everybody watch out before my current fixation on high rollers aerois consumes this blog with my thoughts on an obscure british dnd show none of my friends watch
hmm im thinking about jack abbot who accidentally finds out you have a degrading kink.
it truly was an accident. jack was having one of the worst night shifts of his life. 3 dead patients, the waiting room is packed with crying babies, yelling parents at 3 am just nonsense, his prosthetic was started to hurt by how much he walked and stood on it. the night was a mess. all he wanted was to go home but of course, you, first year resident just had to make his night worse than what it was, an emergency patient had came through the door, barely breathing with bloodied clothes and immense trauma. shen had insisted that you’d intubate but with everyone watching anxiously, nurses reading out charts, you were lost. like the 4 years of med school literally shitted.
“i-i cant get in there.” you say
“pathetic.” abbot mumbles just loud enough for you to hear, rubbing his temple walking over towards you, shoving your body out the way.
“shut up. listen. and learn.” he says stern, his eyes on yours.
you immediately nod your head, trying to turn around a little to hid you smile. you weren’t even sad or embarrassed ok maybe a little but jack abbot. total dilf look alike of the night shift, just called you pathetic and told you to shut up. even if you were at work, at 3 in the morning and the patient is literally dying infront of you, you couldn’t help but fantasize about your attending. how gross were you.
jack tried to act like he hadn’t noticed your stupidly cute yet weird smile to him accidentally degrading you in front of all your colleagues. to say the least, it turned him on just a bit, but the man was too exhausted to even think about you and your dumb kinks. to him you were just a kid, a pretty one though. reaal fucking pretty. but of course, jack being the man he is. he just kept note of it. after that night, more incidents started occurring , he seemed to enjoy it as well?
you fell in the hallway?
“such a fucking klutz kid.”
you accidentally gave him to wrong size scalpel?
“good lord you are useless.”
you charted one little thing wrong ?
“you fucking kidding me kid?”
everyone had realized by now. they thought he was just being fucking rude the whole month. no one at work knew about your god forbidden kink. no one but the man who can see through your lies and your stupid smiles when he calls you vulgar and inappropriate things at your place of work.
one night out, everyone from the day and night shift is loading shots after shots, it was the first break that you guys had every had in lord knows how long. you were probably 5 tequilas down, maybe drunk out of your mind with trinity and javadi but it hadn’t mattered to you. not then—but of course your impulse in that moment told you ‘hey lets go flirt with your attending you have to go to work with right infront of his best friend.’
“hiya doctor a-abbot” you say, stumbling over towards he and robby, sitting down at the stools watching the game.
“its jack now (reader) we dont have work. whats up?” he turns facing you.
“i- i like what you say to me at work it really” you hiccup “turns m-“ he cuts you off, grabbing your wrist dragging you off to the back of the bar before robby acknowledges what you just said.
“listen. you are not to speak about that. not in front of robby. i know your nasty little secrets. but that doesn’t mean i need him to know either.” he mumbles into you ear, holding your stumbling body with one of his big palms.
“doctor abbot.” you moan into his ear, polished finger nails grazing the front of his jacket. your practically pleading for something, and you both know what it is.
“no. we cant. your drunk. i wont have it” he says trying to turn his head away from your face.
“please jack.” you whimper. your literally on the verge of drunk tears. you don’t know why he wont just give you what you want.
“fine. you wanna get fucked like a whore in the bar with all our friends ? yeah ? let it be then.” he drags you into the males room. the loud yelling of trinity and the yelling due to the intense game thats on the television gets completely blocked out. its just you and jack. he picks you up onto the toilet seat and stands between your open legs. kissing you down your neck and his salty tongue mixing with yours, which was once bitter.
“please— mmpf make it fast jack. i want it.” you beg
he doesn’t even speak, hums to himself and takes you off the toilet seat, bending you over, sliding down your tiny low rise jeans and your pretty pink thong.
“you wore this for me ? you whore. you knew what you wanted and now you’ve got it.” he says, pulling back your thong and letting it pop loud against your skin leaving you with a tiny whimper.
when he slides in it doesn’t even feel real. with you being drunk and his size, you dont even have time to try and cover your mouth from your loud moans, it slips out before you can even try to keep it in.
“mmpf fuck! — jack..”
“dont cry on it now baby. you wanted this yeah? in the bar ? like a fucking slut ? then take it like one.” he says mean. snapping his hips into you again
“i do want it !— i fucking want it baby mmpf!”
“good giiirll - taking me soo well.” he groans into you ear, speeding up his pace.
“tell me you’re a fucking slut. tell me you like when i call you useless and degrade you. and i might let you cum.” he says. hes so mean but you love it. love it so much that you obey and listen to what he says.
“mhm yeah baby! —oh god. yeah im a slut uh huh, ohh fuck, i- i love whenever you degrade me. cmon i- im close.” you moan out, you can barely get the words out before he follows up after you, cumming before he can even remember to-pull out.
“oh fuck.” he says, slowly sliding out of your wet cunt, his stickiness sliding right out with it.
“dont” hiccup “worry oldie, i-im on the pill.”
“oh thank god. he says, zipping up his jean pocket and walking out the bathroom before you to avoid and suspicion even though damn near everyone had assumed. something just happened in that bathroom.
hey yaa'll, im back on my adrian bs!! this one is based on a request by @the-goblin1, that had me yelling 🙊 lmk if you like hehe, as always comments and reblogs are super appreciated xoxo
adrian chase x reader
warnings: phone sex, explicit descriptions of sexual acts, language, dubcon undertones, content is 18+, MINORS DNI.
Bzzz, bzz. Your phone vibrates with the notification of a new message, one, two, three, four... probably 15 times in a row.
It inevitably wakes you up.
Eyes stinging with the blinding glow of your phone you barely catch a glimpse of his name before it starts vibrating with an incoming call, his stupid handsome face in all its glory taking over the screen. Really Adrian?
It's 3 am, on a Tuesday.
Wait. What if it's an emergency?
"Adrian? Is everything okay?" The worried question barely come out, the grogginess in your throat not doing you any favors.
"Awesome! You're awake!" Adrian's voice is far too chirper for the ungodly time of night he's decided to call.
So it's not an emergency. Well, at least not the kind you think it is.
For a moment you have to control the rage of being woken up in the middle of the night.
But Adrians stupidly cute and excited tone, as well as the fact that he's out on some dangerous mission makes you soften the blow of your response. "I am now" You say, with a heavy frown on your sleepy face.
It's not like I had a choice. You complete in your head.
Adrian chuckles, a sneaky sort of thing that sounds sheepish, but not at all ridden with guilt.
"Is everything okay?" You repeat the question, prompting him to get to the point so you can go back to your blissful sleep.
"Uh huh, everythings- just peachy." He quips, the cheery tone a bit over the top. Like maybe he's trying to compensate or lighten the mood. "We just got back to our campsite. We're like soooo gonna take out these morons soon, it's actually kinda ridiculous how clueless they are-"
He pauses momentarily, waiting for a response from you. There isn't any, since your brain is still fuzzy.
Theres only a beat of silence that pushes Adrian to start talking almost as soon as it begins.
Someones impatient.
"But I uh-" He blurts out, with a nervous laugh. "I was chilling by myself in my tent and I just thought- I just wanted to hear-" He trails off, but you already know.
You already know how that last sentence was going to end.
"Miss me already Adrian? It's only been a couple days" You tease, a playful lilt to your voice, the raspy quality to it hasn't completely died out either.
He doesn't appreciate the teasing just yet. Sometimes, it takes Adrian a moment to catch on to the quick turn of your mood.
"Uh, It's been five days, actually" He retorts, his voice hilariously defensive and challenging. "Six, since it's past midnight already."
Got him.
"So you do miss me" You smile stupidly at the bedroom ceiling, grateful that he can't see the giddy look on your face.
Adrian huffs out in annoyance. The sound of the air hitting the mic reverbs through phone loudly, so loud you almost feel it hit against your skin.
OH.
Suddenly, the days without having Adrian at your disposal at any hour of the day starts hitting like a wave of unquenched thirst you had successfully managed to ignore, but now your skin tingles and aches to have him close.
You need to hear him again.
"I miss you too" You say, tone honest, but lilted with something a bit more needy.
"Really?" He asks, voice tight and restrained, theres also something like disbelief hidden in between in his words and the nervous gulp he swallows right after.
Something you wont stand for.
"So much" You whisper, hoping he hears the way your voice is starting to break from the sheer desperation. Hoping he senses how your hands have involuntarily started to shift to touch at the skin right below your shirt (well, it's actually his shirt).
And then you hear it, a soft broken little sound. A little cry from the other end of the line.
Is he?
The cries immediately grow louder, even more perceptible over the speaker. Adrian's breathing is growing shakier, his puffs of air more frequent, more shameless.
Oh he definitely is.
"Adrian, are you touching yourself?" You ask in fake desbelief. Mocking outrage in your voice, the one you know always gets him going.
"S-shit!" Adrian stutters, his breathing erratic. "Yeah, I am." He says, like it's not a big deal.
"You called me just so you can jack off into the mic?" You continue with your little put off act, hearing how the shifting on his side grows more frequent and insistent.
Nothing prepares you to hear his voice again, so close and so loud into your ear.
"Fuck! Y-yeah" Adrian moans, it slips past his mouth without meaning to, something like the truth. "No wait! I mean... I just- I needed to hear your voice! My dick is so sensitive because I've been tugging at it for so long. Uggh! But I can't come without you telling me how bad you want it inside you, i just cant- " He finally admits, words crude.
And the insinuation that he might have been stroking at himself from the moment you picked up the phone.... it's causing you to slip your own hand down your night shorts.
"You couldn't wait till morning?" You ask, hiding how he's knocking the air right out of you, still a bit bitter that he would be so inconsiderate.
"Nn- no! Shit!" Adrian barks with aggression, "My balls would literally explode, you wanna kill me or something?"
"Selfish" You accuse, but your air is cut short by the contact of your hands against the fabric of your underwear.
"I just wish you were here- gargling up my dick, drooling all over it, squeezing it like i am right now or-" He continues, too far gone to argue with you much longer about his intentions. "..maybe using it to get yourself off like that other day, hnnng that was so fucking hot-"
It's a good thing he can't see how your eyes roll to the back of your head in response to the inevitable flashback that plays on your mind. Him below you, staring at you, eyes big and desperate, and letting you do whatever you want with him.
Although he does hear the moan that slips out when you finally have to push inside with your own fingers, anything to make up for the incredibly alarming absence of Adrian that only grows worst by the second.
He groans, loud, so loud it almost shakes the phone. "You definitely wanna kill me"
Summary: When Y/n, a young choreographer, began working with Halsey at just seventeen, she never imagined it would lead her across the globe. Her journey with BTS began in 2018 on the set of ’Boy With Luv,’ where she acted as the creative bridge between two worlds. What started as temporary projects turned into a lifelong bond, eventually leading BigHit to offer her a full-time position working as the boys’ lead choreographer.
Now, as the members begin their solo careers and prepare for military enlistment, the stakes have never been higher. Y/n is tasked with her most ambitious project yet: Creating the choreography and performance identity for Jungkook’s global solo debut. What begins as late nights perfecting choreography and playful banter turns into quiet moments that blur the line between professionalism and something much more personal.
Their journey unfolds alongside Jungkook and Jimin’s newest travel show, Are You Sure?!, where Y/n travels with the Busan Brothers through the heat of a New York summer, the coastal winds of Jeju, and the deep snows of Sapporo.
Between the raw, unfiltered footage of life on the road and the quiet vulnerability that lingers after the cameras finally stop rolling, the show becomes the backdrop for Y/n and Jungkook’s evolving story.
As the seasons shift, they are pulled closer through creative passion, industry jealousy, and the looming shadow of distance. Amidst the chaos of global stardom and the quiet fear of a long goodbye, they are forced to make a choice only they can answer: Are they truly sure about each other, no matter what the world might say?
Word count: 21.3k
Warnings/spoilers: not proofread, swearing, pining, slow burn, so much tension, so much yearning, emotional vulnerability, work stress, snippets of flashbacks, self-doubt, jk and oc are all over the place with their feelings (will they, wont they, blah blah blah), emotional manipulation, lowercase intended, that’s about it (lmk if I missed anything!)
DISCLAIMER: This series is a work of fiction intended for entertainment purposes ONLY. All events, dynamics, and dialogue are entirely fictional and products of the author's imagination. It is not true to life, nor does it reflect the actual personal life of any real individual, and should not be taken as fact.
Playlist: here
Series masterlist
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Bold = talking in english
Author’s note: heyyyy…long time no see…happy Sunday my stars!🌟 I didn’t realize it’s been a month since I last updated🫣yall have been so patient with me and I hope this chapter makes up for the long wait🫶(even if it may or may not make you sad/mad[?] near the end…) it definitely is a lonnnng chapter and there is a lot of themes going on, so get comfy/ready for this roller coaster of emotions you’re about to feel. also I don't know if you've taken notice with my blog and from the last chapter but I am extremely into astronomy. You might notice some references/metaphors in chapter titles, scenes and overall themes in this series so I hope you enjoy tehehe.
Also there’s a new character this chapter! I have a couple characters that I’m planning on introducing in the next few chapters as there are A LOT. it feels weird to like introduce them so fast but I hope you enjoy their presence when I write them in. This one probably won’t be in as often but she is (kind of) important to the storyline in the future.
I’m trying to get back to posting more often but work/life has been CRAZY! Trying to find time to write, work full-time, work towards my certification, AND taking care of myself has been hard these days😅I also have an interview this Monday, so wish me luck🤞🤞(I need to get out of fcking sales; it’s so bad).
But ANWAYS…Please as always leave your comments and thoughts on this chapter!
Likes & reblogs are greatly appreciated🫶
—
the next day
“that’s a pretty necklace.”
you look up from your phone, your thumb hovering over the ‘heart’ button of halsey’s latest post; a carousel of her and ender hugging you from yesterday’s surprise, you holding baby ender two years ago, and the last one of just you and her when you got your matching tattoos.
‘happiest of birthdays to my favorite bug 🐞the sun shines brighter when you’re around☀️🌙💫,’ the caption read.
your chest tightens with a mix of warmth and that familiar ache of realization as your free hand instinctively drifts up to touch the pendant. you lock your screen, drop the phone into your lap, and catch your reflection in the mirror.
alyssa, your stylist for today, is gently dusting powder over your cheekbones. her eyes linger on the daisy resting against your collarbone. she gives you a small, knowing smile in the reflection.
“a gift from a special someone?” she asks, tone light but curious.
you feel heat prickle at your neck. you run your thumb over the cool gold.
“thank you. my…” you pause, your heart stuttering as you weigh the word. you can hear the low hum of the production team and the distant, rhythmic rattle of the set being prepped. you go back to fiddling with the metal.
the one jungkook gifted you. correction: the boys gifted you.
“…my friends gifted it to me,” you finished.
alyssa hums, a low, melodic sound as moves her brush to your jawline, her touch light. “well, your friends have good taste; it’s very pretty on you!”
you give a small, tight-lipped smile, cheeks flushing slightly.
today’s day two of filming the music video, and alyssa is a godsend.
after the frantic, claustrophobic energy of the makeup team yesterday, her bright, effortless cheer is a steady presence that makes the air in the room feel lighter.
you remain quiet, your focus toggling between your phone and the scene notes you finalized last night with pablo and bradley.
but now, with your phone set aside, your gaze drifts to her hands. her nails are long, intricately detailed with tiny, artistic designs.
“your nails are really pretty,” you compliment as she begins to style your hair into loose curls. “the detail is incredible.”
her face lights up, a grin spreading across her features. she pauses, holding her hand out so you can get a better look.
“oh my god, thank you! i’m always changing them up almost every week. it's like therapy for me.”
“wait, you did this yourself?” you ask, leaning closer to inspect them.
she nods, eyes shining with pride. “yep! self-taught! i started during my first year at college as a hobby to destress. i even take some clients on the side.”
you note that she looks young, around your age or maybe a little younger.
”that’s amazing,” you say, letting your professional wall crumble for a moment as you actually get to know her. “are you still in school?”
”yeah, just finishing up this fall.”
“oh that’s exciting! what are you studying?”
“dance,” she said, voice still bright and energized. “my goal is to be a choreographer. i just do this and nails because it keeps me in the industry and pays the bills until i land a real gig.”
you smile, remembering when you first started out wondering if you’d ever land your first gig.
look at me now.
“it's a tough path, but it's so worth it. i’ve been right where you are,” you tell her softly. “it all pays off in the end.”
alyssa’s eyes widen. she stops the curling iron, staring at you through the mirror with her jaw slack.
“wait, you’re y/n? like the lead choreographer of bts, y/n?”
“could you remove the hot curling iron from my hair before i answer that?” you ask, slightly panicked as you see a faint wisp of heat radiating from your scalp.
she gasped, pulling the tool away. “oh my god! yes, i'm so sorry!”
she clicks it off, setting it aside, her hands hovering before she lets out a nervous laugh. “i don’t want to be the type of person who fan-girls, but i can’t believe i didn’t realize it was you. wait, you’re an actress too?”
“eh… it's a long story.” you wave it off, trying to sidestep the topic with the same practiced ease you’ve been using to avoid a certain someone on set.
“i really should have recognized you,” she says, breathless. “my professors have us analyzing your performances all the time.”
“oh, really?” you pause, “which ones have you studied?”
you started to wonder; was it with the boys? or halsey? maybe lisa?
alyssa’s next words shock you.
“oh, yours!”
you stare at her, your fingers drifting back to the pendant at your throat.
“my…mine?”
“yes!” alyssa ignores your shock, practically bouncing in her spot. “one of my professors had an entire segment called ‘the tidal pull’ and used you as the main subject.”
“what's ‘the tidal pull’?”
she starts using her hands, gesturing as if drawing shapes in the air.
“it’s this theory about how certain dancers exert an almost gravitational force on an audience. my professor says you don’t just move through space; you pull the entire room’s atmosphere along with your momentum. like an ocean responding to the moon.”
alyssa’s words processed in your brain, the vanity lights suddenly feeling a little too bright.
the idea that someone, a professor at a university, used you as one of their subjects felt surreal; practically impossible.
the idea that a university professor is using you as a subject is surreal; practically impossible.
while you’ve always tried to remain humble, you can’t help but pat yourself on the back for the years of sacrifice, the missed holidays, the exhaustion, and the quiet, lonely hours in empty studios chasing a feeling you weren’t sure anyone else would ever understand.
“well,” you start, your voice wavering just enough to betray the pride blooming in your chest. “your professor is very generous.”
before either of you can say anything more, your name is called.
“y/n! you’re up! we’re ready for you in the restaurant set in five!”
the stage manager’s voice boomed across the studio, cutting through the emotional atmosphere. you blinked, pulling yourself back to reality.
you have a job to do. it still felt surreal to wrap your head around the fact that subbing in for your sick lead actress; to play a love interest for your colleague, aka your friend's solo debut song– was considered "work."
alyssa quickly finishes up, unclipping your cape to reveal your outfit.
you have to admit, the stylists picked a very flattering piece for this scene: a floor-length black silk gown that clings to your frame. it is daringly backless, the silk plunging low to frame your shoulder blades, while a slit runs up the length of your leg, exposing your skin with every step you take in your nude heels.
you shoot her a small smile and turn toward the set.
even on day two, the exhaustion is setting in. last night you stayed late, trading ideas with pablo and bradley. shadowing them as they dissected every frame; analyzing camera angles, lighting, and the emotional stakes, was both exhilarating and deeply humbling.
you felt like a student all over again. watching them communicate with the cameraman, seeing how they made every movement look authentic, made you itch with a new kind of ambition.
there’s a thrill in realizing that you’re building something, frame by frame, just like you would with dance. it’s an amazing feeling.
but it isn’t the only thing you feel.
you still can’t get the sensation of his palm on your waist from yesterday off your skin. even now, you feel the press of his fingers on your hips, the way his gaze held yours, leaving you completely unmoored.
you don’t know how you managed to hold it together after that. i guess that just means you’re a good actress, right?
right.
avoiding him is the only solution, but that’s nearly impossible when you’re forced to work together and you’re planning a trip in a matter of weeks.
fuck, the trips.
you sigh as you near the set, your pulse beginning a slow, rhythmic thud against your ribs.
another problem for a different day.
the set is a hive of controlled chaos, but your eyes immediately lock onto the main attraction.
jungkook is already in his designated seat at the table, his head tilted back as he looks up at the chandelier prop hanging above him.
he’s surrounded by multiple cameras and crew members.
“for this scene, we’re at a restaurant, and i’m just saying whatever i want to say with no regard for what my girlfriend has to say,” he states to the camera beside him.
he looked settled. almost too calm. he reaches up, his thumb and forefinger catching the small silver hoop of his lip ring, tugging at it as he stares into the lens.
the movement is restless, a subtle, nervous tick that contrasts with the practiced charm in his voice.
“i feel bad for y/n,” he adds with a practiced smile. “because i’m being super annoying, i feel like i might be stressing her out more than usual.”
you watch from the edge of the set, trying to gauge if the slight twitch in his jaw is part of the performance or something else entirely.
it’s just pretend, you remind yourself, clutching your clipboard until your knuckles turn white.
that’s all this is.
“y/n!” pablo’s voice booms.
jungkook is still facing the camera, but he must hear the rhythmic, sharp click of your heels against the floorboards. you brace yourself as he turns, expecting a nod, a joke, or maybe a casual “hey, gg.”
but as his eyes land on you, his expression falters.
as you make your way toward him, his mouth parts, and his posture goes completely slack. for a terrifying moment, the studio, the cameras, and the noise seem to vanish, replaced by an intensity that feels dangerous.
you step beside your chair, eyes meeting him across the table, and you watch him struggle to pull himself back to earth. his gaze darts down to the hem of your dress, then to your neckline, before he finally forces his eyes back up to yours.
he looks shaken up.
he’s a really good actor, you reason, refusing to let your mind wander.
“sorry i’m late,” you apologized, offering a light smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes. you decide to focus intently on the table setting while your hand stays anchored to your clipboard.
you can feel his gaze on you; a tangible, heavy weight.
bradley waved his hand, entirely focused on the monitor in front of him. “don’t be, you’re just in time!”
jungkook doesn’t respond. he stands up abruptly, the screech of his chair against the floorboards loud in the sudden quiet of the set.
"jk? you with us?" bradley’s voice cuts through the air.
jungkook blinks, the return to reality seeming to jolt his entire posture. his expression is a jarring mix of professionalism and something raw.
"yeah," he finally croaks, his voice lower than he intended. "i'm with you."
though he isn’t looking at bradley when he says it.
he then moved closer to you, pulling out your chair.
“oh, thank you,” you say.
as you slide into the seat, the silk of your dress catches against the edge of the wood.
you reach down to adjust it, but he’s faster. his hand darts out to smooth the fabric, his fingers accidentally grazing the bare skin of your thigh where the gown’s slit ends.
the contact is electric. you feel the heat of his skin seeping through your own, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake. he pulls his hand back instantly, as if the touch burned him.
he hovers there a second too long, his shadow shielding you from any prying eyes.
“you look beautiful.”
the compliment hangs in the air between you. your pulse spikes, a frantic thud against your ribs. you looked up, searching his eyes; his pupils are blown, his gaze fixated on yours with an intensity that defies the 'pretend' narrative.
is that the ‘pretend’ jungkook or the real one? you wonder, your throat suddenly dry.
you forced yourself to blink, snapping the image of his searching expression into a box deep in your mind.
you couldn't afford to go there. not here. not in front of the cameras.
"thank you," you say, your voice low and perfectly composed, offering him a polite, small smile. "you look the part, too."
you saw his jaw tighten, teetering on the edge of something far more honest than you were prepared to handle, but you turned your focus firmly back to your clipboard.
you could still feel him standing there, the heat of his proximity felt like an anchor, yet anything but at the same time.
“okay, everyone!” pablo’s voice rang out, effectively shattering the bubble.
jungkook flinches. he takes a jagged breath before stepping back, finally putting the necessary distance between you.
he doesn’t look back as he walks to his side of the table, but the way he grips the back of his chair tells you he’s just as off-balance as you are.
it's just pretend.
bradley claps his hands, the sound sharp and jarring. “alright, let’s keep it natural. we’re going to do some shots of the scene around you first, so just feel free to relax and have a normal conversation, okay? rolling in five…!”
the cameras hum to life. jungkook settles into his chair, posture rigid, his gaze tracking your every move as you adjust your silverware now that your clipboard is out of sight.
normal conversation, you thought. we can do that.
“god, my shoulders are killing me,” he starts, rolling his neck dramatically. “all that time hanging yesterday for that first scene... feels like my arms might fall off.”
you remain quiet, your gaze fixed on the table, your fingers tracing the lace pattern on the tablecloth. you feel his eyes on you, but you refuse to give him the satisfaction of meeting them.
you felt too vulnerable, too…exposed.
his compliment still rings in your ears, a dangerous truth threatening to push through the wall you’ve been holding up since yesterday.
if you look at him now, with that look in his eyes, you know you’ll cave.
you might say something you can’t take back, or worse, lean into the space he’s creating instead of the one you’re trying to force between you.
“oh, i’m sorry to hear that,” you murmur, your voice guarded, and far too polite.
you finally lift your head but keep your gaze on his hands resting on the table, his knuckles are slightly flushed. “you should have said something if you were in pain. there’s always someone on set to help with recovery.”
you take a slow, deliberate sip of the wine in your glass, the cool liquid offering a momentary distraction. you watch the way the studio lights catch the rim of the glass before setting it back down with a sharp clink.
jungkook’s brow furrows, his eyes searching yours for the usual spark of wit or the familiar, easy banter, but it’s nowhere to be found.
“i didn't want to make a scene,” he says, tone softening from the usual energetic edge he carries. he hesitates, his fingers twitching, inches from yours on the tablecloth. “besides, i think my hands took the brunt of it. they’re still a bit... stiff.”
your body straightens at his words.
the memory of his hand– that tight, possessive hold he had on your waist in the pool, flashes in your mind. you forced yourself to breathe, keeping your expression blank, though your heart hammered against your ribs.
“your hands?” you repeat, taking a quick, shaky breath to keep your tone neutral. “you were holding on quite tight yesterday. i’m sure that didn’t help with the tension.”
it’s the most honest thing you’ve said to him in twenty-four hours. you could’ve been talking about the train scene, but you know that isn’t what you mean.
and you think part of him knows, too.
“yeah,” he whispers, his voice dropping low enough to make your skin prickle. “i guess i just... i didn't want to let go.”
he holds your gaze, his jaw tight, clearly waiting for you to deflect. you grip the edge of the table, your knuckles white, fighting the urge to lean into the vulnerability he’s showing.
"that's a lot of commitment for a scene," you say softly, your voice barely a breath.
“whatever it takes,” he murmurs. he doesn’t lean back this time. instead, he stays right there, invading your space, his eyes searching yours with an aching shift in tone.
“the guys and i really missed you last night. we ended up at that place you like; the one with the good burgers.”
right. last night.
you recall seeing his text messages while you were working with bradley and pablo.
koo🍪 (8:22 pm): hey! brian is taking me and the guys for dinner tonight, come join
koo🍪 (8:22 pm): my treat
you wanted to go, but there was too much work to be done. and after what happened just hours before, you didn’t want to risk being in the same booth as him while your defenses were already fraying at the edges.
“oh,” you say, your voice softening despite yourself. “that sounds nice. i hope you guys had a good time.”
“it was… fun,” he admits, a small smile playing on his lips. “would have been more fun if you were there. it… it wasn't the same.”
the way he says it should feel reassuring, but it only makes your skin prickle with a renewed sense of unease.
“well…” you pause, trying to find the right words. “at least there will be plenty of other dinner outings where i can tag along.”
he looks at you for a long moment, his gaze searching your face with a quiet curiosity.
“yeah,” he finally murmurs, though his smile doesn't quite reach his eyes this time. “i'm holding you to that.”
before you can respond, bradley’s voice cuts through the air like a blade.
“alright, cut! you both were perfect; now let’s dial in,” he says, turning toward you. “just like we talked about yesterday, y/n, be argumentative. really let that irritation and hurt bleed into the next take.”
you took a sharp, steadying breath, the direction acting as a lifeline.
irritation and hurt. you could do that.
"and jungkook?" bradley continues, gesturing emphatically. “you’re playing it cool, but you’re desperate to keep her. use your charm. try to pull her back while she's trying to push away. okay?”
you both nod, and the cameras whir back to life, the red light blinking as it closes in on the space; just you two. and it feels suffocating.
“rolling!” pablo shouts. “and… action!”
the music swells, the bass thrumming through the floorboards and vibrating up through your heels. jungkook doesn’t waste a second.
as the camera focuses on him, he pulls at his lip ring with his teeth, the metal glinting sharply as he bites down; a habit of his that draws your eyes to his mouth.
he leans his head back, adopting that calculated, effortless confidence.
he begins to mouth the lyrics, his eyes on yours, his gaze heavy with an intensity that makes the fake walls feel like they’re closing in.
“weight of the world on your shoulders, i kiss your waist and ease your mind,”
meanwhile, you keep your jaw set, a sharp, jagged line of frustration cutting across your features as you cross your arms.
play pretend.
"i can’t believe you right now," you say, your voice low, cutting through the lyrics he was projecting at you. “all this back and forth? for what?”
you uncross your arms, raising your hands as you leaned forward.
“i must be favored to know ya, i take my hands and trace your lines,”
his expression is a mix of arrogance and longing. he reaches out, placing his hands on the table, fingers tracing the cloth just like you had earlier.
"you really enjoy this, don't you?" you murmured, your tone deceptively light; the kind of murmur a girlfriend might use to tease a lover, though your eyes remained cold. "the way you look at me like you’re waiting for me to break. you want me to cause a scene, huh?"
“cut! that was great!”
bradley’s voice boomed through the studio, immediately followed by the music dying down. the silence that follows is deafening, heavy with the lingering tension. but it seems to only affect the two of you.
you let out a jagged breath, your posture collapsing as the adrenaline drains out of your limbs. you don’t look at jungkook. instead, you busy yourself with your silverware, your fingers trembling slightly as you rearrange the fork and knife; a desperate, pathetic attempt to regain some form of control.
jungkook notices the tremor in your fingers. he hesitates, his voice low. “y/n, you okay?”
the casual concern in his voice is like a needle to your nerves.
"i'm fine," you said, your voice airy and dismissive, intentionally stripping away any of the heat that had just burned between you. “just tired.”
jungkook lets out a soft, hollow half-laugh. he shifts in his seat, playing with the fabric of his blazer.
"you know," he says, his tone shifting, shedding the performative edge for something more conversational. "i was talking to jimin earlier. he's been non-stop texting me all morning, trying to figure out the logistics for that trip we're supposed to take."
your heart skips a beat. the vacation; a sharp, stinging reminder of the contract binding you to him. at least jimin will be there.
"oh? and?" you ask, your voice tight, forcing yourself to maintain that cool, professional mask.
"and," jungkook continues, his gaze tracking your fidgeting hands, "he's driving me absolutely insane. he's got a whole itinerary mapped out but won’t tell me where we’re going.”
he pauses, his dark eyes searching your face for any sign of a smile. “has he been annoying you with this as much as he’s been with me?”
you keep your expression neutral, focusing intently on the way your fork reflects the harsh overhead lights, but the mention of jimin is a relief, even if you’d never admit it out loud.
“jimin is… jimin,” you say, finally allowing a small huff of laughter to escape. “he’s been sending me voice notes at three in the morning asking about my preferences. when i begged him to just send me the flight details so i could stop stressing about packing, he just replied with a selfie of him wearing sunglasses and a beach hat.”
jungkook lets out a chuckle, the tension in his shoulders finally dropping. “yah, this guy, i swear. it probably means we’re either going to end up in a five-star luxury suite or stuck sleeping in a tent somewhere with no cell service."
you feel your own defensive wall waver.
you feel your own defensive wall waver. there’s something grounding about the way he talks about jimin; it’s normal, it’s real, and it’s a million miles away from the 'pretend girlfriend' role you’ve been forced to inhabit. it reminds you that underneath the contracts and the public scrutiny, there’s still the same dynamic you’ve always shared with the boys. with him.
"well," you start, a hint of your usual playfulness creeping back into your tone, "if he drags us to a tent in the middle of nowhere, at least i know how to start a fire.”
"do you actually?" jungkook leans closer, his chin resting in his hand, his eyes scanning your face with genuine curiosity. "your dad teach you?"
the question hung in the air, simple and unexpected. the mention of your father and the reminder that he actually listens to the stories you’d told him, back in the studio, back in the observatory, when the world was smaller, knocks the wind out of you.
“i remember everything you say, y/n."
you look up, meeting his eyes. he’s looking at you with a soft, focused gaze that feels like he’s trying to map out every secret you’ve ever told him. it’s a terrifying, beautiful feeling; to be fully known in the middle of all this make-believe.
“yeah, he did,” you whisper.
“you’ll have to teach me then,” he says. it wasn't a request for a survival lesson; it felt like a silent pact; an invitation to be something other than 'y/n, lead choreographer' and 'jungkook, global popstar.'
it was an invitation to just be yourselves.
you feel a sudden, sharp pang of longing; for the simplicity of those memories, for the version of yourself that didn’t feel like she was constantly performing, even when she was just standing in a room with him.
you try to pull back, hardening your jaw against the aching need to lean into him.
"you're a fast learner, jungkook," you manage, forcing a wry smile. "i'm not sure you're ready for the reality of 'camping' with me. i can get very strict and competitive.”
jungkook’s lips quirk upward, that signature crooked grin returning, but it’s stripped of the polished charm he usually displays. it’s softer, more private.
“strict, huh? you act like i can’t handle you.”
“oh, you have no idea, jk.” you aren’t sure where this surge of confidence came from; maybe the wine, or maybe just a side of you that is tired of playing the part.
“i think you might be surprised by how much i enjoy a little healthy competition.” he murmurs, his voice deepening like honey. he doesn't look away, his eyes dipping to your lips before locking back onto yours.
oh, you know how competitive he is. you’ve seen it with your own eyes.
you remember once when you walked by them filming an episode for run bts!. apparently, they were on a scavenger hunt involving taking specific photos. jungkook had been wearing a bright pink shirt with his face on it, looking absolutely ridiculous, yet he was charging through the set with the intensity of an olympic athlete.
however, at the end of the hunt, they found out jin was a spy, and if they had any photos with him in them, you lost points.
jungkook had a lot of photos of jin.
he lost a lot of points.
seeing him so frustrated he nearly broke a board had been… comical. and, if you were being honest with yourself, seeing him that worked up was kind of hot.
you couldn’t help but let a small laugh escape your lips.
jungkook blinks, caught off guard. he tilts his head. "what? what's so funny?"
you take a slow, deliberate sip of your wine, watching the way the lights catch the rim of the glass before meeting his eyes again.
"i was just thinking about that one day," you admit, your shoulders relaxing. “when you were filming that scavenger hunt with the boys and you wore that bright pink shirt with your face on it, running around the halls like a madman.”
jungkook groans, covering his eyes with one hand. "oh, don't remind me. i still have nightmares about that. i can’t believe jin was the spy."
“you were so pissed,” you continued, unable to stop the grin that was spreading across your face. “i remember walking past and thinking, he’s actually going to break that board.”
he laughs; a rich sound that echoes warmly. he drops his hand, his eyes crinkling. "i really wanted to win, okay? i have a reputation to uphold."
“i can’t wait to see your reaction when you lose to me,” you state.
"you talk like you've already won," he murmurs, his expression shifting from amusement to something far more dangerous. you swear you see his eyes trail down again before he catches himself.
“maybe i have,” you challenge, a spark of something daring igniting in your chest.
jungkook’s smirk deepens, shifting from playful to something that makes your stomach flip. he mirrors your posture, his elbows hitting the table with a soft thud, his dark eyes locking onto yours with a steady, unyielding focus.
“i could say the same thing.”
the air is thick with the scent of his cologne and the persistent hum of the ac, but all you can feel is the radiant heat emanating from his skin. the small lamp between you casts long, flickering shadows, highlighting the intensity in his eyes.
you don’t realize how close you’ve gotten until you’re practically on the edge of your chair.
he doesn't pull back. instead, his fingers twitch against the tablecloth, still hovering an inch away from your wrist. the silence is no longer empty; it’s a physical weight, vibrating with everything you both haven't said since yesterday.
before you could respond, a shadow fell over the table.
"right! everyone, eyes on me!"
the boisterous voice sends a jolt of alarm through your system. you pull back as if struck, your chair screeching harshly against the floor.
pablo steps into the frame, clipboard held high, entirely oblivious to the tension he just decimated. he stops at the edge of the table, peering down at the two of you with a wide grin.
“this is where the chaos starts, okay? everything will start moving and then once the chandelier falls, y/n, i want you to get up as if you’re about to leave.” he turned toward jungkook. “and jungkook, you’re begging her to stay, then bam! there’s going to be an explosion.”
you take a deep, steadying breath and smooth the silk of your dress, trying to ignore the lingering sensation of his heat on your skin. you are a choreographer, a professional, and now an actress.
you can do this. you told yourself. it’s just pretend.
the crew swarms the set. lights are adjusted; the rigging is checked.
“alright, places, everyone!” pablo’s voice echoes, the spell broken entirely. “let’s keep that intensity!”
the music starts back up. this time, the lights flicker; everything around you begins to move: glassware, tables, lamps, the ceiling, the walls.
“its the way that we could ride, it’s the way that we could ride”
the lyrics fall from his lips, almost as a plea. the studio is dissolving into a cacophony of planned tremors and simulated panic, but jungkook is steady; an anchor amidst the artificial storm around you.
“think i met you in another life, so break me off another time”
the chandelier prop at the table beside you drops, hitting dead center. that’s your cue.
“okay y/n, stand!”
you slam your hands down on the table, the chinaware clinking in sync. the sound muffled by the chaos around you.
“you wrap around me, and you give me life”
you surge to your feet, the silk of your dress following you as you pivot away, just as the script demands. you are supposed to be icy; a woman finally untethering herself from his pull.
"don’t go," jungkook rasped, his voice muffled by the music, but you heard it. he reaches out, fingers curling around your wrist with a sudden, searing pressure that stops you dead in your tracks.
the movement is far too aggressive, far too real. it isn't what you envisioned last night.
it’s visceral, possessive, and entirely unscripted.
you jerk back, your breath hitching as your eyes snap to him in shock. you open your mouth to say something, but the words die on your tongue the moment you see his face. the studio is a hurricane of falling debris and disorienting strobes, but he is completely still, staring up at you with an expression of such hollowed-out devotion that it makes your stomach drop.
the same expression he wore yesterday, right before he pulled you in.
"jungkook," you breathe, his name barely audible over the mechanical shrieking of the set rigs.
he doesn't release you. if anything, his grip tightens, his thumb pressing into the pulse point of your wrist as if he’s trying to measure the frantic speed of your heartbeat.
his eyes are wide, luminous in the strobe lights, searching your face for an answer to a question he’s never dared to ask out loud.
“and that's why night after night i'll be lovin' you right”
"cue explosion!"
the wall behind you erupts with a boom. the shockwave ripples through the floorboards, sending a violent tremor up your legs. you are so entrapped by his gaze that your center of gravity is just… gone.
you stumble, arms flailing, but you don’t hit the floor.
instead, you are yanked forward by the iron grip he still holds on your wrist.
the momentum throws you off-balance, and you collide hard against his chest. his broad frame acts like a wall, absorbing the impact as he catches you as you tumble into his lap.
jungkook’s arms are around you instantly, pulling you flush against him to shield you from the debris.
you are breathless, your chest heaving against his.
he holds you, fingers splayed against your back, his touch grounding and warm. his breathing is ragged, a sharp, uneven sound vibrating through your chest.
you tilt your head back, hair falling away from your face, and look at him.
he looks wrecked; eyes dark, lips slightly parted, jaw locked in that same agonizing expression of devotion he’d shown you in the pool.
"jungkook," you whisper again, his name a plea this time.
his eyes flicker down to your lips, then back to your eyes, grip tightening slightly. he looks like he’s fighting a war inside himself, his knuckles white against the dark fabric of your dress.
he leans in slightly before asking, “you okay?”
your hand is still pressed flat against his chest, right over the center of his shirt, and you can feel the frantic thud-thud of his heart.
“i’m okay,” you manage to get out, suddenly realizing your surroundings. “i should get up.”
but he doesn’t let you move. if anything, his hand at the small of your back presses harder, anchoring you.
"wait," he murmurs, his voice raw, stripped of the practiced, effortless persona he’s worn like armor all day. he shifts his grip, his thumb trailing down your arm from your wrist, his touch electric against your skin. "just... wait a second."
“everyone’s looking.”
they aren’t; they’re focused on the props, but he doesn't care. he lets out a shaky breath, and for a fleeting second, his forehead drops to rest against yours, creating a bubble in the center of the chaos.
"let them," he whispers, so quietly that you almost don't hear him over the dying hiss of the pyrotechnics.
for a moment, you almost believe him. you almost let yourself sink into the weight of his arms; arms that have held you through four years of celebrations, stress, and quiet, late-night comforts. the 'pretend' feels like it’s melting away into something you know you can’t have.
“cut! that was perfect!”
bradley’s shout echoes. the spell; already strained, snaps.
you scramble off his lap, hurried and uncoordinated as your silk dress snags on the remnants of the table. you don’t dare meet his eyes.
you stand up, legs feeling like jelly, and immediately busy yourself with the clasp of your necklace; anything to keep your hands occupied, anything to stop them from shaking.
jungkook remains on his chair for a moment longer, hands still hovering in the space where you’d just been. then, with a slow, deliberate movement, he stands up.
"you're okay, right?" he asks, his voice still raw but soft as he checks on you.
you don’t look at him, can't look at him, but you can feel the weight of his gaze. you brush a stray curl from your face, hands still betraying you with a persistent tremor.
"i'm fine," you say, your voice guarded. you turn to look toward bradley. "ready for the next scene?"
you don’t wait for an answer, already walking toward the monitors.
on the screen, you see it: the two of you, locked in a moment so intimate it makes your skin crawl. you see your wide eyes, the way you clutched his blazer, the way he held you as if you were the only thing keeping him from drifting away.
it was perfect. and it was the most agonizing thing you’d ever seen.
jungkook pivots, his feet instinctively turning in your direction as if drawn by a gravitational pull he can’t control. he takes two steps, eyes locked on the back of your head, clearly intent on crossing that line.
but before he can reach you, his stylist and a team of makeup artists stopped him. they begin dabbing at his collar, adjusting his blazer, and aggressively blotting the fake ash from his cheeks.
simultaneously, the camera crew swarms in, maneuvering to get a close-up of jungkook, who is now trapped in their bubble.
you watch from the edge of the monitors, as he looks toward the camera. he knows you’re standing just a few feet away, listening.
he gave the camera a tired, crooked smile, the kind that looked casual to any fan, but to you, it felt like a direct hit.
“is my acting good?” he asks, his voice projecting just enough for you to catch the gravelly edge of it. he leans slightly toward the lens, expression turning mock-serious, though his eyes keep flickering toward your silhouette. “thank you, but... i can’t say any lines. the moment i do, it gets ruined. i have huge respect for actors, i really do. i could never do it.”
he pauses, a dark, heavy silence hanging on the end of the sentence before he whispers it; a final, biting remark aimed straight at your spine:
“play pretend.”
you stand frozen, fingers still white-knuckled around your clipboard. his stylist tugs at his sleeve, physically pulling him away, but his gaze remains pinned to you for a second longer than necessary; a silent, intense challenge that dares you to look away.
“y/n?”
the sound of your name snaps you back to the present. you jolt, turning toward alyssa, who is standing a few feet away with a sympathetic, slightly confused expression.
“sorry,” you breathe, voice catching. you force your hands to loosen their grip on the clipboard, though your palms are still burning. “yes?”
“you okay?” she asks, eyes scanning your face with gentle concern. “you look like you’ve seen a ghost. come on, we need to get you ready for the next scene.”
“yeah,” you say, the word feeling heavy on your tongue. “just the dust getting to me.”
you take one last glance toward the center of the set, where jungkook's silhouette used to stand.
“okay. let's go.”
this should be a lot easier.
—
the atmosphere on the platform feels different; sharper, charged with the weight of the silence between you and jungkook.
you stand on the wooden stage surrounded by a wall of blue screen tarps that stretch to the ceiling. you’ve switched out of your dress and heels for something more grounded: charcoal-grey cargo pants with silver chains hanging from the loops and a cropped black tank. you’ve traded your pumps for those heavy platform boots from yesterday.
alyssa moves around you, her touch light as she does a final check on your hair, now pulled back into a high, slick ponytail. she’s quiet, though her eyes dart back and forth between you and the man standing ten feet away.
jungkook is getting his own final touches, now sporting a jean jacket over a white tank top, leather pants, and chunky combat boots.
you aren’t looking at him, but you feel the weight of his focus; a tether pulling tight between your chests. every time the stylists adjust his sleeves or dab at his forehead, his eyes snap to your silhouette.
“nervous?” alyssa asks in a hushed tone, her fingers lingering near your shoulder as she finishes dabbing your skin with a sponge.
you let out a breath you feel you’ve been holding since you walked into the studio. “is it that obvious?”
“just a little,” she teases, though her eyes soften with genuine empathy. “i mean, he is pretty cute.”
“oh my god,” you laugh, the sound slightly brittle as it echoes against the high ceilings. “that’s besides the point.”
alyssa laughs with you before dropping the sponge into her kit.
“girl, listen to me. i know we’ve only known each other for five minutes, so don’t take this the wrong way but…” she pauses, leaning closer, dropping her voice into a whisper. “where’s the badass choreographer who can command a stage of more than twenty dancers and idols?”
you take a side glance at him. he’s in deep conversation with one of the directors, going over what you suspect are the final framing notes. he’s nodding; focused, jaw tight, movements clipped and efficient.
professional. doing his job. which is exactly what you should be focusing on.
“probably wishing she was anywhere but here,” you mutter, fingers unconsciously fidgeting with your necklace.
“well, drag her out,” alyssa says, her voice low but steady. she gives your shoulder a firm, grounding squeeze. “besides, aren’t you guys like friends or something?”
“something like that…” you echo, though the term feels inadequate.
alyssa catches your eye, her expression shifting from playful to something more observant.
"well, whatever that 'something' is, don’t let it get in the way of your potential.”
she leans in closer, eyes glinting with a mix of mischief and firm encouragement.
“take charge, y/n.”
her words hit you with a sudden clarity. the knot of anxiety in your chest starts to loosen, replaced by a cold, precise spark of ambition.
“you know,” you start, a small smile tugging at your lips, “you’re going to be a brilliant choreographer one day, alyssa.”
alyssa blushes, fixing a strand of hair that’s loose from your ponytail, though her gaze remains steady and warm.
“well,” she says softly, “i have pretty good inspiration to learn from.”
you think back to your younger self: the girl who would spend hours at the local dance studio in your hometown. back then, you didn’t care about the music industry, global debuts, or the agonizing tension that seemed to crackle whenever jungkook stood within five feet of you.
you danced because it made you feel alive. it was the only way to silence the chaotic noise in your head.
translating the things your lips couldn't bear to say into a language of motion that could reach across a room and touch someone else’s soul.
that was the core of it; the raw, unvarnished passion for the craft.
and jungkook had always seen that in you.
you look at him again as he stands there, so effortlessly centered in the chaos of the set. and for the first time since the filming started, the frantic pulse in your throat begins to steady.
he’s my friend, the thought anchoring you. he’s my best friend. that’s more important than anything else.
you take a long, slow breath, letting the resolve wash over you. you’re going to be the bigger person. you’re going to be a professional. and most importantly, you’re going to protect the bond you’ve spent four years building.
“well, before i forget…” you pause, grabbing your clipboard, “we should stay in contact.”
alyssa beams, her expression turning genuine and soft. “are you serious?”
“sincerely,” you say, writing your number on a note before ripping it off and handing it to her. “you have passion and kindness; rare in this industry. we could definitely use more of it. plus, you seem like a cool person to hang out with.”
“thank you so much!” she tucks the paper into her pocket with a grin. "you won't regret it. i'll make sure you don't."
you give her a soft, genuine smile, feeling the last of your internal franticness dissipate. it feels good to have made that choice. alyssa gives you the all-clear, and you straighten yourself out before making your way over to jungkook.
he’s already in position, his eyes tracking your movement across the studio floor before you even step onto the platform. he looks like he’s bracing for the same jagged friction that has defined every interaction since you arrived, his jaw set in that practiced line.
you don’t meet that version of him. instead, you keep your gaze neutral, walking toward him with the quiet confidence of someone who has just reaffirmed their own center.
"hey," you say, your voice cutting through the ambient noise of the set. it isn't the guarded tone from earlier. it’s lighter, sweeter; like you.
jungkook blinks, the rigidness in his shoulders faltering just a fraction at your tone.
"hey," he replies, his voice a low, gravelly hum that still manages to send a tremor down your spine. he starts to turn his head away, falling back into that familiar distance, but you reach out, poking him right in the ribs; a spot you know makes him jump.
he lets out a startled sound, his hands flying up as he glares at you, though the look is entirely lacking in heat. "yah! what was that for?"
you grin, an easy smile that finally reaches your eyes. "i don't know, you looked way too serious. i thought you might have forgotten how to laugh for a bit."
"i haven't forgotten how to laugh," he mutters, though his own lips are twitching, fighting to hold back a smile. "i've just been busy trying to be a 'cool actor' for the cameras."
"well, you're failing," you tease, stepping closer until you’re well within his personal space; not to challenge him, but to bridge the gap. "you look more like a grumpy puppy."
jungkook lets out a genuine, booming laugh; the kind that echoes warmly through the studio, stripping away the last of the tension.
he leans in, his dimple appearing, his eyes crinkling in that way that always makes your heart do a ridiculous somersault. "grumpy puppy? is that what i am to you?"
"pretty much," you say, shrugging with a smirk. "the hair, the pout; it's all there."
he laughs again, shaking his head. the professional armor he’d been wearing is finally, completely shattered, replaced by the easy, banter-filled rhythm you’ve shared for years. it feels like the air has cleared, the static that had been choking you all day finally dissipating.
“also, when we wrap today, do you want to grab something to eat?” you ask, fidgeting with your fingers before drawing them up to play with your necklace.
jungkook’s expression softens instantly. he seems to study your face, as if checking to see if the invitation is truly genuine or just another layer of your professional act. the silence stretches between you, but it isn't the suffocating, jagged tension of before.
“you're asking me?” he asks.
“yeah,” you say, shrugging slightly. “i don’t know about you, but i’m craving a good burger.”
a slow, relieved smile spread across his face, and he let out a short, airy chuckle. the way his shoulders dropped, the way his jaw finally unhitched, told you everything.
“i do love a good burger,” he says, his voice dropping, carrying a note of quiet anticipation. “but don’t you have some scenes to work out with the directors?”
“i already worked those out with them,” you explain, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear, the gesture feeling more relaxed than it has all day. “unless maybe you had some other plans?”
you brace for the rejection, for him to retreat back, but he doesn't.
instead, he steps closer, his look one of genuine relief.
"no," he says softly. "i don’t have anything else planned. just a burger. and... talking to you."
the air between you feels heavy again, but it’s a different kind of weight now. it’s soft, humming with a promise that feels far more real than anything you’d been performing for the cameras.
you are both in the middle of a high-pressure set, surrounded by cameras and crew, but in this bubble, it feels as though the entire world has faded away until it is just the two of you.
“okay then,” you say, your voice steadying, surprised by your own boldness. “it’s a da— dinner. it’s dinner.”
he chuckles, the sound low and rich, and the corner of his mouth quirks into that lopsided, endearing smirk you’ve known for four years. “dinner. right.”
the air hums with a quiet electricity, a stark contrast to the chaotic, artificial storm that raged on set moments ago.
then, a sharp voice cut through the stillness.
“alright, jk? y/n? how are we feeling?”
you straighten, your fingers slipping away from your necklace to rest against your clipboard. you feel jungkook shift beside you, his own posture realigning from the soft, relaxed stance he’d taken with you back to that alert readiness.
“good!” you beamed, setting your clipboard off to the side. “ready when you are!”
bradley steps into the space between you, eyes glued to his clipboard, completely oblivious to the intimate, charged atmosphere he’s shattering.
“alright, let’s keep the momentum going! y/n, we’ll have you stand here,” he points to one of the ends of the platform, “and jk, we’ll have you here,” he points to the opposite side.
his instructions cut through the air like a blade, snapping the tension between you and jungkook completely. you both turn, your bodies instinctively moving to the positions he indicates.
you feel the distance grow between you, the warm bubble of your conversation replaced by the cold, clinical reality of lighting cues and camera angles.
jungkook moves to his mark, but just as bradley turns back to his monitor to double-check the camera settings, jungkook pauses.
he bites his lip; a gesture you know means he’s thinking an idea over in his mind.
"wait," jungkook says, his voice quiet but commanding enough to stop the crew from turning the cameras on.
bradley pauses, looking back over his shoulder with a raised brow. "yeah, jk? what’s up?”
jungkook doesn't answer him directly. instead, he steps out of his mark and walks toward you, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that makes your breath hitch.
"it doesn't feel right," he murmurs, his gaze flicking to your lips and then back up to your eyes. "standing here, acting out a fight... it feels disjointed. it's too theatrical."
you frown, your pulse quickening. "what are you suggesting?"
"why don't we do the choreography?" he asks, his eyes searching yours for understanding. "the bridge. the one we did at your apartment? it’s supposed to be about the tension, right? i think that would really tie it together."
he waits, brow furrowed in a way that makes your heart ache. he needs you to explain it; to be the one to bridge the gap between his artistic vision and the director’s. you look at him, realizing he isn't just talking about the scene; he’s talking about the only way he knows how to communicate with you without the masks.
taking a steadying breath, you turned toward bradley. "bradley, wait."
“everything okay guys?” he asks, looking between you and jungkook.
“everything’s fine! jungkook had an idea that…” you pause. “what if he and i did the choreography for this scene together?”
bradley exchanges a skeptical look with pablo, his head tilting as he weighs the request. the studio suddenly feels very quiet, the only sound being the distant hum of the ventilation system. pablo scratches his chin, his eyes darting between your determined expression and the way jungkook is standing; radiating a focused, quiet intensity that you rarely see him display on set.
“the choreography?” bradley repeated, his voice thoughtful. “you want to scrap the scripted blocking for a full routine?
“i think this plan will be better,” you say, stepping forward with confidence. “just like what we did for the scene yesterday. i think it’ll show that restless devotion… from both sides.”
bradley taps his chin with his pen, his gaze shifting to the platform’s edge, but the look of shared determination between you and jungkook seems to sway him.
he looks at pablo, who gives a nearly imperceptible nod.
“alright, what you say goes…” bradley pauses before saying, “director y/n…”
the sudden use of that title sends a chill down your spine. you feel the shift—the hierarchy of the room reorienting itself around your expertise rather than your role as a choreographer or impromptu actor.
jungkook looks at you, a slow, proud smirk spreading across his lips, his eyes gleaming.
you look at the platform, then back at your crew.
the anxiety that had been clawing at your throat all day evaporates, replaced by a cold, precise clarity. you are the choreographer. you know the story. and for the first time, you aren't fighting the scene; you’re directing it.
"alright," you say, your voice ringing out with a newfound authority that makes the camera crew turn toward you expectantly. “for the choreography, we need to stabilize the platform more. once that’s set, we’ll run the bridge transition from the top.”
bradley steps back, crossing his arms and watching you with a satisfied nod. "you heard her, everyone! let's get to work."
it takes approximately fifteen minutes to secure the platform, and only five for you and jungkook to map out the transitions.
you stand to the side, eyes scanning the structural changes, already visualizing how the choreography will translate to the now-solid platform.
you feel jungkook move into your peripheral vision, his presence heavy and warm. he doesn’t say a word, just stands close enough that the brush of his sleeve against your arm sends a familiar shiver down your spine.
“ready?” you ask, glancing over your shoulder at him.
instead of answering, he holds out his tatted hand for you. you slowly reach out, lacing your fingers through his; his skin against yours providing an anchor in the middle of the buzzing studio.
it’s a simple gesture, yet it carries the weight of everything you haven’t been able to say for the last twenty-four hours: the unspoken apologies, the frustrations, and the overwhelming desire to just be in sync again.
he squeezes your hand once, firm and grounding, before pulling you toward the center of the platform. the crew is already resetting the lights, casting long, dramatic shadows that dance around the two of you.
“y/n, you let us know when you’re ready!” pablo calls from his spot behind the monitor.
"from the top!" you command, your voice steady, ringing with an authority that leaves no room for doubt.
the heavy, driving bassline tore through the silence of the studio, immediately setting the tempo for the routine. as the track swelled into that familiar, kinetic bridge you’d perfected in the privacy of your living room, you didn't hold back.
“monday, tuesday, wednesday, thursday, friday, saturday, sunday, seven days a week”
you initiated the movement; a sharp, angular lunge that cut across his space. jungkook didn't hesitate; he mirrored your intensity instantly, his body a fluid, lethal extension of your own.
you move with a sharp grace, your bodies weaving around each other in a series of precise isolations. there is a raw, kinetic energy in every step, a language of frustration and longing that only the two of you fully understand.
you push off the platform’s edge, using the momentum to pivot sharply back into his space. jungkook catches you, his hands locking onto your waist with a firm, possessive strength that anchors you. he pulls you into a tight hold, your back nearly flush against his chest.
“every hour, every minute, every second,”
the studio lights seem to dim, leaving only the two of you in a private, suffocating bubble of heat and rhythm. as you move together, you reach up, your fingers tracing the sharp line of his jaw before sliding down to his collar.
your movements were slow, deliberate, but entirely yours.
he didn't break the connection, his gaze locked onto yours with that same terrifying, hollowed-out devotion. his hands were firm on your waist, the intricate details of his finger tattoos pressing into your skin, a reminder of the person currently holding you.
“you know night after night, i’ll be lovin’ you right,”
as the music comes to a low thrum, you are completely in his space, your foreheads almost touching, chests heaving in unison. the world outside the blue screens ceases to exist. there is only the sound of your shared breathing.
“cut!”
you pull away instinctively, heart hammering against your ribs, though the physical heat of him; his hands, the press of his chest, lingers on your skin like a brand.
jungkook takes a half-step back, his expression shifting back into the practiced focus of an artist. but his eyes, dark and still blown wide, betray him. he keeps his gaze locked on yours, the silence between you thick with the memory of the routine you’ve just finished.
"that was great guys!" bradley exclaims from behind the monitors, sounding more like a fan than a director. he leans back in his chair, rubbing a hand over his face. "pablo, did you get that?"
"every frame," pablo replies, his own voice hushed. he gestures toward the screen where the playback is running.
you turn toward the monitors, chest still heaving, trying to find your footing in the sudden shift from the private bubble you’d shared with jungkook to the glaring reality of the set. you see yourself on screen, see the way your hand rested on his jaw, the way his thumb pressed into your side as if he were trying to measure your heartbeat. seeing it from the outside makes it feel even more dangerous than it did from the inside.
jungkook steps up beside you to look at the monitor, his shoulder brushing yours. the casual contact feels like a live wire.
"the chemistry," bradley says, pointing to the screen, "it’s exactly what the bridge needed. it’s perfect. we don't need another take."
your heart drops. the thought of that bubble popping; of having to go back to being just a choreographer and an idol, of walking off this platform and losing this electric tether, feels unbearable. you look at the monitor again, squinting at the playback, desperately hunting for a flaw.
"wait," you say, your voice sharper than you intended.
pablo, bradley, and jungkook turn to look at you.
"the lighting on the third turn," you continue, your mind racing to construct a plausible technical failure. "it messes with the transition. if we want it to look perfect, the movement has to be sharper at the pivot point."
jungkook tilts his head, his dark eyes narrowing slightly. he looks from the screen to your face, his gaze lingering on your slightly parted lips before drifting back to your eyes. he sees the flush on your skin, the way your hands are still trembling, and the thinness of your excuse.
he knows you’re just as terrified of ending this as he is.
“i noticed that too,”jungkook says, his voice low and steady, backing you up without a moment of hesitation. “i was a bit off-balance on the pivot. i think we can make it tighter.”
bradley sighs, looking between the two of you. he doesn't seem fully convinced, but he also doesn't argue.
"alright," bradley relents, waving a hand. "one more take. make it count."
as the crew scurries to reset the lights, jungkook doesn't move away. he stays close, his presence a heavy, comforting weight in your personal space. he leans in until his lips are inches from your ear, his breath warm against your skin.
"good work, director," he says, his voice a low, gravelly hum that sends a tremor straight to your core. he doesn't move away. he just stands there, the weight of his attention pulling at you, reminding you of the dinner you’d promised, and the reality that you are both far too good at making the fake feel like the only truth you have left.
—
“okay but be honest with me…” you pause, voice muffled by the food in your mouth. “was the hug too much?”
you and jungkook are currently huddled on the trailer’s cramped floor, the scent of cooling takeout burgers and fries hanging heavy in the air; a mundane, welcome change from the exhausting vastness of the studio.
jungkook, who had been focused on picking at his fries, looks up, a faint, amused quirk to his lips. "with latto?"
you nod, a sheepish flush creeping up your neck.
he lets out a low, amused huff, shaking his head. he watches you for a moment, his eyes softening in the dim light.
“gg, you were fine. it was just a hug. honestly? i think she looked more surprised than bothered.”
“you’re just saying that to make me feel better,” you mutter, shoving a fry into your mouth.
“i’m saying it because it’s true,” he replies, his gaze unwavering. he reaches over, brazenly stealing a fry from your tray with a smirk.
“director y/n.”
you rolled your eyes, a laugh escaping you. “don’t even start with that!”
“hey, i’m serious!” he said, “i swear after bradley said that your face was so red-“
you cut him off by throwing a pillow at him, which he caught.
“oh, cut it out,” you laugh, though your smile remains soft. “for the record, i was only supposed to be shadowing them so i say that is progress.”
jungkook pauses, the laughter between you dying down, his expression shifting into something more somber.
“you’re shadowing them?” he asks, his voice suddenly quiet.
fuck. you weren’t supposed to say that.
“um, yeah,” you clear your throat, picking at a loose thread on your jeans. “son wanted me to, while he was gone. since he couldn’t be there, it just… made more sense that way.”
jungkook’s face drops. the spark from moments ago is replaced by a look of sudden, painful realization.
“fuck. did i mess up by asking you to sub in for the lead?” he asks.
“wait, what?” you blink, the laughter completely vanishing as the weight of his guilt sinks in. “koo, no. where is this coming from?”
he grips the pillow tight, his gaze fixed anywhere but on you. “i just… i knew son was having you take charge, but i didn’t realize it would be something like that.” he pauses, his shoulders slumping. “it’s a great opportunity for you, and i blew it.”
the air in the trailer feels razor-thin. you soften, reaching out to cover his hand with yours, forcing him to meet your eyes. “koo, stop. seriously. you didn’t ‘blow’ anything.”
when he finally looks up, his gaze is searching yours, heavy with unnecessary guilt. you offer him a small, watery smile, your thumb stroking the back of his hand to ground him.
”you didn’t ruin anything,” you say firmly. you try to lighten the mood with a sharp, familiar jab. “besides, i think the only thing you blew were the shots where you looked like a lost, grumpy puppy.”
jungkook’s brow furrows, a flicker of his usual playfulness trying to fight through the guilt. "you’re still on that, aren’t you?"
“i mean, the hair, the pout, the brooding stare?” you smirk, leaning in, your voice dropping to a theatrical whisper. “you’re just as bad as bam, if not worse.”
jungkook lets out a short, shocked laugh, and before you can blink, he swings the pillow he’s holding, lightly thwacking your shoulder. "yah! you’re unbelievable. i was playing the part!"
"you were being a drama queen," you counter, grabbing a cushion from behind you. “probably where bam gets it from.”
"oh, it's on," he breathes, his eyes glinting with a dangerous, competitive light.
he lunges for the pillow in your hands, and for a frantic moment, it’s a blur of flying fabric and muffled laughter.
he’s faster, inevitably catching the pillow with one hand and pulling you off-balance with the other. you tumble forward, hands landing on the floorboards with a soft thump, your body coming to rest half-sprawled over his.
the momentum of your collision leaves you both breathless, chests heaving in rhythm. suddenly, you are keenly aware of exactly where you are: pressed flush against him, his hands anchored firmly at your waist to steady you. the small space of the trailer feels suddenly, suffocatingly intimate.
jungkook goes completely still. his eyes, usually so sharp and teasing, darken, scanning your face with a focus that makes your skin prickle. he doesn't pull away. he doesn't even move, his fingers splayed against your back, pinning you there in the most gentle, unintentional way imaginable.
as your fingers ghost over his jawline, his skin feels scorching under your touch. suddenly, the trailer’s dim lighting warps, the space around you dissolving into a hazy, amber-lit memory.
you were sitting in a chair, your bones feeling like liquid, your eyes squeezed shut against the exhaustion. you felt the cool, grounding pressure of a cotton pad against your eyelid, moving in slow, rhythmic circles. you heard his voice, a quieter, more vulnerable version, hovering inches from your face.
“can i?” he’d whispered.
“mhm,” you’d hummed, small and trusting, leaning your weight into his space as he wiped away the silver glitter. you remembered the way his gaze felt, anchored entirely on you, as if the world outside; the clubs, the cameras, the expectations, had simply ceased to exist. you remembered the way his ink caught the dim light; the intricate, dark patterns of his sleeve climbing up his arm, wrapping around the solid line of his shoulder and disappearing beneath his shirt. they felt like a map, each line and shadow a piece of the history he had built for himself, inked directly into his skin.you remembered the heavy, sweet silence that had followed when he set the cotton pad down, his thumb lingering against your cheekbone to catch a stray speck, searching your eyes with a terrifying intensity.
“there,” he’d breathed, that pensive smile tugging at his lips. “now, look at me.”
and you had. you had looked at him, your vision slightly blurred by the cleansing oil, and the air between you had thickened, turning heavy and sweet.
“you okay?”
the memory snapped shut, leaving you breathless in the present.
the memory snaps shut, leaving you breathless in the present. you blink, the trailer rushing back into focus. the smell of cold fries lingers, and jungkook is still right there beneath you, his gaze locked onto yours with that same terrifying intensity.
the words feel trapped in your throat, held hostage by the overwhelming vividness of the gaze locked onto yours. it’s the same intensity; the same quiet, terrifying focus, that had been in the memory, pulling you deeper into the present than you’ve ever been before.
your hand, still pressed against his jaw, feels unsteady. slowly, subconsciously, your thumb begins to trace a path across his skin, your eyes wandering as you truly see him for the first time.
you’ve always known he was beautiful, but you’ve never really looked at the constellations that define him. you traced the tiny, dark speck nestled just beneath his lower lip, then let your gaze drift upward to the faint, elegant cluster near the arch of his brow. there were more, hidden in the hollows of his cheeks, near the scar on his left, and tucked near the shell of his ear, each one a small, yet unique mark.
"you have a lot of moles," you whisper, the words slipping out as a desperate, clumsy attempt to anchor yourself in the now. your fingers, still resting on his jaw, tremble just enough for him to notice.
jungkook doesn't blink. he seems to hold his breath, his eyes darting to your lips and then back up, searching for a trace of the strange daze that’s just swept over you.
"is that... a bad thing?" he asks, his voice rougher, barely a breath in the sudden quiet.
he shifts, his hand moving from your back to gently cup your cheek, his thumb brushing over your skin with a deliberate, slow pressure that mirrors the phantom sensation of your memory. the air between you turns thick, heavy with the weight of things unsaid.
"no," you breathed, the confession heavy on your tongue. "not bad at all."
he leans in, his lips parted, the gravity between you pulling tight. just as his hand moves to the back of your neck…
brrrrrrr.
your phone vibrates violently on the rug between you.
you both jolt, scrambling apart as if the sound had been a physical blow. you grab for the screen, heart hammering, feeling completely dazed by how close you’d just come to losing your footing again.
the caller id flashed: chim🐥
“it’s jimin,” you breathe, your own voice sounding thin and shaky.
"you should probably get that," he says, his voice clipped and overly casual. he doesn't look at you, instead focusing intently on crumpling a piece of paper into a ball. "it’s probably about the trip. he’s been blowing up my phone about flights for the last hour."
he stands up abruptly and retreats toward the tiny kitchenette, giving you the privacy he clearly doesn't want to grant but feels obligated to provide. he keeps his back to you, posture rigid, shoulders tight enough to snap. even from across the room, you can feel the way he is straining to listen, as if trying to memorize every word you’re about to say.
you stare at his back for a heartbeat, pulse still racing, before you finally swipe to answer.
"hey, jiminie," you say, voice steadier than you feel.
"y/n-ah! finally," jimin’s voice rings out, bright and oblivious. "i was just checking in; did you guys wrap for the day? or are you still busy?"
you glance over at jungkook. he doesn't turn around, but his hand tightens on the counter, knuckles white. the air in the trailer seems to drop ten degrees, the silence from his end of the room suddenly louder than the music on the phone.
"we just finished up," you reply, voice louder than necessary, an involuntary attempt to soothe the bristling energy coming from the kitchen. "we’re just going over some last-minute things."
"perfect timing," jimin chirps. "i've got some great news. is jungkook there?”
you hesitate, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks again. "uh, yeah, jungkook’s here."
"great! put me on speaker," jimin commands, his voice filled with that signature, infectious energy that usually makes you smile; though right now, it only makes your stomach twist with nerves.
you set the phone down on the small coffee table, the surface vibrating. jungkook immediately turns, his expression carefully schooled into a mask of indifference, though you can see the tension coiled in his neck as he walks over to loom behind you. he doesn't sit; he just leans against the back of the sofa, arms tightly crossed over his chest.
“jiminnnnn,” jungkook drawls.
“jungkookieeee,” jimin mimics, voice soaring with a playful lilt clearly intended to needle him. “you little punk, why have you been dodging my texts!”
jungkook lets out a light chuckle, but it doesn’t reach his eyes.
"i’m not dodging you, jimin. i’m working. we just finished, literally seconds ago. what is so urgent that you’re harassing us both?"
"harassing? i’m your friend!" jimin laughs, the sound warm and annoyingly perceptive. “who is the one who wanted to do these trips with each other, by the way!”
“oh my god, jimin— just tell us where we're going?” you beg.
“yah, what is up with you two? so rude to your elders,” jimin states, voice dripping with mock-offense.
“fine, fine. i’ll cut the mystery…” he pauses before saying, “i don’t know where to go!”
you can practically hear him pacing on the other end, the frantic sound of his footsteps echoing. your own anxiety, which had been centered entirely on jungkook’s proximity, shifts toward your friend.
“you guys are going to be in new york, but then in a few days you’ll have to travel back because jungkook is performing at home…” jimin rambles on, not taking a breath.
“jimin, breathe,” you say, voice softening into that calm, grounding tone you usually reserve for the studio. “it’s just a trip. we don’t need a five-star resort. we just need to be together. we can find something simple.”
“simple? i’m the one who promised everyone an ‘unforgettable experience’!” he stresses, voice cracking. “if i don’t pick a location by tomorrow, management is just going to book us in some boring hotel and i’ll never hear the end of it. i’m a failure, y/n-ah. i’m a vacation-planning failure.”
“you’re not a failure,” you soothe, wanting to reach out through the screen. “just stop looking at the high-end stuff. where can we go that’s private, quiet, and doesn't require six-month reservations?”
“what about camping?” jungkook’s voice is low and gravelly, cutting through the static of jimin’s panic like a razor.
your heart performs a precarious somersault.
the mention of it brings back that hazy, half-forgotten memory of your own childhood; the smell of damp pine needles, the way your father would struggle with the tent poles, and the absolute, beautiful wonder of a night sky unpolluted by city lights.
but it also reminds you of that night in the observatory, where you shared those exact memories with the person currently across from you.
he doesn't have to say it, but you know his intentions behind it.
“camping?” jimin’s voice breaks the silence and the eye contact between you and jungkook.
“yeah,” jungkook clears his throat, “i was actually looking at some places, and there’s cute tiny cabins a few hours from new york we could stay at.”
“tiny cabins?” jimin repeats, voice shifting from frantic to cautious. “like… the ones with actual beds and a kitchen? or are we talking ‘cooking dinner on a stick’?”
“they’re nice, jimin,” jungkook says, gaze fixed on you, watching your reaction with a level of intensity that makes your breath hitch. “they have a/c, a small kitchen, and a fire pit. it’s exactly the kind of reset we need. we can drive there right after the gma performance.”
you are quiet for a moment, letting the image take root: the crackle of a fire, the smell of damp earth, and miles of space between you and the expectations of the world. it feels like a tether to a version of yourself you’d almost forgotten.
sure, there will be the filming aspect, you thought, but the best moments are always the ones that go uncaptured.
“y/n? what do you think?” jimin’s voice echoes through the phone, breaking your thoughts.
"i think..." you start, voice slightly breathless as you meet jungkook’s gaze. still looking at you, eyes dark and hungry for your answer. "i think that sounds like exactly what we need, jimin."
“oh, thank god!" jimin lets out a loud, exaggerated exhale. “oh! we could go hiking, maybe do some boating– oh, there’s not a place near the cabins. that’s okay, we can rent a different place for that…”
jimin’s voice becomes a distant, melodic hum; a manic stream of consciousness about hiking trails and boat rentals that seems to exist in a different reality entirely. you don't hear most of it. your attention is tethered to the space between you and jungkook, which feels charged with a sudden, suffocating intensity that jimin’s presence on speakerphone only serves to highlight.
you are no longer just y/n, lead choreographer and jungkook of bts; you are two people sharing something that is slowly becoming impossibly dangerous to ignore.
—
the next day
the sun is relentless, beating down on the exterior set, but the atmosphere feels brittle, as if the air itself was holding its breath.
the final day of shooting is a strange, breathless affair; a fragile mixture of exhaustion, relief, and the mounting dread that this, whatever this is, is finally coming to an end.
pablo and bradley had you running through complex chase sequences all afternoon. you spend hours sprinting until your lungs burn, with jungkook hot on your heels.
it starts as a joke; you leading him on a wild goose chase, but as the hours drag on, the physical toll becomes grueling.
at one point, he’s meant to hand you a bouquet in the middle of a sprint, a gesture meant to symbolize his character’s relentless obsession. when you look down, you see they’re sunflowers and daisies; the exact same species he’d bought you for coachella. the exact same bouquet you saw in your hazy, half-remembered memory in the trailer, right before you’d snapped back to reality with your body sprawled over his.
it took a dozen takes to get it right.
whether it’s you tripping over your own feet, the cameras losing focus, or jungkook’s hand brushing your wrist for a second too long, the scene feels cursed.
every time the bouquet hits the pavement, he is there to pick it up, his gaze dark and heavy, handing it back with a crooked, tired smile that never reaches his eyes. by the twelfth take, the flowers are bruised, and so are your defenses.
between shots, there’s no room for the conversation you left hanging in the trailer. jimin kept you both on the call until the early hours of the morning, debating travel logistics and permits; a convenient, necessary shield that kept you from addressing the gravity of what had almost happened on your trailer floor.
but on set, the silence between takes is louder than any of jimin’s rambling.
the tension is thick, palpable enough to choke on. you both retreat into your corners between takes, but it is unavoidable.
it lives in the way his hand lingers on your elbow when he helps you regain your balance after a rough turn, or the way you catch him watching you from the periphery, his eyes tracing the line of your collarbone before he snaps away to mutter something to a crew member.
you tell yourself the intensity is purely for the cameras; you are just "channeling the character."
but as the sun dips below the horizon, painting the sky in bruised purples and oranges, you knew the line between performance and truth had vanished.
evening settles, and the crew begins rigging the rain machines for the final scene. you stand under the production tent, your charcoal tank top clinging to your skin as the first sprays of mist hit your face.
across the way, the crew secures jungkook into his harness. stripped down to a white tank top and dark trousers, his skin glistens under the studio lights.
as he moves to adjust his gear, the fabric of his tank top pulls taut across his back and shoulders, barely containing the sheer, coiled mass of his muscles. you feel a jolt in your stomach; a sharp, unbidden memory of last night flooding your senses.
you remember exactly how his chest felt against your palms; solid, unyielding, a wall of heat as you scrambled over him. you remember the way his broad frame felt like the only anchor in a world that had suddenly spun out of control.
seeing him now, fully exposed to the elements, makes your pulse spike in a way that has nothing to do with the script.
he catches you watching, and for a second, neither of you looks away. the distance feels electric.
“you good, y/n?” bradley’s voice breaks the trance.
“yes, i’m fine.” you reply, your voice steadier than you actually feel. you tear your gaze away, focusing on your clipboard.
bradley stands beside you, watching the crew prep the rigs. he follows your line of sight to jungkook, then back to you, a thoughtful expression settling over his face. he’s been quiet most of the day, but you notice the way he’s been watching you with a newfound level of scrutiny.
“you know,” he starts, his voice low. “i’ve worked with a lot of people in this industry. most of the time, when we bring in someone from the dance side, they’re just... there. but you? you’re a different breed. i don’t know how you’re balancing the choreography and managing this performance without losing your mind. and those ideas you pitched? you have a gift, my friend.”
you feel a flush creep up your neck. "i just want the project to be as strong as possible. it’s what i’d want if i were the one calling the shots."
"well, you’re calling plenty of them," he chuckles, pulling a sleek, matte-black card from his blazer pocket. he slides it into your hand. "pablo and i were talking with director son. we’ve got projects coming up next summer, and we’re going to need someone with your vision. not just as a choreographer, but in the director’s chair."
you look down at the card; bradley & pablo productions.
the weight of it feels like a turning point.
"you've got the eye for this, y/n.” bradley says, his tone turning earnest. “if you’re ever interested in more shadowing, or if you want to take a lead on one of our upcoming projects, call us."
"bradley, i..." you’re at a loss of words, the validation hitting you harder than the nerves.
"think about it," he winks, stepping away as the stage manager yells for places. "but keep that drive. it’s rare to find someone who actually cares about the why behind the movement."
jungkook steps in as bradley retreats, his presence an immediate shift in the air. he is already harnessed, the harness straps pulling taut against his chest, covered by his jacket now. he ignores the stylists rushing to dab his skin, his dark eyes locking onto yours with a focus that makes your breath hitch.
"you look like you’ve been doing some serious networking," he says, his voice low. he glances at the card in your hand. "bradley doesn't hand those out to just anyone."
"i guess i’m good at my job," you say, tucking the card away.
“i’d say so,” he murmurs, his gaze trailing over you, taking in the way the rain has already dampened your tank top. "you look ready."
“i could say the same to you,” you smirk, leaning in. "are you ready to fly like a fairy?"
jungkook lets out a low chuckle. he tilts his head. "are you ready to finally give me a chance?"
the question hangs in the damp air. your heart stutters. "um..."
he seems to catch himself, his signature lopsided grin returning, though it doesn't quite reach the intense, searching quality in his eyes.
"our characters," he corrects. "i… i meant our characters.”
you look at him, and the levity feels fragile. you step closer, your voice dropping, stripped of the bravado. "jungkook… i wanted to say i’m sorry. for how i’ve been acting. being so closed off. i know i’ve been off lately, and i shouldn’t let that get in the way of work…”
you hesitate before saying your next choice of words.
“...and our friendship.”
he goes perfectly still.
"gg…" he trails off, the nickname hanging in the air with a weight that makes your skin prickle. "you don't have to apologize. i know this is a lot. the filming, the pressure... the promotion."
"it’s not just that," you admit, fingers ghosting over your necklace. "it’s... it’s been fun, honestly. being able to just play around, to be someone else for a change."
jungkook nods slowly. "yeah. it has. i just… i wish we could do that more often."
you tilt your head. "do what? act?"
"just pretend," he murmurs, his voice layered with a want that makes your stomach flip. "to be whoever we want to be. to just… exist outside of who the world wants us to be."
the tension is a physical weight, humming with a promise that feels far more real than any script. you look up at him, gaze steady.
"well," you start, a slow, challenging smile touching your lips. "at least we have the camping trip."
jungkook’s breath hitches. his eyes darken, hungry and focused. "we do," he whispers, the gravity between you pulling tight enough that you feel like you might snap.
"we do."
“alright everyone, places!” pablo’s voice slices through the air.
you both jolt. the crew swarms the set, adjusting the rigs that hum with a menacing, metallic vibration.
you jolt, your heavy platform boots skidding across the gravel. you crouch behind the washer prop, the metal cold and biting. jungkook grabs onto the street pole, his knuckles white as he anchors himself.
“cue rain sequence and… action!”
the music cuts through the roar of the rain with a driving beat. jungkook grips the pole, his body angled against the wind.
“okay, jk let go!" pablo bellows.
as his hand leaves the pole, the jerk of the harness sends him soaring back; but instead of a cinematic flight, he lets out a high-pitched, unscripted yelp of shock.
"i'm a fairy!" he screams, his voice cracking mid-air as he flails his limbs, his cool-guy composure replaced by sheer adrenaline.
you’re crouched behind the washer, meant to be the icy girlfriend. but the sight of jungkook flailing through the air and declaring his new identity as a fairy completely breaks you. you bury your face in your arms to stifle the sound, but it’s no use; a sharp, uncontrollable snort escapes you.
you bury your face in your arms to stifle the sound, but it’s no use. a sharp laugh escapes you, followed by a full-blown, uncontrollable snort.
"cut! cut, cut, cut!" bradley bellows, though even he sounds like he’s fighting back a laugh.
jungkook is lowered to the ground, harness clanking. he stands there, drenched, hair plastered to his forehead. water beads on his broad shoulders and drips from his chin, catching the light on the silver hoop in his lip and the subtle piercings lining his ears. he looks absolutely ridiculous, yet even in this state, the coiled, muscular frame of his body is impossible to ignore.
he pushes the wet strands out of his eyes, squinting at your shaking frame.
"it wasn't that funny," he tries to defend, though his own lips are twitching.
you push yourself up, wiping tears of genuine mirth from your eyes. you walk over to him, your laughter trailing off into soft, breathless chuckles.
“i cannot wait to tell the boys about that.”
he glares at you, nose scrunched but the look is soft, almost doting.
“they'll never let me live it down, will they?” he grumbles, though he steps closer, effectively invading your personal space.
“oh, absolutely not,” you confirm, shaking your head and sending water droplets flying. “i’m already planning to make it the group chat’s new profile picture.”
”yah! you’re making me the new profile meme?” he asks, clutching his chest.
“oh yeah,” you giggle. “you’re definitely replacing joonie’s.”
you and the boy’s group chat constantly changed the group photo with one of the boy’s newest memes that surfaced on the internet. it had become an unspoken rule: whoever was caught in the most ridiculous candid, or who possessed the most unfortunate facial expression during a live stream or an interview, became the face of the group for the next week or even, month.
you’d seen it all. there was the one where hoseok and yoongi were on the viking ride wearing matching yellow shiba inu helmets that was there for a solid three weeks, or the time where jin ate a lemon flavored cake and spit it out that lasted over two months.
“you can’t be serious,” jungkook huffs jokingly, shaking his head in disbelief.
“it’s time for a renovation, koo,” you tease. “the people are demanding change.”
“you mean you and jimin?”
“precisely”
you felt a little smug about it, honestly. you were usually the most cautious of the group, a stealthy ninja when it came to avoiding the camera’s lens during bad moments. there had been maybe two or three times over the last few years where you’d ended up as the group profile picture; once when you’d accidentally fallen asleep mid practice sitting against the mirror, and another time when tae had captured you mid-sneeze after a glitter cannon went off in your face.
the wind kicks up, sending a spray of mist across your faces.
you start to reach up to push your hair back, but jungkook’s hand beats yours.
he tucks the damp strand behind your ear, his palm staying pressed against the side of your face, his skin warm despite the cold rain.
the playfulness in his gaze shifted, darkening into something far more intense, something that made your heart stutter in your chest.
the playfulness in his gaze shifts, darkening. the sound of the rain machines dips into a distant, muffled hum as the studio around you begins to bleed into a memory; the vanity chair, the scent of his cologne, the feeling of his chest touching your knees.
“because they’re like little stars. a whole constellation just for me.”
the present rushes back, violent and cold. the rain is still plastering your hair to your cheeks, but the heat from his palm makes the skin of your face feel like it’s burning.
the playful banter about memes and group chats feels like a lifetime ago. the silence between you now is heavy, humming with the weight of that night in your suite, the reality of what happened last night; and what was left unsaid, crashing into the here and now.
the present rushes back. “gg,” he murmurs, his voice losing every trace of the teasing quality. “you okay? you’re doing it again.”
“doing what?” you whisper.
“spacing out,” he says, moving his hand away.
"i... i was just remembering," you admit, the words feeling heavy. the transition from the hazy, amber-lit warmth of that memory to the harsh, rain-slicked reality of the set is jarring, leaving you feeling exposed.
jungkook’s eyes search your face, trying to figure out if you are grounded in the present.
"remembering what?" he asks.
you bite your lip, feeling the erratic thrum of your pulse. you want to be reckless, but you can't.
"um…," you pause, looking away. “just what pablo’s notes on the final scene were.”
the tension in jungkook’s shoulders seemed to loosen but not from relief, almost…disappointment?
"right," he says. "the notes. of course."
“jk! y/n! let’s get to your marks for the final scene.” pablo’s voice echoes.
you stand on the damp street set, the rain sticking to the gravel and cooling your skin. jungkook is already in position behind you, his posture coiled and watchful. he’s not looking at the crew, and he’s not looking at the camera. he’s looking at you.
"focus, y/n," you whisper to yourself.
"alright, rolling!" pablo shouts, his voice echoing through the studio. "and... action!"
the music kicks in– a pulsing, driving bassline that seems to match the rhythm of your own heart.
”monday, tuesday, wednesday, thursday, friday, saturday, sunday, a week”
the lyrics kept repeating, on and on. you knew the song was coming to an end soon. which means whatever you two have going on is ending with it.
“cut!” bradley’s voice cut through the music, eyes trailed on you. “y/n, remember you have to walk toward the camera.”
“oh, right,” you clear your throat. you wipe a stray droplet of rain from your cheek and take a breath. "sorry, i lost the beat."
"it's alright," bradley calls out. "let's reset. same thing; rain, walk, focus on the lens. y/n, keep that 'done with him' energy, but when you look back, give us that lingering doubt. jungkook, keep being persistent."
”that shouldn’t be too hard,” you hear jungkook murmur behind you.
you turn to give him a look. “yah, what’s that supposed to mean?”
he doesn't give you a straight answer, just that signature, crooked grin. he steps toward you, unbothered by the rain.
“oh, nothing,” he whispers.
“you’re so annoying,” you groan.
“you say that like it’s a bad thing,” he counters, grin widening. “it’s technically my job to annoy you.”
“you’re starting to be worse than jimin and taehyung,” you retort.
he didn’t back away, even as the rain continued to pelt the set around you, turning the floor into a mirror of neon reflections. instead, he tilted his head, his dark, wet hair clinging to his forehead, and looked at you with an expression that was suddenly, entirely devoid of the ‘cool-guy’ act. the playfulness was still there, but beneath it, there was a raw, tethered hunger that made the air between you feel impossible to breathe.
“maybe,” he murmurs, his voice a low, gravelly hum. “but you haven’t complained about it much. in fact… i think you’re starting to like it.”
you open your mouth to deny it, but the words die in your throat. he is so close that you can see the drops of rain tracing paths down his jawline.
he goes quiet, his hand drifting up to toy with his lip ring, rolling the hoop between his fingers and worrying at the silver with his teeth.
for a moment, you aren't the lead choreographer, and he isn't the biggest pop star in the world. you are just two people, soaked to the bone, trying to find a way to keep pretending.
“you’re delusional,” you whisper, though your hand, which had been clutching your clipboard, hangs limp at your side.
“rolling!” pablo’s voice shatters the silence. “action!”
the music kicked in again.
you spin on your heel, your boots squeaking as you launch into the sequence, the movement instinctive, sharp, fueled by adrenaline.
all you are doing is walking with your arms crossed, but it feels like a statement. like you are telling yourself to walk away; not because you want to, but because you have to.
and he is right there, mirroring your energy, his body a lethal, fluid extension of your own. the rain is relentless, turning the floor into a mirror of neon reflections.
the rain was coming down even harder and the wind was relentless. you could barely see as you kept you head down, your hair whipping in front of your face.
“you know night after night, i’ll be lovin’ you right seven days a week.”
“cut! end rain sequence!”
thank god
both you and jungkook stay put as stylists come over to fix your hair and outfits. you hardly notice the camera crew hovering nearby, pointed at jungkook.
”jungkook, any thoughts as we wrap up soon?” the cameraman asks.
jungkook ponders for a moment as a stylist gives him a towel.
“i’m excited. i think it’ll look fun. i want to see the first draft of the mv already,” he turns to you, “don’t you?”
you look at him, water dripping from the tips of your hair, and for a fleeting second, the cameras and the exhaustion fall away. the question feels like an invitation.
“yeah,” you say, your voice steady. “i’m excited to see it, too.”
jungkook holds your gaze, searching for that ‘pretend’ wall you’ve been fighting to keep up. he tilts his head slightly, and you catch the faintest hint of a smile tugging at his lips.
“what was your favorite part of filming?” jungkook prompts as the cameraman backs up to catch both of you in the frame.
your mind flashes through the last few days; the claustrophobic intensity of the laundromat scene, the heavy, charged air of the dinner set, the platform where you two had finally moved in sync. you weigh them, your heart fluttering as you consider the memories you’ve built in the gaps between the scenes.
“that’s a tough one,” you say, letting out a soft, breathy laugh. “they were all fun, but… i think the subway scene, where pablo and bradley just let me freestyle? that was nice.”
jungkook grins, a genuine, warm expression. “you were incredible in that take. i remember watching from the side, and i forgot we were filming.”
you laugh, the sound bright and authentic. “and i guess i have to mention watching you fly away in the rain just now. that was… truly a cinematic masterpiece.”
he groans, full of laughter. “hey, don’t start with that! i already know i’m going to be the face of the group chat for the next month.”
“oh, you absolutely are,” you confirm.
the cameraman lingers, hoping to catch more, but bradley finally intervenes.
“okay everyone, back to your places!”
the air in the studio shifted instantly. the casual banter dissolved, replaced by a sudden focus as bradley and pablo made their way over to the two of you.
”alright, were in the final stretch!” he announces, “how are we feeling?”
”good, good” you both reply.
”amazing, amazing. pablo and i actually wanted to run something by the two of you.”
bradley exchanges a look with pablo. “we’ve been looking at the playback of that bridge sequence. and honestly? it’s the strongest work in the entire video. the chemistry, the way you two moved… it amazes me how well you played out these characters.”
you felt your throat tighten.
“so,” pablo chimed in, stepping closer. “we’re thinking of scrapping the final ‘walk away’ sequence we had planned for the end.”
your heart hammered against your ribs. “wait, you want to cut the ending?”
“well, we want to tweak it,” bradley agreed, nodding.
jungkook shifts, his gaze flickering to you. “what are you proposing instead?”
“actually,” pablo leans toward you, “we wanted to leave it up to you.”
me? us?
“what exactly did you have in mind?” you ask, your voice sounding steadier than the chaotic fluttering in your chest.
“whatever your heart desires,” bradley confirms, his tone light, yet there’s a professional weight behind it that makes the air in the studio feel thick.
you blink, the words echoing in the sudden quiet of the set. the cameras are still, the rain machines are silent, and the ‘pretend’ world you’ve been living in for three days feels like it’s teetering on the edge of an unscripted reality.
jungkook is perfectly still beside you. you can feel the heat radiating from his arm, a steady, grounding warmth.
“you want us to improvise?” you ask, your voice barely a whisper.
“we want you to finish the scene,” pablo corrects, his expression soft. “the script gives us a narrative, but you two give the story. and frankly, the ending we made just doesn’t work anymore. it feels…wrong.”
the atmosphere in the studio hangs in a fragile, suspended silence as bradley and pablo’s request settles over you.
you look down at the floor. the remnants of the ‘storm’ are still there; the scattered props, the slick, reflective street, the hum of the cooling rigging. it all feels like a stage for something far more significant than a music video.
you felt the card in your pocket; the one representing your future, your own path, your own ‘artistic autonomy’. then you look at jungkook, whose hand is inches from yours, his fingers twitching with the urge to bridge the gap.
the wall you’ve been meticulously maintaining feels perilously thin.
“i think…” you start, your voice gaining a sudden, piercing clarity. “i think their story is about finally realizing you were never meant to be anywhere else; with anyone else.”
bradley lets out a slow breath, a smirk playing on his lips. “well, then. that sounds like a hell of an ending. whenever you two are ready.”
both directors walk away as jungkook takes a step toward you.
in the dim light, his eyes are searching yours for that same reckless honesty. he reaches out, his hand hovering over your arm, his thumb tracing the damp line of your skin.
"y/n!"
the sharp, abrasive bark of a voice shatters the moment.
you both jump. you turn to see david storming toward the two of you. his face is flushed, his suit jacket rumpled, and his eyes are frantic; a stark contrast to the connection you had just established.
"david?" you ask, your voice tight. “everything okay?"
"y/n, i need to talk to you. now," he says, ignoring the crew around him. he reaches as if to grab your arm. "it’s important– i tried calling your phone, but you weren’t answering, i–"
"david, we're in the middle of a shoot," you try to reason. "we're about to film the final scene. can it wait until after?"
"you don't understand, this can't wait!" david’s voice rises, bordering on desperate, but his eyes are fixed on the way jungkook is standing; close enough to you that he’s practically an extension of your own shadow. "it's really important, y/n! please!"
you look at him, and for a second, you see the cracks in his composed exterior. you see the panic. but then you hear bradley’s voice over the loudspeaker.
"alright! places! let’s wrap this up!"
"i'll talk to you after, david!" you call out, not breaking your stride as you walk back to your mark. “i promise!”
behind you, david is still beside himself, but the sound of the rain machines roaring back to life swallows his voice. you don't hear him begging. you don't see him gesture to the crew. you are already in the headspace of the character.
jungkook is already at his mark. as you fall into position, he places a hand on your shoulder.
"ready?" he whispers, his voice low enough to be heard only by you over the rising bassline.
the outro of the music starts, the heavy beat vibrating through the soles of your feet.
this time, there’s no direction to hide behind; no specific steps to execute.
you simply exist in this space with him.
even if its the last time you might be able to.
the rain falls in sheets, artificial and biting, but it serves its purpose; it washes away the remnants of the script, leaving only the raw, jagged edges of the story you are now writing together.
jungkook walks up to stand right next to you, his shoulder brushing yours. he is looking at the way the studio lights are reflected in the shimmering puddles.
you turn your head slowly, watching a droplet of water track its way down his jawline.
he turns to you, his dark eyes searching your face with a raw honesty that makes the artificial rain feel like a tropical downpour.
“what’s the next move, director?”
the cameras were rolling, capturing every flicker of vulnerability, but you didn't care. you didn't feel the need to mask the way your pulse spiked or the way your gaze softened, locking onto his with an intensity that left no room for interpretation.
you realize you are no longer the one directing the movement. the resistance in your heart;that frantic, desperate need to stay anchored to your professional life– snaps. the tide has finally taken you. you aren't just moving through space anymore; you are letting yourself be pulled, completely and irrevocably, into his gravity.
instead of answering verbally, you hold out your hand.
jungkook looks at your hand, then back at your face. without a word, he closes the space between you, his fingers interlacing with yours.
his grip is firm, a silent anchor. he leaves the next move up to you.
you look up at him, your gaze unwavering despite the rain. the neon lights reflect in his dark, wet eyes, turning the surrounding chaos into a blur of neon streaks. you don't let go of his hand.
instead, you tighten your grip, anchoring yourself to him as you begin to lead, pulling him slowly toward the other end of the street.
“where are you taking me?” he asks with a small smile tugging at his lips.
“where's the fun in telling?” you tease. “do you think they can hear us?”
“doubtful,” he states, eyes not leaving your frame as you both walk, your backs turned to the cameras.
the roar of the fans dies down to a low hum, leaving the space feeling strangely isolated. you pause, the bravado you’d cultivated shifting into something sharper.
a daring spark ignites in your chest. you can feel the heat radiating from him, a stark contrast to the cold water still clinging to your skin.
“i wish that too,” you whisper, voice dropping into the same gravelly, challenging tone he’d used earlier. you hold his gaze with a fierce intensity. “to be whoever we want to be. to just… exist outside of who the world wants us to be."
he goes perfectly still, his eyes widening just a fraction as he realizes the shift in your demeanor. the rain is still drumming against the set, but in this bubble, the sound is muted, rhythmic, almost like a heartbeat.
without another word, you start to run with his hand in yours.
jungkook’s grip on your hand shifts, his thumb tracing a slow, rhythmic circle over your knuckles; a gesture so intimate it feels like a secret language. he leans into the pull, his stride matching yours with a seamless, intuitive grace.
the cameras are still tracking you, the lights still painting your silhouettes in stark, high-contrast frames, but it feels like the lens is merely a spectator to something far more fundamental.
the music already ended as you two reached the end of the street. you both skid to a halt, panting, hair plastered to your foreheads, faces lit with pure, unadulterated adrenaline.
you throw your head back, a bright, melodic peal of laughter erupting from your throat as you realize you are both soaked and lost in your own little world. jungkook matches your energy, his laugh deep and joyous.
before you can catch your breath, he shifts. in one fluid motion, he sweeps his arms under your knees and across your back, lifting you off the gravel.
you let out a startled yelp, your hands flying up to grip his shoulders. as he begins to spin, you are lifted into the air, the world blurring into a kaleidoscope of neon lights and rain. the joy is absolute. you can hear the muffled cheers of the crew, but they sound miles away.
as he twirls you, the rush of the movement brings a sudden, sharp flash of déjà vu; the chaotic neon light of the coachella club, his hand on your waist, him twirling you upon request; the feeling of being known. you had so much fun that night and you knew he did too.
but then, the memory shifts.
the same amber-lit vision slams into your mind: the scent of expensive cologne, the feeling of a cotton pad on your skin, his chest touching your knees.
"because they’re like little stars. a whole constellation just for me."
you felt him freeze, his forehead pressing more firmly against yours, his hands moving to cup the back of your neck. his skin was scorching, and his touch was an anchor.
"a whole constellation, huh?" he whispered. the vibration of his voice hummed against your lips, a low, intimate frequency that made your stomach flip.
you searched his eyes, feeling small and suddenly uncertain in your vulnerability. the exhaustion was stripping away your professional defenses, leaving you feeling dangerously bare. "koo?" you whispered. "did i... did i look pretty? up there?"
you expected him to laugh, or to offer a polite, dismissive comfort. instead, you felt him lean in until his lips brushed against your forehead, a soft, lingering pressure that sent a shiver down your spine.
"pretty?" he repeated, his voice low and ragged. "y/n, you always look pretty."
his hand shifted, sliding from your cheek to the back of your neck, his fingers tangling into your damp, messy waves of hair. the scent of him—clean, familiar, and intoxicating—filled your senses, making your head swim in the best possible way. you tilted your head closer to his, fueled by a drowsy, unfiltered honesty you couldn't control.
"i like your hair long," you murmured, your fingers ghosting over the locks brushing his collar, feeling the texture beneath your touch. you were quiet for a moment, the world narrowing down to just the two of you in the soft, amber glow of the room. you watched him through sleep-heavy, fluttering lashes. "but i also like it short... like... in-between."
"in-between?" he asked, his voice barely a breath.
"mmhmm," you hummed, a small, sleepy smile tugging at your lips. "like last year."
"the mullet?" he whispered, and you could feel the lopsided grin forming against your own skin.
"yeah," you admitted, your fingers gently smoothing a stray lock behind his ear, lingering on the shell of it. "i mean... i like every style on you. you're handsome regardless. but i really loved that one. it was... special."
you felt him go completely still. it was a rare, beautiful moment of stillness between you, a bubble where the titles didn't exist. there was no performance to perfect, no formation to critique, and no audience to impress. it was just you and him, stripped down to the marrow.
"i feel dizzy," you whispered, the words small and breathless, tumbling out as you felt your consciousness finally starting to fray at the edges.
the spell broke. you felt him move instantly, his hands tightening on your shoulders as you swayed, the room tilting dangerously.
"whoa, hey," he murmured, his voice shifting back into that steady, protective cadence that always made you feel safe. "i've got you. too much adrenaline for one night, gg."
he didn't give you a chance to argue, sweeping you into his arms with an effortless strength. he carried you a short distance to the bed, the mattress sinking as he settled you against the soft silk sheets.
"sleep," he commanded softly, the word wrapped in a tenderness that was almost impossible to bear. he tucked the duvet around your shoulders, his hand lingering one last time to brush a damp lock of hair from your forehead. you were already sinking into the dark, rhythmic pull of sleep, the last thing you heard before you drifted away being a soft, whispered, "goodnight, my golden girl."
the spinning slowed, the frantic blur of neon and rain settling into a single, sharp focus: jungkook’s face, hovering inches from your own.
the laughter died, replaced by the heavy, rhythmic thud of your heart. he held you with an ease that felt like a permanent extension of himself, his arms wrapped securely around you, shielding you from the cold.
“cut! that's a wrap!”
the shout echoes, signaling the end of an exhausting, emotionally charged three days. the rain machines began to die down, transitioning from a roar to a gentle, steady drip.
jungkook sets you down slowly, his hands lingering on your arms a second too long as he checks your balance. you take a shaky step back, your heart hammering; partly from the spin, partly from the sheer weight of the memory you don’t remember having.
he frowns, his brow creasing as he studies your pale face. "you okay? you look like you’ve seen a ghost."
you blink, trying to force the image of silk sheets and quiet whispers out of your mind. you look at him, desperate to know if he remembers the same thing; if that moment was real or just a glitch in your own exhausted brain.
"yeah," you manage, your voice thin. "just… dizzy."
you hold his gaze, searching.
"probably just too much adrenaline from the shoot," you add quickly, trying to fill the silence he leaves open.
he watches you, expression unreadable. you don't miss the way his jaw tightens or the slight hesitation in his posture. he knows. or maybe he doesn’t. you don’t say another word, but the silence between you feels like a promise; one you’ll have to untangle, sooner or later.
“or maybe," he starts, a playful glint returning to his eyes, "you just need something other than coffee in your system."
you let out an indignant scoff, the tension in your chest snapping just enough to let you breathe. you reach over and give his shoulder a light, playful shove. "there is nothing wrong with my caffeine intake, thank you very much."
“tell that to your jitters,” he teases, side-stepping your shove and falling into stride beside you as you walk toward the front of the set. "next time, i'm bringing you a decaf."
"you wouldn't dare," you counter, falling into the familiar, easy rhythm of your banter.
he grins, that signature bunny expression that always makes your heart do a ridiculous somersault. "maybe i would. it’s entertaining, honestly."
you open your mouth to fire back a retort, a laugh already bubbling in your throat, but the sound dies the moment a sharp, icy voice cuts through the ambient noise of the studio.
"y/n!"
you freeze, hand still mid-air. you turn, and your stomach drops.
nicole stands by the lighting rigs, arms crossed tightly over her chest. her expression is pinched, her brow furrowed in a way that suggests she’s been waiting; and growing increasingly frustrated. she looks absolutely pissed.
david stands right behind her, offering you a look of pure sorrow.
this is what he meant by ‘its important’, you thought, finally connecting the dots.
the warm air between you and jungkook evaporates instantly, replaced by a cold, sharp reality.
you look at jungkook, whose smile has completely vanished, his jaw tightening into a familiar line of defense.
shit.
—
“what were you thinking, y/n?”
nicole’s voice echoes in the small conference room, the sharp acoustics turning her tone heavy and imposing. she paces the length of the table, her tailored blazer cutting a sharp silhouette against the harsh lights.
david leans against the closed door, arms crossed. he looks exhausted, his tie loose and his eyes darting between you and nicole frantically.
you stand by the table, having changed into dry clothes, your wet hair pulled back into a messy ponytail. you reach for your necklace, but your hand stops halfway; the gold pendant, and the man who gifted it to you, feels like a beacon of the very thing you’re being accused of.
“it wasn’t my first option, but i had no choice, nicole," you say, voice steady despite your hammering heart. “it was either that, or we push back production for another week. his single debuts in two weeks. it would've been too costly.”
nicole stops pacing and turns to face you. “and what were your other options?”
you swallow hard. you have to articulate why stepping into the lead role felt like the only viable path to save the schedule, even if the idea hadn’t originated with you.
“i– i just told you—”
"no," she cuts you off, her voice slicing through the sterile air. "i don't need a lecture on production management. i need to know why you thought it was a brilliant idea to jeopardize your job for a scene that is going to stir up a hell of a lot more than just a 'professional discourse'."
you flinch. david shifts by the door, expression sympathetic but helpless. "nicole, we did try reaching out to other candidates but everyone was unavailable,” he tries. “this was the only way. jungkook—”
“even tried finding someone through his connections,” you cut david off, “but they also weren’t available.”
you give david a pleading look, hoping he understands the subtext. it was jungkook’s idea, but you were the one who agreed to it. this was on you, not him.
“you were not given authority to pull something like that y/n.” nicole says.
“i know that,” you reply, your voice holding a steely edge of defiance. you feel the weight of the last three days; the exhaustion, the emotional whiplash, and now this. “but i did it because the production needed a lead, and i was the only one who could give them what they were looking for.”
“other directors would have had a backup plan”
the words sting. “this was my backup plan.”
nicole groans, pinching the bridge of her nose.
“what is the big deal of me having to sub in, huh?” you press.
“because y/n, it’s you.”
the fluorescent lights buzz with an intensity that makes your pulse throb. you know what she means. it wasn't just that you had stepped in; it was that you had stepped in as the romantic interest for the world’s biggest rising global pop star.
the optics were a nightmare.
“you’ve been the lead choreographer for these boys for four years,” she says, stepping closer. “you are the invisible force. you step into the frame, and suddenly, you’re not directing the narrative anymore; you’re in it. you know what kind of speculation that sparks. you know what the fandom and the press are going to do with that.”
a hollow ache settles in your chest. was she right? had you been so caught up in the thrill of creating something real that you’d blinded yourself to the public eye?
“i did what i had to do to finish the project,” you reply, though your conviction slips.
nicole sighs, walking to the window to look out at the dark studio lot. “we have an image to protect, y/n. both yours and his. if this creates the backlash i’m anticipating, it’s not just a ‘problem for another day.’ it’s a crisis.”
you felt a familiar, cold knot form in your stomach. it was the same anxiety that had been plaguing you since the pool scene; the fear that by crossing the line between colleague and friend, you’d irrevocably altered the dynamic that kept you safe.
she turns back, her expression softening into weary concern. “y/n, i say this because i want the absolute best for you. you’re a bright, talented woman with a career trajectory most would wait decades for.”
you play with the card bradley gave you in your pocket. you have a gift. we’re going to need your vision. director’s chair. call us.
“i thought i was doing the right thing,” you whisper. you feel small, the weight of the decision crushing the last of your adrenaline.
nicole walked over and placed a hand on your shoulder. it wasn't the sharp, corrective gesture you expected; it was steady, grounding.
“i know you did. you always do, y/n. that’s why you’re here.”
she sighed.
nicole walks over and places a hand on your shoulder. it’s steady and grounding. “i know you did. you always do, y/n. that’s why you’re here.” she sighs. “but you’re in line for that promotion you’ve been working for these past six months. do you have any idea how fast the executives can pull that rug out from under you? they see a liability.”
nicole had been your anchor long before you became lead choreographer. when you first arrived at hybe; young, foreign, and navigating a male-dominated industry, she was your bridge. she was your translator and taught you how to survive the egos and the razor-thin margins for error.
over the years, as she climbed to an executive role, your dynamic evolved. she has seen every breakthrough and breakdown you’ve had. she knew exactly which buttons to press to bring you back down to earth. that history, that shared path, made her disappointment feel far more piercing than any professional reprimand.
“you need to be smart,” she continues. “this stunt wasn't smart. you’ve blurred the lines, and the industry doesn't care about your ‘artistic vision.’ they care about the scandal. they care about how your associations impact the bottom line.”
“i wasn’t thinking about the promotion,” you whisper, the truth cutting through the air. “i was thinking about the project, the deadline. i was thinking about how to… finish it.”
nicole’s grip on your shoulder tightens just a hair. she takes a step back, eyes uncharacteristically pensive. “david, please give us a moment.”
david nods and slips out, the click of the lock sounding definitive.
“that, y/n, is your greatest strength and your greatest liability,” she says. “you give everything to the work because of your passion, but you forget that work is also a business.”
she crosses her arms. “you have a bright future, but you're at a crossroads. if you continue to let your personal connection to them dictate your professional decisions, you’re going to lose that trajectory real quick.”
“i know,” you said, voice steadying. “i’m trying. i really do want this.”
“i know you do,” nicole says, voice softening. “but the stakes are only going to go up from here.”
she picks up the tablet on the table and turns it toward you. it’s a digital mock-up of a draft article: speculating on the chemistry between bts’s jeon jungkook and their lead choreographer.
“this is what we’re speculating will take place once the music video hits.” she said flatly. “we have to prepare for the worst.”
we. meaning everyone at hybe knows about your mistake on your first solo project director son trusted you with.
fuck.
“wh- what do i have to do to prepare?” you ask, your heart sinking.
“first, we will have a meeting with pd regarding the situation,” nicole said, “we need to get ahead of the narrative before the teaser even drops. you’re going to be expected to be strictly professional in all public-facing environments. no more… ‘friendly’ banter on set or in studio. you need to distance yourself, y/n. if the public thinks there’s a gap, they’ll fill it with their own assumptions. we need to leave them absolutely nothing to work with.”
you felt a sudden, sharp urge to tell nicole about the 'tidal pull' theory; to tell her that a university professor was using your own work as a primary subject of study. you wanted to see the pride in her eyes, to prove that your work was finally being recognized in the halls of academia, that you weren't just a cog in the industry but a true artist whose energy was being mapped like a constellation.
it would be the perfect shield, wouldn't it? proof of your professional validity.
but then you looked at her face, etched with the calculating lines of how to manage this crisis, and the words died in your throat.
this wasn't the time to talk about art but focus on damage control.
if you brought up the theory now, it would just sound like ego, while she was trying to keep your reputation clean.
you swallowed the pride that had been blooming in your chest, letting it settle into a heavy, suffocating knot.
“and jungkook?” you managed to ask, your voice sounding small even to your own ears. “what is he being told?”
nicole’s expression softens a fraction. “i know he’s part of this project but don't worry about him right now. i will take care of it. you need to focus on yourself. i need you to draft your statement for pd; and one for the public, just in case.”
you nod. you’ve done this before with jimin; it shouldn't be this hard. but why does it hurt more than it should?
she taps the tablet to dim it. “i know this isn't what you wanted to hear. you’ve put a lot of heart into this, and i know what those boys mean to you. but if you want that promotion– if you want to be the one directing these projects, you have to start acting like it.”
you looked at her, searching for some sign of flexibility, but her posture remained rigid, her expression etched with the weary finality of someone who had navigated this exact crisis a dozen times before.
"i understand," you say, quiet but firm. "i'll do what needs to be done."
nicole’s shoulders drop as she steps closer. she places her hand back on your shoulder, a gesture that feels strangely maternal.
“get some rest. you have a long travel day tomorrow. i’ll be with you to help finalize your statements.”
“okay. thank you.” you offer a small smile that doesn’t reach your eyes.
nicole lets go of your shoulder yet she still watches you with her sharp eyes dissecting your every word. she seemed satisfied that you understood the necessity of her demands, even if the price of that compliance felt like it was unraveling everything you valued.
she moves toward the door, hand on the handle, when you realize something.
“wait!” you call out. “what about the travel series?”
nicole paused, her hand hovering over the cold metal handle. she turned back, her expression shifting into a mask of calculated neutrality; the look of a woman who had already anticipated the question and mapped out the answer.
"your involvement in the travel series," nicole said, her voice dropping, " is currently a topic of debate at the executive level. whether or not you are permitted to go will be decided by pd once the fallout of this music video is assessed. your behavior between now and then will be the deciding factor. if you prove to be a liability, you stay in seoul. if you prove you can be a professional, you join them. i suggest you spend your travel day figuring out which version of yourself you want to be."
you feel a hollow ache. the whole point of the series was for jimin to be able to spend time with jungkook and you. there's a fine line with friendships between idols and employees; you have already crossed that bridge a long time ago.
it was inevitable but now it's up to you to decide if this promotion is worth losing your friendships that you shouldn’t have in the first place. and all because you made a stupid decision that you should have checked first with the board.
"i see," you say, forcing your tone to remain neutral. "will do."
she turns the handle, the click echoing. "i’ll see you at the airport tomorrow, y/n. do not give me a reason to regret trusting you with this."
she exited the room, leaving you standing in the silence that followed. you pack your bag, movements heavy and robotic.
your phone vibrated on the table; a notification from jungkook. probably wondering if you were okay after you left with nicole, or perhaps checking in to see if you wanted to get takeout again. you stared at the screen, the black mirror of it reflecting your own exhausted face.
distance yourself.
you couldn’t take the risk reading whatever he sent.
you stand up, legs shaky, and walk out.
the studio hallway is dim. you pass the dark, skeletal sets and can almost feel the weight of his hand on your waist. you shake your head, forcing yourself to keep walking.
you have a statement to write, a flight to catch, and a future to protect; even if it means sacrificing the friendships that made it all feel worth it.
stepping into the cool night air, you realize the hardest part won't be writing the statements. it will be pretending you don't feel anything while doing it.
So.... we have yandere Beast, but what about yandere virtues!
We were just a cookie. Not really famous or anything. We were kind to the strangers no matter how they acted or who they were. One day, we meet 5 cookies . We instantly knew they were newly baked, so we helped them adapt to life here on earthbread. They later became known as virtues. We didn't really cared about that . After all, they were just our friends!
But surely they acted quite weird around you. But you guessed it's because you were their first friend! Huh, why did they look so weird when you told them that you're going on the date?
LET ANON COOK CHAT
Cw and tags: angst(some worse than others), yandere, posessive and jealous behavior, kinda implied one sided love, reader becomes immortal/virtues extend their life, reader is in love with another cookie / has been before.
Written before the silent salt update. Also i decided that the emoji for the reader with be 🐚, theres a whole thought process i wont bore you with but it probably wont be used very often lol
You were a mortal cookie, baked like any other. You were simple, you lead a life of work in a small town. One unpromising evening, you venture into the woods and find five cookies who clearly were fresh out of the oven
🌷 - “My what a beautiful place! I can’t wait to see all the cookies we get to watch over!” A pink cookie says, spreading her wings and opening her arms wide towards the sky.
🃏 - “I’m quite excited to learn and teach mortals, who knows what knowledge they already have waiting for me!” A blue one speaks while examining a plant, crouched down.
🌾 - “I have a feeling there’s many cookies in need of our help, we should make haste.” One white as flour emerges from the bushes with the help of a red cookie.
🏜️ - “Well said! I am eager to nurture cookie kind and cultivate many kingdoms!” He says with a puffed out chest, following him is a knight who immediately spots you.
🗡️ - “There,” they speak and they all snap towards you.
🐚 - “Hello!” You speak walking out of the bushes, “welcome to earthbread!” You laugh and a few of them laugh with you.
🃏 - “Greetings, could you perhaps enlighten us on the way to… to um…” the blue cookie trails off then looks at the rest. “Where exactly are we going?” The others don’t have an answer.
🐚 - You look at them as they exchange looks. You figure despite their clearly prestigious appearance, they weren’t sure what to do. “Say, its getting late. How about you stay with me for the night and in the morning we can get you on your feet?” You offer, you travelled quite a bit due to work so you could actually be of great use to them. They seem hesitant.
🌾 - “We could not ask that of you-“
🐚 - “Please, i insist,” you continue and they finally cave, looking amongst each other before at you, then nod.
🐚 - You brought the virtues to your home, giving them food and setting out places for them to sleep (though they did not actually sleep). While they ate, you learned more about them and helped them decide where to begin their journey from your travelling experience. You unknowingly were one of the biggest influences on them. The blueberry academy, the ivory pagoda and the garden of delights among many other influential places would have been vastly different if not for you.
🐚 - You received many gifts from the virtues, your name had been set in stone as the first cookie graced with their presence and their aid when they were fresh. For that, not only did they find a way to lengthen your preservatives to make you live longer, but they also helped turn your small town into a successful kingdom. Hell, you had your own statue of you standing beside the virtues! They were your greatest friends, as many of your friends came and went, they remained. Your statue and name in history books would be the extent of your fame, but it would grant you many other friends. One of which seemed too close for their liking.
🐚 - You were getting ready for another night out with that friend of yours, they seemed to really like you and you were maybe starting to like them back. You looked nice in your opinion, definitely very formal…
🌾 - You were startled away from gazing at yourself in the mirror as Mystic Flour walked in. You lighten up, “I didn’t realize you were in town!” You walk up to hug her, she returns the embrace with less enthusiasm. You notice the look on her face, “is something bothering you?” You ask and she remains quiet for a moment. “I have granted so many of your wishes,” she tucks a baby hair icing from your face. “And yet you’re choosing another. Strange,” she says and you resist the urge to tilt your head.
🌾 - Your frowned deepens, “what do you mean? You’re my best friend,” you speak but it’s not what she wants to hear. “More and more cookies become overcome with greed, they cannot accept what they are given.” She begins, her eyes darken in a way you had not seen before, disappointment was one emotion you could make out. “It seems that it is simply in cookies nature.” She says which only makes you quieter. Only now that she was beginning to scare you did you notice stress lacing her face.
🌾 - “Mystic Flour, please-“ You begin. “Dont,” she places one hand up. “As master of the ivory pagoda and light of Volition, ive decided you will not attend this… date. You will not attend any from now on, i will cure this ailment within you as i will with cookiekind as a whole.” She speaks sharply. You swear as you look into her eyes, they look slitted.
🏜️ - You hear a knock on the door, “come in!” You yell out and see your close friend Burning Spice enter. Theres a look on his face you cant quite discern. “Y/N,” he greets then looks at you as if something had confirmed in his mind. “You look… nice, who is this for?” He narrows his eyes, you look back in the mirror. “Im going out with someone tonight, figured id dress my best,” you reply.
🏜️ - “With another cookie..?” He says slowly, “with another cookie,” you parrot with a nod, fixing your outfit a bit. “Why do you insist on bonding with cookies that will crumble in mere years,” he says which makes you stop. “W..what?” You look at him in the reflection of the mirror. “You have lived a long time just as i have, surely you have realized this heartbreak of losing those close to you hurts worse than momentary entertainment?” He says and steps towards you, you whip around and look up at him.
🏜️ - “What are you talking about? They’re my friends, i cant just not be with them,” you replied. “They will die, so will the next. Then the next, and again, and again, and again. Why not just…” he takes your chin in his hand, his two lower hands rest on your hips, “stay with me?” Something was wrong with him, he had never acted like this. “I will be your constant in a sea of change, your protector, your entertainment…” You arent given much of a choice, he seems adamant. Maybe if you just give in for a bit he’ll go back to normal. “Yeah… ok ill cancel my plans.”
🌷 - You were broken from your thought as Eternal Sugar gently creaked the door open. You turn and smile widely. “Eternal Sugar! How nice of you to fly in!” You say and walk up to her, she wraps her arms and wings around you tightly. “You look so joyful in that icing, dear! Whats the occasion?” She hugs you looser, hand running on the back of your head. “Well, theres this cookie ive been talking to and we’re going out tonight,” you replied. Her expression shifts a bit, at first the smile fades then she completely frowns. “Oh dear, you’re setting yourself up for heartbreak~” she coos which makes your slightly lovestruck expression turn confused.
🌷 - “Sweetness… theres so many cookies out there who’d want to hurt you or take advantage of you! And remember how much it hurt last time?” She runs a hand over the side of your face and lets it rest there. Her reminder of your loss was harsh, and visibly made you hesitate. “But.. they’re nice, i dont think they’d do that?”
🌷 - “But you don’t know that, Y/N… you’re too naive,” she kisses your forehead. “With me you’d never have to wonder if they wish to hurt you… i only want all the happiness in the world for you, to shield you from pain.” She wraps her wings around you tighter. You want to disagree but remembering when you were hurt and she was there for you made you stop. “Then what do i do?” You say and she smiles, “how about you come to the garden, we can have a night out. And if you wish you may stay there, forever, with me…”
🃏 - Blueberry Milk knocks on your door, recognizable by the pattern of each gentle strike. “Come in!” You exclaim, still looking into the mirror. The fount of knowledge enters, looking at your outfit then smiling softly. He adjusts his monocle and speaks, “Good evening, Y/N, you look positively stunning! Would you enlighten me on why you’re dressed up so nicely?” He asks, you strike a little pose in the mirror. “Im going out with someone tonight,” you respond then turn your head to him. His face deviates, though not upset to your eyes. “With… who?” He asks.
🃏 - “With (cookie name), they’re a real catch…” you say and put on your coat. He’s silent for a moment, you spoke again. “I actually have to leave now if you dont mi-“ “I do!-“ he says abruptly. You turn to him, he continues. “They’re seeing someone else, thats what i came to tell you.” He says, you tilt your head. “They said they were single..?” You say with disappointment. You believed him no matter what, he was the fount of knowledge his sole purpose was to deliver facts and only that. “I wouldn’t lie to you,” he steps forward and takes your hand in a gesture of comfort. You look down, “i got my hopes up for nothing,” you sigh.
🃏 - He kisses your hand, “well… it would be a shame to have you dressed up so nicely for nothing, how about we go out?” He offers, your lips turn up slightly. “Id like that,” you replied softly.
I wanted to get all my thoughts in order and make sure everything made sense before i posted
Huge disclaimer before i get into this, i do not know ateez personally, they are media personalities and public figures, and whatever they choose to share with us about their real feelings and relationships is a gift and privilege. Also this is probably waaaay overanalyzing something that’s more or less scripted and for entertainment purposes lol
But I’ve also been in kpop long enough to know that that’s half the fun
Anyway, no matter how much we think we know about idols, we dont know them and we’ll never know them, so that being said, these are just my opinions based on observation and personal insight, feel free to disagree, just dont yell at me about it (ill cry)
(If i didnt love @thirstkanaphan so much i probably wouldnt have even written this at all lol)
So Jongsang
They are actually my bias in Ateez (and also Mingi but this ain’t about him) so their relationship really holds a special place in my heart and i tend to think about them a lot
It goes pretty much without saying, but Yeosang is so actively loved by all the members, some more violently than others (looking at you San) but he’s not a huge fan of reciprocating love like that for whatever reason. He’s said before he has a hard time expressing those feelings outright and feels sorry to the members about it.
I dont think yeosang should have to feel sorry, but thats neither here nor there. Basically, thanks to everyone being Sweet Boys and Wooyoung breaking down everyone’s barriers pretty early on, Ateez are extremely affectionate with each other. It’s part of what makes them such a charming and successful group! butttt not everyone has such a natural inclination to that. It’s hard to express affection in such an active way sometimes. Enter Jongsang.
Ive said it before in my tags, but I am someone who has a hard time with physical affection just because I find it overwhelming and overstimulating. It doesn’t mean I love anyone any less, showing it just doesn’t come easily to me.
I think Jongho and Yeosang are in this same kinda boat. Neither one of them is naturally inclined to act in overly affectionate ways for whatever reason.
I think however unintentional it may be, Yeosang keeps his physical barriers up just a little around the more physical members to save himself from an “uncomfortable” situation; kissing him, hanging on to him, all of those things that he finds difficult but endures because despite his natural aversion, he loves his brothers and knows this is how they express their love.
Jongho is in a similar situation. He also doesn’t like blatant affection, think of all the times the hyungs have tried to get him to say i love you to them on the phone and he doesnt, obviously he does love them, but its a hard thing to say!! (I get it)
So we’ve got two private, touch adverse guys. How did it end up like this? I would be remiss not to talk about their first impressions of each other and how that contributes to their whole Brand. Sooooo
When jongho talked about seeing yeosang for the first time he says he didn’t know people as beautiful as that existed in real life (same) and Yeosang, just like everyone else, was struck with jonghos endless hyunglike maturity.
But i also think they recognized each other as kindred spirits.
Here was this serious looking kid that was floored by his beauty like everyone else but didnt do anything about it; just quietly admired from afar. Unlike everyone else who immediately started wooing Yeosang in different ways, Jongho was/is the only one who doesn’t blatantly act on it 90% of the time (we’ll get into the other 10% later). I think yeosang finds this appealing because it’s less pressure for him to give the “right reaction”. He relaxes because he knows Jongho would never do something he feels he can’t reciprocate.
Now heres the real magic of jongsang taking place:
Yeosang knows jongho wont try anything too intense because he has an equally hard time with physical affection and to some degree verbal affection, which in turn brings Yeosang’s barriers all the way down, he’s relaxed, playful. He has no reason to feel like he’ll be judged for his reactions, jongho wouldn’t be offended by his aversion because he also gets it and will serve it right back “I’m not opening the door for you, do it yourself”
When jongho first suggests they hold hands he says it in a way that could easily be followed by “syke” because he doesnt really want to hold hands either LOL
They’ve essentially carved out a space where they can be their anti skinship selves judgement and guilt free which opens a unique situation for our shy-not-so-shy opportunist Jongho lol (here’s the other 10%)
Now Jongho is just as taken with yeosang as all the others, but he shows it in a very different way. It’s subtle, it’s casual and with no added pressures. This has always been their special way. They are often each other’s exceptions in all kinds of situations. Quietly picking each other for games, Jongho saying repeatedly Yeosangs the only hyung he hugs, all their small subtle moments etc
Now on Ateez+ its no different, they’re still speaking their special ‘I only do this with you’ language. Lets talk about their fishing date:
Jongho wanted to take his calm hyung on a calm date which is something yeosang appreciates
Captions say newly discovered similarity, but lets be real, they been known they’re similar in that way lol
Now Jongho’s getting ready to shoot his shot. Theres already no expectations for what anyones going to do, so he can come in with some gentle teasing, something lite and low stakes. This low stakes flirting is their whole thing tbh. Theres no pouting if yeosang doesn’t respond, no “hurt feelings” and no pressure for what the interaction needs to be. Enter surprise birthday cake:
Completely darling interaction. Yeosangs touched, even left wanting a little more enthusiasm (but Jongho has depleted his rizz deposit lol)
It really goes both ways, if it gets to be too much for either of them and the other easily backs off like nothing happened. Yeosang just keeps on talking and enjoying his cake (his favorite flavors that jongho specially picked out). They give each other this grace which i think makes their relationship that much more charming. Jongho is the king of nonchalance and ease so he doesnt need (or want) yeosang to have a big reaction, because it would be too much for both of them if he did
The only reason yeosang gives in and is comfortable enough to hold jonghos hand in the car later is because he knows its just as difficult for jongho to share affection this way, which makes the impact that much greater since they show their love so sparingly.
I bet sharing these little romantic moments are really healing for them, no grand gestures, nothing fancy, I would barely call it fan service in the traditional sense. Just calm, lets go night fishing with no pressure, heres a cake I arranged to give you for your birthday while its just us, I picked your favorite flavors and brought you a birthday hat, not a big deal, (unless you want it to be JK…unless ?)
Anyway, its nice to see them just straight up enjoying each others easy company
I know they get labeled as the leftover couple, but they have a very powerful and charming relationship for those who know what to look for, which is why its so nice to see them together on ateez+ ! they get a chance to show off their special refined introvert love flavor that usually gets lost in the more loud dynamic and dramatic relationships of Ateez.
I just love their easy going, no expectations, gentle companionship.
Please quietly disagree with me or ignore me all together
Now some has time has passed, how y'all feel about episode 15?
I still hate it,thanks.
I hated it,but now I am neutral on it now.
I hated it but now I kinda like it.
neutral on it,there are some elements I liked it but overrall meh
I liked it then,and I still like it now.
it's complicated(explain in tags)
Voting ended onApr 23
As for my own thoughts about it,I fall under fourth options.There were elements I liked about it,but do I like the episode overrall?meh,not really.
Here are my full thoughts about it.
I liked sugar swan part in this.I wont say it was perfect but I liked they actually did something with her unlike ovenbreak.Maybe if I rewatched dessert paradise episodes that would change my mind,but I disliked how she didn't have much screentime in that plotline.
"But cheese,she didnt have much screen time here either"
fair enough,IDK I like her here more since like I said,she did something and got her badass moment.Even if it was limited.I do think she should have gotten her update though cuz even I agree she was set up a long time ago.She should have gotten something prior to this.
I liked they actually developed gingerbrave bit here.I liked how he was put thorough the wringer here,but ultimately came out victory.Also liked the ultimate cookie, they were both creepy and cute(my favorite combo).It's interesting how they wanted to be one gingerbrave especially I heard ult cookie has some of the beasts' dough in them.
So I guess they got the certain beasts' attachment issues as well.Like I said I do like this part...but I do feel like ginger brave's insecurities did kinda come out of nowhere.Like I am not saying they should have had him mentioning feel lesser than others all the time but perhaps could have slipped it during this war.Like have him in episode 14,wishes he was stronger to help his friends and strawberry comfort him.Like a little build up you know.
I wont say too much about little giant cookie stuff,even if it felt it came out of nowhere bit.I think it was fine and I hope to him again.
I loved espresso's part no notes.I liked how they finally gave him the spotlight he deserves to show how badass he was.Espresso fans lowkey won with that part of the story.
He is forever the goat.As for my nitpicks,I felt like they cut the dough trio too early from the story.What they built up for them in episode 13 was interesting,before they decided to shove them aside for "cooler" stuff.If I was given the means to fix this,I would probably have them help espresso more into taking the castle before they part ways.Maybe espresso offer to help them in the future when they meet again.
For lily's part,I liked how they didn't brush the aside what happened in premonition of doom update.I am glad AOD got to be important....yet no doughael 🙄. White lily and dark enchantress confrontation is great too, but I do wish they interacted prior.It was great but doesnt really sell me on their relationship.
DE needed more screen time too imo.Like I know she is gonna do stuff in ovenbreak now,but I feel like that might screw her over bit since she is a side plot.We will see though, ovenbreak might surprise me.Let see what else did I like?hmmm,I liked pastry inclusion even if it was short. Thats pretty much it....I am not gonna comment on ending with white lily,I have no dog in that fight.So moving on.
The beasts' death or well temporal death,I have to say even if I was somewhat tapped out while watching both salt & lily part the day after.I really liked this part,hell I loved it.I loved seeing them being put through the wringer.It was a long time coming imo.I especially shmilk's part seeing his beliefs slowly crumble was entertaining to me.Eventually getting so he took the part of the ult cookie, to keep on living with rest of his friends(excluding silent salt) .I have made it no secret,I love shmilk being the main villain for act 2.I feel kinda validated,for having a feeling that shmilk might play a bigger role in episode 14.
So you must assume I have no problem with this part right?Weeelll,I am gonna be honest if I like shmilk being the main villian.It does come out of nowhere ,liiike?I know it was foreshadowed prior, but I feel like they could have done more to justify it.Even if it make narratively speaking.
Also while I do like the beasts' death,I hate they were sidelined during the main part of the story.Like if you didnt know there was silent salt's part ,you would have almost no idea what happened to them.And I am honestly surprised the ancients didnt comment on the beasts while they were trapped.Like you would think pure "We meant to be together" vanilla cookie would say something but I guess not.Like I am willing to believe DC & GC,but not hollyberry and pure vanilla imo.It felt weird it have them be shoved aside during that part of the story.Anyway I believe thats all my thoughts on this in case any of you were curious about them.Fingers crossed the silentlily baby will be important.
