Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The K-pop industry had been loud for a while now. This was a new era for the genre, it had finally earned global recognition and fans. However, along with the popularization of K-pop, came a generation of medicore talent.

Gone were the days when rookies played it safe, worked tirelessly through blood, sweat and tears and bowed too deep. Now it was all about million view debuts, Billboard placements, viral challenges, and fan chants loud enough to shake a venue's roof. Talent didn't really matter anymore. Critics felt that it's possible the glory days of K-pop were over.

Fortunately, two groups emerged and changed everything.

Last year's K-pop Idol Awards was easily the most competitive in a decade, maybe ever. And not for the usual reasons like scandals, red carpet chaos or fan wars.

This time, the competition was legit because the music was that good.

Everyone was streaming daily because these two groups were dropping back to back hits like they were trying to win a war.
Which, to be fair, they kind of were.

Huntrix—one of the groups—had the year on lock. Their single "How It's Done" went stupid viral across every social platform and then "Golden" followed and steamrolled everything in its path.

Certified Platinum in weeks.
Certified anthem status in days.
It topped charts, topped dance practice views, topped conversations. Huntrix was everywhere.

But then came Saja Boys, out of nowhere with a song called "Soda Pop" and suddenly the game changed.

The second boy group ever to break into the Top Ten on US Spotify-right after BTS-and the industry collectively blinked.

"Who the hell are these kids?"

"They just appeared out of thin air and dropped this inescapable banger."

"I try so hard to hate on it but it's just... so catchy."

"Wait... could they be better than Huntrix?!"

The industry loved the rivalry.
And so did the fans. Nobody called it a beef, at least not officially since the two groups don't have any true physical dislike for each other. They could bump into each other at awards and it's all love. They'd even shared a table at a fan meet and greet once so it was nothing personal, but healthy rivalry.

However... the tension was definitely there.

Subtle shades at interviews, fan edits comparing vocals, footwork, eye contact, fancam angles and the way both groups refused to be outdone was simply electric, thrilling and chaotic in all the right ways.

But most importantly, it worked.
Because whether you were Team Huntrix or Team Saja—you were fed.

Which brings us to the Awards.

The 8PM timeslot was already sacred. It was prime viewership and the golden hour. This was the kind of slot that could make or break reputations. The year was set up for a storm as both Huntrix and Saja Boys were performing, and the final fan vote would be dropped immediately after.

Huntrix went first.

They performed "Golden," their hit single that was still fresh in everyone's minds, and it showed. The crowd knew every word. With vocals tight, staging flawless, and enough sparkle to blind the front row, they moved like they'd already secured the win. And honestly, they had every reason to feel that way.

Then came Saja Boys and instead of performing any of their known hit songs, they dropped a new one. A brand new, never heard before track called "Your Idol" and suddenly, the atmosphere shifted.

The stage went dark. Then, with a sudden snap, a single spotlight dropped and from the moment the first beat landed, everyone knew something was about to go down.

The lighting bathed the stage in blood red glow, pulsing like a heartbeat. The boys came out in dark Hanboks and Gats, eyes glowing and skin in a purple-like color, their movements were sharp, the entire look screamed demon lords who came to collect, and it was working hard.

Their choreography was flawless like their bodies had memorized it lifetimes ago, the vocals were clean and controlled but raw in a way that made your chest tighten. At this point, It wasn't a performance anymore but everyone could feel every bit of emotion and hardwork poured straight down the mic.

The final bridge sent everything into pandemonium. Within ten minutes, four different TikTok edits were trending. Twitter imploded, Korean forums exploded, western media jumped in with hot takes like, "Are we witnessing the next K-pop kings?" and "Saja Boys just changed the game overnight."

But even with the utter chaos and global chokehold that performance had... they didn't win.

Huntrix took home the crown and no one could really be mad about it.

They'd dominated all year, their numbers were consistent, their presence was stamped into the industry. Saja Boys had only just debuted, and though their rise was explosive, Huntrix had earned their win through sheer longevity and power.

Still, the conversation didn't belong to Huntrix when the night was over. People were still talking about Saja Boys.

That performance had marked them. It was unforgettable, a rare kind of cultural reset that fans would keep replaying and new fans would discover years later with that same breathless, "Where were you when this dropped?" energy.

"Lives were changed, when this dropped."

"Nothing is topping this," netizens tweeted, and no one really argued.

And then the conversation shifted yet again.

Who was writing these songs?

Because this wasn't just good catchy fast food music. There was something about it that felt layered and intentional, like every lyric had weight behind it. The pen game was strong on both sides.

Huntrix had Zoey. That was already a known fact. She'd been the group's main lyricist since their second comeback, and everyone respected her for it. Her writing had bite. Her lyrics had become the group's backbone, and her name in the credits was a stamp of quality.

But with Saja Boys, no one really knew. The group was still new, fresh off a debut that had practically bent the rules of how fast success was allowed to come. So naturally, people started wondering. If they had ghostwriters, that would change things. It wouldn't make them untalented, but it would strip some of the edge off the authenticity fans were starting to attribute to them.

The questions grew louder.

If Zoey was behind Huntrix's pen, then who was behind Saja Boys'?

Because one thing was becoming increasingly clear, whoever was writing for them wasn't just talented. They were dangerous.

However, Weeks after the awards, things mostly went back to business. Comebacks dropped, music shows rolled on fancams kept fancamming but people were still talking.

The rivalry between Saja Boys and Huntrix had died down a little, but the conversation around them hadn't.
Media outlets did what they always do.

Ride the wave.

And one lucky broadcast snagged the Saja Boys for a feature on one of the biggest industry programs. The interview was actually kind of amazing.

There, the boys revealed the process. They explained how their choreo wasn't just handed to them, it was a something they shared as a group. They taught each other.

Abby being their lead choreographer, refined their steps in cramped practice rooms with mirrors and cracked knees and stupid amounts of energy drinks.

Sure, they worked with external choreographers too but on very few occasions. The group strongly believed in connection and passing movement between themselves like language and it showed.

Then came the songwriting question.
Cue the camera panning to Manager Gwi Ma, who looked like he'd been waiting for someone to ask.

"I only brought an outside songwriter in once," he said. "And that was just to watch Jinu work."

The studio went silent and the interviewer blinked.

"Wait, Jinu... writes the songs?"

The camera cuts to Jinu, sitting crossed armed like he wanted to slide under the couch. With a bashful smile, he shrugged before scratching his head.

"Yeah. I mean... most of them."

And just like that, it trends.

The internet explodes and soon enough, clips of him humming into his phone resurface. Old clips of him in the studio with messy hair and an oversized hoodie, looking like he'd been up all night, also resurfaced. There was one video in particular that sent fans going wild, where Jinu was freestyling rough lyrics to the "Your Idol" with Abby months before it ever dropped. The two were giggling like dorks each time they had a breakthrough with the lyrics.

But then came the truthers, skeptical netizens claiming there's no way an idol that young is writing all those tracks.

But they were quickly shut down.

Decorated songwriters both Korean and international stepped forward and testified of his talent. They say they've worked with him, sat beside him, witnessed him compose hooks like breathing. One American producer said;

"It's like a drug to him. One hit and he's gone. He just disappears into it. And the scary part is, he makes you feel it, too."

At this point, You couldn't deny it anymore. Jinu wasn't just a pretty face, with a beautiful voice and spectacular dance moves. He was a genius. An internally shy genius.

People lost their minds.
And then they started looking deeper.

Most fans don't bother with writer credits. It's just not the kind of thing you notice unless you're really paying attention but now that everyone knew Jinu had the pen, the internet went digging.

And that's when they found out that Rumi's solo single, "Remind Me," the one that took over when it dropped.

The one that had been playing in every single radio channel.

Yeah Jinu wrote it.

He was credited as the lyricists.

At first, the news was just met with shock.
"Wait, Jinu wrote THAT?"

But then came the whispers, because now that people were re-listening, that song didn't sound like a generic pop hit anymore. It sounded like something personal. It's like it wasn't meant for everyone.

Suddenly, the fandom's shipping community clocked in for overtime. They dug up everything.

The fan meet where they were sat so close their knees were basically kissing.

That red carpet moment where Jinu ended up right next to her, despite coming in with a different group.

The moments where the camera caught him staring at her.

Interview clips where he complimented Huntrix-but always circled back to Rumi.

Was it real? No one could say.

But was it enough for fans to start speculating? Absolutely!

However, the media didn't run with it yet. It was still small talk.

Just shippers being shippers.

Besides, Jinu's genius was the real headline because in a generation that prioritized image and ghostwriters, this boy was writing legends. And maybe falling in love somewhere between the verses.

Who knows?

When Rumi got back from tour, she didn't unpack for two days.

Her suitcase was still sat by the door, half zipped with her shoes poking out and glitter still stuck to her shoulder bag. She was supposed to rest—company's orders. Like just take two weeks off, with no press, content, rehearsals. Even if that was something she just wasn't good at doing.

Rumi couldn't ever sit in one place. She was a workaholic but Mira and Zoey begged her to relax for her and their sakes so she might as well just "breathe and come back pretty."

She did the basics. Showered. Ate and actually slept twelve hours straight.
And now two days later, she was curled up in bed, wearing a big ass hoodie, with a bowl of ramen, watching a beauty influencer talk about her on YouTube.

"Look, all I'm saying is. Jinu wrote her solo. It's pretty much confirmed and it does sound like a love confession. It sounds like it's actually from Jinu's POV." She paused for a while to apply her concealer.

"Like if you've actually listened to the lyrics? Girl, the bridge screams personal."

She dabs blush on and pauses.

"-so like, obviously idols can't date.
But if Jinu did write that song for Rumi, like that's basically a love confession, right? What else would it be? I mean, come on."

The girl was blending concealer while dissecting her entire private life. Rumi didn't even know how to feel about that. She just stared at the screen, chewing slowly, hoodie sleeves pulled over her hands. She didn't even notice the bedroom door had opened and someone had come in until her laptop was snapped shut and pulled off her lap.

"Nooooo" she groaned, twisting to grab it back. She was actually enjoying the yap session but it was too late. A hand caught her hip, and then there was a mouth on her neck, warm, familiar and annoyingly bold.

She sucked in a breath just as she was pushed back against the bed.

"Jinu," she groaned with her voice low and petulant like a child being denied candy. He paused at that as his eyes flickered to hers and then smiled like she’d just told him a joke he already knew the punchline to.

"Jinu, stop," she whispered, palms pressed lightly to his chest, though she made no move to push him off. "Someone could see us."

He leaned in, lips grazing hers without touching, just close enough to make her breath catch.

"We’re literally in your room," he murmured. "No one’s gonna see or hear you... unless you plan to be loud enough to break the soundproofing."

“You’re really underestimating Dispatch,” she muttered, just before a soft moan slipped from her lips. His fingers had slipped under the hem of her hoodie, rubbing her through the thin cotton of her panties.

"No shorts?" he asked, voice husky with amusement. "This hoodie was supposed to be enough, huh?"

Her cheeks flushed instantly.

"Dispatch can’t see anything from here—" his voice dropped as he exhaled, fingers wet with her arousal, "—fuck, you’re soaked..."

“Oh my God, shut up,” Rumi muttered, burying her face in her hands as he chuckled softly above her.

“Can I help?” he asked, his voice dipped in faux innocence and real heat, like he already knew the answer.

She didn’t trust her voice enough to respond and just gave him a small,  shaky nod.

That was all he needed.

"Don’t forget to be quiet," he sing-songed with a smirk, pressing kisses up the inside of her thigh slowly. His lips barely brushed her skin, teasing, biting down gently once he reached the softest part.

His breath was warm against her skin, his lips trailing higher and slower until they were just at the edge of her panties. He didn’t pull them down right away, he wasn't in a rush. All he did was press a kiss over the fabric and smirked when her hips twitched in response.

"Already this sensitive?" he murmured, more to himself than to her. Rumi bit her bottom lip so hard she could taste a hint of blood.

Jinu finally hooked his fingers under the waistband and slid the damp fabric down, dragging his mouth along her skin as he did. He kissed the inside of her thigh again, then again. Inch by inch, he was getting closer.

Rumi gripped the sheets beside her, chest rising and falling fast under the hoodie. The room was too quiet, so every little sound she made seemed to echo loudly.

Then he touched her with his hot mouth, open and unrelenting and her back arched before she could stop it.

She gasped. Jinu immediately pulled back.

“Mm-mm,” he hummed, teasing. “Don’t forget what I said.”

Rumi threw an arm over her face. “You’re not helping.”

He grinned and pressed a kiss to the inside of her knee. “That’s not what your body’s saying, though."

She didn’t answer, mostly because her voice had already betrayed her once and she wasn’t about to give him more satisfaction.

But that didn’t stop him because he moved again so devastatingly slow.

Rumi's knuckles turned white as she gripped the blanket, legs trembling slightly as she fought to keep still. Her eyes rolled back when he sucked just right, pressure building in a way that made her thighs clamp around his shoulders before she could stop herself.

A small, choked whine escaped her lips.

Jinu released a low and wicked chuckle against her. “Gonna have to try harder than that.”

She bit down on her sleeve this time, pressing it hard against her mouth, trying to muffle the sounds that kept threatening to slip out. Her body betrayed her over and over—hips rising to meet him, legs twitching when he flattened his tongue, the heat in her stomach rising too fast.

Every time she made the tiniest sound, he seemed to double down, just to see how close he could push her.

By the time her thighs started shaking around his head, tears had gathered in the corners of her eyes. She'd been trying to hold herself back and it was so intense.

"Jinu—" she hissed, broken and breathless.

But he didn’t stop or slow down and she couldn’t keep quiet anymore.

Her fingers threaded into his hair before she even realized it.

At first, it was just to anchor herself. At least something to hold onto while he worked her over like he had all the time in the world. But when his tongue circled just right and his fingers slid inside her like they belonged there, her grip tightened desperately.

"Jinu," she whispered again, breath hitching. At this point, her resolve was growing weak, she won't be able to stay quiet much longer.

He glanced up at her, mouth still moving, eyes dark with amusement. His free hand came up, gently pushing her thighs wider when they tried to squeeze shut again.

With every second that stretched, he was relentless and maddeningly slow about it, building her up, backing off just enough, then diving back in with even more purpose.

She was trying to stay quiet. She really was.
But her breath kept stuttering.
Her moans turned into these shaky little whimpers, trapped in her throat, muffled behind clenched teeth and the sleeve of her hoodie. Her hips moved without her permission, chasing his mouth like it was the only thing grounding her.

And Jinu knew it.
God, he knew.

When she tried to muffle another broken gasp, he murmured something smug against her—something like "You're gonna fail that quiet game, baby,"—and she nearly came right then and there.

The coil inside her was tight, tighter than she could remember feeling in weeks. Her legs trembled, stomach fluttering as she felt herself getting closer, and closer, and—

Her fingers yanked hard at his hair, breath caught in her throat.

“Don’t—don’t stop,” she gasped, eyes glassy, back arching. “Right there—oh—”

That last moan slipped out way too loud.

But Jinu didn’t say anything this time, he just kept going, locked in. So focused like a starving animal, and Rumi shattered.

It hit her like a wave, so hot and heavy, her thighs tightening around his head, hips grinding helplessly into his mouth as she came hard against his tongue, body shaking beneath him.

She didn’t even realize she was moaning his name until she felt his hand smoothing over her thigh, grounding her, coaxing her through it like he loved watching her fall apart.

By the time she stilled, breathing shallow and hair clinging to her face, Jinu finally pulled back. His lips were shiny. He looked way too pleased with himself, a smirk stretched across his face as his eyes roved lazily over her body.

Rumi sucked on the pad of her finger, then curled it in a beckon as she reached for his collar.

“Come here.”

Their lips crashed, hot and hungry. She tugged at him, desperate for more. Jinu used his knee to part her legs and settled between them, his weight heavy and warm on her body. She could already feel his hardness pressing against her, thick and hot through his sweats.

“You’re gonna kill me, Rumi.” he whispered against her lips.

They undressed each other in between kisses, impatient but never sloppy. She climbed into his lap before he could even fully lie back. He grunted as her bare thighs straddled his hips.

“Fuck, Rumi—” he breathed when she gripped him and ran the head of his cock along her folds, teasing, soaking him. Without wasting anymore time, she sank down slowly.

He hissed as his hands shot up to her hips, squeezing like he needed something to hold onto.

It was quiet at first. Just skin meeting skin, deep breathing, barely contained moans and the wet drag of her body taking him in again and again.

Rumi’s rhythm started slow. Grinding in circles, rocking her hips back every time she slid down like she was making him feel every inch. Jinu's head tilted back, mouth open, eyes glazed.

“I missed this,” she whispered.

Jinu nodded, biting his lip. “You’re so fucking tight, how are you still this—?”

She clenched just to shut him up.

“Shit—Rumi.”

She smiled through her heavy breaths, picking up pace, her thighs flexing as she moved. Jinu kept trying to say something, but every time he opened his mouth, she rolled her hips in a way that made his brain short circuit.

His hands slipped from her hips to her ass, gripping hard as if to anchor her. But he didn’t try to take control. He just lay there, gasping, letting her ride.

“You love when I do this, don’t you?” she asked breathlessly, teasing. “You like when I take over?”

Jinu groaned, nails digging into her skin. “You know I do.”

She leaned forward, her chest brushing his as she rode him deeper, increasing the pace. Sweat slicked her back. Her thighs were shaking, but she didn’t slow down.

Jinu's mouth fell open in awe. “You’re a fucking menace,” he whispered, voice hoarse. “You move like—shit—I’ve dreamt about this.”

“Yeah?” she panted, her lips brushing his. “Then why do you look like you’re about to pass out?”

“Because you’re fucking riding me like you’re trying to kill me,” he hissed.

She moaned when his hands slid up to cup her breasts, thumbs brushing over sensitive peaks. “Don't be a baby, Jinu.”

He couldn’t answer not could he barely think.

Her rhythm stuttered for just a second as her body shook with effort, her thighs burning but she kept going.

“This is so much harder than when I practiced,” Rumi admitted suddenly, voice cracking mid bounce.

Jinu blinked, trying to process it through the heat. “What?”

“I practiced for this.” Her cheeks were red, eyes wet, breath a mess. “Before the tour.... I bought a toy—fuck."

Jinu swore under his breath, grip tightening on her hips. “Rumi don’t say shit like that while you’re—”

“I tried to match your size,” she whimpered. “It still didn’t feel like this.”

His jaw clenched. “God, I need to see that. Next time—next time I’ll watch you ride it.”

“No,” she panted, rolling her hips so deep it made him curse again, “next time, you’ll film it.”

Jinu lost whatever control he had. His hips bucked up involuntarily, driving deeper into her. Rumi let out a long moan and arched her back, head tipping up.

Her hands fisted in his chest. “I’m close.”

He nodded, fucking up into her, chasing that end. “Let go. Come on, baby, I’ve got you.”

She was already gone.

Her legs locked around him, a strangled cry ripping from her throat as she came hard, full body trembling, her rhythm stuttering, riding it out.

Jinu barely held on watching her unravel sent him right after.

She collapsed against his chest, breath caught between laughter and disbelief.

"God," she muttered, forehead resting on his collarbone, "I hate your stupid dick."

Jinu was still trying to catch his breath. “Yeah? Then why were you practicing on a stand-in?”

She grumbled. “Shut up and go get me water. I literally just died.”

He kissed the top of her head. “If that’s what death feels like, then you can kill me again tomorrow.”

Chapter Text

Rumi and Jinu.

When did it all start?

No one really knew. And that’s the point.

The two hottest young idols in the industry, faces of campaigns, number ones on every chart, voices in everyone’s Spotify rotation, dreams, daydreams, wet dreams too—were in fact, fucking.

And not just fucking, they were madly in love.

And if the world ever found out, if fans realized that their favorite fantasy wasn’t single anymore, it would implode.

And it won't be the cute implosion where people fake sobbed on TikTok for content. They were being deadass. The outrage was always vicious and could easily result in support drying up overnight and hashtags turning cruel. People will call it "betrayal."

Because in this industry, it is.

No one knew that behind every performance, stage wink, perfectly timed choreography cue, they had this. Something emotional and deeply physical. Something they kept hidden behind hoodies and locked doors and excuses made to managers.

They completed each other in ways no one wanted to see. They complimented each other like puzzle pieces designed in separate factories that still somehow fit.

And yet, the same world that celebrated their voices, their looks, their talent, refused to let them be human or let them feel anything that wasn’t marketable.

There’s a rhythm to their chaos that only they understand.

The first time they kissed, it was stupid. It was a dare. His hands cupping her face. Rumi had been the one to lean in all the way. It was fast and breathless and done behind a curtain where their members couldn’t see.

Since then, they’d barely stopped.

He fingered her during a podcast interview once.

Their groups were doing a joint Q&A, and Jinu had been sitting right next to her, his hand buried under a loose blanket across their laps, talking normally like he wasn’t two knuckles deep. She’d kept her voice calm the entire time, and somehow maintained a neutral expression when needed.

She blew him backstage at KCON. Her lipstick hadn’t even smudged and she walked out onstage like nothing happened.

They’ve had sex in the rehearsal dressing room, in his van during an afterparty, once on the floor of a storage closet where he swore he’d be quiet and lasted five minutes before the sound of her moaning his name slipped out and scared the living hell out of a stylist passing by.

They haven’t been caught. Not properly. All that was there was a few harmless photos that could be easily interpreted as them just being colleagues and nothing else. Nothing that could kill a career. So far, at least.

Their managers don’t know. Their companies don’t know either. Only the group members, and that’s because secrets this loud eventually spill inside the walls first.

Rumi sometimes wondered what would happen if they just said it. If she went live one day and said, Yeah. I love him. We love each other. You were never in the fantasy.

She knew what would happen.

She’d lose fans. She’d lose support.
All because people couldn’t imagine her loving someone who wasn’t them.

Rumi snapped out of her thoughts the moment the cap of a pen hit her forehead.

“Ow—!” she blinked out of it, hand flying to her head. Her eyes found Mira who looked like the obvious culprit. “What the hell was that for?”

“You were spacing out,” Mira answered, chewing on a chocolate-covered almond. “It was starting to get scary cuz I swear you hadn't blinked for like three minutes.”

Across the studio, Zoey groaned as she sat hunched over her notebook like she was preparing for war. Her brows were furrowed so tight it looked like she was physically in pain.

“Has she moved in the last fifteen minutes?” Rumi asked, blinking at her.

“Nope,” Mira answered. “She’s been staring at the same bar of lyrics for the past twenty minutes.”

“I’m trying to find the right bridge,” Zoey muttered without looking up. “The beat changes and I can’t—” she groaned again and dropped her pen. “I need help.”

“Maybe stop trying to write a masterpiece in one go and take a break,” Rumi suggested, rubbing her temple. Her words prompted her fellow members to send her incredulous looks. Rumi suggesting a break was just so bizarre but then again, people were prone to change at some point.

“I mean yeah, we could also run through the melody again and see what sticks?” Mira offered, already reaching for her phone. “We can record scratch vocals while you whine in the background.”

“I’m down,” Rumi shrugged. “Zo, come back to life. You can take a breather.”

Zoey muttered something about capitalism and dragged herself upright.

Fifteen minutes passed and they'd actually made some progress but then came to stop when their brains got fried. 

The studio was warm and quiet, a far cry from their usual fast paced grind. The vacation had technically begun, but the three of them had decided to steal this time to focus on their next concept—a soft, soulful album that told a story. Rumi wanted the bulk of it done before the season began again but yeah obviously they needed this break and we're gonna use it wisely.

“God, I miss the couch,” Mira whined dramatically, flopping onto the beanbag like she was melting into it. “I should be horizontal, eating seaweed snacks and watching trash boring TV shows by now.”

“I do miss the couch too,” Zoey sighed, stretching dramatically before flopping onto her back like a starfish. “Ugh. My spine is crying. We should go to the bathhouse later. Like, real healing girl shit.”

“No,” Rumi said flatly, not even looking up from her notes.

“Yes,” both girls said in unison, already grinning.

“Come on,” Zoey pressed, propping herself up on her elbows. “We’ll soak, scream, talk shit, and gossip.”

“I have nothing to scream about,” Rumi replied dryly.

The room fell quiet for a moment. Then Rumi looked up and instantly regretted uttering those words because Mira and Zoey were now staring at her with identical shit eating grins.

“Oh?” Mira said, quirking a brow. “So not the reason for those hickies on your neck?”

Rumi froze.

Zoey smirked. “Yeah… you didn’t do a very good job covering those up, just saying.”

“I—” Rumi glanced at the mirror behind the studio booth. Shit. She thought the concealer held. Her fingers darted to her neck.

Mira raised a brow. “Rumi. Babe. We know what you and Jinu are all about. Remember—you told us yourselves.”

“Oh my God,” Rumi groaned, tugging the hoodie tighter around her neck like it could hide her.

“It’s chill,” Zoey shrugged, waving it off. “We’re literally in the same boat.”

Given their status as Idols, dating was off the table, but that didn’t change the fact they were still humans—young humans with hormones, no less. They needed that emotional and physical connection. It wasn’t just Rumi and Jinu, far from it. Somewhere around 70% of idols had lost their virginities ages ago and were active behind closed doors. But of course, all that happened on the down low, so as not to set the fandom or the media into a frenzy.

As for the girls? They’d gotten involved with the Saja Boys not long after last year’s breakout run. Mira with Abby, Zoey with Mystery, to be exact. And since then, the sexual tension had been at peak levels, and release was quite frequent.

“Please don’t say doing,” Zoey groaned.

Mira grinned. “You’re literally doing—”

“Okay that's enough,” Rumi cut in with a grunt, her cheeks turning red. “I think I get the general idea!”

“You and Jinu need to be more careful, though.” Mira turned, “do you know Celine almost walked in on you guys that day at Golden Stage?”

Rumi paused mid breath. “…Wait. What?”

Zoey lifted a hand like she was making a toast. “You’re welcome. I redirected her.”

“Oh my God,” Rumi groaned, burying her face in her hands. There’s no way Celine almost caught her getting intense pipe from Jinu backstage.

“You guys,” she lifted her head, cheeks flaming. “First off, thanks for the save, Zoey.”

Zoey simply swatted at the air, unimpressed.

“But look,” Rumi continued, dropping her hands, “Jinu and I don’t see each other that often. When we do… we lose our minds.”

Mira and Zoey exchanged a nod. “Understandable,” they said in unison.

“If it were easy,” Rumi muttered, “we wouldn’t be in so much trouble.”

Zoey sat up, eyes sharp. “Wait… is it getting harder? Like, emotionally?”

Rumi paused, staring at the ceiling. Finally she exhaled, voice low, “Jinu wants to go public.”

Both girls froze.

“He wants to walk down the street holding my hand. Go on dates like normal people. Watch anime together. Post stupid couple selfies.”

“Wow,” Mira blinked and then grimaced. “He’s such a dork.”

“A romantic dork,” Zoey agreed, a small smile tugging at her lips.

“So… what did you tell him?” Mira pressed.

Rumi’s smile faltered. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and whispered, “I told him the truth. We’re K-pop idols. We can’t do that.”

Silence closed in around them, heavy and real.

Mira was the first to break it. She exhaled slowly. “…Well. That’s depressing.”

Zoey didn’t speak right away, fingers toying with the sleeve of her hoodie, expression unreadable. Rumi’s stomach knotted.

“What?” she asked softly. “I’m just being realistic.”

“…It sucks,” Zoey admitted finally. “But I get it.”

Mira nodded, voice gentle. “You know we’re with you, right? Even when it feels stupid.”

“Thanks,” Rumi said, quiet but grateful.

They were more than groupmates, they were partners, ride-or-dies, three weird girls with chaotic playlists who with Hardwork and dedication had become one of the top selling acts in the country. When the world demanded perfection, they had each other.

They were a family.

“Guess we’ll just keep doing this,” Mira said, stretching like a cat. “Live in the studio, tour the world, never date, die famous and exhausted.”

“Speak for yourself,” Zoey replied. “I wanna get married.”

Mira's face distorted. “You what?”

“I want a big wedding, with flowers and—and photos! The over budget honeymoon...”

“Oh my God.”

“And I want kids!” Zoey added, fully ignoring Mira’s look of horror. “Tiny humans with little puffy cheeks who wear matching shoes with me.”

“That’s disgusting,” Mira muttered. “Why would you willingly create your own sleep paralysis demon?”

"What?!" Zoey looked aghast. "Kids are so cute!"

"No, I don't want one of those."

"Why don't you get cats." Rumi suggested and Mira scoffed.

“I do not want smaller animals with the same attitude as me, I want to be left the fuck alone in a sunroom with my succulents and—”

“—a vibrator collection and nothing but time?” Rumi deadpanned, which earned a laugh from Zoey and a full on cackle from Mira.

“Exactly,” Mira said with a triumphant clap, finger-gunning. “Exactly.”

Zoey rolled her eyes, with a grin. “Kids aren’t that bad, you know.”

“You mean the tiny, screeching parasites that keep you up at night and don’t know how to wipe their own ass?”

“Gosh,” Rumi muttered, shaking her head as she reached for her bottle of water. “This is the most chaotic hypothetical parent debate I’ve ever heard.”

“But like—tiny shoes,” Zoey insisted, completely ignoring her. “And those gummy little baby teeth smiles. I’m just saying, motherhood slays when you’ve got money.”

Before Mira could come back with what was surely going to be a savage rebuttal about placenta smoothies or toddler tantrums in luxury SUVs, Rumi’s phone buzzed loudly against the low table, screen lighting up.

She glanced at the screen.

It was Jinu, of course it was him.

Zoey noticed. “Oop. Speak of the devil.”

Mira smirked. “Tell him we said hi.”

Rumi didn’t answer but stood up, quietly walking out of the room as the phone continued to ring.

The hallway was dim and quiet with fluorescent lights humming above her. Rumi ducked into the little lounge across the hall and shut the door behind her, then she leaned against it as she accepted the call.

“Crazy.” Jinu’s voice came through, smooth and warm. “I thought you were gonna ghost me for a second.”

She blinked. “I actually should’ve.” she said deadpan. "I'm really busy right now and you're distracting me."

“C'mon don't play,” he said, laughing. “Why’d you pick up if you’re so busy, hm? Miss me already?”

“I will end this call.”

“Will you, though?”

She rolled her eyes but smiled despite herself. “What do you want, Jinu?”

“I just wanna hear your voice.”

“Jinu we literally just saw each other yesterday.”

“Hm, yeah we did a lot more than just seeing each other...”

Rumi groaned quietly, hand pressed to her face that had started to heat up. “You are such a pain in the ass.”

“Mm, and you’re on vacation,” he said, ignoring the insult entirely. “You should let me help you enjoy it.”

She narrowed her eyes. “How?”

“I booked a stay at this fancy bathhouse.”

“…What?”

“I’m serious. We’ll eat, drink, relax, maybe get a massage—"

“Get caught,” Rumi added, deadpan. “Are you insane? We’ll get followed.”

“Relax,” he said, voice low. “It’s a closed place, there's no public access and they lock out media and fans. We’ll be fine.” She heard him sigh on the other end. "I just wanna do something special for the two of us, you know. You've been so stressed all season, let me help you relieve that."

“You’re already the cause of, like, fifty percent of my stress,” she muttered.

“Don't I make up for it?” he replied and she guessed correctly that he was smirking on the other line. They both knew that as much as he liked to annoy her, he was also good at fucking away every tension and stress she felt.

“Don’t flatter yourself.”

“I’m not, you already know what I'm capable of.”

Rumi rolled her eyes again and immediately regretted how fond she felt in her chest when he chuckled. she hated how it did things to her.

“I can’t wait to get you alone,” he added, voice lower now. Too low. Like he was already leaning into her neck again. “In fact… I’m on my way.”

“…What?”

“I’m outside.”

Her heart stopped. “Jinu—I’m in the studio!”

“Yeah, I know.”

“There are Dispatch creeps camped outside. They live for this kinda scandal.”

“Cool,” he replied, completely unbothered. “I’m already on the stairs.”

“Jinu—”

But the line was dead.

Rumi froze, phone still pressed to her ear.

“…Oh my God.”

Not long after, a soft knock landed on the door. Rumi glanced up, mildly startled. Her phone was still in her hand and her heart still recovering from Jinu’s last words before the call dropped. Was he crazy? Did he want to end up in Koreaboo articles?!

Carefully, she crept toward the door and peered through the peephole.

It was Jinu, of course.

Her mouth parted. For a second, she was frozen. How the hell did he know which room—

Then she remembered that this lounge was her sacred hideaway. The one place she went when she wasn’t in the booth ofr hovering over lyrics. She didn’t like taking calls around equipment, and she hated distractions mid-recording. Jinu knew all of this, he knew all her habits like the back of his hand.

That knowledge should’ve annoyed her but it didn’t.

She opened the door.

And there he was, in all his stupid, boyishly charming glory, two plastic bag full of food containers both hands and a cocky smile stretching across his lips. “Missed me already?” he said.

Rumi didn’t bother answering. Her gaze fell to the bag he was holding, and the scent hit her all at once—her favorites.

“Did you—” she blinked. “You brought—?”

“Lunch,” he said proudly. “Your personal fave, everything.”

Rumi hated how fast the tension in her shoulders melted and how she smiled without thinking.

Jinu beamed, clearly pleased with himself. “Are you gonna let me in, or…?”

She rolled her eyes and stepped back. “Don’t be smug.”

He was already striding in before she finished her sentence, setting the bag on the little coffee table before plopping down onto the couch like he owned the place.

The food was still warm. Jinu popped open container after container, laying them out like he was unveiling treasure.

Rumi didn’t even hesitate. She dropped onto the couch beside him and immediately reached for the fried chicken. She bit into it with a soft hum of approval and grabbed her chopsticks.

Jinu just watched her, smiling like a lovesick idiot.

“What?” she asked, cheeks full.

“Nothing,” he shrugged, digging into his own container. “You’re cute when you eat.”

“Don’t start.” She huffed, halfway through inhaling an entire kimbap roll with absolutely no iota of shame. But then it hit her.

“Wait,” she said around a mouthful of rice and seaweed, pausing mid chew. “What if someone saw you?”

Jinu, seated comfortably beside her and sipping from a can of milk soda with no worries, didn’t even blink. “Who?”

“Anyone,” she hissed, her eyes darting to the door like Dispatch was about to bust in with cameras. “Security. Sasaengs. A journalist with too much time on their hands. You walked in here like someone’s boyfriend dropping off lunch!”

His eyes flitted up to the ceiling, calm as ever. “I did drop off lunch.”

Rumi shot him a deadpan look. Not a single thought in that head of his, she couldn't believe this guy!

“Rumi,” Jinu then said smoothly, before she could begin her usual rant. He took another sip, then added casually, “I’m literally an artist and I'm visiting another artist. Pictures of me walking into your studio isn’t scandal material, it’s a simple meet up. At work. It's as normal and boring as it could get.”

She blinked and then narrowed her eyes. “…You sound very practiced,” she remarked and he shrugged.

“I was getting interviewed like crazy for the past week.”

That was because of the writer's credit drama, Rumi reminded herself and then squinted at him, but he only hummed and reached for a dumpling with his annoyingly cute smirk.

Then, somewhere between wiping his fingers on a napkin and taking another sip of soda, he said, “Actually… that reminds me.”

Rumi looked up at him, cheeks puffed slightly from the food. “Hm?”

“I’ve been thinking…” He tilted his head a bit and twisted his fingers together in that little motion people always did when they were saying something stupid or outrageous.

Rumi narrowed her eyes immediately.

“…What if Saja Boys and Huntrix did a collab?”

She gasped audibly, dramatically, even as she wiped her hands on a tissue. “Are you on something?”

Jinu just grinned.

“Jinu,” she said slowly, blinking at him. “You’re insane.”

“But it’d be really cool, right?”

God this dork, but then she thought about it. Okay. Deep down, she wasn’t surprised. She knew this conversation was coming. Of course it was. They were the hottest K-pop groups of their generation. A collab between Saja Boys and Huntrix would break the internet. Hell, it would probably break sales records. It would make fanbases implode in a good way. Or at least in a messy, marketable way.

And putting fan hysteria aside, musically? It was genius.

They had great chemistry. They always vibed when they were together. She’d seen it in how Abby and Mira always synced up effortlessly, how Mystery had that weird sound that just worked with their group’s tone, how Jinu always complimented her vocals like he could hear something even she didn’t.

The only reason a collab hadn’t happened already was because K-pop groups rarely did them. Between strict label control, PR paranoia, and keeping fandoms from cannibalizing each other, it just wasn’t done. But if anyone could break that rule…

It was them.

“I mean…” she began slowly, trying not to let the full grin spread across her face, “you know if we do this, the internet’s going to catch fire.”

Jinu lit up instantly, like her words just confirmed every thought he already had.

“That’s the plan,” he said smugly.

"Okay, let's have our officials meet up and sort everything out." Rumi rolled her eyes, but she was already thinking of stage visuals.

Then he reached over to the second bag he’d brought in, pulling out a pastel colored cake box with a dramatic flourish.

“To celebrate,” he said brightly. “The birth of a very dangerous collaboration.”

Rumi’s brows shot up. “Is that cake?”

“Matcha strawberry. Don’t say I don’t treat you well.”

“Open it. Open it now.”

He chuckled and did as instructed, revealing the cute, glossy cake inside. Her eyes widened.

“God, I love sugar,” she whispered reverently, already reaching for the fork.

“I know.”

“Oh shut up.” she hummed in satisfaction as she took the first bite, chewing slowly like it was the best thing she’d ever had and honestly, it was pretty damn close.

“Okay,” she mumbled through the fork, “this is actually so good. Where did you get this?”

“I'm gatekeeping it,” Jinu said, grinning as he licked a little whipped cream off his thumb. “Only the best for my muse.”

“Don’t call me that,” she said automatically except her cheeks were already tinged pink.

He raised a brow as he tilted his head to the side, clearly amused. “Why not? It’s true.”

She rolled her eyes and dug into the cake again but her chewing slowed when she glanced over and saw Jinu licking some more excess cream off his index finger, completely unfazed. It's like he had no idea that a man as fine as he is, licking sugar like that in front of her wasn't gonna do anything.

“Are you doing that on purpose?” she asked flatly.

He looked at her, eyes glinting. “Doing what?”

“That,” she gestured to his messy creamy hand. 

“Ah,” he said, holding the same finger up now, “this?”

Then, deliberately, he dipped it into a the cream of the cake, held it out toward her, and said, “You want a taste?”

Rumi blinked at him. Then blinked again.

She leaned forward slowly, grabbed his wrist, and without breaking eye contact, took his finger into her mouth, sucking the cream off in one slow, teasing pull.

Jinu’s jaw tightened.

“Rumi,” he said, voice low and dark, “you can’t just do shit like that and expect me not to start something.”

“Start what?” she whispered, her lips brushing against his fingertip as she released it.

He moved without answering her question and captured her mouth with his. She tasted like matcha and strawberries and something uniquely hers. Their mouths moved in sync, all tongue and teeth and soft sounds, the cake was long forgotten as the heat curled up between them.

Jinu shifted, pushing her back against the couch. His hands slid under her hoodie, skimming her waist with eager touches. She gasped into the kiss, arching into him as her fingers tugged at the collar of his shirt.

She could already feel him getting hard on top of her through his jeans and was ready to take it further up a notch until—

Knock knock knock.

“Rumi!” Mira’s voice rang through the door. “You in there?”

“Don’t ignore us, we know you’re here!” Zoey added, cheerful and oblivious.

Rumi froze. Jinu groaned.

She sat up like she’d been hit with a bucket of cold water. “Shit, shit—move!”

Jinu reluctantly slid off her, both of them flushed, looking a little wrecked, trying to straighten their clothes and wipe cake off each other’s mouths without laughing.

“I'll come get you later,” he whispered with a smirk as Rumi rushed to answer the door. Shivers ran down her spine but she ignored it and flipped him off before pulling the door open with a too wide smile. “Heyyyy.”

Mira blinked at her, then at Jinu on the couch, cheeks puffed with food but noticed a cushion conveniently placed over his lap.

Hmmmm...

“…We interrupt something?”

Zoey gasped. “Is that matcha cake? Oh my God. Rumi.”

“I brought it,” Jinu said.

“Yeah, we know,” Mira muttered and sent Jinu a suspicious look as she stepped inside anyway.

Rumi just sighed, biting her lip as Jinu chuckled smugly behind her.

By the time Jinu stepped out of the studio, the sky was a soft lavender hue, smeared with streaks of gold from the setting sun. His cap was pulled low, hoodie up, mask in place. This was his best attempt at a disguise, hopefully no one would suspect the anonymous figure disappearing into a waiting black van parked a few feet from the back entrance.

He let out a slow breath as the door clicked shut behind him.

God, he loved being around her.

Hours had passed in what felt like minutes. Half the time he was laughing at Mira’s dramatic storytelling, the other half quietly watching Rumi and her fellow members demolish dumplings. He sat right next to Rumi, arm around her like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Because it was. Being near her, no matter how forbidden or carefully calculated, felt like the most natural thing in the world.

He smiled to himself, thumb grazing his bottom lip.

As he made his way to leave, Rumi had escorted him halfway and stole a kiss. That was how he repeated his request that she join him for the one day stay at the bathhouse tomorrow.

Rumi had been reluctant about it. Of course she was. He didn’t blame her. She was used to moving with caution, always careful, watching for the glint of a camera lens in the dark because she was quite different from other idols. Unlike others, she was K-pop royalty. So she had a lot of pressure and expectations on her, he hated to see it.

Still, when he tucked her hair behind her ear and said, “I just want to be close to you without having to look over my shoulder,” she didn’t pull away.

He took that as a win.

He leaned his head back against the seat and stared at the van ceiling, eyes fluttering shut for just a moment. Tomorrow, he has a lot planned, this wasn't just gonna some sexcapade for the both of them but a chance for them to carve out something real in a world that kept asking them to be fake.

He wanted to see her with her guard down, and also wanted her to be able to be close to him publicly with no fear of getting caught. He wanted them to be free.

He hoped things would go perfectly and they could stop pretending this wasn’t serious.

Because for him, it already was.

A sleek black van has come to pick her up at 10 sharp in the morning. She'd told Mira, Zoey and Bobby that she'd only be gone for a day so they didn't really need to worry too much about her.

Now Mira and Zoey knew about her and Jinu's little plan but Bobby didn't. So when he asked, Mira and Zoey swooped in for the save and lied that they had been the ones to plan the stay for Rumi since she's always so up and going and barely rests. They also called her a hermit but she decided she wasn't going to retaliate...

For now.

The van’s tires crunched over the gravel, and as soon as the engine died down, Rumi knew she was somewhere special.

Jinu had been right.

The site was tucked neatly into the mountains, cradled by nature in a way that almost made her feel guilty for bringing anything synthetic along. The air smelled like wood, steam, and faint cherry blossoms. Somewhere, water ran lazily down stones. Even the breeze moved softly, like it didn’t want to disturb the peace that lived here.

No wonder Dispatch couldn't get here.

The van had dropped her off at the base of the trail, and she was guided up by staff dressed in muted tones and warm smiles. Everyone bowed politely, spoke softly, and treated her with a reverence that made her wonder if she was in a dream or maybe just on the guest list of someone very important.

Only people the owner liked could even breathe here, let alone book a stay.

“Jinu,” she murmured under her breath, shaking her head as she followed one of the women to a quaint wooden house nestled in a bed of moss and blooming white flowers.

The house was a hanok, traditional in structure but clearly upgraded for modern luxury. Smooth wooden beams lined the ceilings in intricate lattices and soft amber lighting cast the space in a warm, honeyed glow. A wide glass panel overlooked a private garden where the wind stirred quietly through bamboo and pine.

Inside, everything was quiet. The futon sat low on the red clay floors, perfectly made with thick white blankets. Ornate wooden panels and pale curtains added elegance, while small potted plants softened the room’s sharp structure. The scent of pine, steamed rice, and something floral lingered faintly in the air.

How Jinu managed to secure this place, she didn’t know. But she wasn’t surprised. The man could charm water out of a rock if he tried. It was that handsome smile, that smoothness of his voice and those damn eyes that knew way too much.

And yet… it had never worked on her. Not at first.

Maybe that’s why he’d chased her so hard.

The staff had bowed deeply, handled her luggage with delicate care, and left just as silently as they arrived. Now alone, Rumi padded barefoot across the floor, her eyes trailing the décor with a rare softness. Everything about the place felt curated to her preferences. Even the tea set was already prepped.

She smiled when she spotted a pair of those fuckass pink tinted sunglasses on the shelf.

Oh, he's already here...

But where was he now, though? She wandered around for a bit. And just as she moved to the veranda, curious about where he might be, a pair of arms slipped around her waist, wrapping her in warmth. A kiss brushed her neck.

"Where the hell have you been?" she whispered, head falling back onto his shoulder to look at him.

Jinu only smiled against her skin as his eyes met hers, voice low. “Getting things ready for you,” he said softly.

The wooden veranda creaked softly beneath their weight as they leaned on the railing, warm mountain air curling gently between them. Rumi exhaled slowly, feeling tension drain from her limbs like mist dissolving into the sky. The hanok behind them was quiet, insulated by hills and serenity.

They stayed there enjoying the peace and quiet.

Suddenly, the old cherry blossom tree just a few feet ahead shook violently causing the petals to fall in clusters.

Rumi jumped, startled, and Jinu’s arm instinctively looped tighter around her.

“The hell was that?”

Before either of them could investigate, a bird darted out from the branches in a flurry of feathers, followed by a blur of blue fur.

“Is that—” Rumi blinked, then laughed. “A blue cat?!”

Indeed, a plump, sky-colored feline hit the ground with the precision of an acrobat, tail flicking, eyes locked on the now hovering black bird overhead. The bird really could've flown away like any normal bird would at the sight of a predator, but no. It hovered over the cat. Its wings flapping slowly out of pure spite and pettiness.

The cat jumped at it and missed.

Tried again—failed worse.

The bird dipped teasingly, let out a high-pitched caw and began circling the air just above the feline’s ears like it was laughing.

Rumi snorted. “I can’t. That bird is petty.”

Jinu chuckled, thumb brushing the back of her hand. “Cat’s not giving up, though.”

They watched in amusement as the determined blue cat leapt once more, using the tree as a springboard, but missed by an embarrassing margin and tumbled backward into the grass. It landed on its feet—because cat—but its pride was completely obliterated. The bird chirped in such a way that sounded like laughter.

“That bird is evil, oh my god!” Rumi whispered through a grin.

“That's so unfair.” Jinu pouted, then he smiled and took Rumi's hand gently. “Come on, let’s head inside we've got a lot planned for today.”

Rumi gave the taunting bird one last glance before letting Jinu pull her back through the sliding doors and into the warm quiet of the hanok.

Back inside, Rumi sat on the edge of the futon, kicking off her slippers, but her eyes narrowed playfully as Jinu busied himself with folding his jacket.

“So…” she said slowly. “How exactly did you manage to get a reservation at this place? I hear even diplomats can’t get in.”

Jinu froze for a second. Then turned with the most sheepish smile on his face.

“Okay. So, please don’t get mad…”

Rumi raised a brow. “That’s a terrible start.”

“The owner's daughter,” he began carefully, “she kind of… likes me. A lot.”

Rumi tilted her head. “Likes you how?”

“She, uh… follows all our comebacks. Apparently cried when I dyed my hair blonde for the ‘Bieber’ era.”

"I don't really blame her, that era was so corny." Rumi stared, unimpressed. Then narrowed her eyes.

“I didn’t make any crazy promises!” Jinu added quickly, hands raised in surrender. “No dates, no phone numbers, no signed body parts. I only… accepted the reservation and said thank you. That’s it.”

“Is she here?”

“No!” Jinu blurted, then cleared his throat. “I mean—not now. She’s visiting her cousin or something.”

Rumi sighed and stood, walking slowly into his space. “As long as she doesn’t walk in on me walking around in one of your shirts, we’re fine.”

Jinu laughed nervously as she stopped in front of him.

“Relax,” Rumi muttered, trailing her fingers over his chest, “if you're really all about making sure I enjoy myself…” Her hands moved to his shoulders.

“Of course I am,” he said, voice low now.

“Then I won’t complain.”

With a push to his chest, Jinu fell back onto the futon with a soft thud, the comforter rustling around him. Rumi straddled him smoothly, dark eyes glinting with trouble and something sweeter behind it.

“…Fuck you're dangerous,” Jinu breathed, grinning up at her.

Rumi only shrugged, leaning down close.

“You brought me here, Jinu. Whatever happens next,” she murmured against his lips, “you asked for it.”

The silence of the room was soon replaced by the sound of their breathing. Her fingers found the neckline of his shirt, teasing it down just enough to expose his collarbone, which she immediately leaned down to kiss.

Jinu’s hands ran up the backs of her thighs, dragging the fabric of her oversized shirt with them, palms warm and sure. “God, you’re so hot,” he whispered against her shoulder.

“Mm. You say that every time.”

“Because it’s true every time.”

Their lips met in a slow, less playful kiss. Jinu kissed her like he was starved. In his defense, he could never get enough of this woman. Rumi melted into it like she’d been built for nothing else. Moaning when Jinu's moved up to her hips then grabbed her ass and squeezed. The weight of her pressed flush against him and his hands tightened on her hips.

Rumi pulled back with a smirk and licked her lips, her voice breathy and teasing.

“I brought the toy.”

Jinu blinked, pupils darkening instantly.

“…The one from...”

She nodded once, her lips brushing his jaw. “Yeah.”

He groaned, head thudding back into the pillow. “Fuck, you’re evil.” he didn't know she was actually gonna go through with it, his dick was starting to make its presence known.

“Rumi.” He looked back up at her, wild and amazed all at once. “Can I film you?”

That made her pause, eyes narrowing playfully. She smirked. She had said that she wanted him to film her while she literally fucked herself on a dildo. From the way Jinu looked at her so heatedly, she knew there was no turning back from this.

Jinu’s breath hitched when Rumi slipped off his lap, his eyes never left her for a second. She didn’t say anything at first but instead, moved toward the corner where her overnight bag sat with her back to him, the dip of her spine just barely visible beneath her oversized shirt.

Jinu exhaled slowly, trying to keep still. His fingers were still tingling from where they’d been wrapped around her thighs moments ago.

“You’re too good at that,” he muttered.

Rumi glanced back, lips curling into the faintest smirk. “At what?”

“Teasing me.” he said, eyes half lidded.

That earned a small laugh. Then, without a word, she reached into her bag and pulled out the toy.

Jinu sat up straighter.

Rumi turned fully to face him now, her braid slipping slightly over her shoulder. Jinu’s eyes followed it, and with a slow, careful motion, he lifted a hand and gently unraveled the tie at the end. Her hair spilled free, cascading around her shoulders in dark violet waves.

“Wow,” he breathed, almost to himself. “You look…”

Rumi tilted her head. “What?”

“So much more beautiful like this.”

Her smile softened for a second before it morphed into a sultry one.

“Sit,” she instructed gently, pointing to the floor at the edge of the bed.

Jinu obeyed instantly, backing up until he was seated on the thick floor cushions with his back against the frame. His phone was already in his hand before she finished moving, and when she crawled onto the bed, placing the toy beneath her, he swore under his breath.

“Just watch,” she said softly.

And he did.

The camera trembled a little in his grasp at first, but he steadied it, jaw tightening as she began to move.

Rumi took her time, slowly finding her rhythm as she shifted her hips with slow, languid rolls that were almost hypnotic in their grace. She moves like she was performing. A private rhythm guided by how her body felt, not how it looked, though Jinu couldn’t deny how good it looked.

The silence in the room was broken only by the creak of the bedding under her knees, the soft squelch of the toy penetrating into her as she slid down and lifted off again, and her, fuck, her breath. She wasn’t loud, but she wasn’t trying to be quiet either. She sighed. Gasped, sometimes. And when her thighs trembled a little from the growing tension in her legs, she let out a breathy whimper that shot straight through Jinu like lightning.

To him, it was art. Undeniably raw and devastatingly beautiful.

Her hair, freed from its braid, swung with every motion, brushing over her bare chest, catching in the light. Her lashes fluttered, lips parted and glossy, eyes half lidded in a way that made her look almost drunk on pleasure. Her back arched as she leaned into the sensation, and her fingers clawed gently at the sheets when she adjusted her angle.

She was stunning. Untouchable and yet right there in front of him, unraveling slowly.

Jinu sat frozen, the phone trembling slightly in his hand. He didn’t even know if he was still recording. If he was being honest, he couldn’t remember pressing record at all. He barely remembered how to breathe.

“Holy shit,” he whispered, his voice hoarse and reverent.

He lowered the phone just an inch so he could look at her properly, without a screen between them. His eyes went tracing every detail like he was committing the moment to memory.

Rumi’s gaze slid to his. Her lips parted further, breath catching. There was a flush in her cheeks now, her skin dewy from exertion. She bit her bottom lip, not to be coy but to steady herself, and Jinu felt the heat crawl all the way down his spine.

His stomach tightened. His jeans had suddenly gotten unbearably tight but he didn’t dare move.

She looked so fucking beautiful, he didn't want to ruin the moment.

Rumi’s breaths quickened, soft gasps slipping from her lips as her movements grew more urgent and more desperate. Her head tilted back for a moment, lashes fluttering before her eyes squeezed shut. She let out a shaky moan, loud enough to make Jinu’s heart stutter in his chest.

And then she stilled, hips trembling slightly as her release rolled through her like a tide. She breathed through it, hand gripping the sheets behind her for grounding, her thighs shaking where they straddled the toy.

Jinu reached for her, gently placing the phone aside. His hands found her waist, then up her spine, and finally to her cheek as he pulled her into a soft, reverent kiss. One hand slid into her now loose hair, cradling the back of her head.

"You’re unreal," he whispered, thumb brushing her cheekbone. "I think my brain is fried."

She gave him a tired smile, cheeks still flushed. “Good.”

Jinu chuckled lowly, pressing his forehead to hers. “You okay?”

Rumi nodded, and without another word, she slowly shifted off the toy and into his lap. She could feel how hard he was through his jeans. It was so hard, she was sure he was aching. Her hands moved instinctively, unzipping him with ease.

“You didn’t think I’d forget about you, did you?” she murmured, voice light but teasing.

Jinu opened his mouth to respond, but all that came out was a breathy, “Rumi…”

Rumi smiled at the way his voice cracked. She kissed him gently, first at the corner of his mouth, then deeper, taking her time, letting him feel the warmth of her lips as her hand slipped beneath the waistband of his boxers.

He shuddered, hips twitching ever so slightly, and she hummed in response, her touch soft and deliberate. Not long after, she freed him from his boxers and began to jerk him off.

She sank to her knees slowly, deliberately, her eyes never leaving his.

Jinu watched her, breath uneven, chest rising with each shallow inhale. His hands hovered, unsure where to go, until she gently took one and pressed it to her cheek, grounding him.

“You’ve been so patient,” Rumi said, voice soft as velvet. “Let me thank you properly.”

She leaned forward and kissed along his hipbone, featherlight touches that made his fingers curl. Then lower. 

When her mouth finally took him in, Jinu let out a choked sound, eyes falling shut, head tipping back. “Fuck,” he hissed, rolling his hips. Rumi breathed deeply through his nose, preventing herself from choking.

He looked down at her through half-lidded eyes, dazed, and met her gaze. He whispered her name, like a prayer. “Rumi… fuck Rumi you're driving me crazy.”

She hollowed out her cheeks, bobbing her head up and down along Jinu's length, sinfully wet and warm, it short circuits his brain.

Jinu groans, reaching down and tugging tightly at Rumi's hair, forcing his dick further into her throat. “That’s it,” he grunts, twitching when Rumi whines with the new sensation. “Good girl, your taking me so well,” he murmurs, smirking at the gasp that draws out of her.

His dick was already painfully hard when they started this, so it doesn’t really take much longer of Rumi's soft and hot mouth against him for him to finish. He genuinely means to give her a warning, but his orgasm takes even him by surprise. The little show she put up for him must have really fried his brain. Jinu tenses, dick pulsing down her throat, toes curling, moan tearing out of his throat.

She took all of his release into her mouth, looked up at him with her tongue out for him to see it for himself and swallowed. That was it for him. His legs actually gave out and he fell back onto the bed.

After that, she wiped the corner of her mouth with the back of her hand, her eyes met his again with a teasing grin.

Jinu blinked, dazed. “Okay,” he breathed, voice hoarse. “That was—yeah. You actually broke me.”

Rumi laughed softly and climbed up beside him, curling into his side like she belonged there. Her skin was warm, and her weight against him grounded him back to earth.

They lay there in quiet for a while, hearts slowly finding rhythm again, the world outside untouched by what had just passed between them.

Chapter Text

The hanok stay was probably one of the best ideas Jinu had ever come up with but Rumi won't say that out loud at least. And it's not just because the place was tucked high in the mountains with air so clean it felt heavenly, or because the cherry blossom petals fell like they were in a K-drama budgeted by the gods. That was nice and all in retrospect but, Rumi would always appreciate that once in what felt like forever, it was quiet and just… them.

They spent the first hour simply lounging in the ondol room, sprawled out on the heated floors like lazy cats. Rumi with her hair still damp from a shower, Jinu half asleep with one arm thrown over his face. There was tea and sweet rice cakes. There was that smug blue cat, who had the audacity to waltz in uninvited and promptly curled up between them. The black bird joined shortly after. This time, it seemed to have retired from its pettiness and promptly perched on the window sill, watching them like it was livestreaming the domesticity.

Of course, this was them, so the couple’s bath didn’t stay PG for long. It had started innocently, with warm water, soft soap, steam fogging the wood framed windows, and Jinu massaging Rumi’s shoulders in what was, for ten seconds, a very wholesome moment. Then his hands slid down lower to grab her soft mounds and she smirked. One thing led to another and it ended with wet hair, flushed cheeks, and a new appreciation for how echoey hanok acoustics could be.

They took a slow stroll afterward, down winding stone paths through the garden, under budding trees and along moss covered walls. Rumi had the blue cat in her arms, clearly claimed, while the bird flitted from tree to tree like it was escorting them. Jinu kept sneaking pictures on his phone. Quiet, stolen shots of her smiling at something off-camera or brushing a petal from her sleeve. He didn’t say anything, just saved each one into a private album. He couldn't post that online so it's best he keep it for himself.

Dinner was brought to them in a lacquered tray. Jinu insisted on feeding her one of the little persimmon jellies and nearly choked laughing when she bit his fingers on purpose. The animals stayed, of course. The cat curled at their feet while the bird helped itself to a few stray crumbs. Rumi joked they were a family now and Jinu didn’t argue.

Later, they watched a film curled up on the floor mattress under layers of soft blankets, her legs tossed lazily over his. The hanok had a projector, something Jinu had thought ahead to arrange.

The movie was a fantasy, beautiful, broody, and deeply romantic. A demon with no soul. A hunter who was part demon, torn between duty and desire. It was forbidden love, impossible stakes, and an ending that yanked tears from Rumi’s eyes before she could stop them.

The male lead had sacrificed his life for the female lead's sake in the end. The credits rolled in slow silence, soft music humming over the speakers as the projector dimmed into a sleepy black. Rumi sat tucked under the blanket, knees pulled to her chest, one hand resting on the blue cat that had claimed her lap like a seasoned royal. Her eyes were still glassy, and Jinu didn’t even try to tease her about it. He felt it too.

The bird let out a quiet squawk from the top of the shelf, wings rustling once before settling back into silence.

“Damn,” Jinu exhaled in a low voice as he leaned back onto his palms. “I didn’t think it was gonna go that hard. The cover made it seem kinda chill.”

Rumi let out a soft laugh, her thumb brushing under her eyes before the tears had a chance to dry sticky. “Same. I thought it’d be some cheesy romance musical with cool swords fights, I got played.” She sniffed once. “But like, in a good way.”

A moment passed and then Jinu turned his head slightly toward her, eyes soft under the faint glow of the old hanging lantern.

“Did it remind you of us?” he asked.

Rumi blinked. “Huh?”

He shrugged, eyes drifting toward the dark ceiling. “The Huntress, she’s from a royal bloodline of demon slayers, right? With all the weight on her shoulders, legacy, name...” His gaze flicked back to her. “Kind of like you. You’re literal K-pop royalty, Rumi. Your mom, your grandmom and practically the whole family tree paved the way for you.”

Rumi opened her mouth, but he continued before she could speak.

“But she’s still insecure and hides a part of herself, ‘cause she thinks no one will accept it. That if she lets that side show, it’ll all fall apart.”

Silence.

She looked at him now, really looked at him with eyes steady, but her heart pulsing like a subtle drumbeat.

“And the demon,” Jinu continued, smiling faintly. “He reminded me of myself. The shutoff, half alive version of me when I first got into this industry.”

Rumi’s lips parted slightly, but no words came out.

“I didn’t care about anything or even about myself. I just wanted to make it out and focused on music and surviving. Then he meets her, and he starts to change. He wants to change. Wants to feel something again.” Jinu let out a breath. “Wants to believe he can have something real.”

There was a pause as Rumi stared at him, eyebrows slightly raised in awe.

“…I didn’t know you were such a good critic,” she teased, voice playful but still wrapped in quiet wonder.

Jinu grinned, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m just trying to impress you.”

She rolled her eyes, but it didn’t reach her smile. “Well, congrats. Color me impressed.”

The blue cat purred louder, pressing into her stomach. The bird flapped down from the cabinet and landed beside Jinu, talons clicking lightly against the wooden floor.

Rumi squinted at it. “Wait—” she leaned forward slightly, eyes narrowing. “Since when did it get a hat?”

Jinu followed her gaze and then frowned a little, and sighed. “Oh my God. It stole it again.”

Rumi blinked. “What?”

“The hat,” Jinu said, pointing at the tiny lopsided crochet beret now sitting askew on the bird’s head. “I made it for the cat but the bird keeps taking it.”

At that, Rumi burst out laughing, a hand flying to her mouth as she doubled over. 

“Maybe it suits the bird more,” Rumi teased. Jinu rolled his eyes then looked back at her with soft eyes, waiting for her to return his gaze.

“Do you think we could ever be like them?” he asked softly, referring to the main characters of the movie.

Rumi looked at him with an amused but curious expression. “You mean… tragic and emotionally wrecked?”

Jinu laughed under his breath, then shook his head.

“I mean… free. Free of all the insecurities and fear. Just two people, holding hands, walking into a world that accepts them.”

The question had Rumi go completely silent. She didn’t say anything at first and just… stared.

Her gaze lingered on his face longer than usual, with an unreadable expression and he sure as hell could see something shifting behind her eyes, like she wanted to believe him—but couldn’t. Or maybe didn’t know how.

That silence had stretched on for what felt like hours. Jinu's anxiety grew heavier with each passing second.

“So what’d she say?” Abby asked, looking over from the studio couch, one brow arched.

Jinu exhaled, leaning back with a shrug, lips pressed into a tight line.

“She said no.” he nodded with a bitter look. "And that I should give up on it."

He said it like it didn’t chip something inside him each time it replayed but Abby caught the way his voice dipped, just slightly.

“Ouch... Like damn,” Abby muttered. “Kinda harsh… but not exactly shocking.”

“I mean, sure. Whatever.” Jinu grumbled, kicking at the air as he slid further down the couch like a sulky cat.

“Hey, come on now.” Abby nudged. “You know how it is. Dating in this industry is basically asking to get cooked.”

“Fuck the industry, bro.”

“Yo, what’s going on?” Romance’s voice floated in as he walked into the studio, heading straight for the fridge.

“Jinu’s bummed Rumi doesn’t want to date him for real,” Abby replied, passively focused on the plugins he was tweaking.

Romance cracked open a soda and gave Jinu a sympathetic glance. “Damn. That’s rough, dude.”

Abby looked over, unimpressed. 

“This industry sucks,” Jinu muttered. “I just wanna be with her without having to worry about people foaming at the mouth.”

“You could just quit,” Romance said with a casual shrug.

Abby immediately elbowed him. “Bro, what—”

“I could quit,” Jinu said absentmindedly, lost in the thought.

And that was enough to make both Abby and Romance straighten up in alarm.

“Woah, woah, woah—hey stop right there!”

"Like damn I wasn't even being that serious for real!"

“You’re quitting?” Mystery’s voice came out of nowhere like a demon in a horror film, making everyone jump out of their skin.

“Actually, no,” Jinu said quickly.

But it was already too late.

“I heard someone say ‘Jinu’ and ‘quitting’ in the same sentence!” Baby burst into the room, panicking, practically skidding on the floor as he dropped to his knees. “Please, don’t. You’re the only one keeping me alive in this beef—I still need someone to write my diss tracks!”

Jinu sighed so deeply it sounded like it came from his soul. “Relax. I’m not going anywhere.”

“Then why’d you say you were?” Mystery asked, arms crossed.

Before Jinu could answer, Romance chimed in helpfully, “He said it’s ’cause Rumi doesn’t wanna date him, so he’s gonna throw in the towel.”

“I am not quitting!” Jinu snapped, sitting up so fast the couch creaked beneath him. “Oh my God.”

“Look, man, this is just a distraction,” Abby said with a shrug. “Surely you’ll get over it.”

“Aren’t you and Rumi already, like, joined at the hip?” Romance added, sipping from his drink. “Isn’t that enough?”

Jinu groaned and scrubbed a hand down his face. “You guys don’t get it. I love Rumi. It’s not just about sex. I want to see her happy 'cause and right now? She’s not.”

There was a pause.

“Okay,” Abby said flatly, “this is clearly above my emotional paygrade. I’ll shut up now.”

“There’s nothing you can really do though,” Romance said.

“What are you talking about?” Baby cut in, brows furrowed. “There is.”

Everyone turned to look at him.

“I mean yeah, K-pop says ‘no dating,’ blah blah blah,” Baby continued, waving his hand. “But that’s just a corner of the industry. If you could get the rest of the entertainment world on your side, you could drown out the hate.”

They all stared at him like he’d just spit out bars of gold.

“Baby,” Jinu said slowly, a grin spreading across his face, “you’re a genius.”

He practically tackled Baby in a shoulder shake of appreciation before leaping off the couch and clapping once, like he just got struck by divine inspiration.

“Okay, hold on,” Abby said, pointing. “How exactly are you gonna get the whole industry on your side?”

“Simple.” Jinu smirked. “I’m releasing a song.”

“What?”

“Oh I see where this is going,” Romance murmured, catching on. “You put out a provocative track that touches on the real stuff. People start talking. It trends. Suddenly, everyone’s in the conversation.”

“Boom! Stripes for Romance,” Jinu declared, finger-gunning him.

Abby blinked, slack-jawed. “You wanna ragebait the entire industry just so you can date Rumi openly? You’re actually insane.”

“No, no—this might actually work,” Mystery said, eyes wide with a spark of approval.

Abby groaned. “Okay, so what’s the plan? You gonna drop a cheesy pop ballad about forbidden love?”

Jinu had already moved to the electronic piano in the corner, testing out chords. His fingers moved instinctively, searching the keys like he was feeling for a heartbeat. He hit a few random notes, let out a couple muttered curses—then he landed on something clean.

His brows lifted slightly.

“C minor,” he murmured under his breath, then struck another.
“A♭ major… F minor… D♭.”

He paused, then played them again one by one, slowly, then as a progression.

C minor → A♭ major → F minor → D♭.

He pressed down gently, letting the chords bleed into each other. The room practically shifted into silence as they watched Jinu work.

Romance, who’d been lounging near the soundboard with a drink in hand, sat up.

“Wait, run that again.”

Jinu obliged.

Romance began mumbling nonsense into the air, letting his voice melt into the mood.
“Yeah, mmm, ah—wait, nah—uh, yeah…”
He snapped his fingers to the beat, eyes narrowing. “Okay, okay… this got legs.”

Jinu chuckled, still looping the progression, letting his left hand hold the rhythm steady while his right hand played with texture.

Romance jumped in again, trying to form words even though he wasn’t saying anything that made sense.

“I just want you to/ wait for me/ baby say you want it—uh—nuh uh, yeah…”

Jinu followed the cadence with harmonies, low and warm, weaving in and out of Romance’s mess of freestyle gibberish.

They laughed at it, but the vibe was alive.

“This progression though?” Romance pointed at the keys, wide eyed. “This makes a lot of space for riffs and runs that loop back and slap, like this is soulful. Not pop.”

Jinu nodded slowly, dragging a hand through his hair. His fingers never left the keys.

C minor… A♭ major… F minor… D♭...

His mind was already moving ahead, visualizing melodies, lyrics, the way strings might weave in, maybe a live bass. He could already hear the drums. Soft muted kicks with snapping snares.

“I was thinking a statement track,” he said slowly.

Romance tilted his head.

“But now?” Jinu exhaled, eyes half-lidded as his fingers caressed the keys again. He looked up with a wicked smirk.

“This is gonna be R&B.”

A slow grin stretched across Romance’s face. “Let’s cook, then.”

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄☆⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

Rumi had been out of it for days. Her mind wasn’t on music, choreography, or even skincare, which was saying something. Every time someone cracked a joke or tried to cheer her up, she offered a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. Her energy and spark has dwindled a bit and all that was left was just dying embers and a gnawing sense of guilt.

Jinu hadn’t called.

Not a text, not a voice note, not even a meme.

And it had been a week!

The very same Jinu who couldn’t go a day without blowing up her phone with the most ridiculous calls, texts and sweet nothings had just… gone quiet. After everything they shared at the retreat, after the warmth and the whispers and the way his eyes softened whenever he looked at her, now it was radio silence.

Of course, Rumi had convinced herself that he understood. That he wouldn’t take it personally when she told him no.

But maybe he had. Maybe she'd been too harsh.

Now she sat curled up in her hoodie like a human dumpling, chin buried in her knees, while Zoey and Mira stood at the foot of her bed, arms crossed like two disgruntled PTA moms.

“Alright,” Mira began, “you know how much I trust my instincts.”

Rumi didn’t look up.

“And my instincts are telling me that someone’s got you acting like you just got kicked out of a drama audition.”

“Mira…” Rumi tried, but Mira plowed right through.

“It’s Jinu, isn’t it? It is! Ever since you guys got back from that retreat, you’ve been a sad little ghost in here.”

“It’s true,” Zoey nodded, tone gentler. “What happened? You know you can tell us, Rumi. We’re your soul sisters.”

That earned a weak huff from Rumi, maybe a laugh or a scoff. Then, she finally muttered, “Jinu brought it up again.”

Both girls blinked.

“Wait,” Mira said, already bracing, “again as in…?”

“He asked if we could ever be free,” Rumi admitted quietly, voice tight. “Free of the industry, all this noise and just… be with each other.”

“And you said…?”

Rumi winced. “I told him we can’t. That he should give up on it.”

The room went quiet except for the sound of Mira and Zoey both wincing like she’d just stepped on their toes.

“Oh no,” Zoey whispered.

“Girl…” Mira shook her head, “you didn’t have to say it like that.”

“I know,” Rumi wailed suddenly, voice cracking as tears began to spill over. “I know, I fucked up!”

The sob that followed was so heart-wrenching that both girls immediately ditched their judgment and rushed to her side. Zoey wrapped her arms around her, Mira plopped down and began rubbing her back.

“He hasn’t called or texted since. It’s been a whole week! A week, guys!” Rumi sobbed. “I ruined it.”

"Rumi you didn't..." Zoey trailed off as she glanced at Mira who was already shooting her a look. “Okay, maybe you did go a little overboard,” Zoey said delicately, “but come on. Jinu’s not the kind of guy to ghost you out of spite.”

“Exactly,” Mira agreed. “Sure, he’s a chaotic, dramatic, part gremlin son of a bitch but he wouldn’t leave you hanging without a reason.”

“He must be going through something too,” Zoey added. “You said it yourself, that conversation got deep.”

Just then, Zoey’s phone rang. She picked it up, wiping Rumi’s tears off her shoulder as she pressed it to her ear.

“Hey, Bobby. What’s up?”

Whatever Bobby said on the other end had her eyes widening.

“No way,” she breathed. “Wait, slow down—what?!”

That made Mira perk up. “What’s going on?”

Zoey looked at them, stunned. “Jinu just dropped a solo single.”

Rumi's head snapped up so fast, her messy bun fell loose.

“What?”

“That’s what I said!” Zoey said. “According to Bobby, it’s trending everywhere. Like, whole fandoms are imploding. Even non-fans are going feral.”

Mira was already unlocking her phone. “If my instincts are correct, this is no coincidence.”

Zoey gasped. “You think the song is about Rumi?”

Rumi’s head fell back into her hands with a groan. “No no no no…”

“Okay, we haven’t even heard it yet,” Zoey said, typing fast. “Let’s not jump—wait.” Zoey paused, blinking at the screen.

“Oh damn,” she whispered. The title was just two words: Taint You.

“…Taint you?” she repeated, head tilting like she misread it. “Isn't that—like—‘taint’ as in…stain? Corrupt? Contaminate?”

Mira just blinked, deadpan. “I thought we were going full heartbreak. This is already giving something else.”

“I mean, I did say we shouldn’t jump to conclusions.” Zoey muttered, but even she sounded unsure.

“Can we give it a listen?” Rumi’s voice came quietly from her curled up form on the bed, hoarse from crying.

The room fell still.

Zoey and Mira looked back at her, both brows knitting. Her face was puffy, eyes red-rimmed and glassy but her expression had steadied. Whatever storm had broken in her chest earlier had now passed. What was left was resolve.

After a moment, Zoey nodded.

She pulled out her phone again, connected it to the high-def sound system mounted in the walls of Rumi’s room, and queued up the track on Spotify.

Mira moved to sit beside Rumi, pulling her hair into a messy puff. Zoey took the other side, grabbing one of the fluffy pillows like a battle shield.

The room felt oddly cold, dim lights, heavy air, and quiet chilling anxiety, because this wasn’t just a song. This was Jinu.

And if there was one thing the entire industry knew by now, when Jinu wrote from his soul, he didn’t miss.

The track loaded. The screen showed nothing more than the title, a dark swirling background, and his name in sleek silver font.

“TAINT YOU – JINU”

They braced themselves. A moment of silence.

Then, a low hum, deep and grainy, like a heartbeat underwater echoed through the room. The production hit immediately, a slow, simmering instrumental with R&B bones and haunting, reverbed synths. 

And then his voice came out clear, raw and  smooth like honey, but laced with ache.

“Tossin’ and turnin’ again
Here you go with this and I’m losin’ my patience…”

Zoey's eyes widened slightly.

“…You sayin’ love like ours could ruin us
But I know you’re down for it, girl I feel you drownin’ in temptation”

Mira leaned forward, elbows on her knees as the pre chorus hit.

“I just think it's funny that you say we shouldn't act loose
But baby what are we if not two stars crashin’ through the rules?.”

Rumi sat frozen, because Jinu was actually telling a story.

Their story.

Line after line, it unfolded. Vulnerable, poetic, dark in parts, sexy in others. A tangle of want and restraint, intimacy and guilt. He sang about not wanting to ruin her, but needing her anyway. About feeling like loving her meant contaminating her, like he was the problem. Like he was the thing she feared catching.

“If they saw you with me now, they’d say I taint you
Say I pulled you out of heaven just to break you
But baby we both know that you ain't porcelain, I've been in your skin...”

The beat was minimal, just enough rhythm to make your chest tighten, and your head sway. This definitely wasn't pop or a heartbreak song.

It was confession dressed in silk and Rumi couldn’t move, honestly, she could barely breathe.

Because somewhere between the bridge and the final chorus, he said it plainly.

“You try to hide but girl I know the real you 
You’re already tainted, they barely even know you..”

A silent moment passed and then the song ended.

Silence.

No one said a word for a full five seconds.

Then—

“Whoa,” Mira whispered, biting her thumb nail.

“Okay what the hell did we just listen to—?” Zoey said, eyes still wide. “That was like…”

"Really hot to be honest." Mira completed and Zoey nodded in agreement.

"Yeah hundred percent."

Rumi just stared ahead like she’d been hit with something she couldn’t name.

Now she understood why Jinu had been quiet for so long. He hadn’t ghosted her, he was writing this!

And every word was for her.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄☆⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

Jinu’s solo spread like wildfire. In less than 24 hours, "Taint You" climbed its way up the Korean charts, skipping past every safe little pop song clinging to the top five. By the third day, it cracked top three and settled there like it belonged. And everyone agreed, it did belong there.

The internet had lost its damn mind.

Clips of the chorus played over thirst traps, fan edits, aesthetic reels. Vocals from the bridge were slowed down, turned into ethereal soundscapes for dreamy content. The outro was used by late night artists painting under soft lighting. Everyone was eating it up. They were all in love with the song and also trying to figure out just who had inspired it.

And that was the kicker.

It wasn’t just fans anymore, news blogs, gossip pages, YouTubers doing lyrical breakdowns. Because everyone remembered Jinu’s past interviews. “When I write for myself, I write from my own experiences. I don’t make up muses. If you hear a song I wrote, that muse exists. They're real.”

So of course now everyone wanted to know who this muse was.

The questions piled up. Who was the girl who wore a halo in public and claws in private? The “fire wrapped in porcelain skin”? Who was the girl he didn’t ruin but freed?

And because the universe clearly had a sense of humor, Jinu showed up for an interview that very week.

It wasn’t meant to be a big sit-down. Just a casual music segment. But the interviewer had come prepared and with a glint in her eye.

“The song is incredible, Jinu. You’ve definitely got the whole country wondering—who is the muse behind Taint You?”

Jinu laughed softly, leaned back in his seat, eyes low-lidded but amused. “Mm. Yeah. I figured that question would come up.”

“So… are the lyrics real?”

“Oh yeah definitely.” he said, too easily.

“Every word of it? Even the sexy parts?” The host asked with amused narrowed eyes to which Jinu just laughed and shrugged. “So you’re saying, those parts were based on real experiences?”

“Yeah,” Jinu said with zero hesitation, eyes gleaming. “They happened.”

“Well… can we get a hint? Of who this woman is?”

“Nope.” His grinned boyishly. “I can’t tell but she knows. That’s the thing about how I write—if it’s about you, you’ll know it.” that was when he looked straight at the camera, held his gaze their for a moment and winked.

Somewhere across Seoul, Rumi nearly dropped her damn drink.

The secondhand embarrassment punched her in the stomach. She sat stiff on her bed, remote still in hand, eyes wide, cheeks a violent red. “Oh my God…”

Zoey screamed from the bathroom. “HE JUST WINKED AT THE CAMERA!!”

Mira, who was painting her nails, peeked over the polish bottle. “Girl. He WINKED at YOU.”

Rumi threw a pillow over her face and screamed into it.

Jinu was being way too bold but he was right.

She knew damn well that the song was hers.
He had just told the whole world, without saying a word.

Chapter Text

The irony was definitely not lost on her. Even with everything, Jinu dropping the sexiest, most emotionally damning song written about her, confirming in an interview that yes, the lyrics were real and yes, the muse definitely existed (and would know)—Rumi still hadn’t called him.

And neither had he.

It wasn’t avoidance, actually. She just...felt it was better this way and safer. If they were going to talk—and they had to talk—it needed to be in person, where she could look him in the eye and explain why her mouth said no even though everything else screamed yes. The call could wait.

The problem, however, was that the song couldn’t.

“Taint You” had her in a chokehold. Literally. The track was on repeat. When she stretched in the indoor gym, when she cooked up simple egg and toast breakfasts, when she wandered around in her fuzzy slippers doing nothing. Hell, she was fairly certain she dreamed with it playing faintly in the background.

It was so painfully good. So...uncomfortably personal.

And of course, just when she thought it couldn’t go any further, she made the mistake of opening TikTok during breakfast.

Why is that the first video that popped up on her For You Page  was Jinu. In his kitchen. In a tank top and grey sweatpants.

He casually leaned back on the counter, coffee mug in one hand, head bobbing as Taint You played in the background. The man had the nerve to look half-asleep and somehow even hotter for it. The tank top clung to his abs like it was grateful to be there. His exposed arms were carved, his forearms flexed as he stirred something lazily. He wasn’t even doing anything... just existing. And somehow, it was illegal.

The video already had ten million likes...

Uh oh...

Rumi paused mid chew, jaw locked. She knew it would be bad, but she opened the comments anyway. As usual, the TikTok magic worked and the too comment spoke her mind.

저 손에 목 졸리고 싶어.”

She covered her mouth with her palm. Why was it so accurate?? Why was he showing off like this?! She actually started getting jealous that he was so exposed like this for everybody else to see.

He had no idea what he looked like and that was the worst part. Jinu could be a calculated flirt when he wanted, but half the time he was so obliviously gorgeous it physically hurt.

The thirst in the comment section was so unhinged she almost dropped her phone.

“GODDAMN I open this app and a fine Asian man I know I can’t get just shows up like that?”

“Grey sweatpants AND a tank top? He’s trying to murder us.”

“I'm a guy but goddamn.” 

“Nah who is this and does he need a wife who pays taxes and has emotional baggage?”

“Y’all, I’m ovulating.”

“You’re telling me THIS man makes great music too? Arrest him.”

“This what y’all been gatekeeping in K-pop? I’m switching teams.”

“I’m American and I don’t know who this is but he owns me now.”

And among the crowd of thirsty people, dozens more were asking;

“Okay but what is this song??”

“Why does it sound like honey and sin had a baby?”

“Wait he's verified. This his music? Because it’s GOOD.”

“What is that melody???”

“Why do I feel pregnant.”

“What is lovingly fucking my ears.”

Rumi rubbed her temple and slumped back on her chair.

Was this his plan to get the song more popular? 

She groaned, sliding her phone across the table.

Of course it was working. The entire Internet was already down bad and asking for seconds.

Meanwhile, she was sitting in a bathrobe, eating eggs, feeling like she’d just lost the man of her life to a hoard of thirsty humans.

God help her if he ever posted in boxers.

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By the third day of release, Taint You had left the Korean charts and sunk its claws into the Western side of TikTok like a fever dream no one wanted to wake from.

It didn’t start with dance trends or challenge videos like the usual. No. It was desperate, unfiltered thirst.

Clips of Jinu, edited, filtered, slowed down to godlike perfection, began showing up all over For You Pages around the world. The original sound had been used in a clip that blew up overnight. A girl filmed herself in bed reacting in real time, wide-eyed and covering her blushing face. She mouthed the lyrics as Jinu’s voice played in the background, clutching a pillow and kicking her legs like a middle schooler discovering crushes for the first time.

The caption read:

“I want him to do all the things he talked about in this song to me 🥹😭💀”

The comments were a mess:

“WHO IS HE I’M READY TO SELL MY SOUL”

“Do I like men again or is this just a Jinu thing?”

“What the audio said🤭”

Naturally, it only got worse.

More people started reacting to the song. Some filmed themselves melting on camera. Others walked slowly through dramatic lighting, mouthing the words like they were feeling every syllable in their soul. One user dramatically lip-synced the song in their car with fogged-up windows and captions like:

“POV: you’ve been ruined by a man who doesn’t even know you exist.”

But the most dangerous corner of the algorithm, were the editors.

These people had studied this man. And most of them weren't even K-pop fans 

Clips of Jinu from years ago, blurry fan cams, press interviews, concert footage—every possible moment he ever looked remotely good (which, was basically all the time) were now being stitched into cinematic masterpieces. High contrast filters. Dramatic zooms. Slow motion sweat-wiping. A whole mini-movie of him performing, laughing, smirking at the crowd… edited with nothing but pure thirst and artistry.

One particular edit broke the app.

It started with Jinu wiping his lips after a live performance, then transitioned into a black-and-white compilation of his most jaw-dropping looks.

The sound had been used over 80K times in 24 hours and suddenly, everyone who didn’t know him before had the same question:

“Who the hell is Jinu?”

The curiosity snowballed. People began stitching the edits with reaction videos, faces slack with shock, fanning themselves with random objects. TikTok creators who normally posted about fashion, food, or astrology were now fully invested in identifying the man who’d apparently ruined their explore page.

It was pure chaos.

Fortunately, the app’s best commentary creator came through right on time. His video dropped on the For You Page, complete with his usual green screen setup, this time featuring a photo from Jinu's recent shoot.

“Alright, we’ve all seen this man by now. He’s on everyone's For You Page and if you’re anything like me, your first thought was: ‘Okay… who is this guy?’”

[The image behind him then changes to Jinu onstage with a mic in hand.]

“Many of you guessed he’s a K-pop star. Which is true, he's one of the biggest ones out right now, actually. His name is Jinu, leader of one of the hottest K-pop boy bands called the Saja Boys out now and not only is he stupidly hot with a honey-like voice and cool dance moves, he's also a talented writer—keep that at the back of your mind, we'll come back to it later."

[Another picture of Jinu and the rest of Saja Boy group posing in front of an unkept area.]

“You see, Jinu’s rise to fame wasn’t handed to him. He grew up in Guryong Village, one of the poorest areas in South Korea, basically their version of the hood but worse. He and his friends who now make up the Saja Boys were out there busking on the streets, dodging cops and playing homemade tracks with nothing but talent.”

[Another photo of an older Korean man in hot pink tinted sunglasses, posing with them pops up in the next clip.]

“Eventually, they would get noticed by Gwi Ma, legendary exec—this guy right here. And he gives them one chance. Just one shot to prove themselves.”

[Picture of the Saja Boys in their Soda Pop era fits show up.]

“So Jinu decides to pull out this catchy-ass song called ‘Soda Pop’ that went viral and broke records. It charted on U.S. iTunes top 10, only the second Korean boy group ever to do that after BTS. Yes, the BTS.”

“So the hit convinced Gwi Ma to keep them and now he acts as their manager and executive producer. Because of their talent, they blew up fast and got to the point they're at now but here’s where things get wicked…”

[Photo of Jinu looking slightly irritated]

“You see Jinu had a problem, he can’t date the girl he wants. Now, I know what you’re about to say: ‘WHAT?! WHO’S OUT HERE REJECTING THIS FINE SPECIMEN OF A MAN?!’”

[He holds up his hand.]

“It’s not like that. In the K-pop industry, these artists are basically worshipped because not only do they sing and dance good, they look damn good—example, him. So the fans don't see them as human beings, they fantasize about them in ways that it gets personal, that's why they're called idols. Idols are basically treated like living gods. They’re expected to be perfect at everything. Sing. Dance. Look flawless. Never mess up. Never get tired. And definitely never act human.”

“You can’t drink, add weight, gain muscle, smoke, you can’t even get tattoos depending on your contract. Dating? Is basically career suicide. One pic of you holding hands and you are cancelled.”

[Another photo of Jinu mid speech in what seemed like a sit down interview]

“The thing with Jinu is that he doesn't like the system. And crazily enough, he’s told us this before, he's not subtle. In his interviews, he’s literally been like, ‘This industry sucks, I want out,’ he gets backlash but then a few days later everyone goes ‘LOL he’s hot’ and move on.”

[A photo of Gwi Ma and Jinu in the backdrop now]

“And this happens several times. He calls out the industry, a hate train starts and dies in a few days and the cycle just repeats until, his boss warns him like, Hey, anymore of that bullshit and yo ass is going back to the trenches. Jinu eventually stops but, remeber he's a talented writer and he expresses everything through his songs, he likes to tell stories through his songs—which are true.”

[Picture of Jinu writing in the backdrop]

“Which brings us to Taint You, the song that flipped the switch. Jinu dropped it out of nowhere, with no promo or a teaser and now everyone’s thirsting, vibing, crying and simping. But here’s the kicker…”

[Creator leans closer to camera.]

“We're hearing him but we're not listening. In the song, not only is he yearning for this girl, he's also challenging the industry. This song is Jinu fighting back. It's not just a sex song. He’s using his music to drown out the toxicity of the industry, to change something. He’s starting a rebellion. With R&B chords and grey sweatpants. And honestly? I hope he wins.”

It didn’t take long

Once the commentary creator dropped his breakdown, it didn’t take long before the internet went digging. And what they found only added fuel to the wildfire that was Jinu’s solo track.

Now that people finally knew his name, they wanted to know everything else and the deeper they went, the more obsessed they became.

Because, underneath the vocals that could make a choir jealous, the impossibly beautiful face, and the stage presence that screamed icon, was a bashful dork who didn’t know how to flirt, tripped over his own feet, and blushed when fans screamed his name too loud. He was a cutie patootie. The West absolutely ate it up.

Clips began to resurface of him nervously bowing too many times, him saying sorry after messing up the lyrics to the supportive crowd and blushing, blowing bubbles, and every video had the same iconic caption:

“This man wrote Taint You btw.”

The duality was insane but it didn’t stop there. The fandom which was now global—started dissecting the actual song lyrics.

The lyrics were pulled apart line by line. Creators posted full TikTok slideshows and 3-part video series just to analyze the meaning behind "you say love like ours could ruin us but I know you're down for it."

“He’s talking about someone who’s also suffering under the same pressure,” one creator said with conviction, “that means she’s in the industry too. She’s not some random girl, she’s an idol.”

Bam. First clue.

And with that, a full blown investigation began.

Fans across the globe, especially the Western K-pop stans who could research faster than certified journalists, started compiling lists of female idols Jinu had ever breathed near. Standing beside, seated close to, interviewed alongside—if there was a photo or fancam, it was now under analysis.

Someone even made a spreadsheet. A color-coded spreadsheet.

No one had the full story but everyone wanted the tea. And as far as the internet was concerned, this was no longer just a love song, but a K-drama, a real life forbidden romance in which Jinu had just become the male lead.

But who was the female lead?

Whoever it was, the Internet was fully invested now. Jinu’s story had legs. Not only was he hot and talented, he was also a man from humble beginnings who really cared about someone and others. It had started as curiosity, then turned into admiration. Currently, it was a global spectacle. Literally a real life K-drama with Twitter threads, fan theories, and 4K receipts.

The West couldn’t get enough.

Late night talk shows, celebrity gossip panels, even The Shade Room-adjacent spaces started airing Jinu’s name. One panelist clutched her chest overdramatically as Jinu’s photos lit up the screen behind her.

“Girl,” she said, “if a man as fine as that wrote a song, going into graphic detail about the eight positions he wanted to have me in?”

She didn’t even finish.

The crowd lost it, screaming, lapping and howling with laughter.

“Forget the industry,” she added. “Bitch, I’m folding.”

But while the memes kept rolling and the streaming numbers soared, people were still overthinking. The emotionally unhinged corners of fandom finally cracked something open.

That’s when Rumi’s name started floating back to the surface.

She’d always had a low key history with Jinu. It was nothing tabloid worthy but she was his rival and also the only female idol who’d had multiple public run-ins with him. There were no dating rumors or scandals but moments nonetheless. They had natural chemistry.

Coincidence? Yeah, okay. Suddenly the shippers who were once shunned were now being taken serious.

The lyrics hit different when you held them up to Rumi.

He calls the muse a princess.
Rumi’s K-pop royalty—daughter of a long generation of K-pop legends. No one else in the industry holds that crown.

He asks why she always keeps her hair up—like her walls.
Rumi’s signature braid hasn’t changed in years.

He says she’s not happy but she smiles for the camera. This had people looking into Rumi’s history.

Born out of wedlock, always scrutinized. Tabloids that spun her origin into scandal. Her smile was always immaculate, making her interviews spotless but now, people could see the cracks in between it all.

It all made too much sense.

The old comments on the clips that didn't seem to notice now we're drowned by new comments talking about how she didn't seem very happy to be there as the interview had gone too far with his questions.

And then, there was the line about the muse being a bad girl with crazy throat game.

Some devil dug up an old variety clip of Rumi casually swallowing an entire kimbap roll without flinching. The video resurfaced on Twitter with the caption: “throat game crazy” with crying emojis. The tweet got a lot of attention considering how this was a very good comparison.

And just when everyone thought they’d seen it all…

A music producer uploaded a breakdown video of the instrumental. Nothing wild at first, it was just a filtered beat and some ambient synths.

Until he peeled it back. Turns out that hypnotic synth that carried the entire song's instrumentals wasn’t actually a synth.

It was a chopped and filtered sample of Rumi’s own voice from her group’s track “Golden.” Specifically the line; “Waited so long to break these walls down, to wake up and feel like me.”

The vocal sample was isolated, then sped up, semitones increased, chopped, rearranged and then filtered beyond recognition. To sound like a synth. 

People were astounded by this. The man really sampled her vocals, took her words.
And built the song, his love letter, around it.

It had really emotional, sympathetic and Invested.

When the news spread that the hypnotic melody at the center of Taint You's instrumentals was sampled from her, Rumi was the last to know.

It hit her during dinner. Well, more like it hit her comments section during a spontaneous live she started on impulse, still in her oversized hoodie, hair a little undone. She had just wanted to distract herself, maybe answer a few fan questions to drown out her own thoughts.

And then someone asked, plain and simple:

“Is it true your vocals were sampled in Taint You?”

Rumi blinked at the screen. Paused. Thought for a second. Then shrugged.
“Uh, yeah… I did approve a sample.”

The chat suddenly sped up.

“But I didn’t know it was gonna be in that song,” she added quickly, chuckling as she rubbed the side of her face. “I didn’t read the full details—my fault.”

She didn't say it was because she'd been lying on her bed like a corpse for a week, heart squeezed with guilt over a boy who hadn't called since they got back from the Hanok. She didn't mention how she'd mindlessly scrolled through legal emails while crying into a pillow and just clicked "approve." No one had to know that.

But denying the song was about her was something she had to do.

“Anyway, I don’t think it’s about me,” she said, waving it off with a playful smile.

Except the comments had other plans.

“Be fr, girl. It’s you.”

“You are his type. You know that.”

“Not the ‘innocent’ braid princess 😭”

“Why you lyin’ 😭😭”

“That kimbap video will haunt you forever.”

She tried not to laugh. She failed.

Jinu had somehow managed to get the whole damn world on his side… and honestly? Rumi was impressed. Shocked. Lowkey flattered. And still a little bitter he hadn’t called.

She ended the live a few minutes later. With a soft “Bye, guys,” and a quick wave and smile.

And then she collapsed back onto her bed, exhaling like the truth had finally caught up with her.

Her fingers hovered over her phone.

Should she call? No. No. She couldn’t. Not yet.

She had to see him. Really see him.

Call him over a screen and she might fold. See him face to face and maybe, just maybe—she could finally tell him everything.

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By the next morning, Rumi's live was everywhere. It was clipped, filtered, remixed, and reposted across every platform imaginable. It didn’t matter that it had only lasted a few minutes. The internet made those minutes eternal.

And somehow—everyone was in love with her now too.

“Damn… she’s so fine.”
“Her voice is so hot like I get it now.”

"Is this the diva who inspired Taint you???"
“Wait her English is really good!”
“I's also write Taint You for her.”

Every comment section was either simping or crying.

People who had never even heard of her before were now editing her clips to dreamy tracks, slow-mo walk scenes, or that one moment from the live where she bit her lip while reading the comments and smirked.

“No fr. I’d let her ruin my life.”
“She looks like a Disney princess but gives baddie energy.”
“Jinu is so right for being down bad for her.”

There was even a now viral TikTok edit where someone edited her on the live to the song. Everyone lost their minds when the lyrics defined her.

However, some fans came to her defense, reposting the part where she clearly said the song wasn’t about her.

“She said it herself. Y’all are just obsessed with making everything romantic.”
“Respect her words? Maybe?”
“She’s already under enough pressure. Chill.”

But the opposing side wasn't letting go.

“The sample. The lyrics. The braids line. The kimbap incident. IT’S. HER.”
“Y’all are acting like she’d admit it was her if it was lmfao 😭.”
“She literally is K-pop royalty. Connect the dots, babes.”

Even casual listeners were now invested in the drama. Fans had started doing deep dives on the Huntrix discography just to confirm it was Rumi’s line that was sampled. Spoiler alert: it was.

Suddenly, Rumi went from “one of the biggest idols in Korea” to “the girl from Taint You.”

With the entire Western world now locked into the drama behind Taint You, scrutiny fell back on the K-pop industry. Thinkpieces sprouted like weeds. Cultural critics, music journalists, fans, even K-pop stans—all unified in one stance:

The industry was killing its own stars.

Videos popped up of idols fainting, breaking down mid-performance, talking about isolation, body dysmorphia, media hate, suffocating standards. Jinu really dropped an expository disguised as a sex song.

When Korean netizens pushed back, telling the West to stay out of their business it didn’t go well.

They were outnumbered and drowned out.
Overwhelmed by a tidal wave of foreigners holding up a mirror to an industry that had grown too comfortable with silence.

And then the real headlines started.

Rumors flew that Jinu was being courted by some of the biggest record labels in the U.S.

Atlantic. RCA. Republic. OVO.
Everyone wanted a piece of him.

With his voice, his pen, and his vision, he was suddenly exactly what the American R&B market craved. There was no “idol” box to fit him in. He was just pure talent and fire.

He could go there. Be free, date who he wanted, say what he wanted, be who he was.

But Jinu had refused.

He was still here in Seoul, walking the same streets, staying in the same city as the girl he loved because even with everything on the table—

She was still worth it.

Chapter Text

The moment Rumi walked into the living room, all conversation died.

Zoey was sprawled on the couch, halfway through a peach, her eyes wide. Mira sat cross-legged on the floor, phone in hand, while Bobby stood awkwardly by the fridge, bottle of water mid-air.

Rumi blinked. “What?”

Zoey spoke first. “Girl… you broke the Internet.”

Bobby raised a hand in greeting. “And hey—congrats, I guess?”

Rumi narrowed her eyes. “What are you talking about?”

Mira tapped her screen, flipped it toward her. A paused video of Rumi on her live sat on-screen, her expression frozen mid-laugh looking effortlessly good in the worst lighting possible. Overlaid comments poured in with relentless thirst.

“SHE’S SO FINE.”

“Nah Jinu got taste.”

“I’d sing ballads too if she looked at me like that 😭”

“I went live for like, seven minutes,” Rumi muttered, slowly walking in.

“Well that obviously didn't matter,” Mira said, deadpan. “That was enough for everyone to fall in love with you.”

“They already think you’re his muse,” Zoey added. “This just confirmed it in their heads.”

"Isn't it true?" Mira asked.

“Taint You is still trending globally,” Bobby called from the living room, where the TV flashed with another entertainment segment dissecting the song’s impact. “They’re playing it on repeat on three U.S. radio stations. THREE. You know what that means?”

“Wow, they really love him over there.” Mira replied dryly.

Bobby grinned. “Exactly.”

The thing was, it was insane. The song had become an unstoppable force, like some kind of underground anthem. It wasn't only topping charts but shifting conversations. The #fuckthekpopindustry movement was no longer niche. Think pieces were popping up in Vogue Korea, Billboard, even Teen Vogue, people praising the boldness, the honesty and the blasphemy of it all. What kind of man sampled a woman’s voice to make a song about not being allowed to love her—and made it sexy, sad, and revolutionary?

Rumi dropped into the armrest of the couch, covering her face with both hands. “Oh my God.”

Despite everything, she felt like she was standing in the center of a whirlwind and still couldn’t move.

“I feel like... I wanna cry and throw up and kiss him at the same time,” she whispered.

“Oh honey,” Mira said, finally putting down her phone. “You’re so in love it’s pathetic.”

It was overwhelming. No—beyond overwhelming. The Internet could be so crazy, who knew a bunch of jobless people could work better than professional detectives.

She hadn’t called him. Still.

Her fingers had hovered over his contact a hundred times. But what would she even say?

Sorry I broke your heart, but the song is amazing?
I miss you even though I said we couldn’t do this?
I think I was wrong?

She wasn’t ready to admit it out loud. Not yet.

Suddenly, the sound of heels clicking aggressively against the floors echoed across the living room, and in stepped a woman in tall boots, long nails, and a blazer.

Celine.

Their executive. Their label-appointed babysitter. Their public image overlord.

She had a soft smile on her face, expensive perfume, and crisp white blouse tucked perfectly into wide-leg slacks. “Rumi,” she greeted, her voice a sweet sigh. “Darling, we need to talk.”

Rumi sat up straighter and the room quieted instantly. Mira and Zoey instinctively shifted closer, flanking her like bodyguards.

Celine’s smile didn’t falter. “I’m here as a mother, okay? I just want to protect you from all this mess like I promised I would.”

“I’m fine,” Rumi said, not quite believing herself.

Celine tilted her head. “Sweetheart. You’ve been caught up in something... controversial. You know the public. They’ll eat you up one day and spit you out the next. And this little... song? It’s doing a lot. The international attention, the lyrics, the sudden attack on the industry... It’s getting harder to deny.”

Rumi did her best to feign confusion. "Sorry, I don't know what you're talking about."

Celine then sighed and placed her phone on the table, the screen still open on a tabloid headline:
“Jinu’s ‘Taint You’ Muse Revealed? All Signs Point to Huntrix’s Rumi”

She folded her arms. “Care to explain?”

Rumi stayed quiet.

Celine stepped closer. “You said the song wasn’t about you.”

“It’s not,” Rumi said quickly.

Celine raised a brow. “Really? Because the Internet doesn’t think so. And perception is reality.”

Zoey tried to jump in. “Celine, this isn’t fair—”

“I’m not talking to you.” The woman’s tone could’ve cut glass. “Rumi. Did you give him permission to sample your vocal?”

“…Yes.”

“Without knowing what it was for?”

“…Yes.”

“And now we’re trending globally for all the wrong reasons.”

Mira scoffed. “Wrong reasons? People love her right now.”

“They love the idea of her being part of a scandal,” Celine snapped. “That doesn’t last.”

Bobby murmured, “Unless it’s a comeback era.”

Celine whipped around. “Do not get clever with me.”

She turned back to Rumi.

“Effective immediately, we’re limiting your press appearances. No more spontaneous lives. No more TikToks. And if anyone asks about Jinu, you shut it down. Clear?”

Rumi’s chest tightened. “You want me to pretend like none of this happened?”

Celine’s lips curled. “I want you to act like a professional.”

Silence fell. Celine clicked her heels, grabbed her phone, and walked out. One the sound of her heels faded completely into the distance—

“What the fuck was that?” Mira burst out. “Oh my God, she's so lucky I’ve been working on anger management.”

Bobby exhaled. “I honestly don't see the problem. If anything, Huntrix is reaching numbers they've never reached before...”

“I think she’s threatened,” Zoey said, arms folded across her chest, voice low and steady. “By the fact that more people are finally seeing you and know more about you.”

Rumi looked at her and there it was. That softness in Zoey’s eyes. Empathy.

Her life had started in scandal. Her mother—once part of a beloved girl group—had been dragged through the mud for having a child out of wedlock. The backlash shattered her career, broke her spirit, and left Rumi motherless before she could even form words. Depression had taken her long before Rumi could remember her face clearly.

Celine had always said she made a promise to Rumi’s mother. That she’d protect her. Raise her and helter her like her own.

But Rumi knew better now.

Celine didn’t protect her. She controlled her. Managed her like an image she didn’t quite believe in. Behind all that perfume and professionalism was someone who saw Rumi as a crack in a flawless mirror, a reminder of shame, not strength. She always did the absolute most to cover up Rumi's past.

But who really gave a fuck anymore?

Certainly not her and not Jinu sho stood up loud and proud without waiting for permission. And maybe, just maybe it was time Rumi did the same.

Without a word, she stood and the suddenness startled everyone.

“Wait, where are you going?” Mira asked, half-rising from her spot on the floor.

Rumi turned to them, and for the first time in what felt like forever, she smiled.

Genuinely at that, it almost blew them away.

“It’s okay,” she said. “I’ll be right back.”

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Across the city, the Saja Boys were deep in the studio. Abby was hunched over his phone, scrolling through TikTok with a stunned expression. The rest of the boys, Romance, Mystery and Baby, lounged around the couches, lowkey brimming with nerves as Taint You played from someone’s Bluetooth speaker again.

The song was everywhere. Each time Abby scrolled, the song played. People were using it for everything—cleaning montages, night drive aesthetics, random makeup looks, lyric videos, covers. Not even thirst traps this time, it had grown past that. The song was quickly taking off.

“This is insane,” Abby muttered, eyes glued to a video of a girl organizing her bookshelf with the song in the background. “I think this song might actually be, like… cultural reset status.”

A few feet away, the booth door opened with a quiet hiss, and Jinu stepped out.

He exhaled like he’d been holding his breath for a week, hands dragging down his face in disbelief.

Immediately, all the Saja Boys stood up like meerkats, eyes wide with curiosity.

Because five minutes ago, Drake had called.

The Drake.

And Jinu had answered it casually—well, tried to. Meanwhile, Romance and Mystery had to tackle Baby to stop him from shrieking Champagne Papi.

Now the suspense was killing them.

“So?!” Abby finally blurted. “What did he say?!”

Jinu dropped his hands, cheeks flushed from trying not to lose it. “He wants a collab.”

The room exploded.

Baby launched into a backflip that didn’t land, Romance ran in a circle, and Mystery just stood there blinking, visibly buffering. Abby shouted into his phone like he was calling his ancestors. Then he paused and narrowed his eyes at Jinu.

"Is that all you guys talked about?"

"No, actually."

Everyone paused. Jinu let the silence hang for effect. “He... wanted to sign me. To OVO.”

“What?!”

“Yeah. Just me. And I told him no.”

“Why?” Mystery asked, instantly earning side-eyes from the others.

But Jinu only smiled, shaking his head.

“I’m not leaving you guys.” he said simply. “If I’m going somewhere, it’s all of us or none. You’re stuck with me forever, unfortunately.”

Romance just gave a downturned smile and raised his hands “Hey, not like we’re complaining.”

“Well now that we have a collab with Drake on our to-do list,” Abby said, “we should probably get our lives together.”

“Idea board in five,” Baby declared.

Jinu nodded, grabbing his phone from the desk and opening it, only to see a notification from Instagram.

Rumi had uploaded a new Instagram Story. His heart skipped a beat at the sight of her name and he quickly tapped it.

Fuck.

He actually hadn’t meant to tap it, his fingers moved before his brain caught up. He hadn’t spoken to her in days, hadn’t even liked a post and now he was viewing her story? It felt like weak sauce. But oh well, it was too late.

The screen loaded and there she was. His eyes widened so hard they nearly fell out of their sockets.

She was in her kitchen, hair down with her sleeves rolled up while making Hwachae like it was a Sunday morning. She was swaying to the beat of Taint You, and harmonizing to it. Her voice tucked right beneath his, soft and easy, like she’d sung it a thousand times.(She had)

The caption read: "love this song💜"

Jinu dropped his phone like it was hot coal and buried his face in the couch.

“You good?” Abby asked.

Jinu giggled. An actual, dorky, body wiggling giggle and kicked his feet.

The boys looked at him with genuine concern now.

“Bro?” Romance leaned forward.

But Jinu just peeked up from the couch, eyes glassy and stupid in love.

“She was harmonizing with the song.”

“…Who?”

He flopped back dramatically. “Rumi.”

Baby stared, then snorted. “Yeah, he’s down bad.”

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Rumi stepped back into the living room with her bowl of Hwachae in hand, humming the tune of Taint You under her breat and was met with Mira and Zoey staring at her, eyes wide and jaws slack like they’d just seen her walk in naked.

She blinked. “What?”

“Rumi, are you fucking serious right now?” Zoey blurted, scrambling up from the couch like she’d just remembered how to walk.

Rumi tilted her head innocently, even took a spoonful of fruit punch as if she hadn’t just dropped a bomb on the internet.

Mira simply raised her phone with a deadpan expression. Her lips were slightly pursed, she looked so done. “Your IG story is everywhere. Just so you know. It’s on every platform now.”

Rumi blinked again. “Okay… and?”

Zoey nearly flailed. “And?! W–why would you post yourself vibing to his song like that?! And you were harmonizing, girl! Harmonizing!”

Rumi laughed and then coughed, choking slightly on a cube of watermelon before shrugging. “What, I can’t enjoy a good song anymore?”

Mira deadpanned. “You know that’s not just any song, right?”

Zoey’s voice dropped. “What about Celine? She’s going to flip.”

“She can’t do anything,” Rumi said calmly, setting the bowl down and licking juice off her thumb. “She needs me more than I need her. She knows it.”

Zoey and Mira both recoiled a little, but it wasn’t fear—it was awe.

“Okay, queen,” Mira muttered, folding her arms.

Zoey grinned. “So what does this mean?”

Rumi leaned back into the couch, shoulders lighter than they’d been in days. “It means I’m done hiding.”

Zoey and Mira exchanged glances.

“…So... You and Jinu are back to normal now?” Mira asked giving Rumi a fixed stare to which she nodded with a bright smile.

"Yeah." She said taking out of her fruit salad again.

Meanwhile, the moment Rumi’s IG story dropped, the internet gasped and went spiraling and the second hand chaos ignited once again.

Clips of Rumi’s IG story, her casually humming along in her kitchen while swaying and harmonizing to Taint You, were snatched, edited and reposted within minutes. Her voice blended perfectly with Jinu’s, layered like silk over his vocals, harmonizing like it was rehearsed. People lost their minds.

“IS THIS REAL OR AI???” one post screamed.

“GUYS WAKE UP RUMI POSTED THIS IS NOT A DRILL,” another user snapped.

For TikTokers it was the sound that trended and people didn't believe she actually harmonized to the song but it didn’t take long for the original to surface.

It was definitely her, looking casual and cozy in her kitchen. Her hoodie sleeves were rolled up, hair loose down her back, stirring her homemade Hwachae with one hand while the other adjusted her phone, swaying gently.

Taint You played in the background. But the moment her voice joined in—a soft, sultry, harmony so seamless it felt like a duet—fans across the globe collectively ascended.

Her voice sounded so magical and she looked so damn domestically good, comment sections flooded with thirst, speculation, and pure admiration.

💬"I don't wanna hear nothinh, that is her man."

💬"Her voice??? Her hair!! Her hair!! OMG it looks so gorgeous down!"

💬 “She was really out here harmonizing like she’s on the official remix.”

💬"Oh hell naw she has to be on the remix."

💬 “This is a woman who has a man wrapped around her finger without even trying.”

💬"Nah the lyrics are starting to make so much more sense😭🙏"

💬"She’s literally his muse. No way around it.”

Theories reignited and fans who were once on the fence now sprinted to the #Rujinu side like their lives depended on it. Editors immediately got to work, people reacted to it. Others just wanted about having a remix with Rumi as a feature.

And just when everyone thought the internet couldn’t squeeze out more serotonin from this moment...

Jinu announced the official music video for Taint You.

It was set to drop at midnight and if Rumi’s IG story was any indication, the world wasn’t ready.

Twitter, TikTok, Instagram, even Spotify’s homepage, it was everywhere. Within seconds, the hype was back, bigger and louder than ever.

On Rumi's end, she had her phone in one hand and a spoonful of half-melted Hwachae in the other when the teaser post came through. Her heart fluttered, and not from the sugar.

Midnight couldn’t come fast enough.

The anticipation online was suffocating. TikTok went into countdown mode. YouTube had the premiere room packed like a concert arena. People had alarms set and live reaction videos queued. Everyone, fans, reactors, commentators, stans, skeptics — everyone was ready.

The video started soft, with dim lights, slow camera pans, candlelit hallways, sheer curtains billowing. Jinu sat in a dark room, shirt loose, lips parted like he’d just whispered a secret. His voice floated in over a heartbeat-like beat, just like the intro of the song.

But the moment the muse appeared on screen, the internet crazy. The camera never once revealed her face. It was smartly angled in ways that her face remained obscured or cut out.

Not in the mirror.
Not in the dance sequences.
Not even when she was inches from Jinu, during their intimate scenes.

But even without a face, there were way too many signs. The purple hair was unmistakable, what's worse is that it was in a braid before Jinu had loosened it in the video. Also, the muse had the soft lilac manicure Rumi had posted on her Instagram story just a week ago. Unmistakable again.

And then came the choreography. There was sensuality in the way she moved, grace in every turn but also restraint. Like a woman caught between surrender and self-preservation. Just like the lyrics said.

And Jinu looked at her like he was ready to burn the world down just to hold her hand in public.

So Obviously social Media began with its discourse. It was now heavily agreed that Rumi was the muse, if the lyrics didn't do it for you, the video must have clocked it.

One creator on TikTok started her video howling with laughter before saying.“Girl, Rumi, that is YO song! Go get yo man!”

Another who was lounging in her bed had a smug look on her face. “The fact that we still got people denying Rumi being the muse is insane. First of all, y'all need to loosen up and let people have fun I promise you it's not that serious and secondly, you do not know these people. Stop acting like you can predict how they feel about anything and forcing it.”

One captioned a slowed-down clip of Jinu touching the girl’s waist:
“I can’t believe we witnessed a man manifesting his woman on camera.”

Another user posted the clip of him manspreading on the couch, watching the muse dance:
“The close up OMG I'm sorry this man is too fine😭😭”

Yes the skeptics in the comments tried, some said that there are other girls who dyed their hair purple, people are reading too deep into things, you guys are so horrible for getting into people's business—yada yada yada.

But the deniers were drowned out by the tidal wave of side by side comparisons, screenshots and fan deep dives. Even Western blogs, K-pop tea pages, and international media had jumped on board now.

It was so clear and undeniable that...

The muse of Taint You was Rumi and thankfully this time around, the whole world knew it.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄☆⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

Along with the pandemonium the official music video of of Taint You brought to both the K-pop industry and the world, came a milestone of success for Jinu. Within the first hour of the video dropping, it amassed over 900k views and currently sat at a million views.

With the momentum it has, if it kept this up, by tomorrow it could get up to even two million views.

Jinu was blown away.

It's not that he wasn't expecting this kind of reach. He released Taint You in hopes that it will get this kind of reach, but the actuality of it all was still mind boggling to him.

In order to celebrate, Abby snuck in some drinks because it was their God-given right to get buzzed when every they accomplished something huge. 

The bottle of Hennessy clinked softly as Abby placed it on the table, grinning like he’d just cracked open a vault of national secrets.

“We celebrating properly tonight,” he said, already twisting the cap. “Gwi-Ma’s in the other building, we got a solid thirty-minute window of sin.”

Romance whooped, Mystery drummed a beat on the table, and Baby stood with both arms in the air like he’d just won a Grammy.

“To Jinu!” Abby declared, pouring each of them a shot. “Korea's very own Frank Ocean and the lyrical simp of the century.”

Abby ignored the absolute disgruntled look Jinu sent him and urged everyone to raise their glasses. Everyone raised their cups, including Jinu, who was leaned back casually against the soundboard, fingers loosely gripping his glass.

“To bad decisions,” he said with a crooked grin.

“To badder women,” Romance added.

The moment the boys knocked their shots back, one by one they grimaced and hissed. Faces twisting like they’d just been punched in the throat. Jinu winced and shook his head rapidly, nose scrunching as the heat hit.

Then all of a sudden, the door swung open with the fury of a typhoon, crashing against the wall, releasing a shuddering sound.

All five of them jumped, shrieked and spun around, heads snapping in sync.

Standing at the door, was Rumi clad in a black hoodie, no makeup, hair up in a messy braid but somehow, she still looked like she walked out of a billion-dollar commercial. The lighting hit just right and the anger in her eyes caused a physical reaction.

Fuck, she was even hotter when she got mad.

“Oh—Rumi hi!” Romance squeaked, suddenly three inches shorter.

She didn’t respond and stomped past him, her eyes locked on one person and one person only.

Jinu.

He was still leaned back, holding his empty shot glass looking dazed. It's almost like he forgot he existed because he just kept staring at her without moving.

Abby, sensing imminent combustion, stepped back slowly. “Yo, I think we should leave...”

Baby squinted. “What’re you talking about, we just—”

That’s when it happened.

Rumi grabbed Jinu by the collar, yanked him forward, and slammed her lips to his without any warning or hesitation. 

Jinu responded instantly with his arms looping around her waist, pulling her flush against him like he’d waited an eternity for this moment (which, to be fair, he had). It had been a hard two weeks. His fingers gripped her hips, her hoodie bunching under his palms, and his head tilted as their mouths moved in sync, hot and urgent and messy.

Baby dropped his phone.

“Oh my God...”

“Yeah we gotta go!” Romance shouted.

“Everybody OUT!” Abby commanded like a military officer.

The boys fought for their lives to get out of that room, Romance tripped over Baby’s foot but still managed to make it through before Mystery pulled the door shut behind them like they were sealing a bomb.

Rumi and Jinu on the other hand, didn’t stop. Rumi deepened the kiss, mouth parting as Jinu’s hand slipped to the nape of her neck. Her fingers tangled into his hair—Gosh, how did she forget how soft it was?—pulling him impossibly closer.

Chapter Text

The crowd’s screams echoed like thunder through the venue, rattling the backstage monitors. On-screen, Jinu and Rumi were locked in a kiss that looked like something straight out of a cinematic love story. Soft spotlight pouring over them, two silhouettes carved in gold.

Celine watched this with wide eyes.

Her mouth was pressed into a perfect line, but her clenched fists and the fire dancing behind her lashes said it all. Rage, disbelief and humiliation.

She knew Jinu was making a surprise feature. She’d been informed. She cleared the paperwork herself.

But this stunt?! This was a ridiculous, reckless display. What do these kids think they're doing?!

Celine lurched forward, heels clicking violently against the polished backstage floor as she moved toward the stage entrance. Her blazer flaring behind her.

“Tell them to shut everything down now, or I will.”

“Ms. Celine, wait—please—!”

Several assistants and crew members reached for her, trying to calm her down, block her path, but she shoved past them all with rage.

“This is not what we approved! This is a career suicide mission and—!”

A firm hand suddenly grabbed her wrist.Hard.

Celine froze, mid-step, and slowly turned her head.

Gwi-Ma.

His sunglasses were off(That was completely rare). His expression unusually bare, deep lines of time and tiredness cutting through his face.

“I think that’s enough,” he said, voice low. Steady.

Celine’s eyes darted down to his hand on her wrist, then up to meet his. “Let go of me.”

“Celine,” Gwi-Ma said again, softer this time. “It’s over.”

She stared at him like he’d grown a second head.

“You can’t stop what’s already started. The crowd is with them. The kids are with them. Hell, the world is with them. And maybe…” He exhaled, eyes trailing to the screen where the two young stars were still tangled in the aftermath of their anthem. “…maybe it’s time we stop pretending we know better. Let them rewrite the rules we kept breaking in silence.”

His voice cracked just a little at the end. Just enough for Celine to catch it. Her mouth twitched, and she gave him a long incredulous stare before she realized herself.

And then she yanked her hand from his grip like it burned.

“You don’t get to say that,” she snapped, venom curling around her tongue. “Not you. You of all people don’t get to act like some martyr for change—”

Her voice trembled. “She is gone because of you.”

Everything went still. Even the monitor’s crowd noise seemed to fade beneath the weight of her words.

Gwi-Ma didn’t move or change his blank expression, neither did he deny it. If anything, he was guilty ten times over. However, he looked tired.

As if the words had only confirmed what he already carried with him.

“She believed in you,” Celine whispered, voice fraying. “She trusted you.”

He nodded once. “I know.”

At that, Celine turned away and walked off. Ditching her previous plan to rip Jinu's hair out. 

Leaving Gwi-Ma just standing there in the corner of a changing world.

Behind him, the cheers only grew louder.

And on screen, Rumi stood beside Jinu, hand in hand. Free.