Summary: Jackson takes you on a family trip to his cousin’s wedding to meet his parents. After you overhear a dudes being dudes conversation, you decide to put the good girl act to bed.
Word Count: 2.2k
Warnings: 18+ MDNI, while there is no actual smut in this chapter this is a lot of teasing, hand stuff, and language. Also a lot of frustrated Jackson.
Author’s Note: I hope you guys stick around for all four parts of this. I can promise you Jackson is going to get more and more frustrated as we go along. I can’t promise a happy ending (no pun intended) so you’ll just have to stick around and see what these crazy kids get into.
Jackson was smitten, moreso, he was in love and he had been for a while. That was why this trip with his family was so important to him. He couldn’t wait for his parents to finally meet the woman he kept talking about. The woman he wanted to marry. He had it all planned out, a few days with his parents to Hainan for his cousin's wedding, then back home to Seoul where the proposal would take place. It was perfect, he just hoped his family loved you as much as he did.
He was currently in the studio with Jaebeom working on some songs for an upcoming surprise album. They hadn’t told anyone outside of the GOT7 family that this was happening, and the fact that either of them even had time despite their busy solo tour schedules was impressive. You, being the proud girlfriend that you were, had decided to surprise Jackson and Jaeybeom with lunch. As you entered the studio you could hear the two of them taking a break, and typically you weren’t the one to eavesdrop on Jackson’s conversation but what he was saying stopped you in your tracks.
“Yeah, bad girls are where it’s at.” Jackson was lying through his teeth, of course. But he wasn’t in the mood to get into it with Jae, not today. So he took an easy route - agreeing with everything his friend had to say.
“Right? There’s just something hot about that confidence they exude. Not asking for permission, just taking what they want.” Jaebeom leaned back in his chair. “Good girls have their things too. But I really like when she takes charge in the bedroom.”
“Or the shower.” Jackson teased, his eyebrows raising slightly.
You gulped, setting the food down carefully and exited the studio as quietly as you could. You wouldn’t describe yourself as a bad girl especially in the bedroom. Not that you were totally a vanilla girl - you had always been certain Jackson was more than satisfied in your relationship, but now? Now you weren’t so sure. Was he really that unhappy with your relationship? Once you were safely a few blocks away from the studio you pulled out your phone, sending a quick text letting him know you’d had lunch delivered for them. Still too embarrassed to let him know you’d heard what he’d said.
When he asked you to come by for their break you declined, saying you still needed to pack for the trip you’d be heading out on in the morning and were too nervous about meeting his family to be of good company. The truth was, you were plotting. If Jackson wanted a bad girl, you’d show him just how bad you could be. Being in a relationship was give and take, after all so if you needed to spice it up to keep him interested, you would do just that.
You spent the rest of the afternoon at various shops around Seoul, gathering all the perfect clothing items you’d need for this trip - new bikini, new dress for the wedding, new outfits for “sleeping”, all things Jackson wouldn’t expect from you. Maybe doing this on a weekend that you were meeting his parents wasn’t the best idea, but he had it coming. He liked bad girls? Yeah, you’d show him exactly that.
The flight was as to be expected, quick, normal. You didn’t give any indication to what you’d overheard the day before, Jackson had no idea what was in store for him. Once you were in the car to the AirBnb though, you decided enough was enough. His dad was driving you guys to your destination, his mom reading a book upfront and you figured now was the perfect time to mess with him. Your hand was resting on his thigh, innocently enough. You looked at him out of the corner of your eye as your hand moved up ever so slightly. Your fingers brushing against his length. Jackson’s head whipped towards you, eyebrow raised. Your hand moved to cup him through his jeans, rubbing slightly, biting back a smirk.
“What are you doing?” He whispered.
“Hm?” You looked down at your hand then back up at him and shrugged. “You don’t like this?” Your hand moved quicker against him, feeling his cock hardened in his pants.
“You know I do.” His eyes rolled close at the touch and you smirked, hiding it quickly as he opened his eyes again. “But my parents are up front.” His whisper full of panic as his eyes shot to the front seat. His parents nonethewiser to what was happening.
“Sorry.” You shrugged, dropping your hand back to their previous location on his thigh.
Jackson leaned his head back in the seat, confused. What had gotten into you? You weren’t typically the one for public displays of affection, and this definitely crossed those lines. Normally he wouldn’t complain, he’d encourage you if you got a thrill you wanted to chase, but not with his parents within ear shot. You spent the rest of the ride moving your hand teasingly up and down his thigh, making sure not to get too close to his still hard cock. Smirking every time he sucked in a breath.
Once you were at the AirBnB, Jackson hopped out of the car, adjusting his pants - hoping his parents wouldn’t notice and grabbed your suitcases. You slid your sunglasses on your face, hiding your smirk as you followed him up the driveway. Peeling off the sweater you’d worn from Seoul off as you followed him. The weather in Hainan was much warmer, making it the perfect destination spot for Jackson’s cousin’s wedding that weekend.
Jackson turned to face you, stopping in his tracks. He hadn’t seen you get dressed that morning, missing the shirt you’d put on under your sweater. He wished he hadn’t seen it now, he was pretty sure his brain was short circuiting. When had you even gotten that shirt? Why were you wasting it on a weekend with his parents when he’d much rather be ripping it off you in the privacy of your own home?
“You okay?” You asked innocently, sliding your sunglasses onto the top of your head as you walked past him into the house.
“Y-yeah, I’m fine.” He nodded, following you inside.
“You two are in the two rooms just down the hall from us.” Jackson’s dad explained as he gave you two a quick tour of the house.
You quickly caught on that this was a family vacation spot that they’d been coming to for years. This exact house was the only one they enjoyed staying at and had become close friends with the owner. You almost wanted to reconsider messing with Jackson the entire weekend, but he’d brought it on himself. He liked them bad and you were prepared to do what it took to show him that you could be bad too.
The last thing you wanted was for him to get bored with your good girl personality and go seek out some other woman while he was on tour. If you could show him that you could be like the rest of them, maybe he’d want to make this work long term. You were so worried after that conversation that this was it for you, he’d dump you after the trip.
What you didn’t know was how crazy he was about you, exactly as you were. How this trip was an introduction and also his way of telling his family that he was going to marry you.
The rest of the day was normal, or as normal as a day could go when you were spending time with Jackson’s parents for the first time. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t nervous. You wanted to make a good impression. Maybe if he saw how much they liked you and you could show him there was this whole other side to you, he wouldn’t lose interest.
That evening, you’d opted to stay in and cook and after a quick trip to a nearby market you were in your element in the kitchen. Jackson attempted to help you as you chopped vegetables. His parents were in the other room, giving you time to tease him again.
As you moved to the stove, you brushed against him, your hand moving to his ass, giving it a light squeeze. Jackson went wide eyed, head moving around to make sure his parents didn’t see. They were very traditional, didn’t even know you’d moved in. The last thing he needed was for them to see you openly touching him like this.
“Baby.” He whispered, his hands moving to yours and pulling it away. “Not here.”
“Accident.” You lied, turning towards the stove, throwing the vegetables into the frying pan.
“Accidentally squeezed my ass?” He whispered, an amused expression on his face as he moved to stand next to you.
“Yes, my intrusive thoughts accidentally won. I thought you’d like it.” You shrugged.
Jackson snorted and shook his head, completely caught off guard by whatever had possessed you that day to respond. He tried to keep his distance in the kitchen, which was something extremely difficult for him to do. He knew keep things lowkey around his parents was going to be difficult, but he hadn’t expected you to make it so much harder for him.
Dinner started off innocently, your foot rubbing his ankle, sliding up and down his calf slowly, so that no attention was brought to the awkward movement. You waited for him to pick up his chopsticks, your hand moving to rest on his thigh giving him an encouraging pat as his mom complemented him on his tour.
“I’m always in awe of his talent.” You confessed, your hand squeezing his thigh as you completed him.
“We were so worried when he told us his dreams. Knowing how hard they treat idols in Korea. But he ended up with a good support system and came out so much stronger on the other side. We’re so proud.” His mother beamed. Jackson’s face flushed.
“Okay, thanks guys.” He shook his head, trying his best to not pay attention to your wandering hand.
As you went to cup him through his pants his hand shot up to grab yours, lacing your fingers together as he pulled your hand away. You shot him a sideways glance, one he ignored as he continued eating his meal. He was still so confused as to what had gotten into you and wished he could explore this new side of you the way it deserved to be explored. There was only so much he could do in front of his parents though. He gave your hand a gentle squeeze and you sighed as you relaxed against him.
You didn’t make any more attempts that evening, there wasn’t time. The family had gathered in the living room for after dinner drinks and planning for the rehearsal dinner the following evening. You wished you had more time to stay and explore this island, you’d never been to it before and it seemed like it had so much to offer up. Unfortunately, after the wedding, you had to fly home so Jackson could continue with his album recording and tour. Jackson noticed your mood shift and frowned as he placed an arm around you, pulling you close.
“Are you okay?” You nodded, setting your drink down.
“Yeah, just thinking about how wish I could keep you here for a few more days after everyone leaves. There’s so much I’d do to you.” You whispered. Jackson nearly choked on his drink at your words his parents only noticing his clumsiness. You sighed as you moved away from him.
“This has been such a lovely day, but I think I’m going to go to bed now.” You stood, Jackson's parents following suit.
Goodnights were exchanged between everyone and once his parents were safely in their room, door closed, Jackson grabbed your arm, pulling you back to him. He kissed you gently, too gently for your liking and you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him in closer, your tongue darting out to brush his lower lip and he obliged, deepening the kiss. He knew he was playing a dangerous game, but it was only a kiss, right?
Wrong. Your hands moved, running down his chest, you practically melting as you felt his muscles tighten beneath his shirt. Your hand stopped at his pants, palming his length through his jeans and you smirked into the kiss at how hard he was by just a few little touches.
“Good night, baby.” You sighed as you pulled away from him. You didn’t give him an opportunity to reply as you turned, walked into your room and closed the door.
Jackson stood in the hallway blinking at your closed door, his cock throbbing in his pants and he let out a low groan. This was going to be a long weekend if you kept up whatever it was you were doing. He had half a mind to throw out all his parents wishes, follow you into your room, and fuck you until morning. He knew he couldn’t though, so with a sigh he turned and headed to his room. Despite all the frustration, Jackson fell asleep pretty quickly, not knowing that when he woke up in the morning there’d be a voice note and a video from you.
Synopsis:
The reader has been avoiding Jackson and BamBam, trying to hide how sick they are. But the boys find them anyway—and they’re not happy about it. Cue clingy, domestic fluff as they take care of their stubborn FWB.
Requested: Yes
Word count: 2.0k
You should have known they’d come looking for you.
Jackson and BamBam weren’t exactly the type to respect boundaries—not with you, at least. Being their friends-with-benefits (emphasis on the friends part) meant they were all up in your business, whether you liked it or not.
So the fact that you had been ignoring their texts and calls for the past few days? Yeah. That wasn’t going to fly.
Still, you tried.
You locked your doors, silenced your phone, and buried yourself under layers of blankets in your dimly lit apartment, fighting off the fever that had settled deep in your bones. Every movement felt sluggish, your head pounding with the force of a thousand drumbeats. But no way in hell were you going to call them.
You didn’t need them to worry.
You didn’t need them to see you like this.
Unfortunately for you, Jackson and BamBam didn’t need an invitation to break into your life—literally.
The knock at your front door was loud and insistent.
"Honey! Open up!" BamBam’s voice rang through the silence of your apartment.
You squeezed your eyes shut, willing them away.
Another knock. Harder this time.
Jackson’s voice, firmer, laced with suspicion: "We know you’re in there. Stop ignoring us."
You groaned, curling deeper into your blanket cocoon. Maybe if you stayed silent, they’d just—
Click.
Your front door swung open, the cons of giving them your apartment keys.
Shit.
You peeked out from under your blanket just as the two men stepped inside, their expressions shifting from annoyed to concerned the moment they saw you.
"Oh, hell no," BamBam muttered, his usual teasing lilt replaced with something softer.
Jackson crossed the room in three long strides, his eyes narrowing as he took in your pale skin, glassy eyes, and the way you shivered despite the warmth of your apartment.
Without a word, he crouched down beside you, pressing the back of his hand against your forehead. His lips immediately pressed into a tight line.
"You’re burning up," he said, voice dangerously low.
You tried to shrug weakly, but BamBam was already climbing onto the couch beside you, poking at your cheek. "How could you hide this from us?!"
"I—" Your throat burned as you tried to speak, and you coughed into your sleeve instead.
"No. Nope. Shut up." Jackson stood, hands on his hips like an angry mother. "We’re not doing this. You’re sick, and you thought it was a good idea to suffer alone?"
You opened your mouth—to lie, to downplay it, to make an excuse—but BamBam wasn’t having it.
With zero hesitation, he wrapped himself around you, effectively trapping you under his weight. "Guess what? You’re stuck with us now."
"Get off me, you menace," you croaked, but your voice was too weak to sound threatening.
Jackson, unimpressed, simply bent down and—without warning—scooped you up into his arms.
"Jackson—!" you wheezed, but he was already carrying you to your bedroom.
BamBam followed, dramatically clutching his chest. "You should’ve told us, babe. We would've come over days ago."
Jackson set you down gently, pulling the covers up to your chin before sitting on the edge of your bed, arms crossed. "From now on, if you’re sick, you call us. Got it?"
BamBam leaned down, pressing his forehead against yours with an exaggerated pout. "Got it, baby?"
You scowled, but the warmth of their presence—their concern, their ridiculous yet oddly comforting energy—was already breaking through the feverish haze in your mind.
"Fine," you muttered.
BamBam grinned.
Jackson sighed in relief.
And just like that, you lost your right to be left alone.
Jackson took the kitchen.
You heard him rummaging through your cabinets, muttering about "Where the hell is their ginger?" and "I swear, if they don’t have soup ingredients, I’m buying groceries and force-feeding them."
BamBam took the job of “emotional support.”
Which really meant he was laying next to you, playing with your hair, and dramatically sighing every few minutes.
"You really thought you could avoid us?" He tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, his teasing tone softer than usual. "You think we wouldn’t notice?"
Your throat was too sore to argue, so you just nudged him weakly with your elbow.
He gasped, clutching his chest. "They still have the energy to bully me. They must be getting better."
You would’ve rolled your eyes if they weren’t so heavy.
Twenty minutes later, Jackson returned with a bowl of homemade soup.
You stared at it. "That looks… suspicious."
BamBam, peering over your shoulder, snorted. "Did you poison them?"
Jackson shot him a deadpan look before turning back to you. "Shut up and eat."
You took a tentative sip. It was… actually decent? Maybe a little strong on the ginger, but warm and comforting nonetheless.
"Okay, it’s not bad," you admitted.
Jackson smirked, smug as ever. "Told you."
BamBam, meanwhile, tried a spoonful and fake gagged. "Ugh, what is this? Medicine?"
Jackson shoved him. "It’s soup, dumbass. Go eat instant ramen if you don’t appreciate my cooking."
Despite the teasing, the room felt soft—warmer than it had been all day.
Hours later, when your fever had lowered slightly, you found yourself half-asleep between them.
Jackson was seated against the headboard, his fingers lazily running up and down your arm. BamBam was curled into your side, one hand still tangled in your hair.
It was… comfortable. Too comfortable.
Maybe that’s why the words slipped out before you could stop them.
"Didn’t want to bother you guys."
Jackson stilled, his fingers pausing for just a second before resuming their slow, soothing motion. "You’re not a bother."
BamBam shifted, his face now dangerously close to yours, voice soft in a way you weren’t used to. "You know that, right?"
Your chest tightened—but this time, it wasn’t because of the fever.
For a long moment, no one spoke.
Then, Jackson sighed, pressing a feather-light kiss to your forehead.
BamBam nuzzled closer, his breath warm against your cheek.
And just like that, your defenses crumbled completely.
Maybe you were too tired to keep pretending. Maybe you didn’t want to anymore.
Either way, you let your eyes flutter shut, breathing in the scent of them—cologne, warmth, something unmistakably Jackson and BamBam.
And as sleep finally pulled you under, you missed the way they glanced at each other over your head.
Missed the way BamBam murmured, "Dude, we’re screwed."
And Jackson, running a hand through his hair, exhaling softly: "Yeah… we like them too much, don’t we?"
A/N: It was so hectic last week (my birthday and everything) but here is some Mark fic. I got caught up in work so the ideas were not running the past few days.
Pairing/s: Mark Tuan x reader
Warnings: none
You were downing shots like it was the last alcohol on Earth.
"Calm down, Y/N… What’s got you so worked up?" Your friend plucked the glass from your hand.
"Nothing." You shrugged, dodging the follow-up questions.
You didn’t want to talk about it. Not yet. Not when you and your boyfriend hadn’t even addressed it yourselves.
Your friend didn’t press further, only sighing. "At least slow down."
You nodded, but the lump in your throat was growing. You felt like crying at any moment. Mark didn’t feel like your boyfriend anymore. Hell, he barely even felt present in your life. Did he even care that you were here? Did he even remember he had a girlfriend?
Mark Tuan, your boyfriend of seven years—had been practically MIA for three weeks. Not literally, of course. He was just… caught up in his own world, forgetting that you existed in it.
You understood his life was hectic. Celebrity things. That’s how it had always been, and for seven years, you’d accepted it because you knew what you signed up for. He always made time for you. Never once had he made you feel neglected. Until now.
So what changed?
Would it kill him to send a simple update? A check-in? The bare minimum?
You were tired. And you were starting to wonder if this was even worth it anymore.
"How are you and Mark? I heard his group is going on tour," another friend asked, snapping you out of your thoughts.
You weren’t sure what made you wince—the sharp burn of vodka or the fact that this was the first time you were hearing about it.
"We’re good. Yeah, probably. We haven’t talked about it yet," you replied flatly, making it clear you didn’t want to discuss it. But apparently, some people didn’t know how to read the room.
"Oh, he hasn’t told you yet?"
Your other friend elbowed the one who spoke, sensing the tension.
"He mentioned it once," you muttered, brushing it off. But your fingers twitched as you checked your phone again. No messages. Of course.
"Let’s go dance, guys!"
Thank God. A distraction.
You let the music consume you, moving like you were in a Charli XCX music video wild, carefree, reckless. If Mark was too busy to care, why should you?
"Holy shit. Look who just walked in."
The four of you stopped dancing, following the direction your friend pointed.
And there he was. Mark. Along with Bambam, Jackson, and Yugyeom.
They were trying to be discreet, caps pulled low, hoodies up but you knew him anywhere. He wore a white cap and a black shirt, looking like they had come straight from the studio.
Your stomach twisted. He had time for this? He couldn’t send a single text, but he could show up here?
Then, as if the past three weeks hadn’t happened, Mark met your gaze and… waved.
He waved.
Like nothing was wrong. Like he wasn’t the reason you were drowning in vodka.
He motioned toward their booth, expecting you to follow, but you were too pissed to even acknowledge him. So instead, you turned away and kept dancing, letting the music swallow your frustration.
Your friends exchanged looks but went along with it.
---
Later, as you settled back into your couch, tipsy and giggling, the mood shifted when they showed up at your table.
Mark. Bambam. Jackson. Yugyeom.
Mark’s eyes were locked on you. And he seems to be patiently waiting for you to go back on your table.
"Hi, ladies. Hope you don’t mind us crashing your night out," Jackson said smoothly, ever the social butterfly.
"We really don’t. Sup, Jack?"
Pleasantries were exchanged, and you nodded towards the guys in greeting. But Mark… Mark didn’t look away. He seemed to be waiting for a chance to talk to you alone.
Too bad you weren’t in the mood for that.
"Why don’t we all dance?" Bambam suggested, but his lingering glance between you and Mark didn’t go unnoticed.
"Sure. But won’t people recognize you guys?"
"Nah. Most of them are drunk anyway."
"If you say so. Y/N?"
All eyes turned to you.
"I’ll be right behind you," you said, staying planted in your seat.
They headed to the dance floor, leaving you and Mark alone.
You poured another shot, staring at the glass as if it held answers.
"Baby…"
You didn’t look up.
"You’re drunk," he murmured.
"Obviously."
"Let’s go home?"
"Good. So you still remember where that is? Thought you went astray."
Mark sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. "I’m sorry."
"Yeah."
"I mean it. There’s been a lot going on—"
"Oh, I know. So much that you forgot to come home? Or even text your girlfriend?"
His jaw tightened. "Let’s talk properly when we get home."
You exhaled sharply, downing the vodka.
Maybe. Maybe not.
"I need a break, Mark."
Your voice was flat, emotionless. But the weight of those words made Mark’s eyes widen in panic.
"What—no. Let’s talk properly first," he rushed out, desperation creeping into his tone.
You let out a bitter laugh. "Don’t you get it? You were gone for three fucking weeks. Barely a reply, barely a call. But you had time to be here?" You gestured around the club, anger bubbling over. "Seriously? I’m starting to wonder if I’m your girlfriend or just some dog waiting for scraps of attention."
His jaw clenched.
"Baby… I’m really sorry. We—"
He bit his lip, stopping himself. Holding something back.
And that only pissed you off more.
You huffed, standing up, crossing your arms. "We need a break, Mark."
His entire body tensed.
"So we can figure out if this is even worth continuing," you added. "That way, you can think and move freely—without having to remember that you have someone waiting for you."
"I'm sorry…" Mark exhaled, running a hand through his hair. "Me and the boys… we’re working on something so we can finally be free."
Your brows furrowed. "What?"
He hesitated, then cursed under his breath. "Damn, I wasn’t supposed to say anything while the case is ongoing, but… it’s you, baby. This is for you."
Your head spun—maybe from the alcohol, maybe from his words. Either way, nothing was making sense.
"I don’t understand what you mean," you mumbled.
Mark sighed, his grip tightening on your wrist as if grounding you. "We’re leaving the company. And JayB is fighting to make sure we keep our rights."
Your jaw dropped.
"W-what?! Are you guys insane?" Your voice rose, disbelief cutting through the haze. "You worked for this your whole lives and now you’re just—"
Mark’s hands found your arms, rubbing soothing circles.
"Baby…" His voice softened. "If this job means I can’t spend time with you, then I don’t want it."
Your heart skipped.
"But don’t worry," he added quickly. "We’re not disbanding. Think of it as… leaving the nest. We’ll still come back as a group. But we need this to pursue what we love, on our terms."
Your chest tightened. This was huge. Bigger than your relationship issues, bigger than the past three weeks.
And he had been carrying it all alone.
""Oh my God, Mark! I’m so sorry! You could’ve at least said something!"
Mark chuckled, but you didn’t find it funny. Guilt gnawed at you for assuming the worst, for thinking he had simply stopped caring—when, in reality, he and the boys had been fighting for something that could cost them everything they had worked for since they were teenagers.
"I knew you’d be here," he admitted. "That’s why we came."
Your stomach flipped. A mix of emotions swirled inside you. He cared. He cared so much that he was doing all of this for himself, for the group, for you.
"I’m sorry for being MIA," he murmured, his thumb brushing your cheek. "And I promise, I’ll make it up to you. Big time."
Your head dipped slightly, overwhelmed, but Mark gently lifted your chin, forcing your eyes to meet his. Then, he pressed a soft kiss to your forehead before pulling you into his arms.
"I’m sorry for making you feel that way," he whispered against your hair. "It won’t happen again. I’ll make sure to update you, always."
You let out a shaky breath before burying your face into his chest, arms tightening around him.
"I think we need to go home," you mumbled.
Mark chuckled, the sound vibrating through you.
"I figured." He pulled back slightly, a small smirk playing on his lips. "Let’s grab something to eat first, okay?"
You nodded, and after saying goodbye to your friends who exchanged knowing glances but didn’t protest.
You and Mark found yourselves at a gas station at 3 AM, sharing greasy fast food.
Talking. Catching up. Planning the days ahead.
For the first time in weeks, everything felt right again. You let out a soft sigh, the weight that had been lingering on your chest beginning to lift. You missed him—his laugh, the way his jokes always managed to make you smile, and most of all, just having him around. You could almost hear his voice in your head, teasing you with one of his playful remarks.
"I swear, I have the best jokes in the world. You just wait."
You smiled at the thought, imagining how he'd grin that goofy, endearing grin of his.
Soon, you told yourself. Soon, he'd be by your side again, and this distance between you two would finally fade. You couldn’t wait to have him all to yourself, to wrap up the lingering tension in your relationship and just be together, uninterrupted.
And when that moment came, you knew it would feel like home again.
Summary: After returning from his military hiatus, Jinyoung’s agency pressures him into a fake relationship to combat rumors and restart his career. Y/N, a regular waitress, is hired as the other half of the arrangement. They’re supposed to keep things professional, but real feelings start to blur the lines as their contract nears its end.
Pairing: Jinyoung (Got7) x Fem!Reader Tags: #angst #tension #jinyoungangst #jinyoungxreader Word count: 1,202 Genre: enemies to lovers
It was nearly midnight when Jinyoung finally left set after filming his new drama, The Witch. Acting left his body heavy with exhaustion. The shoot had run late—again—and all he wanted was to go home, take a long shower, and collapse into bed.
But as soon as he slid into the back seat of his car, his phone buzzed.
PR Agent: She’s still working at the café.
Jinyoung exhaled slowly, rubbing his temple.
She was still working?
Annoyance flickered in his chest. He could understand her trying to leave without burning any bridges - atleast for a few days after signing the contract. But he did expect her to quit at some point before the relationship had been public. With the hard launch just 3 days away, it was clear Y/N quitting on her own accord wasn’t even a thought in her mind.
How inconvenient— how careless?
Once the announcement went live, her entire life would change. She wouldn’t be able to work a normal shift without fans or reporters swarming the place. Yet, she was still working late shifts, wiping down counters, and acting as if nothing was about to happen. How oblivious was she?
Does she even remember she signed a contract?
“Take me to the cafe,” Jinyoung said to the driver, voice sharp.
The café was nearly empty, the air warm and thick with the scent of espresso and vanilla. A few customers lingered in the corners, sipping their drinks or staring at their laptop screens.
Behind the counter, Y/N was wiping down the espresso machine, her movements slow, methodical. She looked comfortable here, completely unaware that her world was about to shift.
Jinyoung walked in, black cap and face mask on. He barely spared the familiar café a glance approaching the counter. He didn’t call her name. He didn’t need to.
Y/N felt his presence before she saw him, the air shifting in a way that made her pulse jump. When she turned and saw him standing there, her eyes widened slightly.
“What are you doing here?” she said lowly, her eyes wandering around to see if he was being recognized.
“I need to speak to you, outside,” Jinyoung ordered.
Y/N took a moment and blinked in confusion at the randomness of this situation. “What?”
Jinyoung’s patience was already thinning, forcing him to sigh. He nodded toward the door. “Now.”
Her brows furrowed. He turned towards the door without saying anything further, but Y/N knew by his tone she better have been following in his foot steps. She gritted her teeth and set down her towel.
The moment they were outside, the cold air biting at her skin, she turned to face him.
“What’s this about?” she asked trying to conceal her anxiety.
Jinyoung let out a slow breath. He wasn’t in the mood to sugarcoat things.
“You need to quit.”
Y/N stared at him, blinking like she misheard. “…which one…?”
“Either,” he said, voice calm but firm.
Y/N jerked her head back in a surprised manner, practically offended at the suggestion
“What?”
“The cafe.” Jinyoung muttered through his teeth, “you need to quit before this goes public.”
Y/N let out a small, incredulous laugh. "Are you serious?"
"Do I look like I’m joking?"
Another laugh of disbelief left her lips. “And why exactly is that your decision?”
Jinyoung clenched his jaw. She was making this harder than it needed to be.
“Because you made it my decision when you signed that dotted line.” he argued.
Her eyebrows could not have been knitted together any tighter looking at him.
Jinyoung huffed, rolling his eyes and shaking her head in frustration.
“You know I don’t want to have to keep reminding you of what you signed up for Y/N, honestly its getting really annoying.” he fumed
"In three days, you’re going to be followed, photographed, and talked about. If you keep working here, people will show up just to get a reaction out of you. You won’t even be able to wipe down a damn table without someone filming it.”
Y/N’s expression hardened. “I agreed to date you, not throw my whole life away overnight.”
“So do that” Jinyoung argued.
Y/N’s hand balled in a fist.
"Do what we agreed on. The café is shutting down in two months anyway. Your boss is selling the place. You were going to have to leave regardless, so why are you clinging to it?"
Her breath caught.
"I don’t want to have to keep telling you everything you signed on for," he said. "You should’ve read the contract."
She opened her mouth, but nothing came out.
“If you don’t want to do this, you need to let me know now. If you back out after the launch, the company will sue you. And I'm sure that wouldn’t be helping you either."
Y/N’s nails dug into her palm.
Jinyoung studied her for a long moment, he could see the way her posture stiffened, her fingers curling slightly at her sides.
Y/N looked away, her grip tightening around her arms. He could see the frustration in her face, the way she hated being told what to do. It was all to familiar to him. He had felt the exact feeling she was right now. He could just never plainly show it.
He almost admired her.
But it wasn’t realistic.
He sighed, running a hand through his hair as he looked away. His tone, when he spoke again, was softer, but the finality in it remained.
“I’ll give you the night to think it over.”
‘How generous of him’ Y/N thought.
“If you show up to PR training tomorrow, I’ll know you’ve quit the café and you’re following through with this. Hell, I’ll even deposit your first payment early.” He exhaled, his breath visible in the cold night air.
“If not…” He tilted his head slightly, gaze sharp. “I’ll know you chose to continue worrying about what your next move is.”
Y/N felt the words hit her like a punch to the chest.
Jinyoung didn’t wait for a response.
Instead turned and walked away, leaving her standing in the cold, staring after him… for a second time.
“Asshole” Y/N muttered to herself when he was far enough away.
Y/N’s mind was a tangled mess of emotions—frustration, uncertainty, a dull ache of disappointment that she wasn’t sure what to do with. Jinyoung’s words echoed in her head, his sharp tone slicing through the cold night air like a blade.
You should’ve read the contract.
You need to quit before this goes public.
She hadn’t expected him to be kind, exactly. But the way he had handled it—brisk, impatient, like she was an inconvenience he wanted to be rid of—left a bitter taste in her mouth.
By the time she reached her apartment building, her body was heavy with exhaustion, the weight of reality pressing down on her shoulders. But she barely had time to breathe before she saw someone waiting near her door.
Her landlord.
Ms. Lee was a woman in her late fifties, with short, permed hair and the kind of presence that made people straighten up when she walked into a room. She was fair but firm, a stickler for rules, and Y/N knew that if she was standing here at this hour, it wasn’t for a friendly chat.
“Ah, Y/N,” Ms. Lee greeted, arms crossed over her chest. “I was hoping to catch you.”
Y/N forced a small smile, trying to mask her exhaustion. “Oh—uh, everything okay?”
Ms. Lee’s expression was neutral, but there was a hint of expectation in her gaze. “I wanted to ask if you could pay this month’s rent a little earlier—by the end of the week.”
Y/N’s stomach dropped. “By the end of the week?”
Ms. Lee nodded. “I’m planning to do some renovations on the building, and it would help to have the payments settled ahead of time.”
Y/N’s fingers tightened around the strap of her bag. Her rent had already been creeping up over the last few months, stretching her paycheck thinner and thinner. She had been managing, but barely. And now, with the café shutting down…
Still, she swallowed down her hesitation and nodded.
“Yeah, of course,” she said, forcing her voice to stay steady. “I’ll get that to you.”
Ms. Lee gave a satisfied nod. “Good. I’ll check in at the end of the week.”
With that, she turned and walked away, leaving Y/N standing there, her pulse drumming in her ears.
She let out a slow breath and unlocked her door, stepping inside.
The moment she was alone, the tension in her body unraveled all at once. She dropped her bag onto the floor and kicked off her shoes, dragging herself to her bed without even bothering to change.
She collapsed onto the mattress, staring up at the ceiling.
It was really sinking in now.
Sitting at that conference table a week ago, she had understood—at least in theory—that her life was going to change. But she had still thought she would have some control over it. That she could adjust at her own pace, keep certain things hers.
Now she realized how wrong she had been.
This wasn’t just about playing Jinyoung’s girlfriend in front of cameras. It was about giving up the last pieces of normalcy she had left.
Her job. Her independence.
Her privacy.
She turned onto her side, staring blankly at the wall. With a tired sigh, Y/N reached for her headphones, slipping them in as she scrolled through her playlist. She pressed play, letting the familiar melody wash over her, hoping the music would drown out the weight of the night. But just as her body began to relax, a voice cut through the quiet—smooth, deep, and unmistakably his.
Jinyoung.
Her eyes snapped open.
She sat up abruptly, stomach twisting as the realization sank in. Of course his angelic voice would play at this moment.
Annoyance flared hot in her chest. Without a second thought, she yanked the headphones out of her ears, the music cutting off instantly.
She flopped back against the bed, pressing her palms over her face, groaning in frustration.
She used to love that song. Now, it just reminded her of how much things had changed. She was brought back to her current reality.
She had no backup plan. No safety net.
Y/N started to really think. If she backed out now, she’d be scrambling for a new job while struggling to pay rent in a building that was about to get even more expensive. And the café—her little pocket of familiarity—was already slipping away. If she backed out later, she’d have to pay for that too.
Six months.
That’s all she had to get through.
If she played her part, if she followed the contract, she would walk away not only financially secure but with connections that could open doors for her.
It wasn’t what she wanted.
But at this moment, she didn’t see another choice.
With a heavy sigh, she reached for her phone, pulling up her calendar.
Tomorrow morning was their scheduled PR training.
She exhaled, staring at the screen for a long moment before turning it off.
