#gdsabbi

Since the initial day you two had actually met, Jiyong knew the inevitable future - it clicked within him what all of the wealth, prosperity and enrichment was actually meant for and who it was meant for. He knew from that very day stood beside you in a cramped elevator conveniently bringing both of you to the same floor, that it was all destined to go to you. Whether you knew it or not.

You were still in a sleep daze that morning as you stood beside that man, not paying half as much attention as you should’ve considering who you were stood beside. Yet, it was a Monday morning and you’d barely managed to scrape together enough attention to your physical appearance let alone the general space around you.

It wasn’t until the man stood beside you uttered something quite quietly did you even truly wake up, fully.

“Do you like Chanel..?” the man had mumbled to you, unintentionally, under his breath - the half pulled down mask just under his nose muffling most of it.

You blinked and cleared your throat, “Pardon?”. The words of your mother echoed around your mind as you acknowledged the slight attitude lurking in your words.

Breathing a little quicker now, awkwardly, he pulled down the mask and bunched it under his chin - a little, nervous smile revealing itself. “Sorry.. I asked if you liked Chanel? I recognise the perfume you’re wearing,” he repeated for your sake.

You saw your own reflection in the rectangle sunglasses he was wearing for some reason, despite you being inside of a building in the middle of winter. It made you a smile a little, as well as him mistaking the cheap perfume dupe you’d bought from a morning market for Chanel.

“This? No! Haha, no.. it’s some cheap dupe for something I bought a long time ago,” you explained with a more attentive tone now, smiling, making yourself seem approachable.

He nodded along as you spoke, gingerly fiddling around with the leather of your bag strap as you explained - unintentionally staring right into his eyes through his sunglasses, forgetting that they weren’t a mirror and that he could in fact see you staring.

“Is there something on my face.?” he quietly said humorously, patting his hands on his shiny face as if there was. It was obvious what he was teasing, obvious to him atleast. You still hadn’t caught onto the fact that you were staring.

A little smile grew into a boastful laugh as the cogs ticked in your head and as the joke became apparent to you, “No! No! No, no.. your face is fine, it’s clear! It’s good, very..” you quickly repeated over and over from the embarrassment sinking its teeth into your body, infecting your nervous system as it did.

You had to look the opposite direction to gather a hold of yourself.

“No there isn’t, I got caught up in looking at myself in your glasses.. forgetting you could actually see me,” you admitted as if it was a terrible crime.

He stood there still looking at you still for a moment before bursting out with a grand chuckle and big teethy smile, forcing his head to turn the opposite direction, just as you had, to allow himself a moment to re-group following the final chuckle.

“I suppose it is a little silly to be wearing these inside,” he began as his chuckle faded into a little puffs of breath, “but it’s just to keep myself a little more incognito,”. He shook his head side to side playfully as he exaggerated the incognito - as if you knew who he was.

You didn’t.

His hands reached up to his face to drag the glasses down his nose and off of his face slowly, praying to himself that you remained as semi-calm as you were initially.

But in reality as you watched him take off his glasses, the cogs in your brain began to turn as you began to recognise his face - pin pointing why you recognised his voice from somewhere?

You burst out laughing, cutting through the silence of the elevator still going up to the high level floor both of you conveniently needed. It was your instinct that told you to laugh, not at him but to settle your nervous system.

“Okay. Okay? Okay.!” you repeated, bringing yourself down from giggling at your max volume.

“What the fuck.. am I doing stood beside Gdragon? In an elevator.. on a working week?” you just blurted out, confusion taking over your mind.

“Surprise?” he awkwardly replied, shrugging his shoulders and turning to look at himself in the mirror of the elevator. “Are you a fan or-?” He began before you cut right through him, “A fan? You watched over me at night, pinned up on my wall in a poster in my childhood room, Jiyong!” you boasted, smiling from the dopamine running through you.

Jiyong stood there looking just as confused as you were, somehow exhibiting awkwardness despite him being the celebrity. He just looked at you, then to the floor, then your bag.. then his bag..

“Well perhaps I could fulfill younger you’s dreams..” he mumbled with a little smirk, knowing just how cheesy he sounded.

“Pardon?”

He straightened up, cleared his throat and shoved his hands deeper into his pockets than they already were - gripping onto the fur lined pockets for dear life. Usually, he didn’t think twice before trying to ask out a woman. Or even complimenting a woman, simply. But this, this situation was different - in a completely peculiar and unknown way.

“Can I.. fulfill younger you’s wishes?” he repeated with a louder manner now, feigned a faux confidence that was rather obviously weak.

It was your turn to stand dumbfounded, turning around to look at yourself in the mirror now - trying to grasp if you were asleep and dreaming or if you were wide awake and in a small elevator being asked out by Kwon Jiyong. Gdragon. The boy you’d practised kissing on the little poster you had of him when he’d released Heartbreaker.

“What do you mean by that?” you mumbled out equally as awkward and flustered as he was exhibiting. As you stood there, you felt your insides crumbling to pieces - your face growing redder and redder as the heavy silence stretched out for the meer three seconds they really were.

“Let me,” he started before darting his eyes down to the floor and then back to yours, “Let me take you out. Meet you properly, somewhere less, random” he slowly asked, sounding unsure on if this moment was actually real or not himself.

For what had felt like years, Jiyong bad grown to become sick of the itty, bitty trainees circling his ankles like fussy puppy dogs; feigning high-pitched voices and beat faces lathered in makeup just in an attempt to impress him.

But he wasn’t interested. What he was interested in however, were women like you. Hasteful, relaxed meanwhile tense because you’re late for something. Seeping with an actual personality which you don’t let out for most. Women who were women. Not girls.

Yet he caught himself spiralling away in his own mind as he took in your presence more and more, apprehensive to what you’d say back. Although it was clear as day what your response would be.

The feeling of his eyes on your face as he stood there anxiously watching your face for a slight hint of disagreement - there wasn’t. The longer and longer your brain processed the question, the more and more your face began to illuminate with a different kind of admiration, excitement and simply.

Love.

———

Much like the first date, the weekly events Jiyong curates are unmatched. He hand picks the venue, paying attention to your feelings and emotions that week - knowing just exactly what you needed on that Saturday to either fill your cup back up or just simply prove to you how much he loves you.

On the weeks of harder days, darker feelings and less spark, he’ll book out an entire restaurant. Clear out entire dining halls just to protect your short temper and to minimise the overwhelm of claustrophobia and volume in typical restaurants.

And frankly, he couldn’t give a shit whether it affected other people’s weekend plans or events.

“Do you want more wine, Aein? Hm?,” he’d question, keeping his eyes fixed to your glass or plate.

“Focus on your meal Jiyong.. please. We are here, you’re not the waiter,” you’d mumble back with a short smirk each side of your mouth.

As much as you wanted him to enjoy himself, the attention and devotion was the way he easily melted, cared, manipulated your brain and heart.

“Ah.. be quiet Soohwa, I’m taking you out. I’m paying for you, giving you everything.. so let me do what I want for you,” he’d take over with that alluring tone that easily shattered any kind of independence.

And as much as he knew his words and voice was enough, he’d always take it a step further and use his hands.

You’d feel the cool of the countless rings adorning his fingers slip and slide over your knees under the table, him giving no care in the world if the real waiters could see his actions as he dragged the tablecloth up with his arms.

A little, shy smile began to grow at the corners of your mouth where your lips met - nose scrunching as he picked up your calf and pulled in to rest on his knees.

“Ji- I’m trying to eat,” you uttered out with a little cough as he began to unbuckle the clasps of your loafers.

“Let me,” he simply replied with ushering you into blind submission.

You rolled your eyes, gulped and tightly grasped onto your flute of champagne as you let him remove your shoe and massage your feet. In the restaurant.

“What? You said your feet were hurting you Heoni..” he mumbled in that fucking babying tone, intentionally sending blurring butterflies straight to your abdomen.

“Yes.. when we were walking Jiyong,” you quickly explained as the server circled the table briefly.

Jiyong noticed the nerve in your eyes as you just about shot daggers into the servers back as he walked back to his station.

“Calm down Jagi.. it’s just us in here. We could do anything we want. Anything” he reassured with that dark look in his eyes.

Your head began to shake unconsciously as you caught onto what he was trying to hint at, trying to grasp onto any remaining public decency and power you had.

Jiyong got up out of his seat abruptly, your head still shaking. Watching him waltz to you, your head turned up to look at him before you lost site of him. He stood behind you with a massiveness he never feigned.

Brushing the hair from your back, he commanded your nervous system - muscles tensing, skin prickling and hair standing up. Your pupils dilated swiftly just from his presence.

“We could do anything, Soohwa.. anything you want,” he whispered into your right ear, “Anything for my princess.. really,” he repeated into your left, gathered your hair into a loose ponytail in his hand.

Your chest began to rise higher and higher as you tried to catch onto your breath, a deep, saturated warmth pooling deep in your stomach as the equally warm breath of Jiyong traveled down the back of your neck. All you could feel were the darting eyes of the three waiters stood like soldiers at each of the three doors. And Jiyong noticed.

“Give us some privacy..” he commanded with a certain kind of passive aggression that only he could exhibit.

As soon as the men were out and the last door was clicked shut, he pounced - pushing tables out of his way to lay you down on the carpeted floors gently, claiming you like a prize.

Ji unbuttoned each of the buttons on his shirt, frantically stripping it off in order to please you wanting to feel his skin and to get his lips right back down onto yours, hands drifting down to settle on your waist.

He pulled your leg to rest on his back, one hand squeezing your tit as he dragged his lips away from yours - licking with his tongue down to your collar bones, burying his nose in the crook of your neck where you’d always apply your perfume.

“You smell so fucking good.. pheromones and Chanel,” he mumbled to himself before began to suck at the delicate skin.

“Ji-“ you tried to mumble out before his index finger rested over your plump and sore lips.

The distant scent of his cologne and shampoo flooded your senses as he slowly pulled himself down your body, lifting up the dress he’d bought to reveal the underwear set he’d also bought - seeing you wearing what he’d picked out fuelling more and more blood to his dick already.

He kept you at the tip of fingers like a puppet as he worked his way down to your panties, dragging his knuckle up and down the wet slit in the fabric.

“You wet girl.. mm? All for me? Yeah? No one else?” he praised into your ear as he snatched the fabric to the side to slither his finger in, stroking up and down, brushing your clit gently and purposefully.

Your head unconsciously started to nod as you tried to mumble a yes, “Mhmm.. Ji- just for you,” you whined out, making it sound like a plea.

Jiyong followed your body language and gave you what you so clearly wanted, as he always did.

He slipped his pointer finger into you, working it around in a circle to test the waters. Making your inner walls clench around him and do their job - prepping you for the girth of his dick.

“Fuck Soohwa.. how are you still so tight?” he breathily chuckled down to you, looking over you with a smug smile.

You desperately laughed with him, eyebrows curled upwards matching him curling upwards.

Your body let go as soon as he slipped the second in and worked them as a pair - smoothly pushing them in enough to poke your cervix, intently watching your face’s reaction.

He curled them upwards, slow and smooth, hitting the fleshy area of your pussy that he’d become so accustomed to.

Your eyes closed as your back arched against him, both of your chests colliding so you could feel the pound of his own heart.

Jiyong licked his lips watching you lose yourself on him, your hand frantically gripping on the belt hooks of his trousers.

Before plunging his lips back down onto yours to give you a little more support, your hands fumbled out from the belt hooks to now grab onto each side of his face.

As he pushed further and further inside of you with his fingers, his tongue followed. Working around yours, the lewdest noises coming from that dining hall.

Finally reached your peak, Jiyong put in all of his effort - his arm bent upwards to get you right there, your mouth became untethered to his as you let out howls of pleasure.

The waiters stood outside like lost lambs, clearing their throats uncomfortably as the muffled sounds of you two slipped under the doors.

But as he slid his fingers out of you slowly, lowering you back down onto the floor, Jiyong fumbled with his button and zipped, pulling his trousers and boxers down swiftly.

‘To surprise you,’ he slid his swelling dick right back where you were still pulsating from your most recent orgasm.

You gasped, eyes blowing wide and face burning hotter, “Ji.. Ji! You- you can’t..” you mumbled out frantically.

He just laid his finger back down onto your lips as he found his own pace and you welcomed him in.

“Fuck me.. Soohwa, so wet, all from me,” he whispered down to you, hand shaking as he moved your hair from your face.

You were still trying to either calm down from the last orgasm or go with the flow of his growing pace… you still hadn’t decided; considering everything was happening in the span of 30 seconds.

You just smiled, bitting your lip to keep yourself quiet.

“The smile on your face.. ugh.. makes it so much better,” he ruggedly praised, head bopping up and down as he watched his dick crown in your tummy.

He reached for your hand and softly placed it on the lump which was the head of his dick pressed fully inside of you, smirking at the sight of it.

“Let everyone hear how good I treat you jagiya..” he murmured before placing his thumb at your lips, looking at you as a sign for you to open your mouth.

“Keep it wide.. open, loud,” he instructed before dragging himself fully out and then pounding straight back in, your hand still there feeling the lump disappear and reappear.

The sounds of you cumming echoed through the entire dining hall, everyone being able to hear you go up an octave as he hit deeper - going far past just your g spot to the a spot..

Just as deep in your conscious, the embarrassment of everyone hearing you so vulnerable and so used would eat you up for days after.

And Jiyong knew.

“But it’s how I make it known to everyone who’s you are … yeah? Plus Heoni, you sound beautiful,” he’d reassure you in the back of the car as you drove back home that night.

Hand drifting down your inner thigh, thumb caressing your thigh as he spoke.

It was his way of showing you he cared.

———

But as good as the sex was, he always made sure the rest of his actions were just as passionate and deep.

Every Friday he’d come home with bags upon bags of new outfits for you, a high quality bouquet of flowers just in time for the last bouquet to wilt and always enough affection to smother someone to death.

“Jiyong.. this must’ve costed you so much,” you guiltily told him each time as you peered into the hard bags he’d placed on the kitchen counter for you to enjoy.

“It’ll never be enough for how much you deserve though,” he’d always reply with, hands wrapping around the back of you and your waist.

Planting little kisses down your neck like seedlings, before resting his forehead on the back of your neck.

The pair of you swayed there for a while, somehow finding the tempo of the distant music you’d had playing as you swayed to that.

“Let it happen beautiful..” he purred into your ear, making it so unfair for you to ever reject all of the gifts he gave.

Meanwhile, it wasn’t always expensive gifts and borderline manipulative tactics to get you to accept how much he cared.

It was the slow moments in the mornings when he’d wake up before you and tidy your bedroom, ensuring you’d wake up to a clean space.

Spraying your favourite air freshener and setting the rooms temperature to a perfect 23 degrees.

It was the hot mug of jasmine tea and a seperate option of either chai or something else he’d found at the back of the cupboard, stirred with all of his love as he prepared each mug for you.

It was the way he’d removed your socks at night when you were too tired to move, massaging your feet thoroughly as he perched on the floor to be eye level with your feet.

Or if it wasn’t your feet, he’d lay in his lap and rub your belly, rub your back if it ached or anywhere you felt was slightly off.

———

It was the devotion he poured into caring for you on nights where you were too drunk to function.

His hand snaked around your back guiding you through the house to your bedroom, whispering soft little ‘carefuls’ as you encountered each of the cats.

You giggled a little as you reached the bedroom, thinking about each of the times he’d laid you underneath him and fucked you inside out.

“Aish.. what’s so funny ah?” he teased, smiling a little at the soft sounds of you.

“Just something..” you mumbled slyly, trying to make him attentive and curious into what it was. Something you often did and often lost.

He set you down on the bed before helping you take off your dress and tights.

“No, just- just lift your arms up Jagi-“ he coaxed before stopping to laugh, turning around to laugh subtly.

You patted at him, giggling yourself as you pulled at his untucked shirt.

“Lift your arms up Soohwa, come on,” he eventually said after calming himself down.

You sighed a little as you raised your arms and let him take over. As he wriggled your dress over your arms leaving you in just your bra and panties, you let out a long yawn.

Jiyong watched as your mouth widened, your eyes scrunched as well as your nose and listened to the little whine that escaped from your voice box as you dropped your arms back down and opened your eyes back up.

He crouched down to your eye level and rested his hands on each of your knees, “You know how endearing you are, ah?” he softly cooed at you, squeezing your right knee.

Your eyes were blurring from the amount of alcohol in your system, struggling to keep your eyes on him. But you weren’t deaf and were able to hear him.

“Ji~” you purred to him, voice slurring even at the simplest word. Softly, your hands grasped onto his face, thumbs feeling the roughened texture of his subtle stubble poking through.

“Where’s your moustache gone..” you mumbled to yourself, eyebrows furrowed up, completely oblivious to the utterly doting look in his eyes as he watched you study his face.

Jiyong watched your curious eyes glisten from the lampshade on the nearby bedside table, butterflies fluttering all around in his stomach as he was brutally informed on how much he loved you.

“Mhm.. I had to shave it, remember?” he stated, clearing his throat as he brought himself back to reality. “I had to shave it for the shoot,” he added. Not that you’d taken it in.

In your head, you were going at 5mph and were still trying to comprehend how his darkened eyeshadow made his eyes look different.

“Oh,” you mumbled, eyebrows raising back up to normal, “never again..” you chuckled in what wasn’t supposed to sound as an insult way.

Jiyong playfully gasped, hitting his hand onto his chest and falling onto his ass. You let out a breathy chuckle, “It was a joke! Ji-“ you quickly tried to reassure, pushing yourself off the edge of the bed and onto the floor with him.

You slowly wriggled into his lap before Jiyong lowered you both onto the floor, with you still plastered on his chest.

“I guess I’ll just never shave again? Ah?” he dramatically continued, “You’ll be married to Gandalf,” he playfully added with that familiar laugh even overly-intoxicated you would never forget.

You didn’t remember taking off your underwear and bra, nor changing into a night shirt … nor even getting into bed tha night the next morning. But your conscious told you Jiyong had something to do with it.

And as usual, as you sat there like a meerkat in your bed studying the room you’d slept in for years now, the smell of a fruit tea drifting into your senses.

A little smile grew on your face as you realised that that also had jiyong’s name all over.

———

As soon as Jiyong heard of the slightest hint from you that you were either thinking of going into the city to shop or even just meeting a friend in a café for a coffee it was as if a switch was clicked inside of him.

“Yeah, I can check on the schedule to see when I can I next see you babe,” you reassured a long-time friend over the phone after an hours long disagreement over which restaurant to go to from a simple brunch.

But jiyong overheard it from the nearby living room, holding his reels off for a moment to keep an ear out.

‘Just incase it’s someone I don’t know’.. or ‘To know it’s somewhere she’d be safe..’ he’d tell himself as his alarm bells began to ring in his head.

“Mhm.. yeah, no I’ll speak to him and let him know I’m going out later on,” you politely assured down the phone, walking aimlessly around the kitchen.

Soon enough, you were off of the phone and free to Jiyong’s rath. Or ‘protective measures’ as he framed it.

Before you even had to search for him, he’d appeared leaning against the hallway door frame with his arms crossed.

“Where are you going?” he simply asked in the same tone of voice he always did when he was prying.

You slowly waltzed over to him, hands fumbling with the bottom of his jumper. You smirked a little as you grew nervous to tell him, knowing what would follow.

“I’m going to go and see Yuna this evening, at the new club that opened.. you know?” you opened the conversation with, leaning at the same angle as him.

The overwhelming scent of his aftershave was beginning to overpower you right off the bat.

“Ah? Yuna? You haven’t seen her in a while.. I haven’t seen her in a while,” he nodded along with, eyes squinting a little as he watched your face grow a little more red.

You nodded with him, both of you nodding at the same pace.

“Yup.. hence why I’m going out with her,” you continued, hand dropping the hemline of his jumper to instead rest on his shirt covered abdomen.

He sighed a little as he nodded along, “maybe I should come with you. You know, to see Yuna..” he tried to play it off as, yet, he really just wanted to stay at your side. Especially in a place he’d never been and in a place most likely full of thirsty men.

“No. Ji,” you simply stated, already knowing what game he was trying to play.

“I’m going to see my longtime friend..” you began to tell him before edging closer to him, pulling him closer by the waistband of his trousers.

“And you’re going to stay here and do whatever it is you do when I’m not here,” you clearly stated, using all of the power in you to not pounce on him.

He knew what he was doing and he knew you knew - the freshly dyed, teal hair. Clean shave, casual slacks and a fucking tight jumper on? He was sly.

Jiyong cleared his throat as his hand found yourself by each of your sides.

He just nodded and poked his tongue around his cheeks, knowing you were keeping an eagle eye on him.

“Sure. Okay. But,” he started until your rolled your eyes as you predicted the ‘okay’.

He stopped.

And with more of an authoritarian tone, he continued. “But, I’m driving you, I’m picking you up. I’m paying for you,” he listed as he began to lean down to your height.

“Deal?” he whispered into your face at eye level, watching your eyelashes flutter and eyes dart between each of his.

“Deal”.

And of course, to prove a point, he stuck to his word.

He held your hand as he walked you to his Bentley, hand choosing it as a show off point.

“You look beautiful Heoni,” he cooed at you as you got yourself comfortable in the passenger seat, standing in the door frame with the door swung all of the way open.

He swooped his head under the hood of the car inside to smother your cheek, neck and entire face with quick kisses all over.

You chuckled and pushed him away, playfully complaining about him ruining your makeup base and so forth.

The entire drive he kept his left hand right on your thigh, squeezing every five seconds to what it seemed like.

You just smiled to yourself and fiddled with the glistening wedding band on his ring finger.

Each time you’d pulled your phone out to text Yuna the details of how far you were or how long you’d take his eyes uncontrollably looked over, the brightness lighting up the darkness of the car.

“Just five minutes dear, tell her mm?” he told you with a calm voice, controlled and polished.

He’d put on one of most ‘fuck off’ trench coats to take you there, you called them his ‘fuck off’ trenches because of the length of them and just how show off they were. And he knew it, that’s why he only wore them on occasions like as such.

He’d wrapped one of his most expensive Chanel scarves around his neck, yet, making a point to ensure his sparkling necklaces hung low enough that you could still see them again the back of his jumper.

And if his clothes weren’t enough that he made a statement just through them alone, his scent profile which trailed behind him was unforgettable and cleverly layered.

Thick, musky after shave with such a powerful fragrance you could smell the alcoholic scent that the most luxury perfumes gave.

“You’re such a dick, Jiyong,” you teased as he opened your passenger door purposefully waiting for the door paparazzi to see him and recognise him.

He reached his hand out for yours as he guided you out of the car with such a gentle ness you could feel just from his aura.

He crouched down before you to straighten the bottom of your dress out before raising back up to straighten the black fur coat he’d pieced with the matching black dress he’d chosen for you.

Swiftly, he reached into his pocket and stepped back, eyes meeting with the countless paparazzi capturing him capturing your beauty on his own phone.

“Smile for us Jiyong!”

“Over here Jiyong!”

“Just here Jiyong!”

Soon were muted by Jiyong drawing out pure smiles from you as he cooed at you, complimented the parts of you he knew you were insecure about, as he praised your perfection.

“Look at you, fashion model,”

“All for me.. for me to see”

“Show them who makes you really smile, ah?”

Soon enough after about 20 photos and 3 different poses, one of you pressed against the car which most significantly peaked his interest; seeing both of his favorite things in one photo.

Cars and you.

What was his.

He pulled out his black card from his wallet and slipped it in your palm, “For you.. ah? Make me happy and spend my money jagiya,”

———

Likes, comments, re blogs MUCH appreciated!!

Let me know if you like the long, headcanon style!!

“Kwon Jiyong.. GDRAGON,” he sighed to himself as he laid in his bedroom. The very bedroom with the crisp, white bedsheets and perfectly arranged awards, countless, unread books on the book case infront of him - constant reminders of ‘all he’d achieved’ as his mother liked to drag into every conversation she had.

Yet, despite the overwhelming pride that his entire family felt for him regarding his exceeding status, achievement and prominence in the entire kpop industry; it all just felt too daunting. Like a label, a brand he’d been drowning under for what felt like too long now. YG. But wasn’t that to be expected?

His entire life, THIS was what he wanted. The overflowing won in his bank account, the flashy lifestyle which granted him immediate access to any club he wanted to get into - just by showing his face and perfected, practised smile. Ever since he was a little boy being smothered by his mother and teased by his older sister for dancing along to the radio a little too passionately, THIS what was what he wanted.

Yet, even now when he had the command of power to draw anyone and everyone’s attention with the click of a button on his phone, by a simple reply to a devoted fan-girls comment, it wasn’t enough.

Past the PR curated exterior of him, the seemingly uncrackable, powerful leader exterior that was the face of BIGBANG, there was a smaller, softer and simpler version of GDRAGON that most forgot existed behind the bold design and propaganda that was built around his interior.

Kwon Jiyong.

The very title of his latest EP which was his most well received attempt to break down the divide between him and his seeming alter ego, GDRAGON, as his label liked to bark down his throat each time he sat in the chairs in the conference rooms - discussing statistics and PR stunts regarding the project, despite how he wanted it to be raw and true. Not something picked and poked at about how much it would make for the label or how high it would score of charts. He wanted it to be a way for him to be known as a person, known for who HE was, not just the personality that he encapsulated himself in as he sung and danced on a big stage.

It was his futile attempt to let people know him more than just an idol. To approach normal people and aspiring trainees with open doors to show how it really felt to be a lead idol and what came with it. Good and bad - with the bulk of it being his attempt of letting all that listened to the EP know that he was human and felt deep, human emotions and felt just like all of them relating to the songs.

But something that faded away from music that shaped him and his true interior, the main thing that kept him going was the yearn for fatherhood. The incessant fear of running out of time, not being able to find the right woman to give a child to and the right woman for him most specifically. A cacophony of anxiety and stress as he watched the years pass by and his own home becoming quieter and quieter with them - scared shitless that his future would be that forever.

He often found himself brushing his cold, sore finger tips, swollen from the lurking guitar blisters, over the soft and gentle cotton of little girls clothes in boutiques and shops as he sneakily slipped away from stage venues and photoshoots; under the pretence he was going home to ‘rest’. Jiyong knew that it was sad, completely tragic and just desperate but he found a minimal comfort which touched him in aching places that alcohol and constant partying weren’t even aligning on the same wavelength with.

And when even that still couldn’t reach down into his barren heart, he’d find himself sat with a mask pulled high over the bridge of his nose, hood tied tightly under his chin and big, black puffer over his small scale, insecurely and uncomfortably sitting on the pathetic benches that were as close to giving up as him in the parks that neighboured houses. Simply watching. Listening. Feeling.

Like a strategic scientist, he’d calculate which tone, which reaction, what kind of empathy would be appropriate to exhibit to each interaction of a child to their guardian. Already predicting the very words ushered by the concerned, warm mother as the little child hurled themselves at her post tremble and tumble onto the tarmac ground. It made him feel insane. Sick. Twisted. Weird. Desperate.

Lonely.

And on the nights where he laid there desperately trying to hold back streams of tears from running down his flushed cheeks as he stared at the same ceiling, alone … again, his loneliness turned to rage.

𝐇𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐥𝐲 𝐃𝐞𝐯𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐝 - 𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐭

𝐁𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝟑𝟎 - 𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐭

𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐟 𝐏𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐜𝐥𝐞𝐬 - 𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐭

𝐒𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐖𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠? - 𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐭