Jungkook regretted his decision to come the moment the store came in sight, his stomach was unsettled from dread and he almost had half a mind to turn around – but he wouldn’t hear the end of it from Taehyung if he did – so with a deep pull of breath to calm his nerves, he took the few necessary steps towards the front entrance, a bell ringing over his head as he entered. He’d never stepped foot in the store before, always getting delivery but the warmth that stung his rosy cheeks was comforting and the sweet aroma of freshly baked pastries left his head dizzy. He looked around the store before his eyes landed on where you stood decorating the display. Yup, he definitely regretted coming. 

Chris was casted to his bedroom, despite being the older sibling and the one that was technically ‘in-charge’ while their parents were away, he promised his sister that he wouldnt interfere to heavily with her party. ‘It’ll be lame if we have to be supervised’ ‘but I’m a cool supervisor,’ ‘just please, stay in your room’ He almost laughed thinking back to his sister basically pushing him into his bedroom, and since then all he’d been able to hear was bustling from downstairs, a rush to perfect everything. He was idly scrolling through his phone when he heard the door open, your voice sounding from the corridor – and since he’s known you since elementary school, when you and Mei had first met, it would be rude to stay in his room and not welcome you, wouldnt it? 

With that in mind, he hoped from his bed, throwing his phone face down on his messy comforter before he was peeking his head out from his room, from the top of the stairs he could see you standing there with Mei, “You’re early, arent you?” He teased. 

Namjoon nodded once before he was taking one of the earbuds and putting it into his ear, once it started, he leaned his elbows on the tops of the table, head resting on his closed fists as he watched your screens. There was so much possibility to work with, the music framed the scene – it had to be perfect and it rested a huge weight on his shoulders. If he chose something unfitting for a certain scene, it would give an unfavourable feel to the entire scene, it would lose what it meant to capture, music played such a huge part in captivating the mood. Once the short scene came to an end, he pulled the earbud from his ear, letting it dangle between his thumb and pointer, just momentarily staring at the screen before he was nodding, “We’ll work by scenes,” He started first, raising his eyes to you, “It’s important for me, as the music producer, to understand what you wish for this film, what you want each scene to portray so I can carve a song to it. What are you expectations for each scene?”

“okay, start working.” our boss looked at us all with a death glare and i straightened my back, looking at the people we are supposed to guard. who were they exactly? why did they need protection? was this some kind of gang or a political party? (2/2) -🥐

He had to physically bite back his laugh, teeth biting down on the tip of his tongue as he watches you facepalm yourself – he could tell how bitter the situation was to you, which just sweetened his end of the deal. You were going to guard him, didn’t that give him free reign over bossing you around to some extent. He leaned back in his chair, the front legs coming off the ground as he balanced on the back ones, a devilishly smug smile on his face as he thought about how absolutely brilliant the situation was; if not for his own life and safety, than also the opportunity to annoy you on a more regular bases. Once your boss gave a short nod towards Johnnys group, he allowed the chair to drop back to four legs, hand raising to beckon you over, “Come over then, don’t act so shy.”

He allows you to manipulate how our bodies intertwined, compliant as you assert yourself on his lap, only a second before to adjust so he could be comfortable in his sitting position before you were resting your weight on the top of his thighs. Without a passing beat, he raises his hands from his sides and wraps them around your midsection loosely, holding his wrist as his hands rested against the centre of your back. “No,” He all but whined, tucking his forehead against the top of your shoulder, “I wont let you go, you’re stuck in my grip for the rest of the night,”