her back. If there was one good thing to come out of this whole situation, it was that. Hopefully it was all worth it so she would show them she could do this. That she wasn’t too old, or too fat.

Logging into Instagram she saw a lot of new follows and message requests. Deciding she was not ready for all of the possible negativity in her messages and comments, she decided the followers was a safer way to dip a toe in the water, so to speak. There were over 4000 new followers. Quickly scrolling through them, she halted when she saw Eden-ary’s official account as well as a couple of other well known producers. All this attention made Y/N squeamish and dreading that there may be even more to come. These rambling thoughts lead her to a fitful rest, which lasted until the jet landed with a thud onto the runway.

Liam made a hurried escape off the aircraft once the plane came to a stop, mumbling that the girls needed to follow him. Y/N didn’t know what caused his change in attitude but she quickly grabbed her stuff and proceeded to follow him to avoid upsetting him further. This was going to be interesting….

=========================================

Sorry that Not much happened in this chapter but I promise next chapter will be eventful…perhaps with a fateful meeting or two 😉

Part 3 Here!

[lovedivers]

hiiii!!!!

i thoight i’d do this the normal way instead of begging u in dms sOO MINJUN AND CREEP READER WHEN PLEASE PLEASE i’m down on one knees rn <333

this man could ruin my whole life and everything i’ve worked for and i would so gladly let him 😋😋

i don’t wanna fix him. i literally just wanna make him worse xoxo

Different sides of the same coin.

💌 ⤻ THE ACADEMIC RIVAL, SEO MIN-JUN

—> you damn creep.

⤻ reader is gender neutral, reader is almost as bad as min-jun, reader is down bad fr, obsessive behaviour, posessive behaviour, snooping, invasion of privacy, reader AND min-jun are red flags, a bit suggestive

notes: ain't no way you actually put an ask in for this 💀 but yes, you asked, and I delivered <33 also, I feel like all the anons in my inbox would absolutely eat this up, this is literally them/j (ngl, my writing kinda sucks here sorry yall-)

🦋 ⤻ archives.

Min-jun studied all the different things littered inside that heart-shaped box of yours. When he first saw it sticking out of your schoolbag, he felt immediate jealous, assuming it wad a gift from someone in your class, or something you would be giving to someone else.

Naturally, he decided to steal it.

He sat at his desk, the student council room deserted as everyone had already left, per his request. He studied the contents of the box with lazy eyes. For months, he had tortured you and for months, you seemed to not care; which honestly made him more pissed off with you.

He pursed his lips as he waited for you to enter the student council's office. Min-jun looked at the box again, sifting through all the different notes he had left you. The ones that told you to kill yourself, the ones that fantasised about pushing you off a roof or watching you suffer, the ones that begged you to leave him alone, to not torment him with your mere presence; you had kept all of them. All tucked in this... heart-shaped box.

"You must really be a freak." He let out a chuckle as he closed the red box, holding it up to his face. The box even smelled like the cologne he liked to wear to school, subtle but noticeable. He let out a groan as he imagined the things he would say to you when you got into his office, how irritated he was with you that you — pathetic, poor, useless you — had seduced him.

Right, you seduced him.

You were the one who decided to show off and get higher grades than him. You looked at him every time he spoke with those obsessed eyes of yours. It was all your fault, not his!

Just then, the doors to the office opened, revealing you standing there. Min-jun tapped his fingers on the box knowingly, wanting you to see that he had caught you in this perverted act.

"Care to explain to me what this is?" He asked, fishing out all the various notes and pictures from the box, holding them up despite your obvious embarassment.

You tried to cover it up, but it was clear that you enjoyed the fact he had caught you in such a precarious situation. "I was just- you kept bullying me, so I was gathering evidence!" You managed to scrounge up a somewhat believable excuse.

"You collected evidence in a heart-shaped box?" He snickered, bemused by your attempts to seem normal.

"It was the only box I had..." You kept trying to lie, but Min-jun saw straight through your pretty little lies.

"And why does your box of evidence contain pictures of me doing everyday things? Not very incriminating evidence, and yet, you kept it in your 'evidence' box."

"I-"

"Don't lie."

Both of you stared into each others' eyes, his glare mixed with an undertone of want and obsession, yet he would never admit it. Yours, filled with embarassment and desire. You were so close to breaking down.

Min-jun got up from his desk and walked over towards you. You froze on the spot, your hands wandering towards the sliding door of the office, but before you could even try to escape, Min-jun had grabbed your wrists. "Did I say you can leave?" He asked softly, his tone so affectionate it almost made your knees buckle under the tension.

"N-no." Your cheeks reddened as your eyes made their way to his hands that gripped your wrist. Slowly, your eyes glanced over at his lips and how close he was, the cologne he wore that was perhaps too mature for both your ages, mimicking the scent of an older person. His eyes darkened the moment he saw your eyes rake over his lips.

"Is that it?" He asked, leaning in closer as he guided you towards the armrest of the couch in the student council office, pushing you against it so you would sit; so he could tower over you. "You're just some pervert who likes to be bullied and harassed?" He asked softly, his gaze growing more intense by the second.

You stared, your lips parted, unable to respond as he had caught you red-handed.

A sense of jealousy spilled into his heart as his hands gripped you tighter, which would no doubt leave bruises.

"So as long as someone bullies you, you fall for them? Are you some sort of creep?" Min-jun interrogated, leaning so close that you fall back onto the couch, a small 'oomph' escaping your lips as you both fall back. Min-jun's arms trap you between him and the sofa, his cheeks now matching yours in the same shade of crimson. He doesn't move, his hands on both sides of your head.

"Answer me. Would you like anyone else if they did the kind of stuff I did to you?" He asked, desperation straining his voice. Min-jun wanted to know he was special to you, that you would only ever be infatuated — no, in love — with him.

You remained silent.

"Tell me, damn it!" Frustration seeped out as he grabbed your face now, cheeks reddening not out of him being flustered, but instead out of rage. "You come here, to my school, decide to top me in every subject I've always been the best at, and then you suddenly decide to collect all these things from me, treating them like cheesy love letters rather than threats. What the hell is up with you? I don't get you, I just can't understand you." He said, his breath hitting your face in huffs.

"You make me lose my mind. I've never- I've always felt so indifferent to everyone else, but you make me do things that... that make me disgusted with myself." He continued, remembering all the times he used his monthly allowance to hire private investigators behind his family's back just to find out more about your interests and hobbies. Asking for photos of you, asking for *clothes* from your laundry pile. He was sick of himself, sick that he would ever so such a thing. But he was addicted.

To you, to your scent, to your gaze, to everything about you he wished he could claim.

"Tell me you feel the same way." He demanded suddenly.

It was his right. You had to feel the same way.

Without even thinking, you pulled Min-jun down to you, gripping his face so tightly that your nails drew blood from his cheeks. Your lips slammed together, any harder and one of you might have lost a tooth, but both of you didn't think about that. Your eyes were closed, but Min-jun's were wide open. "You really do like tempting me." He muttered into your mouth as his hands pinned yours to the couch.

"You must really like me." Min-jun babbled on between your lips, licking and biting your bottom lip, sucking on it like his life depended on it. "Tell me, [y/n], tell me you need me." He wanted to be worshipped by you, he wanted to worship you.

"I need you so badly." You whispered back, allowing him to take control as you whimpered below him. "Please don't stop."

His hands travelled slowly to your neck. "Don't stop what? Kissing you?" He asked, pulling away, "Or don't stop bullying you." His voice boomed with laughter, loving that flustered and needy look on your face; so red to the point he wanted to take a bite of your cheek to see whether it tasted like apples.

"Both, please." You whispered submissively, letting him claim your lips repeatedly.

"Don't worry, I'm never stopping. You won't be able to run from me, even if you wanted to." He smiled, and for a moment, you missed the dangerous glint in his eyes. "You belong to me, okay?" He asked one last time, not giving you the chance to answer before diving back into your lips.

Now that you had given him confirmation that you loved him, you would never stop loving him. Min-jun would make sure of that.

[dollieour]

the   traffic   had   been   unbearable.   the   kind   that   drags   on   forever,   where   the   city   hums   with   red   taillights   and   the   low   murmur   of   impatient   drivers.   minjun   had   spent   the   entire   ride   cursing   under   his   breath,   jaw   tight,   irritation   simmering   just   beneath   the   surface.   but   it   fades   as   soon   as   he   steps   into   his   apartment.

minjun   sheds   his   coat,   rolling   the   tension   from   his   shoulders   as   he   walks   straight   to   the   bathroom.   the   shower   is   scalding,   the   heat   sinking   into   his   skin,   unraveling   the   knots   in   his   muscles.   he   lets   it   run   longer   than   necessary,   breathing   in   the   steam,   grounding   himself.

by   the   time   he's   done,   he's   already   moving.   the   roses   he asked his assistant to buy are   the   first   thing   he   arranges,   cutting   the   stems   just   right,   making   sure   they   sit   perfectly   in   the   vase.   next,   the   candles — white,   unscented,   elegant.   the   table   is   set   for   two,   polished   silverware,   wine   glasses   catching   the   dim   light.   they   will   have   a   nice   view   tonight.   the   skyline   stretches   endlessly   beyond   the   floor-to-ceiling   windows,   seoul   glittering   under   the   night   sky.

this   is   ridiculous.   he   knows   that.   but   he   wants   everything   to   be   right.

his   phone   buzzes.   hyeon.   he   texts   quickly,   fingers   moving   with   practiced   ease:   come   here   instead.   i   couldn’t   make   it   to   yours. he   doesn't   offer   an   explanation.   he   doesn't   know   how   to   explain   that   he   wants   this   to   be   perfect.   that   he   wants   this   to   mean   something.

dinner   is   simple.   pasta,   wine,   dessert.   minjun   is   a   good   cook,   but   he   doesn't   want   to   overcomplicate   things.   there's   even   soft   music   playing   from   the   speakers — low,   almost   imperceptible,   a   detail   that   makes   him   feel   even   more   stupid.   he   wipes   his   hands   on   a   towel,   exhaled   sharply.   his   fingers   drum   against   the   counter.   should   they   eat   first ?   after ?   he   doesn't   know.   he'll   do   whatever   hyeon   wants.

why   is   he   so   fucking   nervous ?   it's   not   like   him.

but   this   is   different. minjun   had   never   waited   before.   never   cared   to   make   things   special.   the   first   times   with   others   had   been   impulsive,   thoughtless   and   messy.   but   now   it   matters.   hyeon   matters.   hyeon   makes   him   want   to   care   about   the   details.

the   doorbell   rings.

minjun   swallows   hard,   runs   a   hand   through   his   hair   before   making   his   way   to   the   door.   he   pulls   it   open,   and   there   hyeon   is — beautiful,   standing   under   the   dim   hallway   light.   minjun’s   lips   part   slightly,   but   he   doesn't   know   what   to   say.   his   eyes   flicker   over   him,   searching.

then,   he   exhales   a   quiet   laugh,   almost   self-conscious.   he   steps   aside,   waving   hyeon   in. ❛ hi ... i’m   sorry   i   couldn’t   make   it   to   your   place, ❜   he   says,   voice   quieter   than   usual.   he   hesitates,   glances   around   at   everything— the   candles,   the   table,   the   way   the   entire   apartment   has   been   transformed   for   this   one   night.   his   fingers   curl   at   his   side.   ❛ i   just … ❜   he   lets   out   a   breath,   shaking   his   head   slightly.   ❛ hy, i’m   sorry   if   it’s   too   much. ❜

[svmjaeyvn]

LOVE MAZE — 심재윤

chapter 08. jealousy. pairing: trust fund baby!jake x college student fem!reader

An unfortunate encounter, drunken mistakes, and a sort of (definitely) stalker lead to Sim Jaeyun 'dating' his best friend's childhood crush!

or, your life gets intertwined with a rich boy’s in an attempt to not get sued by his crazy personal fangirl and like with all good cliches, sex overcomplicates things.

08. JEALOUSY

prev   masterlist  next word count - 4.1k note - minjun is being a stalker, that’s sort of it?? jake using his rich boy privileges for the first time cause hes down horrendous lol

"PLEASE STOP STARING," Riki whined, throwing an ice cube in Jake's direction who was perched at the counter with a giddy smile. You were on the other side of the store, in the midst of barring out drinks before turning to help your coworker with an unsatisfied customer.

It was different to see you in your element, of course to you it being a mere barista job but Jake couldn't deny how much a leadership position suited you. You were good at quite literally everything, barely paying him mind when he waltzed in 20 minutes ago due to the afternoon rush but seeming calm and collected as you handled the line of drinks that seemed never ending. You looked as pretty as ever in his eyes, your hair pulled up by the clip in your hair and bare skin that seemed to be glowing.

You were called in at the last minute by a fellow shift as they weren't able to come in due to an emergency. Knowing Ms. Cho would've been the one to cover, something you couldn't bear to make her do as she was meant to take the week off due to spraining her wrist, and not wanting to leave Riki hanging you canceled on the previous study-date you had scheduled with Jake much to his disappointment.

Lo and behold though, said boy decided that he had all the time in the world to wait for you. After you called him on your break, excited that a coworker would be coming in to do the closing tasks, telling him you'd be off at 6:30 instead of 10, Jake stopped by an hour before your shift would end deeming that allowing him to treat you to dinner would make up for the raincheck.

"Bro honestly, I know she's your girlfriend but can't you go sit down at least?" Riki's voice breaks his thoughts once more. Jake merely rolled his eyes, waving off the boy who looked exasperated by his presence.

"Yah, whatever. You're just bitter 'cause you’re bitchless," Jake began to tease, watching as the younger boy rolled his eyes and discretely flipped him off without the other customers taking note.

There was a familiar jingle from the door, Riki's eyes looking past him to greet whoever walked in but his face turned into one of visible disgust. Immediately making his way in your direction without a word, Jake curiously turned around with his brows frowned to see what caused such a reaction.

A small scoff left Jake's lips, watching Minjun beeline to where you were behind the bar with Riki glued to your side and staring him down like a guard dog. A small smirk picks at his lips, Jake waiting patiently, watching from afar to see what he planned on saying as you'd be able to handle it yourself.

"___," Minjun spoke, attempting to gain your attention but you merely lifted your gaze for a split second as you focused on the drinks you had sequenced. "Can we talk?"

"I'm busy," You said dryly, sending him a pointed look as you were on shift quite literally in the middle of working. "If you need something you can ask my other staff to help you,"

"Are you seriously going to ignore me?"

"Are you seriously showing up to my job when I told you to leave me alone?" You shot back, brow raising in disbelief. "It's harassment, do you want me to call the cops?"

Minjun bit his lip, seemingly collecting his thoughts to carefully piece what he intended to say next. "You're ignoring my texts, how else am I supposed to talk to you?"

"I blocked you," You answer with a small shrug. "I don't want to talk to you. We have no reason to either way, it was your idea to move on with our lives in the first place so I don't see what you need from me now,"

"It was a mistake," Minjun attempts but a loud scoff comes from your end at his words. Feeling yourself grow more and more annoyed, you take a second to collect your thoughts, having to silently remind yourself that there were a handful of other customers that you still needed to be portrayed to in a professional light.

Your eyes flickered to the left, feeling the familiar gaze boring into your side. You met Jake's look, his brows slightly pinched as he held an unreadable expression glancing over Minjun. His arms were crossed against his chest, leaned against the front counter while his head tilted in the smallest of ways meeting your eyes. Silently indicating whether or not you wanted him to intervene, you shook your head, turning over to Riki who was still on guard just a step behind you.

"Can you take over for me?" You ask the younger boy, his eyes softening as he glanced down to you with a small nod. Telling Sooyun the same, you leave the two on the floor to handle the customer flow and walk away from Minjun without a word. He attempted to follow along the counter that kept you separated, only to stop short noting how you met Jake at the break that separated the workers and customer side.

"You okay?" Jake asks softly, his hand finding its place in your own as he traced his thumb over your palm in an attempt to offer some ease to your mind.

"I don't know why he keeps trying," You mumble out, swallowing the lump in your throat while Jake pursues his lips. You had to admit, no matter how unaffected you attempted to seem, having Minjun back and weaseling his way into your life was slowly opening up old wounds that never fully healed. It felt exhausting seeing his face, much less feeling trapped in your own workplace since that seemed to be his resort to finding you no matter how many hints you've given to leave you be.

"You want me to call the guys and we can jump him out back?" Jake offers, the teasing in his voice caused you to laugh though the glint in his eyes made it hard for you to tell if he was entirely joking. "I could take him on my own but I'm sure Jay wants a few hits at him anyway,"

"So does Riki," You snicker, glancing over to the boy who had his eyes trained on Minjun with a menacing glare. "I don't have the money to bail all seven of you out though so let's not do that,"

A cocky smile fell upon Jake's lips knowing well enough his next words would cause you to grimace. "It's okay baby, I'm rich, remember?"

You rolled your eyes but couldn't refrain from the small laugh that fell from your lips. "You're annoying," You huff, though the giggle that filtered through your words had Jake smiling from ear to ear. Leaning closer, he's quick to place a kiss to your lips, your eyes widening as you pull away with a tsk. "I'm on the clock, stop making me look like a bad worker,"

"No one's looking," Jake reassures, not even sparing a glance around the room but he's sure of himself. His hands fell to your hips, pulling you in closer and technically he was right, the large pastry case and stack of boxes that you had yet to be able to put away had blocked a significant amount of view of where you two stood, someone would have had to come around the corner to see you two if they really wanted to.

A clear of someone's throat caused the two of you to pull away from the giddy bubble you were in. Your annoyance flooded back in a second while Jake lazily looked over his shoulder, his eyes lighting up taking note of Minjun who stood with a dark expression.

"What's up man?" Jake smiled, turning as he said so but still keeping one arm draped around your waist though you shifted slightly in your spot. His grip tightened, feeling how you attempted to move, squeezing your hip as a silent way to tell you to stay in place at his side. "You need something?"

"Can you give us a minute?" Minjun's words were short and clipped, the visible annoyance dripping from his persona.

"Don't think so," He hummed with the click of his tongue. "M'names Jake," Holding out his hand with a cheeky smile, Jake waited for Minjun to introduce himself. You had to refrain from the laugh that wanted to spill from your lips, the obviously annoying but polite tactic one you wouldn't have guessed he'd play but it seemed to work better than being possessive or immediately hostile.

"Minjun," was all he replied with, not bothering to complete the handshake Jake intended. Turning his gaze to you, he nearly pleaded in a softer tone. "Can we just talk?"

Jake let out a loud sigh, dropping his hand with the shake of his head. "You know, man, I wouldn't have held anything against you but you're really making my girl uncomfortable," His previous bubbly expression was gone, now replaced with a bored one that shamelessly glanced over Minjun. "You know me personally, I don't go for girls I broke up with, especially after she told me to leave her alone and she has a new man. That's just me though,"

"No offense man, but I know you two just got together. Your new relationship doesn't compare to us," Minjun shrugs while you let out a laugh of disbelief. You and Jake were more comfortable together, by miles, in a short amount of time even if your relationship was based on a facade. After the first two months with Minjun, it felt as though you were walking on eggshells everyday to keep him around, a feeling you remember all too well and ridicule yourself for staying in for so long.

"I mean, you're the ex for a reason, right? Our relationship s’not supposed to be like yours," Jake shrugs, a humorless laugh left on his lips.

"You guys don't even make sense together!" Minjun was now speaking to you, gesturing between you both with an exasperated expression. "His life is completely different from yours and you know it, why waste time now when it won't even work out?"

You frowned your brows, not knowing how much he had looked into Jake but either way, being so ambient on your differences seemed to rub you the wrong way. What exactly was he entailing? The fact that Jake was a party guy or that he was rich? You grew up attached to the hip with Jay, sure you weren't directly a part of that life but you did know how to act with a cocktail dress and dining etiquette when you needed to. You truly lacked nothing if the relationship was real and so far, Jake didn't either.

"It's cute to know you've been thinking about me," Before you were able to voice your thoughts, Jake beat you to it. His tone was teasing, though there was a slight edge to it indicating that the cat and mouse play going back and forth was something he began to grow tired of. His hand squeezed your hip, somehow subconsciously knowing that your agitation grew as well, it was a silent reminder that he was there for you.

Minjun scoffed, seemingly ready to retort but Jake shook his head. "You know, I don't really like being a dick and all," He starts, a small huff of air leaving his lips as if it pained him to continue. Jake's eyes flickered to you, he winked before the bored look was sent back toward Minjun. "But I do take advantage of the benefits that come from my family. Let's just make it easier on all of us since getting the lawyers involved is always so messy, yeah?"

Your eyes widened slightly, certainly not having any thought of any legal precedent but the threat should've been more than enough to get his point across. You felt a shiver run up your spine, thinking back to weeks ago when you got yourself into the situation you were in now. She totally would've sued me.

There was a clear of the throat that broke the tension between you three. Riki making his presence known as he sends Minjun a rather large, but most obviously fake, smile.

"I'm afraid I'll have to ask you to leave since I've had a few customer complaints from the situation that's occurring," He says in his peppy customer service voice, the faux sympathy in his tone adding salt to the wound. Looking around, you take note of the lie considering the lobby had cleared out significantly and not a single person in sight was paying any mind to what was occurring in the corner but you were certainly thankful for the deescalation.

Minjun doesn't say a word. His eyes lock with yours, the silent communication causing you to feel uneasy. For a split second, you almost felt bad for him seeing the look of pleading sincerity, for a second he seemed like the boy you once knew and you couldn't deny the slight tug in your heart that longed for the past. But as Jake’s hand made its presence known on your back, you shook out of the temporary daze, you subtly moved behind him, using Jake as a shield of sorts and looking away.

You weren't naive enough to fall for that. And your thoughts proved right as Minjun's expression changed in an instant, the look of anger and annoyance familiar but he merely turned and made his way out of the shop without hesitation.

The bitter feeling caused your stomach to turn, picking at the skin of your fingers as you pulled out your phone to check the time.

"You okay noona?" Riki carefully asked, His brows were pinched, a slight frown at his lips taking note of your visible discomfort.

You nod, placing a smile on your features but it didn't quite reach your eyes. You looked behind him, seeing Sooyun working by herself. "I'm alright, I need to finish my pull before Hejin comes in so support where you can for now," You delegate, already heading toward the back room while footsteps followed soon after.

Jake sighed watching you walk away. He didn't know the full story, certainly didn't want to know the details of how in love you were, but he did know that Minjun was important enough to still bother you after some time apart. A small part of him was selfish, never wanting you to think of anyone like that but him, even though your relationship wasn't even real in the first place, but he knew that was his own jealousy.

The larger part of him felt upset for you though, the crestfallen expression you held more than enough for him to want to hold you and wash all your worries away. In a perfect world, Jake would make sure you'd never feel sad again. He vows to never be the one responsible for your tears, and if he were he'd kick himself and beg for the room in your heart to forgive him.

You stopped by the back freezer, facing the stainless steel doors and you could see Jake's reflection behind you. "I'm alright," You repeat, not having the confidence to turn around knowing your eyes were glossing over and the lump in your throat grew.

Jake hummed, watching you from afar. He watched as you began to count the frozen pastries, having to go over twice losing your train of thought and seemingly looking around aimlessly. You let out a sigh, leaning your head against the frozen rack as you shut your eyes, the cold air that wrapped around your body caused goosebumps to form along your arms, though it did well in stopping the tears that were built up to the brim.

"You know, you're technically not supposed to be back here," You mumble, a hint of amusement in your words though you were rather dejected.

Jake chuckled, shaking his head while you couldn't see it. The two of you stood in silence, not knowing what to say that would make it better. Heavy footsteps sounded as someone entered the back of the house, you peaking from behind the freezer door while Jake straightened up.

Hejin pointed a finger at you as she pulled her apron over her head. Your brows frowned, clicking on the tablet that was stuck to the door to see it only be 5:50. Her keys jangled in her pocket, the lollipop in her mouth muffling her words. "Go home,"

"What?" You let out a small laugh, amused by the loud groan she let out upon her apron getting stuck while pulling it down. "It's not 6:30,"

"I'm here now so go," Hejin huffs, pulling at her ponytail as she nods towards Jake, a silent acknowledgment to his presence but not bothering to ask why he was beside you. "I saw creeps-a-lot in the parking lot. The kid and Sooyun were blowing up my phone to get me here so I chased him away. Go home and relax, I'll make an incident report to let everyone and Mama Cho know to not talk about you and refuse him service from now on,"

Your lips pull into a frown, the tears once again welding up in your eyes. You covered your face out of embarrassment, Hejin clicking her tongue as she waved you off.

"Ay, don't cry," She tuts. "He's not worth it, new boyfriend hug her!" Hejin directs, gesturing between you and Jake causing you to let out a laugh. Jake tilted his head, his arms open as you reluctantly stepped into his embrace. You refused to look at him directly, hiding behind your hands though you could see the fondness in his expression as he stared down at you. "Good, now get out of here. Pretty girls should never cry over ugly men,"

With that, Hejin was out onto the floor. You stifled your laughter, heart pulling at the thought of your work family. She, in particular, was known to be rough around the edges, not one to show praise or direct affection but small acts like these were truly the most meaningful. You made a mental note to treat them in the future, thankful for the saving grace.

Jake pulled away from the hug slightly, a small smile perking at his lips as he tilted his head. He gently pulled away your hands from your face, wiping away the few stray tears with the same fond look.

"You know, I don't know how to feel about you crying over another man," He teased, causing you to roll your eyes. "Guess I have a lot of work to do to make you forgive him,"

"Forgive?" You echo, raising a brow not following his words.

Jake nods. "You know, for being an idiot but at least it allowed for me and you which is like, a million times better," He says in the most obvious voice causing you to snicker. "Forgive but not forget, or whatever it is that people say,"

"Have you been looking at pinterest quotes?" You laugh while Jake begins to nod wholeheartedly.

"You put me on, it's honestly so chill scrolling. I have like, five different boards I've made so far,"

"Rookie numbers," You tease, causing him to mock offense.

"They all have certain aesthetics and are listed in order," He offers, causing you to hum.

You nod in approval. "Better,"

Noting that your mood had seemed to raise, Jake leans in, placing a small peck to the tip of your nose causing you to let out a small squeal. Your face scrunches up, pulling away from him while he lets out a laugh.

"C'mon, you owe me your time and I think I have the perfect idea to get your pretty little mind off everything,"

•☽────✧˖°˖☆˖°˖✧────☾•☽────✧˖°˖☆˖°˖✧────☾•

"YOU’RE JOKING?"

"What?"

You sent Jake a pointed look, smiling down at the excited animal that jumped into your arms, licking the skin of your cheeks while your heart nearly bursted at the sight of her tail wagging so happily. "We've been faking it for over a month and you decided to just tell me you had a dog?"

"Her name's Layla," He laughs, crouching down to the level where you were sitting on the floor. As soon as you walked into the door of the unfamiliar apartment, you were greeted by soft paws jumping at your leg along with excited barks for attention. "This is my brother's place, she's a family dog but he has her most of the time since my parents are always out of town. He's on a trip with his friends so he asked me to watch her for the week," Jake cooed as he pet Layla's fur, eyes full of affection and love as she leaned into his touch.

“I’ll watch her for the week,” You smile, gaining her attention once more as you scratched at the spot just behind Layla’s ears. Her eyes shut as you did so, a small giggle leaving your lips as the dog visibly relaxed to your petting. “I’ll keep her company while you party or whatever you do in that frat house,”

Jake rolled his eyes, his view set on you but you were far too focused on Layla to care. “I haven’t gone to a party in weeks, and if I do you’re with me,” He says pointedly as you merely hum.

“Exactly, you can go do what you want. I’ll stay here with the cutest little puppy I’ve ever seen,” The latter half of your sentence was spoken in a high voice, cooing at Layla who seemed to be happily responsive to it.

Though he liked seeing how well you got along with his childhood pet, Jake tsked. Maybe it was a bad idea bringing you to see her, all of your attention would go to the little border collie instead of him which, admittedly, he couldn’t have.

“What I want,” Jake starts, leaning over to flood your view. “Is for you to not love my dog more than me,” He finished, dangerously close to your lips as you blinked, a small snort leaving your lips.

“Well for one, I barely tolerate you so Layla wins by a long shot,” You tease, causing his lips to pout. Lightly pushing Jake away, he ends up sitting directly in front of you, Layla happily pouncing into his lap but still begging for you to provide her with scratches as she rolls onto her back to expose her stomach. “And two, you can’t be jealous of your own dog. She’s just too cute,”

Jake sighed half heartedly. “You kicking me to the curb now for my dog?”

“Precisely,” You nod, a wide grin playing at your lips that you were unable to resist. It was still between the two of you for a moment, Jake taking the silence to gently place Layla down onto the ground beside you. You raised a brow, noting how he inched closer causing you to move back. “Hey~”

His arms were suddenly thrown around your body, one around your waist while the other was behind your head, blocking the impact of him suddenly tackling you to the hardwood floor. Your laughter filled the air, arms stuck under the weight of his chest and your faces inches apart.

“Too bad, you’re not allowed to get rid of me,” Jake huffs though there was an amused smile playing at his lips. “Say you like me more,”

You gaped in disbelief. “Are you serious?” The response to your question ended up with Jake’s fingers dancing along the skin of your waist, your shirt riding up and him knowing how ticklish you were as you began to squirm beneath him. “H-hey! Okay, s-stop—”

“Say it,” Jake taunts, his laughter mixing with yours.

“O-okay—”

Layla’s loud barks suddenly broke the air before the view of her jumping onto Jake’s head was seen. Your laughs were now from seeing how he yelped at the sudden help you received, rolling off of your body and with Layla still attacking his face with an abundance of kisses, you sat up. Now straddling Jake’s waist, you returned the favor of poking your fingers into his side, moving until you found a spot by his ribs that caused him to squirm around.

“Hey! You can’t team up against me,” Jake called out, unable to move either of you due to the way you sat and how Layla was now perched on his chest to get a better angle of sloppy kisses that he attempted to block. “She’s trying to lick my nose! Baby please—”

“What? I’m giving you attention like you wanted,”