rancidtae

[rancidtae]

ARCADIA’S LULLABY | CHAPTER 5

Genre: Mafia AU. Vigilante AU. Sci-fi (AI). Warnings: ANGST. fluff. mentions of near-death experiences. mentions of drug use. emotional tension during breakfast. chanyeol crying. Pairing: exo & Original Female Character (Jung Jiah/Kang Rina) - Kim Minseok/Original Female Character - Zhang Yixing/Original Female Character Word count: 11k+ chapter summary: the one where shit gets real and sehun just wants everyone to talk about their feelings and let him have his breakfast in peace. a/n: WE'RE SO BACK. (we're so over) but make it old-friendship-turned-sour core.

guess what you need isn't always what you want from me

masterlist - meet the characters

082809 - 5:34 pm.

13 years ago

“Yo, open up.”

It was the third time he knocked.

Chanyeol pressed his ear against the wood and heard the muffled murmur of a news anchor.

“C'mon, I can hear the TV, I know you’re in there.”

Not one to be patient when people were purposefully being assholes, he fished the set of spare keys Mr. Kang gave his mom from the pocket of his ripped jeans and jingled them extra hard. Just to piss her off and warn her.

“Wow, this is depressing.” he blurted out, closing the door behind him.

His 15-year-old neighbor did not look surprised, nor tried to pretend that his presence wasn't unwanted. Chanyeol, however, had never worries about being on her good side. They'd been annoying each other all their lives.

Tall piles of books covered the living room, some even went over his head. They were playing videos of the memorial with the president giving a speech in the background on the TV. A steaming bowl of noodles and some side dishes waited on the small dining table.

It was the anniversary of the Seoul Metro bombings. 

As always, every year the city shut down for the memorial. No one was allowed to forget such a dark stain on the country’s history. Over 900 casualties, even more injured.

Chanyeol remembered the day of the attack. His mom rushing to pick him, his sister Yoora and Rina from school, earlier than usual. She didn't answer their questions until they got home and she locked the door behind her. Mr. Kang didn't pick up Rina until the next afternoon, and he looked like a ghost.

That was the day he learned the meaning of the word terrorism.

He took a look at the family picture by the entrance and picked up the remote, turning the TV off.

“What is that?” Rina suddenly asked, making him jump on his feet.

She was curiously looking at the pale pink box under his arm, and it took him a second to remember he'd brought it with him. With every year that passed, Rina only looked more and more like her mother, the resemblance was scary sometimes.

He fixed his throat. “Pastries from Swimmy’s”

Of course, she knew that. It was her favorite bakery.

Rina, however, turned around with feigned disinterest.

“Ah. How’d you even get them? Aren’t they closed today?”

“I don’t know. Yoora’s boyfriend sent them, but she hates him right now so she gave them to me.”

“Cupcakes?” she asked over her shoulder, rattling things inside the fridge.

“Multiflavor.” he nodded, fighting back a cruel grin when she stills.

“You want some?” she asked, pointing at the bowl of steamy noodles.

Chanyeol couldn't remember her ever willingly offering him a bite of anything.

“Nope, I’m good.” he chirped.

Her face dropped. Suddenly deciding that there's nothing inside of her interest, she slammed the poor fridge door.

“Ok, let’s go,” he finally said, feeling like he annoyed her enough for the day. He did not lie when he called the scene depressing.

Her sitting down on the floor and eating overcooked noodles alone when there was a perfectly nice summer afternoon right outside kind of softened his heart.

“Where? Why?”

“Seriously? We’re not gonna sit here and eat them alone, that’s some loser shit. Plus, it’s way too much sugar.”

“It’s not” she protested, struggling to put on her worn-out white Converse.

“Maybe not for me, but it is when you spend your life slugging inside. When’s the last time you went for a run, huh?”

Naturally, they ended up making their way inside Arcadia, her father's arcade spot just a few blocks away. They entered through the backdoor, using Rina’s spare key that she religiously wore around her neck.

Baekhyun nearly landed on his ass when he noticed movement out of the corner of his eye, hand to his chest when he recognizes them and immediately lighting up at the prospect of eating pastries.

Rina found a seat on the countertop, while Chanyeol brought two chairs for himself and his legs from the backroom. Baekhyun picked up his copy of Rebirth and saved his strawberry-flavored gum for later, carefully wrapping it in a sticky note, much to Rina's disgust.

The three indulged in a cupcake each, humming in bliss.

“So," Baekhyun smacked "where you been?” 

“Busy.” she said, legs swinging happily, licking buttercream off her pinky finger.

“Doing what?"

"Stuff."

"Like what, sleeping inside a coffin? You look like you haven’t seen the sun in months.”

Chanyeol agreed. “You’re gonna regret staying inside once we’re back to school.”

Rina was not about to tell them she'd been reading those books at home, one per day like an apple. Her father kept bringing new ones, leaving them stacked up on every surface he could find, building a labyrinth out of them.

The last was Fahrenheit 451. Baekhyun would've liked it if, but he was more of a manhwa guy.

She took a look around the room, all the machines were on. She remembered something. “Wait. Why are you working today?”

Baekhyun pointed one finger at the door. The open neon sign was off, and the door was locked. “I'm not. My aunt and my cousins are visiting and I needed some alone time. And they’re all on because–”

“He doesn’t like the silence.” Chanyeol said, mockingly, with his cap on sideways and clearly finding Baekhyun childish.

“Please don’t tell your dad.” he requested with his customer service voice. “That reminds me, you think he’ll give me a raise if I ask him?”

“Aren’t you only covering shifts for Yuan? I don’t think he even knows you work here.”

He did not take well to that. Sitting up straight and dropping what was left of his cupcake on the box, he put his hands on his waist.

“Only covering– what are you talking about? I know this place better than Yuan ever could. I’m more of an Arcadia member of staff than he is or could ever be” he started counting down with his fingers, Rina took a deep breath. “I’m the general manager, I’m HR, marketing, I’m the cleaning and security staff, I keep an eye on Mintchoco at the back and even–”

Thank god, a knock at the front door interrupted his rant. Jongdae was leaning over the glass, cupping his face and pointing at the lock on the door. Minseok stood just behind him on the sidewalk.

Standing up with a groan and still complaining about the disrespect under his breath, Baekhyun let them in.

Minseok was hugging a ball against his side, had dry blood on his left knee, and his usually squeaky clean soccer shoes and white socks all dirtied up. Jongdae was no better, face dripping in sweat, fanning his shirt, complaining about the heat.

“Swimmy’s?” Minseok asked, eyes wide.

“Like I said” Baekhyun continued. “Arcadia is me. I am Arcadia. I know the consoles. I love this place. This is like home to me. I absolutely, totally, most definitely deserve a raise.”

“If you love it so much shouldn’t your pay be enough?” Asked Jongdae, standing under the a/c vent.

“Right. He makes a good point. You should be doing it for free, even”

Baekhyun glared at Chanyeol. “So what are you suggesting? Unpaid labor? I have a family to feed.”

“Your parents do the feeding in your family” Laughed Minseok, asking Rina to pass him a strawberry cupcake. One of the same strawberry cupcakes Rina had threatened Baekhyun and Chanyeol not to touch.

Chanyeol gave her an odd look, she pretended not to notice it.

“Just say you’re saving up to buy yourself a laptop.”

“That I will get my hands on soon if our dear Rinrin here tells Mr. Kang how good of an employee, and friend I am.” he paused. “Maybe just mention the employee part, nepotism goes against my values.”

"Ok” she agreed. But then she crossed her arms and lifted her chin, and Baekhyun’s cheerful grin crumbled. “But you’ll owe me”

“Ah. What’s this?” he sucked on his teeth “I thought we were friends.”

"You said nepotism goes against your values.”

“So you’re blackmailing me.”

“We’re negotiating.”

“Woah. This is unbelievable. You're really growing into an evil little thing.”

"Speaking about evil little things, we saw your boyfriend on our way here. He was totally asking to get his ass kicked.” said Jongdae through a full mouth. “Ith wath him, right Mintheok?”

Minseok tried to telepathically get him to keep his mouth shut, but he kept going, clueless.

“Looked like he pissed Youngjae off again. You know how he hates being stared at”

By her boyfriend, they were talking about Kyungsoo, who was nothing of the sort. He was, though, known for being excellent at getting on the bad side of people. It wasn't his fault, some just read him wrong.

Kyungsoo was just misunderstood. Often. And Youngjae was a bully.

“And now she has been summoned. Our peace maker.” Chanyeol announced, watching her expression drop. She jumped from the counter and started putting her hair up on a ponytail.

Extra tight, extra high. She meant business.

“Wait. For real?”

“You know, just because you’re a girl and your dad’s a teacher it doesn’t mean Youngjae and his friends won’t beat you up one of these days” Jondgae called out, finally noticing his mistake.

“Hold on, wait wait wait! You’ll tell your dad, right?” Baekhyun asked, watching her walk behind the counter and get the pepper spray from its secret spot.

“You’ll owe me.” she said, and walked out of the door.

The guys saw her cross the street and disappear from view.

"What was that?" asked Jongdae.

"Pepper spray."

Chanyeol groaned. “Dude, why did you tell her? Mr. Kang’s gonna be upset if she’s home late.”

Jongdae did not take well to that, and quickly started firing back questions about how is it his fault that she likes to take on other people's problems.

Sighing, Minseok rubbed the crumbs off his hands and silently made his way to the door.

“Really, you too?”

Minseok shrugged. “She shouldn’t be going alone. And you shouldn't have let her take the pepper spray.”

Jongdae, not at all surprised, only shook his head and stuffed his mouth with another bite. The outcome came as no surprise, he was just glad that the possibility of Rina getting in trouble and Mr. Kang being upset about it had significantly decreased.

Minseok wasn't much of a fighter, but he knew how to make younger kids respect him.

“Are these fresh?” Jongdae was frowning at the cupcake. “How’d you even get them today?”

“Mr. Kang asked me to pick them up. I don't know how he did it, but he got them to bake these for him.” Chanyeol answered, pausing for a bit before adding. “He asked me to get her out of the apartment.”

Jongdae and Baekhyun nodded in understanding, no more questions on the subject were asked.

081322 - 05:12 pm 

Consciousness comes in waves.

First, pain. Second, something warm and blinding.

Sunlight.

Third: white.

The room slowly comes into focus. White walls. Wood framing the window. Sheer curtains.

Fuck. It really fucking hurts.

She can deal with that. The disorientation? That’s different.

A burst of anxiety threatens to come to the surface at once.

Everyone has cycles waiting to be kickstarted at the beck and call of the smallest trigger. Good or bad, but most importantly, unavoidable.

Jiah spent a good chunk of her life testing out remedies for the bad ones. Prescriptions. Therapists. Thoughtfully curated lists of habits; healthy for the long term, destructive for a quick fix. 

And even though nothing could have prepared her for this, time has worked on her.

So as the events from last night come back to her and the doorknob turns with a click, she stays calm and lets her eyes close again.

The person lingers for a moment, doing god knows what. His shadow flickers through her eyelids. Eventually, she’s alone again.

When she opens her eyes again the drowsiness has faded. There’s a classic mid-century flip clock on the nightstand. A piranha plant figure stares back at her with its teeth all bared out, and her transmitter’s politely placed next to it.

She knows right away whose bed this is.

Painfully, she props herself up to a seated position and inspects the sling and the dressed wound. No ethical doctor’s gonna give her the dose of painkillers she’ll need for that.

She’s wearing a thin, depressing hospital gown, and that will not do.

He's definitely loaded. The house is enormous, enough to get lost in and fit her apartment maybe five or six times. Several doors line down the hallway leading to a vast, asymmetrical set of stairs. Vaulted high ceilings top up a communal area, with a long skylight that washes everything in abundant natural light.

She pads down the stairs, following the sound of voices and laughter.

And there he is, stomping out of what looks like some kind of office made of glass walls.

“Hey, hey, wait. No. That is not fair, how was I supposed to–”

He locks eyes with her.

Bewildered. Like he forgot she was there and that just a few minutes ago he was in that room with her.

She looks back at him, like she didn’t know it was him the second her eyes landed on that piranha plant.

A tremor goes through his body before he starts coughing violently.

“Fuck— what the fuck?” more coughing, he plucks something from his mouth. A ridiculously chunky piece of pink gum covered in thick saliva.

Heads turn at the rough edge of her voice “That’s what happens when you try to chew a whole wheel of hubba bubba tape at once.”

Byun Baekhyun stares back at her like she just said the most offensive thing possible, gum still between his fingers.

“Well you can’t just stand there and– lurk looking like– like Shanks and not expect to scare the shit out of innocent people.”

Two figures by the kitchen entrance watch them. One looks kind of confused, the other one crosses his arms and holds back a smile.

“One Piece? Are you twelve?”

“Says the grown woman who can’t get her arm through an oversized sleeve.”

“I'm wearing a sling, you asshole.” she snaps. Baekhyun looks down at the fluttering sleeve, sucking in his lips between his teeth.

And then, like switch is flipped, their expressions shift. Her brows soften, and a wry grin tugs at the corner of her lips. A lighthearted smile spreads across his face.

Jongin gives the person next to him a bewildered glance.

“What’s up with the hair?”

Baekhyun runs his fingers through it. “You don’t like it?”

“Let me rephrase that, did you go to Lady’s Room and talk to the girls?”

Silence.

“I don’t know what–”

“You still touch your hair when you’re lying.”

“Ok. Yeah. No.” He points a finger at her “You’re not going Sherlock on us when you just woke up after a near-death experience.”

“Says who?”

“Says me," he snaps with an attitude, quickly adding “Doctor’s orders.”

“So first Yixing’s a cop and now you’re a doctor?” Startled, Baekhyun opens his mouth and closes it. “What’s next, Kyungsoo’s a wedding planner?”

“Youth pastor, actually. Very successful. The youths love him. And I could be a doctor if wanted, by the way.” he scoffs.

She cocks an eyebrow.

“Whatever. Ah, this won’t do. You suck at reunions. Go back upstairs, we’re doing this again.” he waves his arms at her, urging her back up the stairs. Surprised, she spurts out a laugh. The rebound pain from her shoulder makes her stop and hiss.

“Alright, leave her alone.” 

That face she’d recognize anywhere. It’s unfair that they’ve all aged so nicely. Kim Jongdae looks like an upgraded version of himself, just with different hair and somehow, better skin.

“How are you feeling?”

“Lucid enough to steal my clothes, clearly.”

She realizes she's been staring at him like an owl and fixes her throat.

“Been better.” she nods, bowing quickly, awkwardly waving at the end. “Hi.”

Baekhyun snorts. "Did you just bow?"

Jongdae bows back and waves, amused but ignoring Baekhyun. “Wanna take a seat? I bet you're starving.”

She’s famished. The thought of food is enough motivation to postpone the thinking about everything that is happening right now. And since she's not escaping anytime soon, she might as well acknowledge the other person in the room.

“So, is Jongin your real name, or is this another Juyeon/Sehun thing?”

The kitchen is ridiculously huge, with another skylight at the top and an island at the very center. She sits down, leaving an empty stool between her and the impostor, who shares a look with the other two men.

“Yixing slipped up, wasn't hard to figure out.” she explains.

Jongin fixes his throat. “Jongin is my real name.”

“And how do you know Taemin?”

“We used to go to the same dance studio for a while.”

“And he just introduced us. By coincidence.”

Baekhyun steps in. “You had a horde of mercenaries on your track. We were trying to get them before they got you and Jongin was there to keep an eye on you. Him being Taemin’s friend was a happy coincidence.”

It's not convincing at all, and the thinking starts.

That’s for being so fucking stupid. Do you realize what you got yourself into?

Go ahead, big guy.

“Where’s Chanyeol?”

“What, are we not enough for the welcoming party?”

Jongin, however, knows what she's thinking. She doesn't like it.

"It wasn't him. The man in the bathroom came with backup. We thought we’d handled all of them, but a stray one took us by surprise and shot you.”

“I mean, we can show you the footage of him following the guy.” Baekhyun offers immediately. “But come on, you don’t think he–”

“No need.” patching her up defeats the purpose of taking her down, but that doesn't make up for several loose ends. “However, the manhandling was unnecessary.”

“You did kick Jongin in the balls.” Jongdae reminds her, putting a glass of cold water in front of her. 

“If you guys knew I was being followed then why didn’t you just give me a heads up?”

How did they know?

And where’s the rest?

Baekhyun smiles. "You made it abundantly clear to Yixing that you didn't want us near."

"So why didn't he come?"

“He was out of town, but he asked you to be careful. Several times, he said.”

He did. And she rejected his attempts at helping her beyond getting Haneul protection. Several times indeed. He was very insistent. She brushed him off every time.

Disoriented, she sticks to nursing her glass of water in slow sips. Several details keep her alert.

One, eyebrows/Tuxedo Mask/Sehun had or has been protecting Lee Chungjae, despite Yixing’s insistence that they’re not involved with his people.

Two, Baekhyun definitely went sniffing around Lady’s Room, and if she knows anything about him, he didn't just stop at that.

Three, Junmyeon and Minseok are members of the syndicate.

The sound of a motorcycle roaring outside grows closer and gets her out of her head. The conversation has moved in a completely unexpected direction without her.

“This might be out of my expertise, but I don’t think you can compare periods to getting shot.” Jongdae says, unbothered by the noise.

“Why? Blood is blood, no matter where it comes from” Baekhyun argues. “And I’ve heard scary stories about cramps” 

The steel door is slid open just enough for a tall man to come in, balancing piled up pizza boxes and complaining about someone needing to lube up the damn rail.

“This is the last time you use me as a delivery guy” he declares, dropping the boxes on the counter. He stops when he notices her. Stoic as ever, a face impossible to forget. “You look rough. Bet you wish you listened to my advice about not getting in the way of bullets.” 

She frowns, but then another figure walks in. He's holding two helmets, sliding the door shut with a nudge of his shoulder. He takes a look at her, evidently unimpressed.

“I heard you were begging to see me. How you managed to live all these years without me, now that’s an unresolved mystery, one of many.”

“I don’t know how I held up, honestly” she replies, voice flat. “Every day I woke up feeling like my life was missing something.”

“Poor thing.” He tsks, mockingly pouting at her, hanging both helmets on the wall. “But I heard you’ve had some interesting characters keeping you company, so at least you weren't lonely, right?”

The bitter undertone is unexpected.

“Rin,” Baekhyun calls, a smile on his face, and a sideways less friendly glare at Chanyeol. “You still like orange soda, right?”

They move like protocol, opening the boxes and taking drinks out of the fridge, Jongin walks out of the kitchen after losing a match of rock paper scissors to Jongdae.

Chanyeol stares at her like she's about to stab someone. The pizza looks too good for her to care.

“So, up to anything exciting?” 

“Not much. You?” 

“Oh, come on. Half of the city’s freelancers are searching for you as we speak. Those were some expensive mercenaries following you around.” 

“Makes you wonder how shitty the cheap ones must be.” she points out.

“You also looked too calm for someone who thought she had a gun pointed at her face.” he finishes, folding a piece of pizza in two and devouring half of it with one generous bite. "Definitely wasn't your first time."

“I didn’t think you had it in you.” she shrugs, taking a first bite. It's good. She has to close her eyes and sigh for a moment. “And it wasn’t my first time, he ruined my favorite jacket the other night, remember? Got my ear ringing for a few days.”

Sehun shrugs. "You got in the way."

“Right, how’d that happen anyway?” He points at his big ass ear. The left one. Eyeing hers like he didn’t get the point across. Her hair is covering the transmitter, but of course, they don't need to see it to know it's there.

She snorts, not amused at all. “Aren’t you too comfortable?”

Jongdae calls his name, something like a warning. Chanyeol drops the subject and focuses on getting his hands on a second slice, Sehun chuckles at the scene.

“You guys couldn’t wait for us?”

Jongin reappears, followed by a familiar face that feels like a punch to the chest.

His eyes scan the room, curious about the sudden silence. It ends when he notices her. There's a flicker there, but whatever he's really thinking is quickly guarded by a stoic expression.

“Why is she here?”

“She’s feeling fine,” Baekhyun shrugs. “I’d be dying to get out of bed after 15 hours of sleep too.”

Do Kyungsoo offers no answer, doesn’t even spare her or Baekhyun another glance. He washes his hands in silence, takes the spot next to Jongin, grabs a slice of pizza for himself and that's that. Her eyes stay on him, surprise slowly dissolving from her face.

And then Baekhyun claps, starling her.

“Shit, I almost forgot. Dessert first!”

It happens at once—a sloppy plan set in motion by Baekhyun’s insistence. Ignoring whatever he has in store, Jiah beats Chanyeol to the last slice of neapolitan while Jongdae helps Baekhyun look for something in their endless cabinets.

"The drawer by the coffee machine,” Kyungsoo mutters.

Someone must cover her eyes for this, Baekhyun insists. Jongin gives her a careful look waiting for her consent. She shrugs, pushing the last bit of crust past her greasy lips, and soon her eyes are engulfed in the warmth of his hands.

There’s the sound of hushing and Chanyeol’s poorly contained laugh, then a click.

“Ok, ready? Jongin, hands off. You can open them.”

She blinks away the flash of white and frowns at them before looking down.

Cake. 

Pink frosting and strawberries. It’s decorated in terrible piping work, topped with those colorful sprinkles that taste like nothing and several thin and tall candles scattered around.

There’s a message in red jelly, off-centered.

“Sorry you got shot on your–”

Whoever wrote it miscalculated the space they had available, so the word birthday has all the letters stuck together and get increasingly smaller.

Baekhyun’s satisfied grin stays put even when he ducks as a strawberry flies over him. Jongdae yelps dramatically when another hits his shoulder, his hyena laugh is interrupted by a long string of complaints.

Jongin warns her not to eat the frosting, because Baekhyun got excited with the food coloring and it tastes like medicine.

“Did you bake this?” she bites down on a strawberry. It's just a hint of sweet but perfectly juicy, it bursts in her mouth “It’s looks like a 4 year old decorated it.”

“Ok, It’s her." Baekhyun says. "Good job, team."

“Do you think I’m some kind of impostor?”

“You have a whole new name, we had to make sure.”

“Wait, so that was your birthday?” Sehun asks, shaking his head when Jondgae offers him a paper plate with a slice of cake. Only Chanyeol seems to be interested in trying it, taking his sweet time getting rid of the frosting.

The cake itself isn’t that bad. Just the usual vanilla cake mix flavor, a little dry but easy to eat.

“No, today is her birthday.” 

“Is it?” Jongin asks, scanning her face.

“Yeah. August 13th.” Baekhyun stops. “Wait, you didn’t–”

The question trails off when all she does is shove another piece of cake inside her mouth.

“I usually celebrate it in December.” 

Several weirded-out looks come her way. 

“Damn, that’s fucked up.” Sehun mumbles, and now he's getting looked at wrong. "What? I’m just saying, if I had two birthdays I’d celebrate both."

Jiah closes her eyes and blows on what's left of the candles. “That'd be hard to explain to other people, though. My friend Irene gets me flowers, but that’s about it."

Irene. Yeri. Taemin. How could she forget? They must be worried about her. Before she jumps down from the stool, once again Jongin answers a question before she gets to ask it.

"It's ok, I told Taemin we left together."

Jiah stares at him in disbelief. "No, it is not. He knows I don't leave parties with random dudes and--"

Jongdae makes a face. "Jongin's definitely not a random dude."

"He knows me too. He'll have fit, but he knows you're safe with me, trust me."

"But Yeri-"

"Fine. He dropped her off at her dorm."

"Where's my phone?" she asks Baekhyun.

"I'm afraid it didn't make it through the night, but--"

“Question,“ Chanyeol asks out of nowhere. "Why aren't you freaking out?"

"Excuse me?"

“Someone put a price on your head, and they’re being generous about it. But you're... worried that your friends won't believe you had a one night stand?”

“It's not my head they want.”

"Excuse me?"

Chanyeol’s lips part, a burst of surprised laughter escaping his mouth.

“Yeah. No, totally.” he frowns, nodding. “They put a hole through you just for funsies. They were just trying to start a tickle fight.”

“He could’ve easily taken me down in the bathroom, but he didn’t.” She gets different looks of disbelief.

Jongdae frowns. “You still got shot after that, and I’m pretty sure that wasn’t just a warning.”

“Those were expensive mercenaries, right? If they wanted me dead, I would be.”

“And this, everyone, is why they tell kids not to do drugs,” Chanyeol gives the room a look, pointing his hand at her “She wasn’t this delusional before.”

“Shut up and eat your pizza, Chanyeol” Kyungsoo says, much to her surprise.

Baekhyun agrees. “Yeah, don’t be a dick.”

Sehun sucks his lips inside his mouth, subtly eyeing everyone.

Jiah shakes her head. “That's fine, I’m not exactly worried about convincing you.” 

“They want you dead.” Chanyeol enunciates slowly, like he’s talking to a foreigner “You were lucky we were there.”

“Probably, yeah.” She’s not gonna deny that. “I appreciate what you did."

He shakes his head at her like she’s fucking stupid.

“What? You want me to suck your dick or something?”

“Alright, this is fun.” Jongdae exhales loudly, moving away to get a glass of water, slapping Sehun’s back.

Chanyeol pushes his tongue against his cheek, nodding at her. “Right. What’s dying for you anyway, right? You’ll just pop right back up in another decade.”

Jongin doesn’t let Chanyeol’s jab sink, he turns to her in genuine curiosity. “Sorry, but can you explain where you're coming from?”

“You leaked those voicemails. Your name might not be on the story, but they know it was you.” Kyungsoo turns, stirring iced tea with a glass straw “You destroyed Lee Chungjae’s reputation right after his father announced his candidacy.”  

“Im Nayeon leaked those voicemails.” she corrects him, and no one notices, but Baekhyun smiles, a spark set in his eyes. “I only did what was necessary to get them to the public. Therefore, I’m the only connection to her.”

“So what you’re saying is that you’re some– kind of medium?” 

“She’s saying Nayeon is alive,” Baekhyun says, leaning over the island and looking at her with excited eyes. “That’s what you’re saying, right?”

“Yes. How did you—?”

“A week after her death her name came up, just like yours.”

“Her name came up?”

Though Baekhyun’s smile stays intact, he visibly pales, and that’s when Jiah knows she just hit a spot.

The question has without a doubt and without her meaning to, landed somewhere. Jongdae and Chanyeol share a look. Only Sehun, Jongin, and Kyungsoo are doing a decent job of keeping their faces straight.

She just knows they’re gonna have a conversation about this later, once she’s gone.

“Why would someone put a mark on a girl who’s already dead?” They visibly relax at her answering her own question. Kyungsoo just barely squints at her. He knows better.

“Shouldn’t you know that? You’re the one claiming she somehow survived that fire” Chanyeol juts his chin at her.

If she had to put a name to the look on Baekhyun’s face, it’d be all work and no play.

“There’s something I think you’ll want to see”.

081422 - 02:58 am

“You know what’s weird?” Baekhyun mutters as she hands him a photograph.

Fresh out of the printer, the girl smiling in it is Yoo Jeongyeon. She was 23 the last time she was seen last year and attended the same university Nayeon did. The only string connecting the two is a few common friends on Facebook. 

Baekhyun tapes her picture next to the other seven photographs on the board. Like the rest of the room, the board’s made of glass, worn out and opaque by the constant use of tape on the surface, unlike the transparent, clean walls around them. 

The station is rather impressive, she had to just stand there when she first entered and stare at the computer station sprawled before her on the only brick wall at the back. 

A cluster of screens stands tall, commanded by a main, curved, and wide monitor, flanked by a couple more of them on each side. And just in case that’s not enough, an extra trio of monitors hangs above, suspended from the ceiling by sleek metallic arms that sell the illusion that they’re floating. All of them on cast a gentle light on the surrounding consoles, keyboard, touchpad, and devices she does not recognize, each meticulously organized and aligned for optimal efficiency.

Her curious eyes took it all in while Baekhyun scratched the back of his head and acted like it was just some humble setup. Honest work, he called it, still in progress. She still can’t figure out what else he can add, or how he can rearrange what’s an already pristine network of wires hidden at the back, and she’s too afraid to ask.

“None of Nayeon’s friends have posted anything about the investigation or the voicemails. That’s weird, isn’t it? If there was a possibility that your friend was murdered, you’d be outspoken about it, right? You’d want answers.”

“They could’ve been threatened” Jiah reminds him, staring up at the eight pictures on the board.

A line of girls stares back at them, all of them undergrad students, just like Nayeon. There’s a pattern in there, difficult financial situations, complicated and sometimes no familial affiliations or support network, and they’re all seriously attractive under current beauty standards.

Two of them are orphans. Two are foreign. The last one, Jeongyeon, makes an exception by keeping in touch with her mother until the time of her disappearance. Baekhyun started working on the list and gathering info with Yixing last year, and so far, every single case has turned cold. Not for a lack of investigating, she has their files, courtesy of Yixing, splayed around her.

“Still…” he mumbles, leaning his head to the side and reaching for his glass of iced coffee, looking startled when nothing but ice cubes hit his upper lip “If one of the girls at the salon were in that situation, you’d ask for the truth, threatened or not.”

Her stomach twists at the thought. She would not stop at asking for it, she’s confident that she’d turn the city upside down until she found them, but who’s doing that for these girls?

“It’s different. It’s my job.”

“Pretty sure you’ve gone past the limits of journalism.” Baekhyun tuts. “But you see it, right? There’s something here. I’m not being a conspiracy junkie.”

“I see it, yeah.”

“Have you tried talking to Nayeon’s friends?” 

“I don’t think we should be focusing on her friends like that, we might not even be focusing on these girls the way we should,” she says, rushing to explain when Baekhyun opens his mouth “Don’t get me wrong, there’s a pattern, but Nayeon was– she left a message and everything, and these girls are all…”

“Silent?” Baekhyun offers.

“Yes.” she sighs, leaning back and looking up at the ceiling. “They’re all silent, it can’t be a good sign.”

“The truth is rarely pure and never simple.” Baekhyun says, breaking her out of her trance. 

She frowns and snorts. “Did you just quote Wilde at me?”

“The Importance of Being Earnest” he smiles proudly. “Kind of out of context, but it’s true.”

She smiles at him, sighing and looking back at the board. “In my experience, most of the time the truth turns out to be boring and people end up disappointed. Everyone wants a conspiracy.”

“That’s true. But when it’s not boring–” He gives her a meaningful look, and she wonders if that’s what she looks like to other people.

“Yeah.” she agrees, he doesn’t need to finish that sentence for her to know what he means. “This doesn’t look boring at all”

“And it doesn’t look fun either, does it?” he sucks in a sharp breath. "Maybe they’re not silent, we’re just not listening the way we should.”

As it turns out, The station has no semblance of soundproofing. When someone comes in through the kitchen, they can hear the low hum of voices, the sound of keys being dropped and groans of relief as shoes are taken off at the entrance.

A few seconds later there’s a soft knock on the glass.

She doesn’t know what she expected, but it was certainly not Kim Junmyeon dressed in casual attire instead of a suit like the last time she saw him, fresh out of a syndicate debut. Now he looks more like an older brother checking on his little siblings. A dad even.

“Baekhyun, it’s 3 am. I know this is how you choose to live but she needs rest” his eyes look as tired as he sounds.

“Do you think she’s here against her will?” Baekhyun asks, offended.

He walks in, leaving the door open behind him. Jiah thinks she sees a shadow walk past through the living room, but it’s gone before she can notice anyone.

“How are you feeling?”

“Better. Thanks for the help. I appreciate it.”

He nods. “It’s what we do”

“And for the lawyer, the other day. Yixing told me” she adds. And maybe it’s the meds kicking in, or the emotional exertion of the day and having to see so many old new faces, but fatigue is beginning to weigh down on her. 

“You did well,” Junmyeon says. “The girl needed help, he had it coming.”

He buries his hands inside the pockets of his jeans, pointing at the board with his chin. There’s a signature curious pout on his face. “What’s this about?”

“Don’t be nosy. We’ll explain in the morning” Baekhyun answers, fingers dancing all over his keyboard with speedy clicks. Junmyeon doesn’t look too convinced, letting out a loud sigh that makes her feel even more foreign in this place.

Do they all live here? Together? At their age? What about Minseok?

“Alright. There’ll be a lot of that in the morning.” he gives her a look she does not reciprocate. “I’m going to bed, you two should get some rest.”

He stops just as he’s about to walk out the door.

“We don’t have a guest room ready, since someone decided to use it as a storage room, so I hope you won’t mind taking Baekhyun’s bed”

“She’s getting the coziest room in this house, she doesn’t mind” Baekhyun speaks for her, standing up and leaning over her to start shutting down his monster of a station.

She catches a glimpse of Junmyeon's reflection on the dark screen that Baekhyun turns off first. He stands there for a moment, looking at them with a pensive expression before he turns around and closes the door behind him.

Some rest might be nice, she thinks, as Baekhyun starts talking her ear off again.

7:34 AM

A few hours later she’s closing his bedroom’s door behind her as quietly as she can.

The house is silent. No one can be bothered to be up so early on a Sunday, and she counts on that being the case until she figures out where her—

“Hey there. You looking for these?”

She can’t escape him, can she? A very sleepy and messy-haired Baekhyun has a hold of her boots and her bag, closing the door across from his room behind him. She gets a glimpse of someone’s sleeping form.

“I hid them, just in case you tried to sneak out,” he explains, rubbing his puffy eyes before stretching loudly. At this pace, he’s going to wake everyone.

“I need a shower” she winces at how loud her voice sounds “And I already stayed here for too long. Can I have them back?”

“Shower?“ he pretends to think over, nodding "We have plenty of those around here, I believe. Soap, towels, shampoo. You still take them at hell temperature?”

She blinks at him.

“Baekhyun.”

“Rina.”

“I’m serious.”

“So am I! You can’t just leave on your own until we’re sure it’s safe for you out there, you’re not exactly in the condition to bite attackers either.”

“Am I a hostage?”

She doesn’t like the sweet little smile he gives her. “You’re a guest.”

“But you’re telling me I can’t leave.”

“We can negotiate after breakfast. Come on, I’m giving you a tour of my favorite spot.”

Thirty minutes later she’s waiting for him to pay for a ridiculous amount of overpriced breakfast sandwiches with different fillings. The cashier, a lanky guy with a bored expression on his face and ginormous red headphones swallowing up his ears puts everything inside a bag. 

Baekhyun sends a cheeky smile in her direction, making sure she’s still standing by the end of the counter, shifting uncomfortably in a huge pair of slippers. The lack of socks makes the experience even worse.

“That’s a lot of food,” she points out.

“We’re feeding ten adults, I promise you it’s never too much of anything in our house” he answers, starting the engine.

“Ten adults?”

“I texted Yixing. It’s been a while since we all had a meal together. I don't remember the last time we used the dining table.”

She sighs, leaning her head against the passenger window and trying to find any familiar street.

“Slept well?”

“I’m very uncomfortable with this and I don’t appreciate you withholding my things”

“Oh-kay, someone’s grumpy in the morning.” he chuckles, leaning over the steering wheel as he takes a turn. “Consider this your punishment for trying to leave without saying goodbye. You got a deadbeat father complex or something?”

She glares at him, half-heartedly. 

“Come on, it’s just breakfast with the boys. Best meal of the day, with the boys.”

“It’s not just breakfast, you know that” she mutters, closing her eyes to rest them for a second. 

“Hey, it’s just us,” He surprises her by finding her wrist resting on the seat. His fingers curl around it, giving it a light tug, like a kid trying to get a grown-up’s attention “No one will jump you or anything. I know things are awkward, but they won’t have to be once we all talk and catch up, yeah?”

The red light goes green after what feels like an eternity. It takes him a second to notice, and he’s back to quietly driving them across the street, still not letting go of her wrist. 

“You trust me, right?” he asks suddenly, giving her a glance.

“Seriously, out of nowhere?”

He doesn’t laugh, only turns to look at her with a serious look on his usually relaxed features. “Cause I trust you, Rin. I hope you know that.”

The fuck? 

“Ok? Thanks–” 

“I mean, I don’t know what you’ve been up to, obviously, or what– you know? Happened, but I know I trust you.” he nods firmly, fixing his throat and suddenly avoiding her eyes. "Whatever happened, it doesn't matter to me. I'm just happy to see you again."

She feels the sudden need to get out of the car, but her shoulder would probably combust, so she gives him the softest of nods. The feeling that it's a mediocre reply lingers.

Eventually, he lets go of her wrist.

About half an hour later, she's watching Jongdae fix a generous batch of coffee while singing his heart out to an OST only someone over 30 could recognize. He was the first to wake up, walked into the kitchen, took a look at her and immediately scolded Baekhyun for not getting her slippers closer to her size. 

They belong to Chanyeol and he thinks it’s just hilarious that she walks like a duck in them.

They all come down one by one in different states of sleepiness. All Jiah can think is that life has taken a seriously strange turn, and there’s not much she can do about it other than hold on to a cup of coffee and watch in silence, hair still wet.

“How are you feeling?” Junmyeon asks once again, taking some multivitamins and eyeing a plate of fruit that Sehun tries to keep safe from Chanyeol’s prying hands, asking him for the third time if he washed his hands.

He looks like Jongdae had to drag him out of bed, bed sheet imprints leaving red lines on his left cheek, swollen eyes and messy hair. There’s even dry drool on his chin. She wants to point it out, but they're not comfortable like that with each other.

He eyes the third spoonful of sugar she drops on her coffee but keeps any comment to himself.

“We can ask Dr. Jangmi for something stronger if you need it, just let me know.”

“Alright, thanks. I appreciate that,” she says for what feels like the 20th time in the past 24 hours.

Thanks. I appreciate that. This is weird as fuck though, can we not do this?

“Huh? What's this? What’s going on here?”

There is a soft giggle at the end of Yixing’s question. He's taking his shoes off, stumbling a bit, not closing the door behind him, holding a coffee cup carrier.

“Breakfast.” Jondgae says, and Jiah suspects he made a face. Whatever that means.

“Hey,” he makes his around the island and engulfs her in a careful hug. He's warm to the touch from being outside. “How are you feeling?”

"I’m ok.” she smiles, not being able to help her lips from pouting. “My shoulder’s kind of fucked, though.”

He frowns, shakes his head slowly, hands moving up and down her good arm, leaning down to press his lips to her temple. "I know. I'm sorry. But the more rest you get, the faster you'll feel better again, so don't rush yourself."

She nods, letting her weight rest on him for just a bit, eyes fluttering open when white cotton and a head of thick black hair passes by, startling her.

Kim Minseok is putting two extra carriers next to the one Yixing left on the island top. The door is now closed, but she never heard him come in. And now he's handing people coffee.

Chanyeol thanks him a thousand times. It seems like Jongdae's coffee making skills are controversial, he nags at them about being ungrateful, but walks over to get his cup anyway.

"Oh, that's–"

Jongdae's extended hand stops abruptly at Yixing's interruption. The cup Minseok was just about to give him is now being held by both of them.

"Dirty chai. That's Rina's." he explains.

Jiah, unsure about how to proceed, stares at the cup in front of her face, neither releasing it. Jongdae drops his hand, eyes shifting between them.

Yixing blinks curiously at Minseok, whose face she's avoiding to turn to look at.

Sehun leans over and grabs a cup of his own with his ridiculously long arms.

"Are you guys gonna give it to her, or–"

HIs comment wraps it up. Yixing gives her the cup, smiling down at her and paying no mind to the tilt of Jongdae’s eyebrow or Junmyeon's side eye.

“Oh, before I forget. I told Haneul you're taking a break. He sounded worried, maybe you should give him a call?” 

Right. Haneul. She’s been so distracted that she forgot about him as well. Yixing offers her his phone, but Baekhyun cuts him off and tells her to focus on breakfast while it's still warm.

Kyungsoo is the last one to take a seat at the table, lazily scrolling through his phone. There’s a pair of thick-framed glasses perched on top of his nose. He sighs at Baekhyun’s loud moan when he takes the first bite.

“Just as good as I remembered.”

The table is filled with the sound of eating and the low hum of someone's lofi playlist playing from the speakers. The moment lingers just long enough to become awkward.

“I don’t know about you guys, but I love uncomfortable silences during breakfast, I heard they’re good for digestion,”

Junmyeon stops mid-bite and gives Sehun a look.

“What? I mean she’s here now, can’t you just catch up? Ask her what happened on the third day?”

“Ok, Sehun. Just finish your sandwich.” 

He rolls his eyes, pointedly taking a big bite.

“Didn’t you have something to show us?” Jongin asks helpfully. Jiah has noticed that him and Sehun stick to each other, despite being on opposite ends of several traits.

“Glad you asked,” Baekhyun claps his hands, standing up as he licks his fingers having successfully devoured his sandwich. He disappears for a bit and comes back wheeling the glass board behind him.

Yixing turns to the side in his seat, pointing at one of the pictures. 

“There’s another girl?”

“Yep,” Baekhyun beams, the excited smile on his face melting immediately. He fixes his throat. “Long story short, these girls all are missing, they’re also all students, and they could be connected to Nayeon’s disappearance. We’re thinking they might help us find her.”

“Did you just say find her?”

“I did,” Baekhyun points his finger at Junmyeon, happy that he caught that “Nayeon is alive.”

Other than Sehun noisily blowing on his drink, the silence is heavy with skepticism. 

“We’re keeping a positive mindset here. There is a big, big chance she didn’t die in that fire. The body they found at her apartment was declared burned beyond recognition, and Nayeon didn’t have recent dental work done on her, so they couldn't even look for a match. And before you accuse me of being delusional, Rina came to the same conclusion all on her own.”

“Is this true?”

Jiah nods at Junmyeon. “She sent her brother the recordings through a shipping company days before the fire and scheduled the delivery. He got the package in the mail exactly two weeks after the fire.”

“So she knew she was in danger.”

“Creative.” Chanyeol mutters, impressed “She found a way to let her brother know without putting him in direct danger.”

“And then he tried to end Lee Chungjae himself.” Sehun adds.

“If she went through that effort, she would’ve tried to hide, right? It was only a theory, but Lee Chungjae probably has a reason to believe this as well, and he doesn’t want any loose ends.”

Junmyeon’s face is unreadable. 

“And well,” she points at her shoulder. “I think that night proved my theory.”

Yixing leans back on his chair, crossing his arms. It’s followed by a dry chuckle at the other side of the table.

“Can we just tell her?”

"Baekhyun tries to interrupt, but Chanyeol has a point to make.

"Nah, let her know, or she’ll go out there and successfully get herself killed this time just because she thinks she has backup.”

Jongdae tries as well, not without giving her a careful sideways glance that she doesn’t return, staring back at Chanyeol with just a slight narrowing of her eyes. Her lack of reaction so far has made his demeanor get a little more vicious.

“Let’s not–”

“How do you think they knew it was you, even with your editor protecting you?” Chanyeol finally asks “Your protector snitched on you, didn’t think twice before selling you out to Lee Chungjae’s team. He’s putting good money on his dad's campaign, did you not know?”

“Protector?” she blurts out, neither a question nor an affirmation. “Are you- wait, you mean Namjoon?” 

She snorts.

“I mean, yes? He knew about the investigation. I let him know before it came out.”

“You’re full so of shit. It's just sad.” Chanyeol shakes his head slowly.

“Like I said before, I’m not worried about convincing you.”

“Why?” he dares.

She can't judge him for being so remarkably slow. He doesn’t trust her, he’s probably terrified of whatever he thinks she represents. Yixing didn't lie about people being wary of her.

It’s disappointing to see him handle what he thinks is a threat so poorly, but then again he always was a heart-on-his-sleeve kind of guy. 

Others keep their silence and listen. Kyungsoo, even Junmyeon. Minseok's glare is impossible to ignore.

“Because sometimes being underestimated can work in your favor.” she speaks slowly like it’s a child across from her and not a man two years her senior.

The tension spikes. All these resources, a wide range of skills, a seat at the syndicate, and just a few harmless words make their mood drop.

Junmyeon leans in. “So what I'm hearing is that you put yourself at risk just to... prove a theory.”

“Of course not,” she wonders if he paid attention at all to what she said. “I hoped they’d come expecting to find Nayeon through me, so I set up a lead. It’s not about if they take it but who does. Chungjae's not doing this alone.”

“And did it work? The bait?“ Jongin sounds hopeful.

"I’m hoping it did.”

“You’re hoping it did?” Junmyeon repeats. “It’s been 48 hours, what if they realized you’re bluffing and decided you’re not useful anymore?”

“I’ve got it handled.”

“You never mentioned any of this” Baekhyun says, breaking his silence.

He has a look of disappointment on his face she wants to get rid of, and then she remembers that pale grin he gave her yesterday, like he was about to break into a cold sweat.

“I’ll let you know what I find.” 

There's something happening right in front of her eyes. As much as she wishes she could trust Yixing, his explanation about them being wary about her association with Namjoon doesn't cut it.

Her eyes find Minseok's and she hopes he's better than Baekhyun at subtlety. If getting himself a seat at the table is any indication, chances are he is.

Something indeed, and she's nearly convinced that it goes against the deal he signed a few days ago.

But that's not it, isn't it? There's more to it.

He lifts his chin, just barely, it feels too much like a silent warning. It has the opposite effect he wants. The dirty chai kicks in at once.

“Frankly, I don’t think you’re in the state to be handling anything right now.” Junmyeon’s amused little chuckle kills her momentum.

“I agree,” Yixing says, much to her disappointment “Even if you’re right, it doesn’t mean you're in any less danger.”

“I know how to take care of myself."

“Do I need to remind you that just almost bled out on the way to the hospital? This is obviously getting out of your hands. I won’t have your picture next to those girls'.”

Junmyeon points at the board. He's wearing a ring on his index finger. She's surprised it fits. Maybe he had it resized.

“You can leave it to us this time, we’ll handle it.”

“I appreciate the concern, but it's not your decision to make.”

"Question," Baekhyun says, a surprisingly serious look on his face. "Would it be so bad to let us help?"

“That's not the point. I promised Im Haneul I’d see this through.”

“Wouldn't be the first time you let someone down. He'll survive.” Chanyeol coldly replies.

Her blood starts to boil. They're cornering her, and her patience has a limit.

“Alright, I don’t know what your problem is, but let’s get it over with."

A deep voice has heads turning to the right. “You know what his problem is. Don’t play dumb, it doesn’t suit you.” 

If Chanyeol’s voice was venomous, Kyungsoo’s tone feels like battery acid.

Chanyeol wastes no time. “Only a handful of people survived Hwacheon's fire, how did you make it out?”

“You shouldn’t believe official records, the prison system in this country is a joke.”

“So no complex escape plan? I was expecting some prison break shit from you.”

“Sorry to disappoint.”

He shakes a finger at her.

“I heard rumors, you know? About this girl that worked for Kim Namjoon. No one knew where she came from, not even back in their hometown. They said she was a witch, could sniff out a traitor from a mile away,”

Jiah has to give it to him, he sure knows how to set the mood with the storytelling.

“And then one day, she disappeared without a trace. People said he killed her after she tried to turn on them, others said someone in their circle knocked her up and he sent her away. Whatever happened, she vanished.”

“A hundred years passed and my brother and I discovered the new Avatar, an airbender named Aang." Sehun says, arm coming to rest around Jongin's shoulders. He pretends not to hear him.

“I don't know what you want me to say."

“Was it him, Hwacheon’s fire? Is that how you got out?”

To her utter disbelief, he's being serious. All she can do is open her mouth and close it, look around to see if anyone else understands how stupid that is.

Kyungsoo shrugs. “You’re not denying it.” 

“No, Kyungsoo. Kim Namjoon didn’t blow up a federal facility to help me escape. I can’t believe I have to explain this to you. I didn’t even know them back then.”

“Hwacheon is just ten miles away from Songju, isn't it? Right where Namjoon’s operation started. That was you. November 10th, the prosecutor's kids, the clean up, the start of the syndicate. You were there.”

"I was." she says without hesitation, still not understanding what's the big deal.

"Why?"

"Because they helped me out. And I because wanted to."

“Well, since we all know he cashes in all his favors, I guess the big, scary question here is what did you have to do to pay off your debt after they helped you out? Was it witchery, or was it-” 

“Ok,” Junmyeon interferes, putting one hand on the table. “You’re crossing the line.”

“Don’t worry, he’s not even close.” she says with a light tone, but the slight curl of her lips betrays the cutting edge behind her words.

"I just hope that if you got knocked up, you had the sense to get rid of it. Otherwise, you're an asshole for putting yourself in danger when you have a kid somewhere."

“Wow. When did he become this fucking pathetic?” she asks, genuinely curious, but they're all either too uncomfortable or embarrassed to grace her with an answer.

“Ok, I’ll translate for him.” Sehun chimes in, leaning forward with a serious expression on his face. Jongin closes his eyes and expects the worst. “What he's trying to ask is, did you engage in premarital sex with Kim Namjoon and/or any of his associates?”

Yixing drops his head. Jongin looks kind of mortified but kind of amused at Chanyeol's immediate response, shaking his head and rolling his eyes.

“That is not what I’m asking.”

“No? So you’re worried about my hypothetical kid now?”

“Ok. Chanyeol, drop it. Let’s get back on track.”

But she likes this track. She doesn't see the point in dropping it yet.

"If you’re taking the misogynistic route, at least do it right. Don’t be a half-assed piece of shit, it’s pitiful.”

“Rina.”

“I’m not finished, Suho.”

A quick oop follows.

"I get it. I know what this is about. I see you. You're still dealing with your abandonment issues, but that’s not on me."

Chanyeol's face drops.

She carries on, no remorse. "What? You think you're special because your daddy wasn't around to play ball? Give me a break."

“Jesus. Ice fucking cold.”

A sharp grating sound. He forcefully shoves his chair back.

“Hey, hey–”

“Park Chanyeol.”

Chanyeol stands up at full height and others follow. Jongdae tries to talk some sense into him. Yixing doesn’t hesitate to do the same when she mirrors Chanyeol's stance, arm extended in front of her, shaking his head.

Sehun seems to be out of little quips. Like him, Minseok remains seated, looking at the scene from the end of the table.

Poor Jongdae, he's still trying. “Sit down, man. C'mon.”

But Chanyeol's not listening, his jaw is locked in, teeth gritted together. Finger pointed at her, spit spraying in the air.

”You let us all think you were dead.“ 

"I had my reasons.” 

She’s trying her best to not lose it against his stupid loud voice that takes up the room. Her head, her shoulder, her back, they all hurt. She should’ve left the moment she woke up, barefoot.

Chanyeol throws his arms in the air, growling.

“Your reasons? To let everyone mourn you for what? A decade. What the fuck is that about? Who does that?”

“I'm sorry, what’s the acceptable protocol for you? Enlighten me.”

“Dude, you’re seriously not asking that.” he winces, like he'd rather not look at her. “Kim Namjoon, seriously? That was your only option? You. Everything you tried to preach to us. Looking down at us, talking about better ways and shit, like you were some kind of paragon of virtue."

“Ah, fuck off. Seriously, fuck off." she repeats with closed eyes, an exhausted mantra. "Don’t selectively bring shit from the past into this."

"Was that just to make yourself feel a little less bad about, huh? About getting Yuan killed because you couldn’t keep your mouth shut?”

It feels like the air was sucked out of the room. No one was ready for that, perhaps not even Chanyeol. For a fleeting second he looks like he caught himself off guard.

Jiah lets out a shaky, hoarse little laugh, mumbling to herself. "You don't know shit. Not even now."

"You know you can repeat that all you want but that's still the truth."

“You wanna talk about the truth? The only reason I was there that night was to warn you, but you treated me like I was out of my mind. Everything I tried to tell you would happen, happened. That's the truth,"

Silence, she's not done yet.

"And then you got in that stupid car and sped down the fucking street,"

Not even near.

"You didn’t look back. You had the chance to leave it all behind and move on with your life while mine wasted in jail. But now you wanna act like I owe you an explanation?”

There's no way they remember that night as vividly as she does. Every tiny detail, the smell of shitty sewage water against her face, the weight of some asshole’s knee on her back pinning her to the street, the overlapping of people yelling in panic. Red and blue lights blinding her. Blasting sirens.

“I don't blame you. I fucked up time and time again and it’s not like you could’ve done anything to get me out of it.” she admits. 

“That’s right. You fucked up and we fucked up. So you decided that was it? You couldn't reach out for help or at least contact us? Did you not think of the consequences of letting people believe you were dead?”

She can’t help the bitter smile, half of her wanting to ask Chanyeol what he knows about consequences, but he’d mistake that for her wanting to hear an answer. Ten years later it’s not something that interests her.

"Pretty much, yeah,” she replies shamelessly, after a moment of consideration.

“That easy, huh?”

“Honestly, I was miserable back then. I was a kid, I only had you, I thought I could fix it, but everything kept getting worse.” she says, and the dam has not cracked yet, but it might. Any second now. “So yeah, after the fire, when I realized I had the choice to start over, I took it. That part? That was easy, yes.”

Chanyeol blinks at her, like he's not sure he's looking at someone.

“I was very careful. Don't think this situation here happened because of me being sloppy. I never planned to see any of you again, and I was at peace with that.” 

She wants to carry on but her throat feels raw, and Chanyeol’s breathing through his mouth. A couple of fat, anime-like tears spill down his cheek.

The dust has settled and it's clear that the room has shifted. Yixing was just sitting right next and now there’s some distance between them, like she’s exuding toxic fumes. Baekhyun looks like a kid with glassy eyes and a red nose. It’s too late to take back, it’s all out of her chest, too heavy to cage it back up.

“I do have a question though, why are you wearing my rings?”

Kyungsoo stands up, walking past her and stopping just to throw something on the table. The metallic rattle is enough to let her know what it is.

“They meant something,” he replies, chillingly calm. “Back when we thought you were dead.”

“But now that I think about it, I don’t think you made it out of the fire.”

#exo fanfiction #exo fanfic #exo x reader #exo scenarios #baekhyun fanfiction #minseok fanfiction #chanyeol fanfiction #yixing fanfiction #exo angst #jongin fanfiction #jongdae fanfiction #junmyeon fanfiction #kyungsoo fanfiction #sehun fanfiction

[rancidtae]

NAERI STATION: INTERLUDE - CHAPTER ONE

Genre: fluff, angst, coming of age au. mafia au. Warnings: none yet Pairing: bts & Original Female Character (Jung Jiah) - Jeon Jungkook/OFC - Kim Namjoon/OFC Summary: the one where Jungkook imprints on a strange girl and Jin hopes they don't regret this

"It's freezing out here. Get in the car." Yoongi ordered, holding his 22 with both hands. Jimin's wide eyes were fixed on the side of the road, not too far from Jungkook. "Guys…" Several red spots disturbed the clean untouched snow, like cherry syrup on shaved ice. They weren't large or deep, but the contrast called for the eye.  The realization hit them all at once, Jungkook was the first to connect the dots. Taehyung was stuck in his spot. "Whoa. This is exactly how horror movies start." "Everyone, get in the car— Jesus fucking Christ, Jungkook!" By the time Yoongi was done with that sentence Jungkook had already sprinted past the line of bushes, disappearing into the darkness of the woods. "And now we're splitting up. Classic."

Jungkook was always drawn to heights.

It started with his dad holding him up as a baby, lifting him high enough to get a close look at the peculiar texture of his childhood home's popcorn ceilings. Whether it was scalding the scorching metal slide at the park, the oldest and sturdiest tree he could find, or the climbing walls at the indoor playground, he grew up seeking that thrill he was introduced to as a child, never quite sated.

Now he was old enough to exchange plaster ceilings for expansive night skies, and trees for the lofty water tower of Songju. No safety straps or helmet to hinder him, away from his mother's watchful gaze. She had enough on her plate without him adding to her worries. 

With Yoongi around he still got nagged at from time to time, though he was less focused on his safety and more fixated on the structural integrity of the convenience store’s roof at Naeri Gas Station.

This was one of the good spots. The entire town expanded before him—the train rails, the middle school he had attended as a child, the river bank, and the bridge. The fluffy snowy woods, the moon, the stars, the mountains, and the smoke. The distant glow of Seoul's lights illuminated the night sky.

Jungkook took a deep breath and wrapped his hands around his to-go cup of hot moka.

He appreciated the crisp wind and the alone time. Just because he was an adrenaline junkie didn’t mean he couldn’t savor the peace and quiet. Content, he filled his lungs with a deep breath and went for a short sip.

A rapid double-take mid-sip and he immediately paid the price of not blowing on the scalding liquid. A string of curses erupted from his lips as pain surged through his body, prompting him to turn away from the source of his agony.

Smoke?

And that's when he spotted it—a radiant orange mushroom in the sky.

A muted gasp escaped his lips as he blinked, making sure he wasn't hallucinating or trapped in a dream. No eyesight damage could conjure that big of a fire in the middle of the night.

His sense of direction rarely failed him. He knew exactly where it came from.

Dust cascaded from the discolored cardboard ceiling panel, landing on his keyboard.

Glaring up, Min Yoongi wondered why Jungkook insisted on stomping around the roof and considered going up and giving him an earful.

However, time was a luxury he lacked.

It was late, and he was juggling a ridiculous number of open tabs on his screen, each one vital to his work. A frustrating detail drawing stubbornly eluded him, and he was pretty sure that, any second now, his mouse wheel would die on him. 

He’d much rather be seated comfortably in his chair at home, not behind this crappy counter, constantly interrupted by the occasional customer looking for dumb shit they could get anywhere else; gum, condoms, or cigarettes. Unfortunately, Namjoon needed someone to cover this shift for him, and Jimin and Taehyung had proven themselves untrustworthy when it came to handling the gas station by themselves.

On the bright side, a reliable source of shitty yet surprisingly effective gas station coffee sat within reach. Whatever they put in that concoction had been making his left eye twitch and his heart beat funny for the past twenty minutes. With a sigh, he donned his headphones, stretched his fingers, and decided to pay no mind to the fact that he was probably tweaking off caffeine or the possibility of Jungkook battling the ever-elusive gang of raccoons up there all by himself.

After all, the kid didn't have any imminent deadlines or a scholarship to win.

And then, without warning, some asshole forcefully swung open the door, causing his travel cup to perilously flirt with the edge of his keyboard. 

That was the final straw.

Yoongi yanked off his headphones, ready to throw someone out, only to be met with the wide-eyed gaze of the wide-eyed boy frozen in an NPC-like pose.

"What’s wrong with you?"

"There's a fire. I think it's Hwacheon." Jungkook blurted out so fast Yoongi could barely make out the words.

"What?"

Jimin and Taehyung barged in with a similar lack of consideration for the door's frailty.

"Did you guys hear that?"

Yoongi's irritation only grew, suspecting some kind of shitty joke. "Hear what?"

"Hyung," Jimin stared at him in disbelief. "Did you really not hear it? It sounded like a missile landing."

Yoongi knew that Jimin had never heard a missile landing in his life. 

Furthermore, if the North decided to attack during a random Tuesday night, they wouldn't target a small town with a population of less than 20,000 when Seoul loomed nearby. He approached the glass facing the street, rising onto his tiptoes to peer over the soju advertisement decal.

A lovely ember glow illuminated the sky.

Looking over his shoulder, Taehyung began to panic, hands entangled in his hair. "What if we’re under attack?"

Without uttering a word, Yoongi swiftly made his way behind the counter, saved his progress, closed the laptop, and seized the keys.

"Hyung—"

"One of you call 119."

Songju wasn’t under attack, that much was obvious. Hwacheon Women's Correctional Institution loomed before them. 

The once bustling facility now stood engulfed in smoke and fire, casting a glow across the winter landscape. More eerie than lovely from up close.

"Damn," Jimin cursed, his words weighed down by a mix of shock and disbelief. 

"Why aren’t the firefighters here yet?" 

An old lady overheard their conversation and turned to face them. "It's the fire department's anniversary today," she explained. "They booked Chonda's beer house."

Taehyung’s hand went to cover his mouth. That was terrible timing, and it painted at even more hopeless picture.

The woman shook her head. "They're probably still trying to drag them out of the karaoke booth."

It took no time for a crowd to gather. Living in a small town with not much going on, the people of Songju were naturally known for their nosiness but also their kind-heartedness. They came ready to lend a hand. However, they were also proud dissenters, so the general reaction to the cops prohibiting anyone from crossing the gates to assist in the absence of the firefighters was predictably not great.

"But why are they taping up the place instead of helping?" Jungkook glared at a passing cop widening the perimeter, his frustration mounting.

Meanwhile, Yoongi engaged in a tense conversation with the officers. They offered the same explanation to everyone: the federal authorities had jurisdiction over the situation, and they were not allowed to enter the facility. The lack of action infuriated him. What were the people inside supposed to do, hold their breath and wait?

Just when the tension threatened to rise to a confrontation between cops and civilians, a fleet of black SUVs pulled up to the scene, Taehyung caught sight of them first and immediately hit Jimin’s chest with the back of his hand to get his attention.

Men dressed in suits, devoid of any identification, emerged from the vehicles, diverting the crowd’s attention. Crisp haircuts, shiny shoes, IEMs on their ears, take-no-shit demeanors. Their presence raised eyebrows in no time, and people started to retreat.

"Cavalry's out," Jimin muttered under his breath, his eyes scanning them subtly.

Taehyung nodded, counting up to at least eight more men fitting the same description. One of them approached a lonely reporter. Back up in place, the police officers kept expanding the perimeter, instructing people to move their cars and urging everyone to leave the scene for safety concerns.

Next to them, Jungkook stood quietly, in a world of his own. The fire reflected on his face and made him appear younger than he actually was.

Noticing him, Jimin and Taehyung shared the same look of concern.

"Hyung," Taehyung's deep voice caught Yoongi's attention. He’d found a spot with the group of disapproving dads assessing the situation with their hands on their waists. "Jungkookie left his inhaler back at the station. We should go."

Yoongi tilted his head, understanding the unspoken message. Whatever the old cop he was arguing with earlier said to him as he walked past was drowned out by the blaring sound of the fire brigade pulling up, followed by three ambulances.

Inside the truck, driving back to Naeri, no one dared speak a word until they put enough distance between them and Hwacheon.

"What was that?" 

"I don't know, but I don't like it," Yoongi said, his lips pressed together tightly. "Tell Namjoon and Hoseok to stay in the city tonight."

"They must be on their way by now"

"Then tell them to turn back."

Jungkook had a barrage of questions stuck in his throat, but his pride urged him to swallow them down.

"So, are we going to talk about that?" Jimin asked from the backseat, peering out the window, his fingers tapping his lip.

"What if it's a terrorist attack?" 

Yoongi shook his head, veering off the highway and opting for the unpaved road that led home. Something must have felt truly off for them not to return to the gas station. Jungkook realized in their haste to leave, he had left his laptop behind. 

"Those weren't counterterrorism guys."

"You recognized them? Who were they?" Taehyung asked, gripping the back of the driver seat.

"No, but I know they were there to keep people away from the scene," Yoongi replied.

Jungkook scoffed to himself. If something behind those gates was important enough to summon high-level federal agents, there wouldn't be much left of it now. He thought of all the people trapped inside and slumped against the passenger seat. 

Fire was a terrible way to go, to have someone taken away from you.

The ride home would take longer than usual since the snow chains on the tires limited their speed. 

And this meant that when Jungkook spotted something in the middle of the road where the snow remained undisturbed, Yoongi absolutely noticed it as well.

He gave him a quick side eye  "You see that?" 

Jungkook nodded, his face set in a firm frown, hand shooting to the door handle.

Jimin peered between their seats."See what?"

"Hyung, stop the car."

Jimin clicked his tongue at Jungkook "No way, did you see how they looked at us? I wouldn't be surprised if they were tailing us."

Yoongi spared Jungkokg another quick glance before slowly bringing the truck to a halt. 

Jungkook jumped out before they even came to a complete stop, much to his annoyance. 

"Hey, wait a second," Yoongi called after him.

"What's wrong with him?" Taehyung complained.

Ignoring them, Jungkook made his way back along the tire tracks, wordlessly turning on his phone lantern.

Undeterred by Jimin's nagging in his ear about listening to the kid in the first place. Yoongi put the truck in reverse and followed him slowly.

"You know there are wild boars in these woods, right?" Taehyung called out, his head out of the window, eyeing the towering trees above. "I heard they hunt at night."

Jungkook had finally stopped, crouching down before turning to face them.

Yoongi squinted at his reflection in the rearview mirror, he looked small standing in the middle of the narrow road, nothing but darkness behind him. The stillness of the empty road, the white noise of the radio and the hum of the engine made him decide that he did not like any of it. Jimin was right, he shouldn’t have stopped.

He grabbed his 22 and jumped down from the truck. 

"I seriously read that they're active at night, hyung," Taehyung insisted, cursing under his breath when Jimin joined Yoongi, leaving him with no choice but to abandon the warmth of the truck as well.

"Hey," Yoongi barked. "Put that thing down." 

"It's a scalpel, hyung." Jungkook said, looking down at the object in his hand.

"That's great. Jin hyung can get you a new one. It's freezing out here. Get in the car."

"Guys…"

Jimin's wide eyes were fixed on the side of the road, not too far from Jungkook.

Several red spots disturbed the clean untouched snow, like cherry syrup on shaved ice. They weren't large or deep, but the contrast called for the eye. 

The realization hit them all at once, but Jungkook was the first to connect the dots.

Taehyung was stuck in his spot.

"Whoa. This is exactly how horror movies start."

"Everyone, get in the car— Jesus fucking Christ, Jungkook!"

By the time Yoongi was done with that sentence Jungkook had already sprinted past the line of bushes, disappearing into the darkness of the woods.

"And now we're splitting up. Classic."

No tire trails to speed through or the truck's lights to show him the way, trudging through the snow was proving to be difficult, but Junkook knew he’d be alright as long as he could hear Jimin complaining behind him, or on his right, it was hard to tell from the echo. 

Whoever had dropped the scalpel wouldn't make it in these woods if they were bleeding.

Every intake of breath froze up his lungs, and every puff he let out clouded his already poor vision. He slowed down his steps and focused on his surroundings as much as his phone's flashlight allowed, killing an incoming call from Yoongi before his ringtone could go off.

A few more heavy steps in, frustration began to settle. He could hear some kind of bird nearby, and perhaps he was imagining things, but he could feel its beady eyes looking down at him. 

Jimin had gone quiet, but he still carried on.

Then his boot hit something. 

He didn't get to look down but instinct told him not to step on whatever it was. Out of balance, he shook his arms in the air and bent forward and back until he ultimately plopped face-first into the snow. The cold took no time to go past his sweater and jacket.

He pulled his phone out of the snow.

Blotches of white or yellow and red covered her face, and her lips were tainted blue. A sick amount of skin was exposed—legs, arms, neck. Nothing but a thin baby blue gown rode up to her knees. 

She had no shoes on. 

The scream ripped through his chest. "Hyung! Hel—"

A hand covered his mouth. Taehyung hissed at him. "Do you want everyone in a 10-mile radius to hear you?"

“Is she dead?" Jimin stuttered, his hands swatting in the air for balance. "She's practically naked."

"No way she's alive," Taehyung mumbled, finally releasing him. Jungkook couldn't move or disagree with him, even though he wanted to. "She looks like a blueberry popsicle, wh—"

"Are you just gonna stand there and stare?" Yoongi snapped, already ripping off his jacket "Move, you fucking pussies."

Jimin groaned and closed her eyes at the feel of her shoulder blades. It reminded him of the time his cat died when he was in middle school. Yoongi put the jacket over her in a sad effort to cover her.

Taehyung did the same, eyes terrified, lips trembling. "I think– I think she's dead."

Jungkook could still do nothing but stare at her. He knew he’d have a hard time forgetting the image of her frostbitten fingers and purple-green lips up close. She couldn’t, right? Human bodies were made to be resilient. She was definitely running through the woods. She must have fallen and hit her head or something, and that meant she had some fight in her, right? She definitely wanted to live.

"Jungkook, shut up and help us," Yoongi barked, snapping him out of it. His body reacted to the order before his mind could catch up, and he just... got to it. 

Despite her lightweight appearance and their combined efforts, it was a challenge to move an unconscious body through the snow. He held onto her calves and prayed—something he rarely did, not since his father died—that she wouldn't snap in two like a twig.

Jimin looked like he wanted to throw up, while Taehyung kept mumbling about how he might be having a nightmare. After some deliberation about how and where to place her, they managed to put her in the back seat. Jungkook went in first, with her back on his lap and the rest of her body on Taehyung's.

No one talked about what was going on or what they were going to do next with the unconscious girl. Yoongi made a harsh U-turn, stomped on the gas, and Jimin had Jin on speaker in no time. Taehyung took off his sweater to put another layer on top of her.

"No. She's just… uh–." Jimin looked at them over his shoulder. "Is she breathing?"

Taehyung and Jungkook shared a panicked look. "I don't think so. No, I don't... she's not."

Frows burrowed and eyes stuck on the road, Yoongi had a firm grip on the steering wheel. Jin's leveled tone as he asked if anyone in the car knew how to do CPR cut through the tense atmosphere. Jungkook felt some relief in his chest, knowing that he was aware of the situation at hand, but he still stuttered when he mentioned that he had learned the basics in summer camp.

"Ok, Jungkook, that’s good. I need you to do—"

"But that was like... five years ago, I think."

Jin paused.

"Yoongi, you guys should really call an ambulance."

Yoongi disagreed. It was only a 10-minute drive, and with the cops all over Hwacheon he could make it 5.

"We're not that far, I'm going as fast as I can. All ambulances are in Hwacheon right now anyway."

Jungkook did his best to ignore Yoongi’s speeding, the way the truck vibrated with every click of the wheel turning, and the white blur of trees passing by. He did his best to ignore how she felt on his lap, how she didn’t react when he shook her or how Taehyung pinched her legs, how Yoongi breathed shallowly, and how Jin’s calm instructions turned more into a steady stream of reassurances.

“Keep your hand on her chest and check if it’s moving with your breathing.”

He did.

“Pinch her arm, and squeeze her knuckles.”

Nothing

“Check inside her mouth. Get the car warm, don’t move her too much" Jin instructed, and they all cringed knowing that they dropped her about three times and hit her head with the door before getting her in the truck "Do you see anything obstructing the mouth or nose? Blood, vomit, any loose teeth?"

"No." At least the inside of her mouth was warm, Jungkook thought. Any other time he would have felt disgusting for touching a stranger's mouth like this, but he was out of touch with the sentiment.

"Good. We're doing 30 compressions and two rescue breaths, fingers interlocked and centered on the chest. Don't be afraid to push deep, but give it some time to rise back up. Keep doing that until you guys get here. Got it?"

"Got it."

"Okay. I'll count with you."

Soon she was covered in about three layers of sweaters. Taehyung even put Hoseok's favorite beanie on her feet like some kind of makeshift sock while he followed the rhythm set by Jin. He leaned forward, pinched her nose, and pushed air through the girl's mouth.

Blue and red lights glared at them from a distance. A line of cars stretched as far as Yoongi could see. He thought it might be an accident, but luck wasn't on their side tonight.

"These assholes" Yoongi hissed.

A traffic stop had been set up, likely by the same or a different fleet of black SUVs from Hwacheon. They had no choice but to join the unmoving line of cars, hoping they wouldn't be subjected to any inspection.

"Ah, hyung, we're gonna have to put you on mute," Jimin said, a huff of air rushing out of the still-unresponsive girl's mouth, followed by more thuds. Jimin feared he might break her ribs. "Kook—"

Despite the tension and the impending approach, they went on. Even though they were shielded from the blue and red lights behind the driver's seat, anyone approaching Yoongi's window might catch a glimpse of what was happening in the backseat. 

There was an unspoken agreement. They could not, under any circumstances, let these men see the girl.

One of them by the side of the road flashed his light at them, signaling them to stop. Jimin gulped loudly, Yoongi took a deep breath, and Taehyung slapped Jungkook's hands away, throwing something over her face and chest. 

Yoongi rolled down the window slowly. Silently, with cold faces, everyone prayed.

"Evening, gentlemen. Can I see some ID?" the man asked.

"Sure thing," Yoongi said, pulling out his wallet. "Is there a problem?"

"Just routine," he replied, returning the ID to Yoongi's hand. He shone his flashlight inside, briefly blinding Jungkook, which made Taehyung snicker at his reaction. "Mind if I take a look around?"

Jimin thought he might pass out right there, but he managed to remain composed. All of them did.

"Yeah, sure. No problem, do I pull over or–"

"Min Yoongi, I thought I told you guys to go home."

And at that moment, the old cop from earlier became a beacon of hope, appearing out of nowhere with his thumbs hooked on his vest, acting as if he held some authoritative power. Yoongi sighed, giving the fed a tired look.

"Someone has to close up the gas station, officer."

"I thought you guys were open 24 hours. Does your boss know you're taking liberties with the schedule?"

Jimin held back a smirk, not because he had fully recovered from the near heart attack moments ago, but because he knew Yoongi was working his way through this, resting his elbow on the edge of the window. Professional bullshitter.

"Don't think there'll be a line tonight for gasoline with Hwacheon all torched up. He'd understand."

"You think so, huh?" the officer leaned his head in, flashlight scanning the inside of the truck. "Make sure to drop these kids off. I better not see you with any paint on those hands, Taehyung."

Another fed called the first one over, and the two in the back subtly followed him with eager eyes as he trotted away. Taehyung put a hand over his heart, coming down from the rush.

"Never again, Officer Han."

They smoothly merged back into the moving line of vehicles, gradually picking up speed as they put enough distance between the stop and themselves. 

Jimin slumped against the passenger seat. "Fuck. What the fuck? We owe that old man, big time."

"No, we don't," Yoongi replied, speeding past a blinking green light.

"Hyung, he just saved our asses—"

"He was saving his own ass. He comes by the station and buys a fuckton of weed every month," Yoongi explained. Taehyung was invested, his eyes wide, his mouth agape. "His wife has arthritis, it's really bad. I think he extracts the oil himself."

"Oh– that sucks. Poor woman."

"But thank fuck for arthritis," Yoongi said.

"Thank fuck for arthritis," they echoed.

Lost in the conversation, Jungkook looked up at Taehyung with wide eyes. There was a thump under his fingers where he had pressed them against the underside of the girl's jaw. It was barely noticeable, reminding him of the baby birds he had tried to save when they fell from their nests after a rainstorm when he was a kid. He could never save a single one, no matter how hard he tried.

"There's a pulse," he said. "I can feel it. There's a pulse."

"Put your seatbelts on," Yoongi ordered and stomped on the gas pedal.

Something about Seokjin changed when he put on his uniform. It was unsettling coming from the guy Jungkook could usually read so easily.

"Sit down, will you? You're making me dizzy," Jimin complained, closing his eyes and resting his head on Taehyung's shoulder.

An influx of people took over the waiting room as ambulances came and went. Word was that they were still dealing with the fire in Hwacheon. The fire had made national news, and helicopters were currently flying over the area. It was a grim situation.

"So, how bad is it?" Yoongi asked.

Jin took a short breath, pocketing his phone and not bothering to lock the office door behind him. No one in the hospital would walk in without knocking.

"Are you referring to the national tragedy unfolding out there, or the unconscious girl connected to the ECMO machine?"

Yoongi dropped his head. "Sorry, hyung, we had no one else to call."

"No, don’t mind me, it’s a rough night– you did well bringing her here. She’s suffering from severe hypothermia, it's bad."

"But is it like... chop a few fingers off bad or..." Taehyung trailed off, hanging his head to the side with a short guttural sound. "...bad?"

"Her fingers weren’t black," Jungkook corrected him. "Limb amputation is usually required for deep frostbite.”

"I think we can trust the professionals to make that decision."

"Yes, but I just read about it. People only lose limbs when they have deep frostbite, and her fingers were just red, so—"

"Well, that's great. Jungkookie just got his Ph.D. in the stages of frostbite from the University of Naver.” Jimin blurted out.

Yoongi crossed his arms, paying them no mind. “Hyung, do you think she'll make it?"

"You're right, Jungkook. She has symptoms of mild frostbite, it’s unlikely that amputation will be required,," Jin said, Jungkook gave Jimin a mocking look "She likely experienced cardiac arrest before you found her, so you guys saved a life tonight. You guys did well."

"But there's still a chance she..." Yoongi's words trailed off, uncertainty lingering in the air.

"Yes, she's currently in critical condition," Jin confirmed, with no particular emotion, just exhaustion weighing his features. 

"So maybe we didn't save a life tonight. Let's not spread false hope," Taehyung interjected.

"Hey, you punk, I was only trying to be optimistic,"

"I know, hyung, but let's not raise Jungkook's expectations unnecessarily," Jimin responded.

“My expectations? You mean that I don’t like the idea of someone dying?”

“No, Kookie, I mean that you kind of imprinted on her and I don’t want you to be heartbroken,”

"I didn't– imprint? What’s wrong with you?" Jungkook protested loudly.

"You mean like in Twilight?" Jin quipped.

"I did not imprint," Jungkook insisted firmly, pointedly looking at the eldest.

Yoongi cut them off, pinching his nose "Okay. Yes. I mean no, you didn't, Jungkook. We know. Hyung, what's it look like to you? Does she have a chance?"

Jin explained as much as he could. They were currently pulling the blood out of her body, warming it up, and pumping it back in. He assured them that his father had called in a good friend, one of Seoul's most sought-after cardiologists. They were following his orders until he arrived.

"Your father's here?" Jimin questioned, surprised.

"He came as soon as he heard about the situation in Hwacheon. It's not every day that we see unresponsive hypothermia cases in the ER, so he wanted to see it for himself.” he paused, suspicion lingering in his eyes. “What happened?” 

He didn't buy the story about them stumbling upon a stranger in the middle of nowhere. Jungkook squirmed restlessly under his questioning eyes, and Taehyung and Jimin turned to Yoongi for answers.

"Whatever this is, you don't have to worry about me. But my father will see through the bullshit," Jin warned them. "So just be honest with me. I'll figure things out with him."

"If this is about insurance—" 

"Don't be ridiculous," Jin interjected, scolding Yoongi sternly. "Did you think you could simply drop someone off in that condition without raising eyebrows?"

The nurses would talk, and Dr. Byun would surely want to discuss it with his father once he took a look at her. Songju was a small town, rumors spread fast. It could potentially get buried under the chaos caused by the Hwacheon incident, but Jin needed to make sure he knew the whole situation.

"Well, I think our honest expectation was to get her professional help."

"And she's getting it. Don't get smart with me, Taehyung.” He was annoyed now, crossing his arms and turning to Yoongi, disregarding the younger ones. “Is this one of Kim Giseok's girls?"

"What? No. Hyung, what?"

"So you do know—"

"Hyung, we seriously don't know. Jungkook found her in the middle of the woods, we couldn't just leave her there."

"She had a scalpel, and there was blood on it," Jungkook added, like that one detail would be of any help "But I don't think it was hers. I think she was running away from something."

"Figures," Jin sighed.

"What do you mean?"

"The girl is deaf. Her transmitter is missing, not to mention the fact that she's branded. So if this is Namjoon making a move, then I'd appreciate some honesty here. I'm not asking because I want to know, but it might help us get her the help—"

A sudden knock on the door jolted the room into silence. The four of them exchanged anxious glances, their mouths opening and closing like fish gasping for air. Jin cautiously opened the door, peeking outside with a polite greeting at whoever was on the other side.

It was a woman, young by the sound of her voice. "Intern Kim, we have some National Security Service men here. They want to talk to the director, but he's busy at the moment"

“Is Chief Park unavailable?”

“I think it might be best if you talked to them until Director Kim gets out of the OR”

"Okay, that might be a good idea. I– I'll talk to them. Just give me a second and I'll be right there." Jin closed the door behind him and raised his hand, signaling for them to wait before saying anything.

After a few tense seconds, and not without taking a peek at the corridor, he lowered his hand. "Listen, I need to go. I'll keep you updated, I’ll ask someone to find you a private room or an empty office."

"Hyung, can they sweep the place?" Jimin asked.

Jin hesitated, put off by the question. Four pale faces stared back at him, waiting. "What are you asking me?"

"It might not be good if someone finds out that she’s here.”

The implication seemed ridiculous, and in any other situation he’d laugh at it, but he’d heard the nurses talk, and he’d seen the girl with his own eyes. He found himself unable to dismiss their concern. At the same time, his own worries about the situation grew.

His headache returned at once. Jin could only hope that he wouldn’t regret his decision.

"I'll see what I can do."

#bts fanfiction #bts fanfic #bts mafia au #jungkook fanfiction #jungkook fanfic #namjoon fanfiction #namjoon fanfic #bts au #bts angst #bts fluff #yoongi fanfiction #jimin fanfiction #taehyung fanfiction #seokjin fanfiction #hoseok fanfiction

[rancidtae]

BAEKHYUN — Cream Soda Teaser Images

[rancidtae]

D.O. Electric Kiss, 2018

[rancidtae]

loved the new chapter i am so intrigued already. minseok being all sinister at the end lol i can tell thats gonna backfire on them. when are you posting chapter five?

yes our shoomy lives in a state of denial through a big part of the story that’s kind of his thing. but here comes rina so we’ll see how that works for him.

i have a decent draft and i’m hoping to post it this week, i’m currently figuring out a schedule. i’ll let you guys know when that’s set.

#anon

[rancidtae]

emilia! welcome back!! it's been so long how have you been? i can't wait to catch up with arcadia lullaby. also, a bts prequel? i'm here for it

thank you!! i’ve been great!! figuring out this functioning adult thing, we’re getting there 🐥

there’s a lot coming so be excited!!!! and thank you for sticking around

#anon

[rancidtae]

ARCADIA’S LULLABY | CHAPTER 4

Genre: Mafia AU. Vigilante AU. Sci-fi (AI). Warnings: non-consensual drug use Pairing: exo & Original Female Character (Jung Jiah/Kang Rina) - Kim Minseok/Original Female Character - Zhang Yixing/Original Female Character Word count: 5k chapter summary: while the team is tailing Rina, Baekhyun gets hit with a feeling he thought he'd forgotten. a/n: I feel like a bunny calico critter scattering easter eggs here and there. btw this is where our flashbacks start, so keep an eye out for the date tags at the beginning of each scene

remember what's gone before not loaded with regret

masterlist meet the characters

081222 - 11:00 pm

Byun Baekhyun's a homebody. Always has been.

As the overseer of, well... everything, project manager, and human tech support, his days consist of sitting at the base of operations, otherwise known as home. You’ll find him surrounded by his monitors, headset always in place, eyes everywhere at once.

If there’s a security camera or a mic near, he’ll have eyes and ears on the scene.

Guaranteed, baby.

But he's not against changing the routine from time to time. If anything it’s healthy for his back. He’s 30 now. Paying for years of bad posture is proving to be unavoidable. 

And when it came to this, he had to see it for himself, right?

Because what better opportunity than being hit with the discovery that your childhood friend, who you considered dead for the past decade, is out there, alive?

And if that’s not enough of a plot twist, get this: someone just put up a generous price on her head. 

He’s here to make things a little less invasive after tampering her security system. Sending Sehun, a stranger, to enter her personal space while she’s out at a party simply felt wrong. Granted, he hasn’t seen her or spoken a word to her for at least a decade, but that’s what happens when you think someone’s dead and you’re not the type to fuck around with the Ouija board.

But they spent their childhoods and the uncomfortable purgatory that teenage years are together. They held a funeral for mintchoco, the tiny little lizard at Arcadia, her father’s Arcade joint, and buried him at the park two blocks away. She framed some guy for distribution of tentacle porn at the church youth club because he burned him with a cigarette. He was there for her first breakup and her emo phase. She burned his eyebrows off playing hot potato.

You don't just forget about things like that. It all must count for something, that’s what he tells himself as he pushes the door to her empty apartment open.

“Hi, Rina.”

“You know she’s not here, right?” Sehun says behind him, the entrance corridor’s light turning on make him jump and clutch his heart.

He forgot the guy was there. It's always the same with him and Jongin, they walk so quietly, it’s like dealing with a couple of overgrown cats.

“Yep, I’m aware. I’m just practicing.”

He’s spent the last week thinking about what he’ll say to her once Yixing stops gatekeeping her attention, suggesting a sturdier doorlock might be too much of a giveaway. 

This is it. A typical small loft made of white walls and laminated floor. A small bathroom right by the entrance, a compact c shaped kitchen with a short bar table and two chairs tucked in. The living room consists of a simple green Ikea sofa with a table and a tv in front of it. There’s also a desk next to a globe lamp and a bookcase. It has little to no space available, all the books fit snugly into place.

It’s… cozy, homely down to the details; small potted plants, a quirky variety of mugs, more plants by the balcony, a cat rug on the narrow stair leading up to the open mezzanine. There’s a messy bed up there, just on top of the kitchen.

Sehun hates those. It's common knowledge. He always hits his head on the ceiling.

Speaking of, he's flicking through her vinyl collection. “She’s got good taste.”

“How is it?” Junmyeon asks through the line. He’s back at home with Kyungsoo. They're overseeing the operation while Jongin, Jongdae and Chanyeol are tailing her.

Fucking weird. 

It’s undeniable; someone lives here. This is the space of a functioning adult. It’s hard to picture her when she was neither of those things when they last saw each other.

“You can take a look for yourselves,” Baekhyun says, finding the perfect spot for the nano cam on a frog figurine. “All good, Kyungsoo?” 

“All good,” he confirms. He sounds stiff, more than usual.

Baekhyun’s not any less uncomfortable than him about planting spying devices on her, but everyone agrees and understands why it’s necessary. Usually, he’d just hack into her tv camera or her laptop, but none of those devices gave a decent POV. 

One camera is aimed at the entrance and another is angled from the kitchen. He puts the last one on a corner of the living room, looking in from the balcony. He does his best to avoid her bed upstairs.

“You hid them well?” Jongdae asks. Everyone’s on the line tonight except for Yixing and Minseok. “You know it won’t be pretty if she ever finds out.” 

“I’ll come back and take them off myself once we’re sure she’s clear.”

“She can throw a fit if she likes. Faking her death means she loses privacy rights.” Chanyeol says.

“Alright Vladimir,” Baekhyun shakes his head at the amused glance Sehun gives him from the kitchen. He looks like a Barbie trapped in a Polly Pocket house.

“I’m just saying. Be an asshole, get treated like one.”

The recent discovery of Jung Jiah has had polarizing effect on the team. No one’s been more vocal about their discontent with her than Chanyeol, but that’s to be expected, and Kyungsoo’s sulky as well, spending more time with his plants on the terrace.

While Jongdae and Junmyeon remain as neutral as they can, Yixing’s with him on this one. The two agree that as long as they’re in the dark when it comes to her whereabouts, passing judgment on her is not a fair move.

Minseok, on the other hand, has been making himself extra busy at work, all death-trap eyes when he thinks people are not looking, no feedback during meetings when she's brought up, so that’s bound to be interesting. 

There’s of course a Kim Namjoon factor around her that they can’t ignore.

Minseok and Junmyeon got home that Friday night with the certainty that he knew, and that he intended to drop the revelation on them. 

One thing is clear in the middle of all that confusion, he wants to use her as leverage. He waited until Minseok signed the syndicate deal, successfully infiltrating the organization after months of negotiations, and put her on the table like all five of Exodia's card reunited.

But that doesn't explain the biggest mystery of them all. How did Kang Rina go from being locked up in a federal prison in the middle of nowhere, to the center of Seoul's crime ecosystem as a uni student/journalist under the name of Jung Jiah?

New name, new life, writing for a newspaper, pissing off the wrong crowd, a deadly post it note with Kim Namjoon scribbled on it attached to her head.

“How’s it going in there?” Sehun asks.

“So far so good. Jongin approached her. She's acting tough, but she doesn’t look too upset about it.” Chanyeol says.

It’s too bad that Jongin turned off his mic. There’s a bet going about whether or not she’ll respond to his charm. Jongdae swears Jongin’s everyone’s type when he works his magic, but Baekhyun disagrees. He’s too tall, too young and he’s missing the cat eyes.

For now, Baekhyun's putting the emotional shock to the side and handling this like she set a life-sized board game for them to figure out. If there’s one thing he had in common with her, is being a mystery enjoyer.

There are smartly placed storage cabinets everywhere to save up room like in most of these small single-bedroom apartments. She’s made good use of her entryway closet, it’s stacked with winter shoes, coats, all sorts of bags, and two or three umbrellas.

“Sehun, get your hands out of the fridge, you didn't even wash your hands.” Kyungsoo scolds. 

“She has cat food, but I don't see a cat” Sehun hums. “And for the record, Baekhyun was going through her underwear drawer before he set up the cameras.”

“What?”

“See how he’s not even denying it?"

Baekhyun might’ve fought the false accusations, but he happened to be going through her coats and just noticed a barely noticeable irregularity on the wall– a seam where there shouldn’t be one. Pushing everything to the side and inspecting the interior more closely, he runs his hands along the smooth wooden surface.

Wood, not wall. 

And exactly like he was hopping, there’s a line there, he feels it.

“Kyungsoo, I left the security UI tab open, can you do something for me real quick?” he asks, using his phone flashback to inspect the sides of the closet, finding a blank outlet. 

“Sure.”

“Look through the 220 volts outlets and devices. Uh– there should be one for the ac units, the washing machine, the water heater, cooktop…” he starts counting with his fingers “It’s definitely a circuit of its own.”

“I see a weird one, it doesn't have a name though.” Kyungsoo mumbles.

“It’s a date,” Junmyeon says. “October 10, 2020. Does that sound familiar?”

No, but they can figure that out later. 

“Can you try that one? Just poke it, see if anything happens.” 

And just like that, a section of the wall springs forward with a quiet click. Baekhyun just can’t help the delighted grin that takes over his face. He loves his job, he really does. It's unfortunate that her name came up and she's in danger, but she doesn't disappoint.

“Gotcha, Rinrin.”

“Can you stop talking like she’s there in the room with you? It’s creepy.” Jongdae says.

Chanyeol calls his name. "I think you’re losing that bet."

“What makes you say that?” he asks idly, pushing the door open. 

“She just looked at Jongin like he’s nothing more than a piece of meat.” 

“Jongin, if you’re listening, reel it in, alright? Overdoing it might blow in your faces.” Junmyeon warns.

Fuck the bet, Baekhyun thinks, he’ll pay for Jongdae’s meals for the rest of the year after this. This, right now, is promising to be a goldmine. 

He crosses the threshold, exits another closet just like hers, and finds himself inside the adjacent apartment.

“Baekhyun?” Sehun calls out. He crawls out of the closet and looking around in awe. “Wow. She’s definitely wacky.”

“Kind of” Baekhyun laughs airily, making his way inside and turning on the lights on.

It’s the exact same layout as hers, only mirrored, absent of any furniture other than a desk and a simple chair. It feels more spacious like this, and the temperature is not warm, nor cold, just at the right spot to feel comfortable. 

But there's a wall, and things take another turn. Sehun and Baekhung stop and take it in.

“Not kind of, totally wacky. Something is seriously wrong with her.”

“She got it from her dad.”

“Why? What’s going on?” Kyungsoo asks like he fears they'll say they found human bones.

“I’ll send you pictures in a bit,” Baekhyun assures, attention sucked in.

Now standing in the middle of what should be the living room, the grin slowly relaxes to a curious, careful little smile.

Just what have you been up to, huh?

“Wait, hyung, how’d you know she’d have something like this?”

271111 - Eleven years ago

She called his name and said,

“There’s something I want to show you,”

Baekhyun gave up on the Spiderman-themed decorations. The guys would arrive in about half an hour with drinks, food, and cake for Chanyeol's 19th birthday party, just before the rest of the people they invited, and if Minseok made it, he'd absolutely fix and organize everything to his meticulous standards.

So he jumped from the chair, dusted his hands, and followed her into the backroom.

There was a time, when they were kids, when he envied her so much he sometimes questioned their friendship.

How could he not? Her father owned an Arcade, and that alone gave her a 1% kind of privilege over all the kids at school. Mr. Kang was probably the coolest adult he knew. Everyone liked him at school; he was the teacher that let people hang out in his office and gave free coding lessons on the weekends.

To sum it up, Rina always had it good. She inherited his smart genes, so she didn't have to work herself to the bone to get into a good school, and even if she failed academically, she'd definitely inherit Arcadia.

Now, as a 19-year-old and as a part-time worker for her father's Arcade, Baekhyun had started to feel a hint of pity for her.

It began when she brought up her suspicion about her father hiding something—a family on the side, a shady job, gambling addiction. Chanyeol and Jongdae dismissed her worries and called her paranoid.

And honestly, Baekhyun kind of agreed with them, he just wasn’t that upfront about it. Eventually Rina moved on, started dating some flower boy that was way more into her than she was for him, got her hair done, and that was it. 

But late afternoon, when he was getting rid of paperwork from months back and had nothing better to do, curiosity and boredom got the better of him. He sat down and paid attention to the numbers.

Things didn’t add up.

Arcadia was barely making any profit, sometimes not even enough to cover his salary. Granted, Mr. Kang had inherited the building, so he didn’t have to worry about rent. The electricity bill, the water bill, and maintenance costs were consistently covered. Baekhyun had no idea how much being a math teacher paid, but he had a feeling that it wasn’t nearly enough to get Mr. Kang out of the red.

That was two months ago, and Rina didn’t have much of a reaction when he mentioned it, so that was that. Assuming that she’d moved on for good, it didn't cross his mind until pay day came and Mr. Kang acted as relaxed as always.

It definitely didn't come up as he followed her into the dreaded utility closet where they had once encountered the biggest, fattest spider ever.

Then, she opened the wall right inside the closet.

A door. Where he never knew there was one. Because it was a wall. And walls usually don’t open or have hidden hinges like that. 

But this one did.

Hesitating but kind of curious, he followed her down a dimly lit set of stairs, his hands trailing along the wall.

There was always something about stairs when you don’t know where they lead you. Fear pulled at his gut. 

“Say rinrin...” he began, voice wobbly.

“Mhm?” she responded, her unbothered tone added to his unease.

“This seems kind of unsafe, don’t you think?”

“You’re good, don’t worry,”

That didn't reassure him much, but being Rina, how bad could it be?

Before he could play off his concern with a joke, cold lights blinded him. The peeling paint on the walls and outdated vinyl floors gave the basement an eerie feel. A chill started to get to him, this room wasn’t heated. 

Not that they could afford that anyway.

Rina waited for him at the bottom, red beanie on top of her head, washed-out strands of blue highlights coming down her shoulders.

“Dude.”

“Alright, I’m going. You kind of look like a zombie flick character in this lighting, by the way. Like you just got bitten, but people just can’t tell yet.”

The basement sprawled out before them, larger than any basement Baekhyun had seen. Endless pipelines crisscrossed the ceiling, and despite the layers of dust, it looked and smelled relatively clean.

It really was cold as fuck.

The was a desk in the middle of the room, with a chair he recognized—a high-end, back-friendly model. Crazy expensive. 

But that wasn't it. Several empty server racks lined the back. Baekhyun had never seen that many in his life.

“Wow.”

“Right?”

On the desk were two quad monitor mounts, a keyboard and mouse. Everything covered in a light layer of dust.

“I looked through the paperwork the other night,” she said, watching him curiously hit some keys. “I found blueprints. They didn't include this, but the utility plans mentioned a basement.”

He counted up to fifteen rack cabinets around them, all empty except for one, tucked away in the corner.

“You’re the only person who knows about this,”

His head whipped in her direction. 

He felt kind of proud first, knowing that he’d been the first person someone trusts with something. She had Kyungsoo, Minhee, Minseok, and now her lovesick boyfriend. Chanyeol and Junmyeon as well. But she chose him. 

But then it settled on him. She’d just put the responsibility of being the only other person to know about this place.

She’d been right all along. 

Mr. Kang was hiding something, and it all led down to this basement. Baekhyun knew it looking at the cluster of servers. It just had to.

081222 - 11:30 pm

Sehun is, once again, going through her personal belongings. So far he’s found a loaded 22 under the bed, a brand new set of throwing knives wrapped like a Christmas gift inside her closet, and a hideous khaki jacket with tangled up faux fur on the lapel and cuffs.

“Why is Baekhyun quiet?”

Baekhyun’s sure taking his sweet time back in the eerie mirrored apartment, deep in a trance induced by all the information on the wall-sized bulletin board.

Sehun took a look at his eyes, realized that he wasn’t even listening to him, and decided to give the guy some alone time.

Everyone’s emotional these days.

Earlier today, Baekhyun told him that things could ultimately fall into his and Jongin’s hands, seeing that they're the only members of the team not compromised by personal involvement. He didn’t think much of it then, now it looks like he might've been right.

“He’s busy.” he mumbles, eyeing the small desk just opposite her bed. He has to bend his back to avoid hitting his head on the ceiling, his neck is starting to strain.

Stationery junkie. Explains the bulletin wall. She must take her Pinterest boards extra seriously.

Junmyeon is not happy with the lack of explanation. “Doing what? Why is he still in the closet?”

Chanyeol cuts in. “I’m not gonna make a joke out of that sentence. But I could, if I was in the mood. I’m just not.”

“He found a hidden door inside the entryway closet, it’s connected to the other apartment. She has the creepiest bulletin wall. She has pictures, documents, maps. Nothing related to Lee Chungjae, I think.”

Whatever intel she has in there, it looks like years' worth of work. 

Sehun is more concerned about how a journalist can afford double rent in this economy and how she got a secret security door installed without the building owner finding out and getting a hefty lawsuit.

He's kind of impressed..

Chanyeol sighs. “She has a fucking death wish.”

“No. She has a job.”

“Oh. That's definitely not a work thing, that shit is personal. Stalker levels of information. And she definitely doesn’t want anyone getting their hands on it.”

He would've approached it differently—nothing as flashy as a whole wall filled up with evidence. But he respects her for staying on the analog side of things.

If there's something they know in their line of work, is that digital means vulnerability.

But still, it took Baekhyun less than an hour to find his way in there, perhaps even less time than it would've taken him to find it if she stored everything in a bulletproof server.

All the effort, surely a few paychecks of investment, all for someone to go through that door and just find hard evidence on everything.

“Guys, this is gonna be awkward,” he says, pausing before further investigating her pink skincare mini-fridge. “But she’s got– uh, a fuckton of downers in here.” 

He’s seen some shit in his own time, but nothing like this. Several crystal bottles neatly lined up next to her toner pads and chemical exfoliator.

“Ok,” Junmyeon says, very carefully. “What– what kind?”

“Isoflurane.”

"That's not even a thing. You just made that up."

“You're joking.”

“Isn’t that... anesthesia?” Jongdae asks, but it looks like he already knows the answer.

"Anesthesia!?"

Sehun would love to know how she gets her hands on it. Few substances are as meticulously handled as anesthetics. 

He holds a bottle in his gloved hand and reads the label. If he remembers correctly, isoflurane vaporizes at room temperature, so it makes sense that she keeps them here. Inside a skincare fridge, though? Who even thinks of that?

But she sleeps with a 22 under her, so there’s that. Absolutely fucking wacky.

“But she doesn’t look– you know? She seems healthy. Yixing says she looks great.” Kyungsoo argues, sounding really against the notion that she might be using. “It doesn’t make sense.”

“There’s something called high-functioning addiction.” Chanyeol counters.

“I know that. But it doesn’t make sense.” 

Sehun agrees.

We’re missing something here.

Frustrated, he moves on to a plastic storage box under her desk. The first thing he finds, much to his surprise, is a bunch of packaged gas masks.

She’s meticulous. She carefully set up the door and the wall at other apartment. But Baekhyun found it. Easily. Like it was child’s play.

There’s a package underneath the gas masks. Blue filter replacements. Enough of them to make him stop in his tracks and his stomach drop.

He recognizes this grade. They’re made specifically for toxic fumes and chemical substances.

He slams his head against the ceiling.

“Fuck!”

“Sehun?” 

Sehun rips the plastic with his teeth, hastily puts a mask on. And runs down the narrow stairs.

“It’s a setup.”

He runs down the corridor. 

Inside the closet.

Pushes the door. Enters the mirrored apartment.

And there’s Baekhyun, sprawled on the floor, motionless.

Unconscious.

081322 - 01:45 am 

They’re usually better than this.

As in, most days in this job don’t end up with two people in the emergency room, and someone donating blood.

Turns out he has the same blood type as Miss Nut Nut. 

The night came to an end in a blur, and then things slowed down to an almost unbearable pace. Thankfully Dr. Jangmi picked up Junmyeon’s call immediately and made sure Baekhyun and the girl –who got in the way of a bullet, successfully this time– both had the best attention. As soon as possible.

Naturally, and thanks to the fact that they knew what substance he was on, Baekhyun gets discharged first, within hours.

He looks like he’s seen better days, pale skin, dry lips, IV drip next to him as Jongdae wheels him inside the private waiting room. Still, he flashes a boxy grin, rolling his eyes at the different looks of concern he gets.

“Wait, listen– it wasn’t that bad. I think I could be a drug addict in another life.”

Some find that funny, some don’t. Overall, everyone’s relieved to see that he feels fine enough to joke around.

“How’s she?”

“Still in surgery,” Kyungsoo says, holding an empty cup of coffee between his hands. 

It’s been a while since they’re all in the same room at the same time. There’s always more than one person missing, even when they go out for a meal and drinks at night. Usually, it’s Jongdae and Minseok, sometimes it’s Yixing.

“Is it bad?”

Jongin blinks down at the floor, fresh out of the shower, with a fresh set of clothes on. His whole shirt and lap were soaked in blood. Through and through. Sehun took a look at him and let him know that he would kill it in any Japanese horror movie, and congratulated him for surviving his interaction with Miss Saw.

“She lost a lot of blood, but they have it under control. They’re fixing up an artery right now.”

Minseok walks in, tie undone, bags under his eyes, a cloud of tobacco around him. He closes the door behind him and nods at Baekhyun, coming to rest a hand on his shoulder.

Jongdae offers to get another batch of coffee.

“You alright?” 

“A little drowsy, but it’s cool.” he fixes his throat. “It’s like waking up from the best worst nap ever. Uh– she knows, by the way.”

Minseok’s fingers running through his hair still, Baekhyun fears for a moment that his fist will close. His scalp is too sensitive.

“I’m sorry, what was that?”

“Jongdae, be a sweetheart and get me some water, please. I’m still,” he grabs the handles of the wheelchair, ignoring the awaiting eyes on him. “figuring this thing out.”

“What does she know?”

Jongdae forgets about the coffee and gets him a bottle from the fridge.

"For fucks sake, Baekhyun."

He holds a finger up, taking short sips and making sure to wet his lips. Kyungsoo stands up and swiftly grabs the bottle from his hands.

“Talk.”

“That is incredibly rude, I almost died tonight.”

“And you still can. Start talking.”

“Ok. Alright. Look, she doesn’t know know, but she’s… well on her way there.”

All eyes are on him, as if waiting for the punch line to drop, or for him to start laughing and tell them how bad they fell for it. 

Junmyeon’s careful blink means he knows there is no such thing as a joke going on at the moment. “What are you saying right now?” 

“She knows about High Tide. She doesn’t know know about the Arcadia Initiative, but she’s… I don’t think she’s that far off. Oh, and there was... something called Project Selene." 

“Is it ok to talk about this here?” Sehun asks, side-eyeing Jongin, and finds that his face is contorted in a strange grimace. 

Junmyeon stands from his seat, running both hands through his hair, sounding breathless. “How’s that even possible?”

“She talked to Krystal, they met at some point. She must’ve been one of her sources.”

Sehun wonders if his ears are deceiving him. “What?” 

“I’m sure of it. She saw my tattoo and mentioned a friend who had one just like it. Red, back of her neck. It had to be Krystal.”

Chanyeol’s voice is hoarse and quiet. His hands hang between his thighs, a grimace wrinkling his face.

“That’d be shitty, wouldn’t it?”

“What do you mean?”

“After Mr. Kang... you know. She was right about him from the start.” he chuckles humorlessly “And now when she’s close to finding the truth, if she-- if she doesn’t make it--”

Baekhyun cuts him off.  “That’s fucked up, man.”

“I know. I’m sorry. I was angry and I got distracted. This wouldn’t have happened if didn’t stall.”

“It’s not your fault.” Kyungsoo protests, put off by the fact that he’s considering such a thing, looking around for backup. 

“We all made the call. I could’ve stepped up, talked to her and got her out of the city for a while, and we could’ve avoided this.” Yixing follows, putting his hand on Chanyeol's shoulder. “So don’t blame yourself, Chanyeol. We’ve had a rough night, but she’s stubborn. She’ll pull through. Dr. Jangmi's helped us out of worse before.”

“It was a delicate situation, we all knew there was an added risk.” Minseok's tone is unreadable. But there’s nothing new about that.

“You’re right.” Yixing nods. “We’ll discuss what we’ll do about... everything Baekhyun found in its due time, once she recovers. And we’re all cool-headed.”

“Yeah. Let’s just... deal with this later.” Junmyeon says. There’s a haggard look on his face, but his bloodshot eyes keep staring at a specific spot on the floor, probably already thinking of the implications of this revelation, of the consequences, and the possible moves to make.

Jongin and Sehun share a look. The tension has risen again, as it has several times this week when the subject comes up. Every single time it feels like an argument is imminent and shit will hit the fan, though it never quite gets there. 

And it only adds up for the next time.

“What’s there to discuss?” Minseok asks in a tone that leaves no space for answers, regarding Junmyeon and Yixing with a coldness in his expression that takes Sehun by surprise. "Isn't it obvious?"

His tired expression from before and heavy eyelids have sharpened to a stern mask they’ve seen only a few times since he met him. It’s not usual that Minseok talks like the eldest, so when he does, the room stills and holds its breath.

“The second she learns the truth this will make it to The Chronicle’s front page. When that happens, this all goes down, we go down, and she goes down. They won’t be this sloppy.”

Junmyeon looks away, jaw clenched. Chanyeol keeps his eyes on the floor. Jongdae looks out of the window at the view from Kyunkook Hospital. It started to rain a few minutes ago, and he can’t tell if the timing is terrible or soothing. 

“She's not a risk we can afford to take.”

Baekhyun looks down at the diluted blood filling up the drip chamber in his hand.

Only Yixing looks directly at Minseok while he’s speaking. His expression gives away nothing.

“Jung Jiah can never know the truth. She got close, and that’ll be it. We'll make sure of it.”

#exo fanfiction #exo fanfic #exo x reader #exo scenarios #exo angst #baekhyun fanfiction #sehun fanfiction #xiumin fanfiction #yixing fanfiction #chanyeol fanfiction #jongdae fanfiction #jongin fanfiction #junmyeon fanfiction #kyungsoo fanfiction

[rancidtae]

EXO - 230717 ‘Travel the World on EXO’s Ladder’ Season 4 poster

Credit: SM C&C Studio. (‘엑소의 사다리 타고 세계여행’ 시즌4)

#this so arc lul coded #rina took the picture actually

[rancidtae]

EXO ♡ cream soda (230715)

#they look sooooooo good

[rancidtae]

NAERI STATION: INTERLUDE | (TEASER)

Genre: angst, fluff, smut. coming of age au. mafia au. Warnings: Graphic violence, Strong language, Mature content. Pairing: bts & Original Female Character (Jung Jiah) - Jeon Jungkook/Original Female Character - Kim Namjoon/Original Female Character summary: the one where the kids play with fire, and Yoongi is angry angry.

a/n: here it is! this is a prequel to arcadia's lullaby, my exo focused fic that is still in the works. I remember someone telling me they enjoyed Jiah's and Yoongi's interactions in there and since I already had a lot of backstory in my mind and I miss the 7s, I decided to give them a much-deserved story of their own.

This story will be set before the events in AL and it'll cover my OFC's adventures, canonic events, pains of teenage adulthood, and relationships between 2014-2018, with the tannies as main characters of course. hope you'll enjoy and as always, feedback is welcomed :)

coming soon (very soon)

>> March 2014. Three months after Hwacheon's fire.

“So, whose idea was it?” Yoongi demanded. 

Their heads whipped in his direction, features momentarily frozen. They’d been too invested in talking their ears off and blasting Whatever by Oasis on Jimin’s phone to hear him as he made his way down the creaky stairs.

“We were all playing, hyung, it’s not like it’s only one person–”

Jungkook was making a fair point, but Taehyung and Jimin sneakily tilted their heads at the only girl in the room, sitting with one chopstick in each fist resting on the table, ready to dig in.

“So it was you, then. May I ask what the fuck you were thinking?”

Ok, maybe he was overdoing it with the f-word and the whole bad cop stalking inside the questioning room. She didn’t flinch or even blink at his approaching figure, but the boys’ eyes widened. They shared concerned side glances, just making sure the worried is shared: shit, he’s angry angry.

“It’s just a game my friends used to play,” she answered.

Yoongi realized then that he hadn’t heard her talk much in the past weeks. She seemed content sitting and hanging around in silence most of the time, letting the trio take the lead, paying attention to Jin’s questions, and offering short answers.

And what happened the first time she’d decided to take some initiative? He was left with a burnt patch of grass in his backyard, dangerously close to the boat and the shed. It was bitch to put out even between the five of them, because only dirt kills diesel fire.

And to top it all off he was just getting home after commuting back from Seoul.

So they dealt with that. Then he went up for a much-needed shower, only to come back down and find them warming up dinner, plating it and all, stinking like smoke and dirt.

“And what game was that, forest fire?”

The four answered in unison. “Hot potato.” 

Taehyung went on to explain how it goes. You tie a knot in the middle of a knee sock, soak it in diesel, set it on fire and throw it around. First one to drop it's the loser. Jimin kicked him under the table before he further elaborated on the rules of such a riveting recreational activity.

But Yoongi got stuck on a detail. “So you have friends, and you remember Hot Potato. I guess your short-term amnesia just– poofed away”

That one landed, and it landed well. She turned away from him before he was done talking —a gesture so rude he would’ve first stuck his hand down the toilet before attempting it at his parent’s house– and went on to grab her chopsticks again.

Jimin was fascinated, Taehyung? Horrified. Jungkook was just a ball of mortification staring at her. 

Not a second went by, she didn’t even get to put them properly between her fingers before Yoongi hooked a finger on the bowl and pulled it away from her reach. The steaming, spicy broth sloshed around, nearly touching his skin.

“I guess you can now tell us what’s your story, then.”

She could. Jungkook wouldn’t do it but he could attest to this. He’d caught a faraway look in her eyes sometimes, looking at them during dinner, playing Mario 64 when they got to Whomp's fortress and stood close to the piranha plant, setting off a soft lullaby, or sometimes looking out of the window at night. People don’t visibly remember things, and miss and regret without having a story to tell.

“I can’t,” she said, looking sideways at the bowl, specifically at the one piece of bok choy she meant to pick first. Revenge was brewing under the calm in her eyes. “It’s classified information, and you don’t have the clearance”

“That so?” 

“It is so.” she met his eye, hands folded on her lap, mockingly polite.

Yoongi squinted at the girl, the same one that Jin, god bless him, had worried would face some sort of neurological damage after the shit she went through. They’d been running all kinds of tests on her at the hospital, for her head, her ears and her heart, but as it is, Yoongi just needed to talk to her and leave no room for further bullshit to successfully diagnose her as a little shit.

“Well, no worries. I’m overthrowing the classification system. You’re free to tell us all about it.” he assured, tone light, walking around the kitchen table and getting himself a glass of water. 

The boys tried to do damage control behind his back, He could see them all in the reflection of the dirty window by the sink. Jungkook vehemently shook his head at her, Taehyung made an x with both arms, Jimin tried to hold back his laughter.

“Under what jurisdiction?”

Tearing his eyes away from the sun disappearing down the lake, Yoongi made his way over and flattened both hands on the surface of the table. “Under it’s my house you’re living in and my food you’re eating jurisdiction, how about that?”

“Hyung–” Jimin tried to say, but she beat him to it.

“I’m sorry we almost burnt the backyard,” she stated, very businesslike, wearing Taehyun’s old, frayed snoopy sweatshirt that crickets visibly feasted upon.

“And the house.” 

“And the house,” she repeated. Jungkook nodded to himself, satisfied. His eyes had been bouncing between the girl and his usually laid-back hyung. Worried that things would escalate. “Can I have my bowl?” 

“No. Were you raised by wolves, huh? You’re supposed to wait for the eldest to start eating.”

“Hyung, aren’t you being too harsh?” Taehyung winced, also trying to play Pyromaniac’s Advocate. “Hyung said she might have brain damage.”

She did not take well to that, but she kept her mouth shut. Yoongi held back a chuckle.

“I’ll deal with you three later,” 

Yoongi knew letting a girl stay would mess up the dynamic.

He’d expected it to be the result of either hormones, Jungkook being socially stunted when it comes to members of the female population, jealousy, or bathroom arrangements. He failed to consider that they'd find a nameless girl with a smart mouth and act like she’s a pup they really want to keep; can we, hyung? We’ll take her on walks, and let her suck diesel out of the boat’s tank.

He turned back to her, sighing. This wouldn’t do. 

“Listen, I don’t give a shit who you are or what happened with you, but you’re going to have to figure out what you want to do.” 

How old was she, again? Not much older than Jungkook probably, maybe even younger? 

“What do I want to do?” 

“Uh-huh. I’m not gonna have you slugging around, coming up with shitty games, and hot potatoing my property. Think of something, and we’ll figure it out.” he paused, noticing the glint in her eye. “Just don’t get too greedy, this is a working-class household. We’ll find something for you, it’ll do you well.”

High School Yoongi would’ve clutched his hammer and sickle if he could hear him talk about how work dignifies. But that was before he moved out of his parent's house, and somehow ended up living with a bunch of kids.

The girl blinked up at him, and it might’ve been the first time he’d seen her smile.

“I’d like to eat my bowl of malatang. Please.”

#bts fanfiction #bts x reader #bts imagines #bts fic #jungkook fanfiction #namjoon fanfiction #bts mafia au #yoongi fanfiction #jin fanfiction #hoseok fanfiction #taehyung fanfiction #jimin fanfiction #bts fluff #bts angst #bts scenarios

[rancidtae]

SEVEN - JUNGKOOK

#THEE HAN SOHEE #jungkook you're insane for this

[rancidtae]

ARCADIA’S LULLABY | CHAPTER 3

Genre: Mafia AU. Vigilante AU. Sci-fi (AI). Warnings: Graphic violence, Strong language Pairing: exo & Original Female Character (Jung Jiah/Kang Rina) - Kim Minseok/Original Female Character - Zhang Yixing/Original Female Character Word count: 7k+ chapter summary: the rain pours relentlessly, but a different storm is just starting. Jiah meets Jongin at a birthday party, it's all harmless fun and magnetic sparks until it isn't, and he calls her the wrong name.

masterlist meet the characters

You wanna disappear in a crowd Just a stranger in a room Wanna change your colors just for the night With no word of it following you home

081222 - 5:43 pm

Things are quiet.

The story is still at the center of the news and online discussions. People have dissected every detail of Lee Chungjae's life to the point that he took down all his posts. In every sense of the word, he's the country's most hated man.

And candidate Lee's reassuring smile when reporters bring up the subject has started to crack.

But nothing else happens.

She's on edge. Let the storm hit already, for fuck's sake. 

Yixing finds her restlessness hilarious and texts her a screenshot of the weather app this morning. 90% chance of rain for the next three days.

It looks like Kuraokami answered your prayers.

In the midst of it all, he's been refusing to blend to the background of her mind, exploiting the fact that she's weak when it comes to a good meal. Most days he shows up to her door with takeout, and just yesterday he came with ingredients and made her eat her words about carbonara being the most overrated approach to noodle based recipes.

He’d laugh at her if he could see her now, standing outside the chronicle's building, struggling to get her buzzing phone from the inside of her bag.

A part of her hopes it's the blocked number from before.

But there's a name on the screen, and it puts a frown on her face.

“What do you want.” 

A chuckle spills through the line. “Resentment is a terrible thing, you know? It does the heart no good.”

“How would you know? You don't have one."

“I heard you paid someone a visit last night. I wanted to hear it from you.”

She scoffs up at the sky through her see-through umbrella.

"You want me to say I’m... what? Shaking in my boots? So you can rub one out to the sound of it?”

“Language, sunshine. Let’s keep things civil.”

“I tried to be civil, didn’t I? I even gave you a heads-up for old times’ sake, but then you decided to make things personal. So now I’m thinking that next time, I'll just let it blow in your face, make it surprise.” 

“Ah, there we go again with that. Why do you insist on calling it personal?”

“Why don’t you suck my dick, Namjoon?”

She hates that she can hear his poisonous smile, over so confident and collected.

“You walked into that room yourself. How is it fair to blame me for the consequences of your actions?”

He enjoyed it, he’s enjoying it even now, she knows. He denied any involvement in her encounter with a certain pair of recently debuted syndicate members, but hist hands were all over that stunt.

A blow like that, the same night she showed up to let him know she had info on his candidate’s son, and he expects her to believe destiny is just funny like that.

No fucking way.

Things may or may not have escalated to shattered wine glass and a deep burgundy stain on Jin's favorite artwork hanging on the wall.

“Can you get to the point? Some of us can’t afford to spend the day scheming, I have things to do.” she says, impatience seeping into her tone.

It's starting to rain, so her hair will start looking crazy in about three minutes.

“I was hoping you were bluffing.”

She laughs in a way that makes an older woman give her a nasty look.

“My hopes weren’t for us.”

Ah.

There it is. As grim as it is, it’s like a weight taken off her chest.

Her surroundings come back into focus. The narrow street. The stream of people walking past her, trying to get out of the rain as soon as possible. A girl brushing her shoulder, recording herself speaking in a foreign language. A taxi driver fighting with a delivery guy. A German shepherd with a yellow raincoat and little rubber boots, its nose against the side of a phone booth. 

“I see.” 

“Just now?” he has the gall to sigh, disappointed. “I thought you knew when you went to Yoongi looking for a 22. I guess you're not that good at seeing things beforehand anymore, not even when you start them.”

If she had to describe it, she’d say it’s a lot like a game of hide and seek with the kids from her street. Terrifying and exciting at the same time.

“Come to the hotel,” he suddenly says, much to her surprise “Stay here until things settle down.”

And if she had to sum Kim Namjoon up, this would be it. No one but him could give an invitation and a threat at the same time with such ease. Come, or else.

“No. I think I'll stay outside, see what comes out of it.”

Another deep sigh.

“I see. Have it your way, then. You have your fun, make sure to enjoy it.”

She hits the red button and finds that the cute dog with the rubber boots nowhere to be seen, as if it vanished off the street with its human. 

At least 13 different people stop her before reaching Kim Kibum's office. Even though her name wasn't credited, her co-workers know what it means when she disappears for weeks, and the kind of stories she chases. The vultures in her department rolling their eyes at the sight of her kind of give it away.

“I thought I told you to work from home until further notice,” he says as she locks the door behind her.

“What? I deliver the story of probably the year, and you don’t want to see my face anymore?”

"Don’t. I’ve had a long day” he huffs, pulling the blinds down. His office looks less cluttered than she remembers. Has it been that long since she clocked in? “You know there’s a reason why I asked you to lay low for a while.”

She drops her body on one of the chairs in front of his desk and grabs a heavy, fancy pen.

“Did you see? Lee Chungjae is living his best life in France pretending to care about free education. He’s out there taking pics with Rihanna.”

Her boss leans over, snatches the pen from her hands, and points it at her like a sword.

“And? What do you expect? That they lock him up as soon as the story comes out? We do our thing, the rest is up to the world. We’re a newspaper, not the league of justice.”

Earlier today she told Haneul something similar, just to calm him down. Now she knows how he felt.

“It’s been a week already.”

“No, it’s barely been a week” he corrects her, moving a storage box under his desk and stretching his waist like he just can’t wait for retirement. “You know how this is, Jiah.”

Yeah, she knows. Shitty. Working your ass off, dealing with red tape and censorship, putting everything on a plate only for the world to move on, people not give a shit, and those who are supposed to do something turn a blind eye and fill their pockets.

“Why is your stuff inside a box?" Even the fake Basquiat is missing, so she knows it's serious. "Are you quitting?”

“I’m moving to a new office,” he says, pausing before adding "Jongsuk quit today.”

The news hits her like an ice bucket.

“He turned in his resignation letter earlier."

"Fuck." she breathes. "Oh. Fuck."

"Talk about freedom of the press, huh?” he laughs bitterly, tapping his temple, shaking his head, his eyes turning red.

In terms of bad news, this is the kind that makes you very aware of the last meal you had.

The Chronicle’s had the same chief editor for nearly twelve years. It’s one of the country’s most respected newspapers, and Jung Jongsuk was a big part of the reason why. The idea of someone with enough power moving the right strings to get the man, the myth, the fucking legend fired just as means of revenge sets a chill down her spine.

It’s a petty but very clear act of revenge. A shame, considering he was damn good at his job and how much he cared about his staff.

She sucks on her teeth “What’s he gonna do?”

“No idea. He showed up earlier today and left as soon as he gave a speech. They want me to step in immediately. Can you believe it?”

She's out of words. Half wanting to congratulate him despite the sad circumstances of his promotion, half wondering what that means for her. He suddenly squints.

“You look terrible. Finals?”

“Done, I’m a free woman”

She's can't stop thinking about Chief Editor Jongsuk, how he was always like the cool stepdad that didn’t have to be too nice or too mean to get your respect, how he gave her a chance when she was just a freshman.

“Shouldn’t you be getting some sleep or, I don’t know... drinking your face off with your friends?”

Her hand slips inside her backpack. “Well, if you'd answered my calls, I would be doing one of those.”

She puts a small, puny handgun on the desk, and slides it in his direction.

“Are you—” he locks the door before lowering his voice to a hiss “Have you lost your mind? How did you get through security?”

“You said we need to be careful and this is what being careful looks like, take it.” she says, sliding it closer to him. It barely brushes the side of his keyboard.

“Are you crazy? Do not— ” he opens a drawer and pushes it inside like it burns to the touch, slamming it shut and leaning his body away, pressing one hand to his forehead. “Jiah, this is illegal”

“I’m the best investigative journalist you have, flirting with the illegal here and there is one of the many reasons why.” 

“This isn’t flirting with the illegal, for god's sake, this is raw dogging it, Jiah. This is an office. We’re a–”

“Im Haneul is about to get into witness protection, that’s why I’m giving you something to protect yourself with. Thank you, Jiah. You’re welcome, boss.”

He bites his lip, looking at the drawer with resentment before setting his eyes on her, dead serious.

“Is there something you’re not telling me? Did something happen?”

“It’s always better to be prepared. You know what they say about peace and quiet.”

“I don’t,” he deadpans “Is that some kind of gang lingo?”

She frowns. “Just what has Minho been telling you? I should pay him a little visit—”

“You’re not going anywhere near my staff.”

“Your staff? I’m your staff. He’s a sports reporter, you can walk into a bar anywhere in Itaewon and find a dozen replacements.”

He pinches the bridge of his nose, not denying it. “Did. Something. Happen.”

“I heard something. From a good source.”

“A good source.”

“Yeah, sometimes those are what we call confidential. So—” he fixes her with a look that makes her fear that his eyeballs will pop out of their sockets. “Fine, it was Kim Namjoon.”

He blinks at her. Throws his hands in the air and plops down on his seat.

“That's hilarious. If this doesn’t work for you, you can always pursue comedy. Now get the hell out of my office, I have to move my stuff to the other side of the floor.”

She stands up stretching her arms, giving him a once over and opening her mouth. He lifts a hand.

“I don't want to hear it. Go take a bath, get drunk, do drugs, get laid. You’re an undergrad student, not Chelsea Manning. Live a little.”

“Actually, I prefer Lisbeth Salander."

"Get out."

081222 - 06:55 pm

Something about the bleach fumes welcoming the moment she enters Lady’s Room is just– homely, and Wendy's threatening glare makes up for the stern mother figure she didn’t have growing up. 

“Don’t even think about it, boots off.”

She toes off her muddy boots, struggling not to spill anything on the heavy takeout bags, making her way to the back.

“How come he gets to keep them on?”

Taemin looks insane with a black cape covering his body and his hair all foiled up, Seulgi's hovering over him with the cutest concentrated frown. He wiggles is feet at her.

“Clean shoes privilege. Plus, I'm way cuter than you.”

She snaps a picture of him for future use while he's distracted explaining how he read somewhere that hair takes bleach better when you're stress-free, and that the end of his last semester is just the perfect moment.

“And of course you believed that, because it makes total sense”

“No, it’s true,” Seulgi says. “It’s also better when you’re in a good mood. That’s why I don’t like to take people fresh out of a bad breakup, the chemicals get all messed up.”

“Oh, he doesn’t need to worry about that,” she says off-handedly.

Taemin doesn’t like her tone. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Wendy answers before she can, flipping through receipts on the reception area. “It means that you need a relationship to go through a breakup. That’s usually how it works”

“I'll have you know that I have secondhand PTSD from you guys. I’m like one ride home with an angry couple away from giving up on monogamy.” 

“So, blue?”

“Silver.” He shows her a picture of a male idol with gray hair, wet styled. He's worried that if he goes too light it'll wash out his complexion.

She inspects his face in the floor to ceiling mirror “Nonsense, you’d look good in anything, buttercup.”

He smiles, always a slut for some validation. "You're coming to Sana’s party, right?”

She groans, plopping down on the chair next to him.

“Jiah, come on, it’s the last party of the semester. The last party before I graduate.”

She’s not swayed by his abuse of the last something before I graduate card. “I’m out of social battery, I'll kill the vibe.”

“We’ll pregame at my place and you’ll be good to go.”

“I can’t be bothered to go home and get changed.”

“Oh! You left the strappy shirt, you know? the one you didn’t know you were wearing backwards, and that leather skirt at my place, I threw them in the washing machine just for an occasion like this.”

“I’m seriously not feeling the vibe today.”

“Who cares, you attract people when you’re sulking.” he shrugs “Plus that’s the skirt you were wearing when you pulled that Romanian guy. We get free bottles every time you have your leg meat out.”

Seulgi slaps the side of his neck with her glove-covered hand. “Don’t pimp her out.”

“And this is why I suggested a ladies-only policy.”

“Interesting that you assume you fall in that category, but go on.” Taemin says, Jiah gasps in fabricated indignation. “And isn’t that reverse sexism?”

“It’s not like men are rushing to get in.”

Irene emerges from the office, walking past them with her all work and no fucking around face on, all her focus taken by her tablet.

“Oh, actually, we had a guy customer a few days ago and he was very happy with our services,” Seulgi says. Taemin and Jiah let out synchronized snorts.

Irene looks at them, going through the pile of papers Wendy handed her. “Grow up, you two."

Seulgi catches on, making a noise of disgust.

“So what did he want? A massage?”

Irene flips a page, scanning its contents. The warning is sharper this time. “Taemin.”

“He wanted a full-on transformation, so we went with silver,” Seulgi says, ignoring the quip, poking at his bleach covered hair with the pointy edge of her brush “It looked pretty good on him. It suited his personality.”

Taemin coos "Is that a crush I smell?"

Seulgi shrugs. "I'm just saying he fit the look, he was easy to talk to. Funny too. Asked a lot of questions about the salon, said a childhood friend of his co-owns one.”

"Huh, sounds boring to me." Taemin shrugs, not impressed. Seulgi and Jiah share a knowing look. He's platonically possessive to a fault, and being the only guy in their group only makes it worse.

Jiah smirks, spinning on the chair. "Sounds like your replacement to me."

He sticks his tongue at her “I was going to introduce you to someone tonight, traitor.”

Irene and Wendy sigh in relief, finally finding whatever it was they were looking for, high five-ing.

“I’m heartbroken.” She yawns. “I wasn’t planning on going anyway”

“You should go.“ Irene says, coming to stand behind her chair, playing with her hair. "You sure need it."

“What is it with people treating me like I’m some boring bitch lately?”

“Have you considered that you’ve been a boring bitch lately? We barely see you, you were supposed to help us look for a new place” Wendy complains, plopping on the other chair next to Taemin’s, spinning. "And you missed the anniversary party"

Nothing for her to do but take the shots. Seulgi steps in for her, an angel.

"Cut her some slack, she brought food. You know that’s sorry in her language."

"Alright, yeah.” Wendy agrees way too easily "And for the record, there's nothing wrong with being boring, Yeri can always use a boring figure in her life"

“I’m not going to a party to be on Yeri Sitting Duty.”

Taemin squints at her, walking to the washing station under Seulgi's orders, cape swooshing dramatically behind him. “But you’re coming, right?”

To be fair, she does feel bad about ghosting them for weeks.

“I swear to god, you better not ditch me for one of your Instagram famous friends."

He doesn't get a chance to reply, his calls for help fill the salon and Seulgi giggles like a sweet summer child discovering the joys of waterboarding. Irene's pleased to the point of pulling her phone out to record the scene, chortling.

081222 - 11:25 pm

One would assume that the only child of the owner of a massive Japanese architecture firm, who also happens to own several clubs in the city, can afford to throw a party with decent alcohol.

Her annoyance should be directed at Taemin for talking her into coming and proceeding to do exactly what she asked him not to.

He’s nowhere to be seen, and Party Yeri is at her peak, hands thrown in the air, dancing between a bunch of freshman girls with their phones out, the red light beams bouncing off her glittery top. 

“Not a dancer, or just not in the mood?” a voice interrupts.

She felt his presence before he approached her table. Some people are just hard to ignore, and with his simple silky shirt with a few buttons undone, pushed-back hair, and a flirty strand hanging on his forehead, he has a crowd of curious women and men alike following him with hungry eyes everywhere he goes.

“The second one.”

He smiles just like someone who's used to seeing others react to his looks.

Her first impression of him was jealousy for having better lips than her. She was too busy listening to Mina talk about her internship in Spain to pay too much attention to Taemin introducing the guy. Sitting at levels of handsomeness that don't require a personality, the man bored her without uttering a word.

But he's not hard to look at.

“So, how come we haven’t met before?”

“I don’t know, you tell me. Taemin says your presence is an exclusive experience." she sips her drink, he thinks it's funny. "Jiah, right?”

“And you’re Jongin, one of the dancing friends.” 

A guy approaches Yeri’s group, disgustingly scanning each girl like he’s trying to figure out who has the lowest standards. 

“Not a big fan of us?”

She considers her answer, watching the girls shrug him off before he can get too comfortable.

“I've learned to coexist with you people. It comes with the Taemin package.”

His little laugh is surprisingly childish for his masculine looks. The way he keeps looking at her face like he can't spare any bit of attention to their surroundings makes her feel like a bug under a microscope lens.

“Here's my theory, I think he might’ve been keeping you to himself for a bit there. But I’ve heard so many things about you that I kind of feel like I know you already."

Jiah doesn't know what to say to that, but holds his warm gaze and indulges in the view for a bit. Caramel skin, glowy under the strobe lights, painted red like a forbidden object of desire, or a character of a Japanese movie, waiting for his lover at a love hotel.

Handsome indeed. Nice jaw, soft nose, slightly arched eyebrows. 

“Good things, I hope.”

“Interesting things.” He says with a crooked grin. She cocks an eyebrow, but he beats her to it. “So, journalism. What’s that like?”

She gives him the generic answer she keeps for occasions like this; lots of reading, being on the phone, doing more with less. No one is ever satisfied. Neither the readers nor the editors nor yourself.

Ok. So maybe she assumed a lot of things. He's surprisingly great company, really easy to talk to. He owns a dance studio and teaches from time to time. Some of his students have made it to entertainment companies, and he tries not to seem cocky, but it's clear he's extremely proud of them. He’s very nonchalant about covering various styles, though he’s more interested in R&B these days. 

“Your day-to-day sounds like a lot of sitting behind a desk,” he comments. Being someone that works with his body, the idea must haunt him.

“Oh, god, no– I always feel like I’ll throw myself from the window if I spend too much time at the office. I’m on the investigation team, so I’m almost always out on the streets, harassing bureaucrats and stuff.” 

“That sounds... fun.”

“Riveting,” she promises. “It’s not bad, really. You go through the boring stuff and then when you get a good story, you remember why you do it, and… it’s a good feeling.”

“You know, usually when someone mentions journalism I think of people with thinning hair and marriage issues.” 

“Are you calling me old?”

“No. I was trying to say that you just took down a stereotype for me.” he pauses, pouting and looking up like he’s considering something “But you do give off an old soul vibe, sitting on your own, sulking like you’re here against your own will, ready to decimate anyone who dares come near you.”

She blinks at him, he’s holding back a smile, she can tell. Waiting for her reaction.

“Wow, so you’re just gonna call me a hag like that?”

He looks mildly surprised, worried, and amused all at the same time. “That’s not–”

“And if I look that scary, how come you’re here at my table?”

“Because you’re very attractive. It balances out the scary.”

She hums into her glass.

“And I’m very charming, I knew you’d be harmless.”

“Right.” He’s not entirely wrong. She’s always suspicious of extremely charming people, and the alarms are going off in her head.

“This is me hitting on you, off the record.” he continues, undeterred. She snorts. "And I say that because, as I’m sure you know, Taemin is possessive.”

She lifts and shakes a finger like an aunt at church when the pastor hits a mark. “Like a kid who doesn’t share his toys.”

Which reminds her, where’s that silver-haired menace?

“We’ll just have to ease him into it.”

“Uh-huh. This is flattering and all, I guess, but I’m married so–”

“Oh, that’s fine. I don’t get jealous” he shrugs, very serious about it. Which is unexpected, no one has ever reacted to the I'm married line like that. “I’m not gonna try to compete with your career.”

She's speechless, but in a good way, laughing at the audacity and shaking her head.

But then, just for a moment, he disappears.

There’s a quick, almost untraceable absence, even his smile falters.

Then he snaps back.

“Hey, you wanna get out for a bit? Get some fresh air? Looks like your friend’s gonna be busy for a while.”

Yeri was off her radar for a bit there, and now she’s got her arm threaded with the birthday girl herself. They’re moving away from the crowd, talking into each other's ears like they haven’t debriefed in months, probably headed to the bathroom.

Now that he mentions it, fresh air sounds nice. 

“Promise I’m all out of lines,” he adds.

It’s humid out on the street, but less stuffy and noisy. She pulls out a brand new pack of cigarettes and they get fire from a girl hanging around with her friends next to a motorcycle. Her kohl-stained eyes scan Jongin greedily while he leans over, hands cupping the flame.

She suddenly turns to look at her, right when Jongin leans back and thanks her, and winks.

If Jongin notices, he’s unbothered, much more concerned with moving around her to stand on the side of the street, wordlessly making them switch spots. The gentleman move is soon eclipsed by a sudden coughing fit.

It's so bad she feels kind of horrible about finding it amusing. He really just fucked up his smooth streak after one drag.

She offers to grab him a drink, but he shakes his head, grabbing her arm before she walks away. He swallows hard one, two, or three times, wiping the corners of his eyes.

"You good?"

"No." he rasps. “These are the kind that my grandfather used to smoke.”

“You could’ve said no.” she counters, patting his back. They’re strong, she didn’t warn him because she showed him the package.

“I was a victim of peer pressure.” he jokes after clearing his throat. “I was doing well, wasn’t I?”

“It’s ok. Choking on smoke like a high schooler makes you human.” she offers him as consolation. The coughing fit messed up his hair. he looks younger now, less of a threat. Maybe it’s just the fresh air, the relief of getting out of the crowd, and the nicotine easing her up. 

He asks if she smokes often, sounding like he doesn’t want to intrude, but a part of him will judge her if she says yes. Truthfully, she hasn’t in months, but it always hits a spot after a while, and people assume she’s too into it. 

“Work's stressing you out?”

“That’s what work is supposed to do, isn’t it?” 

He winces.

“Not to a level where you have to smoke like a war general.”

She grins at him sideways, the man who introduced her to this particular brand would have a few things to say about that sentence.

“I can deal with the stress, I only smoke when I get frustrated.”

“And does that happen often?”

“I don’t know? I guess. My boss says I’m too much of a control freak. He's a jerk, but sometimes it feels like he knows me better than I know myself.”

“Not great at teamwork, then?” he probes.

“No, I mean-- I’m not, but it’s not that.” she pauses. He’s waiting for her to elaborate. “I just wish I could do more sometimes, and not just document things from the sidelines. Does that make sense?”

“It absolutely does.” he assures. “I think I know what you mean.”

“I tried it, recently” she goes on, and she doesn’t know why she’s opening up to this guy. She’s not trying to turn him into her therapist, and she’s not even sure she wants to take him home at all. There’s too much going on in her mind at the moment, she wouldn’t be fully present anyway. It'd be a waste.

“And how did that go?”

“It was alright at the beginning. I've been helping someone– a friend who was gonna do something he'd regret. Actually, I'm not sure we're actually friends, but he's a great guy in a shitty situation.” she rambles, taking one last drag. “But then things went south in the worst way possible. It didn't even have anything to do with him, just personal baggage and terrible timing. I guess I had it coming.” 

He nods, deep in thought, letting a comfortable silence fall between them, just watching people walk past, going in and out of the club. She presses the butt against the sole of her boots, and tosses it in the trash.

“If it’s any help, I’m sure your friend is grateful. You did well helping him.” he says, and she remembers Yixing saying something similar. “And whatever happened, I’m sure it’s not as bad as you think.”

She shrugs. “It is what it is, right? Onwards and upwards.” 

He grins, pointing a finger at her. "That’s totally something my father would say.”

“So you ran out of lines and now you’re back to calling me old?”

“I only said that because I didn’t want to come off too strong, but if you insist.” He’s back on charming again, hands in the air like she’s just giving him no choice. The switch between kind to charming gives her whiplash.

A waste, really. A month ago she might’ve taken him home, let him make her coffee in the morning.

“I’m not insisting, I just asked you a question.”

He waves her off. “Bet you 5000 won I can kiss you without using my lips.”

It’s stupid. But he looks like the epitome of determination. Kohl girl behind him keeps looking at them over her shoulder, and without the meaningless rumble of the crowd to distract her, his voice turns out to be quite lovely.

So she tilts her chin at him, giving him the green light.

He takes two purposeful steps. She calls his bluff, refusing to back up against the wall. He gets close enough that he has to bend his head down to keep eye contact, and in a surprisingly smooth move, he places a short, harmless peck right on her lips. 

Then he backs up with a single step and pulls out a bill from his pocket.

“A great investment if you ask me.” he says.

She laughs despite herself. Not in the coy, flirted up way, but a full, honest, belly laugh.

The silver-haired menace himself emerges from the shadows with a cowboy hat on his head, thumbs hooked on his jeans. He’s glaring, a scowl on his lipstick-stained lips, focusing on the way Jiah bends over, hand on her tummy and all.

“What are you doing with my best friend? I’m asking both of you, by the way.” he demands.

“Where did you get that?” she asks him, fully recovered, flicking the hat.

Taemin grabs the bill from Jongin’s hand before he can put it away. Jongin raises his eyebrows at him, anticipating complaints for his actions, daring him even.

“Not that I don’t respect the hustle, but I think you’re underselling yourself, sweetie." he says, turning to Jongin like a parental figure setting limits. "A peck from our Jiah is easily worth 10000 won. Pay up.”

“Deal,” Jongin shrugs, reaching for his back pocket again, pulling out several bills, winking at her. "How many can I get for--"

“Alright, we get it, she gets it,” Taemin interrupts, putting an arm around his shoulders, and rubbing his chest distractedly. “I thought you were on Yeri Sitting Duty tonight.”

Jiah licks her thumb and wipes the lipstick marks on his jaw, much to Jongin's endless amusement

“She’s a big girl. You got some on your teeth, you harlot."

"Finally. I keep telling you girls, you baby her too much" he complains, licking his front teeth. "Someday you'll have to set her free, let her make some mistakes of her own. They build character, you know?"

"How wise of you." Jongin says. "Was that the logic behind this new look?"

"Some mistakes don't." Taemin continues, looking at her with crazy eyes, pointing at Jongin. "Some mistakes make your best friend uncomfortable and are off limits."

Jiah and Jongin look at each other. "You introduced us."

"Yes, and? I never said get chummy and explore each other's bodies, did I?"

“Nice tattoo, by the way.” She tells Jongin. She caught a glimpse when he got closer and thought it looked familiar. Then Taemin unknowingly moved the fabric on his chest out of the way and she got confirmation. “It’s the helm of awe, isn't it?”

Jongin mouth falls open, genuine shock taking over his features. Not many people know about runes or recognize them. Taemin tilts his head to the side, eyeing her curiously, suspiciously.

“How do you know that? I thought it was a snowflake.”

“I knew a girl who had one on the back of her neck. Hers was red though. Looked great when she put her hair up.”

Taemin releases Jongin from his clutches with an unconvinced hmph, taking off his hat and putting it on her head. Jongin quietly fixes his shirt.

"Oh. Oh. I think I saw Minho inside. You wanna piss him off?"

Well, that’s great. That’s just great. Super cool.

Jongin takes a look at her face and blurts out the question. "Who's that?"

"Her ex. She broke his heart, he started rumors that she's with the Yakuza." Jongin blinks in surprise, and Taemin looks like he wants to elaborate further. She stops him.

“What’s that grown man doing here?”

“You know he likes to hang around the youngsters and make people guess his age. So, you in?”

“Leave me out of it.” 

"Hear me out. I was thinking you and Jongin could walk around, right? Let him see you together, put on a little show. You know how his ears get red and his eyes bulge out when he's angry?” he's trying to contain his laugh, looking maniac. “I’ll buy you dinner, both of you. I’m serious.”

That’s her cue for a bathroom break. She puts the cowboy hat on Jongin’s head, not deterred by the way his eyes follow her on her way inside.

A sigh escapes her lips as the cold water runs over her hands. She smiles at a group of girls walking out of the door, their giggles reminding her of the task at hand—finding Yeri and making sure she's not too drunk to make semi-rational decisions.

Maybe she’ll try to talk her into ditching this place. Yixing's uncle's spot is not too far from here.

The possibility of running into her ex kind of makes her want to bolt. Not out of lingering feelings, she just doesn’t have the energy for that interaction. He has a way with sucking the like out of her.

There's only so much she can take of things beyond her control.

The bathroom door clicks. Something shifts in the air. The unsettling feeling of realizing she's not alone. She glances up at the mirror and catches a glimpse of him in the reflection.

Reacting on instinct, her hand snatches the decorative vase from the sink and hurls it at him. The man covers his face, not before grabbing her forearm and slamming her against the sink.

She puts her palms up to avoid hitting the mirror face first. It happens at once, suddenly he's grabbing her bag, and the next second the chain strap is pulling around her neck.

Her body bends back. His knee's pressed against her lower back. Either she’ll pass out or he’ll snap her in half.

She's not about to go down in a public bathroom. She pushes her shaky fingers under the chain, attempting to relieve some of the pressure.

Her vision' blurring, she's running out of oxygen and ideas. Tears well up. The muffled music starts fading.

There's a distant slam, a loud thump.

And thank fuck, release.

She catches her weight on the sink, gasps for air, almost crashes against the mirror again. She turns on wobbly legs and faces two bodies intertwined and struggling on the floor.

Her attacker’s dressed in all black, mask included, buzzcut, well built. The second man has his thighs wrapped around his head, snarling as he keeps him overpowered. A blue-grey silk shirt clings to his broad shoulders, thin black lines mark the skin on his chest.

The helm of awe.

He knocks the guy out with his thighs which... ok, impressive. With heaving breaths, his eyes land on her.

She runs. He grabs her arm before she can get through the door, and bends over when her knee finds his crotch.

Slamming the door behind her, she slaps her hands against the wall for support, still a bit dizzy, heart racing.

"Wait! Rina– please wait–"

Everything shuts down—her legs, the party, the whole city stops. She drops the plans of putting as much distance as possible between them, turns around and stomps in his direction.

Four letters, one word, a slap to the face.

“What did you just call me?” she demands, her face inches away from his. She doesn't recognize her own voice. He's pawing at his neck, pulling a chain for her to see, like that's gonna do something. "Who the fuck are you?"

"I know them. I know Yixing. You’re in danger, I’m here to help you." he sounds pained, trying to calm her down. She has no sympathy for him.

Hanging from the chain, a silver band morphs into two bony hands that hold a mint-colored ball. A ring, worn as a necklace. She recognizes it at once. She won that ring at some fair in Busan. Someone at school started a rumor that she joined the occult. Kyungsoo's mother thought she was a bad influence.

“We have to get you out of here. He has back up, they'll come soon."

Jiah exhales, relaxes her limbs. He mirrors the gesture, letting out a breath of relief.

Then she runs like her life depends on it. And it just might. She bumps into people, pushes them aside, desperately looking for an emergency exit she vaguely remembers from past situations that shouldn't be crossing her mind right now.

They come in handy, successfully leading her to the deserted alley.

But god, whatever version of it is out there, is just not letting her get away so easily. 

The years have granted him an extra couple of inches, not that he ever needed them. Maybe it's just the thick soles of his boots that scrape against the loose gravel. He stops, mirroring her shock for a fleeting second.

She grabs the closest thing available; a rusty, long, and thin metal thing that's heavy enough to give her some confidence. He’s staring at her, no traces left of the awe she saw before.

He's pointing a gun at her face.

"Drop it" he barks "Hands up, turn around and try not to be so damn difficult. In that order."

Frustrated, she snarls at herself, her jaw tightening until it hurts before throwing the stick to the ground. She turns around, facing the mold-infested wall. The last thing she sees is a torn-off poster of an underground rap collective.

His forearm presses to the back of her neck with no mercy. He searches for a weapon she's not carrying.

"That's for being so fucking stupid. Do you realize what you got yourself into?" he snaps, not giving her a chance to answer before he pulls her back by the back of her shirt and pushes her against the wall again.

"Ow– What the fuck, dude?" the rough, disgusting surface of the wall scratches the side of her face. She kicks her feet against the ground. "I wasn’t even– what the fuck was that for?"

"That's for making my mom worry about you, idiot."   

He finally lets her go, and she moves away from him, curses spilling from her mouth.

The exit door opens revealing Jongin—the impostor.

"What are you doing? We need to--"

They guards go up abruptly before her eyes. He raises his gun at her once again, this time with clear intent.

It'd be ugly, she imagines, being shot this up close. Her brains will end up on the floor, his clothes, maybe even his face. The Park Chanyeol she knew was an asshole most of the time, but he didn't have it in him to step on an ant or kill a spider even if his mother ordered him to, let alone shoot someone.

The inevitable fact is that they are strangers. She doesn't know who the time has turned him into, just like she’s no longer someone that he knows.

"Go ahead, big guy," she lifts her chin, rolls her shoulders. He’s looking at her like she's made of cellophane.

Someone takes the ground from under her. The ground is inevitable. Someone grabs her. Her shoulder feels wet, and her hands look for the source. When she looks down it, it’s stained red.

Did he just–

It can’t be. It doesn't hurt. It should hurt.

It all happens too quickly. There's a hissing sound. The impostor grips her tightly and says something.

Was her heartbeat always this loud? And did she really just get shot?

"Eyes open," The impostor orders. There's no escape with the world narrowed down to two walls. They’re closing in.

He keeps talking, telling her that it’s alright. Her heartbeat is drumming inside her head. It’s now supposed to do that, she shouldn’t feel this cold in August. A chill settles in her bones like she’s been running barefoot through deep snow in the woods, wearing nothing but a flimsy hospital gown.

Okay. Maybe she did get shot. And now they’re taking her away. But she can’t go down like this. Irene... the girls will wonder where she is, Yeri’s gonna burn the place down looking for her, Taemin’s too sensitive to deal with something like this, and Chanyeol–

He shot her.

And they keep calling her the wrong name.

"Rina, you have to...” 

thump 

“...be there...” 

thump 

“...right? C’mon...”

thump.

"Rina."

And then they kill the lights.

#exo fanfiction #exo fanfic #exo scenario #kim minseok fanfiction #zhang yixing fanfiction #kim jongin fanfiction #park chanyeol fanfiction #exo mafia au #exo x reader #byun baekhyun fanfiction #oh sehun fanfiction #kim jongdae fanfiction #kim junmyeon fanfiction #do kyungsoo fanfiction

[rancidtae]

i’m so glad you’re back and doing the story again! hoping for rina and minseok 🙏🙏

thank you for sticking around. there’ll definitely be a lot more of those two this time, so stay tuned :)

#anon

[rancidtae]

EXO 'Cream Soda' (2023)

[rancidtae]

#정국 #JungKook Concept Photo - ‘Seven’ Campaign Image

[rancidtae]

SEHUN – cream soda

[rancidtae]

ARCADIA'S LULLABY / the reboot

Genre: Mafia AU. Vigilante AU. Sci-fi (AI).

Warnings: Graphic violence, Strong language, Mature content.

Pairing: exo & Original Female Character (Jung Jiah/Kang Rina)

meet the characters

A/N: aaaaaand we're back! it's been a while. motivated by this exo comeback and a rewatch of the show that originally inspired this, I've decided to bring this blog back to life. This is a rewrite of a story i posted here a few years back. new scenes, flashbacks, plot improvements and easter eggs for part two are being added. (yes that is still in the works because this was always meant to be Part One of a series, including a bts centered prequel )

So, here it is:

If there’s one thing tenacious investigative journalist Jung Jiah knows about this city, is that trust is scarce and truth is a commodity. Forced to face a haunting past and reunited with the men she once considered family, instinct tells her to run and hide.

But when she finds that her childhood friends might be hiding the key to the one story she could never solve, she’s thrust into a web of complex relationships and blurred lines between guilt, trust, and betrayal. The quest for the truth takes center stage, and it reveals a world where neon lights cast long shadows, and nothing is as it seems.

CHAPTER 1: NIGHTCALL (OUT NOW)

CHAPTER 2: AFTERHOURS (OUT NOW)

#exo fanfiction #exo fanfic #exo mafia au #exo x reader #exo series #xiumin fanfiction #suho fanfiction #yixing fanfiction #baekhyun fanfiction #jongdae fanfiction #chanyeol fanfiction #kyungsoo fanfiction #jongin fanfiction #sehun fanfiction