Later That Night — Brainstorming for Sweet Roast
They were sprawled out in the living room, leftover pizza boxes and empty iced coffee cups scattered around them like battle trophies.
Ivory had her laptop open, scrolling through concept photos for the Sweet Roast campaign, while Jake lounged behind her on the couch, chin propped on her shoulder, pretending to help but really just being clingy.
"Okay," Ivory said, clicking through mood boards. "We want Jimin to look soft, cozy... like a human comfort blanket."
Jake made a face.
"Why not make him a human espresso shot instead?"
"Because that's your brand, Jake," she teased, nudging him with her elbow. "You're the intense caffeine crash. Jimin's the dreamy Sunday morning."
Jake huffed dramatically and slumped even lower on the couch, arms wrapping around her waist like a grumpy koala.
"I don't like this."
Ivory grinned wickedly.
"You're just mad he's cuter than you."
Jake gasped, hand flying to his chest.
"Take it back."
"Nope," she sing-songed, flipping to a mood board of Jimin in pastel sweaters and messy hair.
Jake peered over her shoulder and groaned.
"Ugh, look at him. He's glowing. He looks like a damn angel that drinks cloud-flavored coffee."
Ivory laughed so hard she nearly dropped her laptop.
"Exactly! Sweet Roast perfection!"
Jake narrowed his eyes, voice low and pouty.
"You're enjoying this way too much."
Ivory clicked her tongue, leaning her head back against him teasingly.
"Don't worry, Rich Roast. You're still my number one... source of emotional instability."
Jake bit back a laugh, squeezing her waist.
"You're lucky you're cute."
Just then, Jake's phone buzzed — a video call from Jimin.
Ivory perked up instantly. "Put it on speaker!"
Jake groaned but answered, and soon Jimin's bright face filled the screen.
"JK! Ivorryyy" he chirped. "Are we planning my sweet world domination now?"
"Jiminie~" Ivory said sweetly, "you're going to kill it. You're too pretty not to."
Jake muttered under his breath, loud enough for both to hear,
"Maybe I should be Sweet Roast too."
Jimin burst out laughing. "Nah Kook, you're too broody. You're the limited edition 'Existential Crisis Roast.'"
Ivory cackled so hard she nearly fell off the couch.
Jake just deadpanned at the camera, betrayed.
"Unbelievable," he muttered.
Ivory wiped tears from her eyes, reaching back to ruffle Jake's hair.
"Relax, my existential bean," she said, voice full of adoration. "You're still the reason I can't sleep at night."
Jake buried his face into her neck, groaning, and Jimin just laughed harder, already imagining the chaos their promotions were going to bring.
"Okay now, I'll just be finishing the contract and mood board then I will be sending them to you via email. One of my assistants will contact your management team, then if our schedules align, we can forgo with the project. Thanks again, Jimin."
"No worries. Now see you soon!"
With that, the videocall ended. Jake was about to pull Ivory from her laptop when Jake's phone buzzed again — another video call.
But this time, it wasn't Jimin.
It was Mom.
Jake blinked, then hurriedly accepted the call, flipping the screen toward Ivory without thinking.
Mrs. Jeon's warm, smiling face filled the screen.
"Sweetheart!" she greeted, before immediately spotting Ivory tucked into his side.
Her eyes lit up.
"Ohhh~ Is this Ivory?"
Ivory, momentarily startled, straightened up and offered a polite bow even through the screen.
"Hello, omonim. I'm Ivory," she said in careful Korean, voice soft but steady.
Mrs. Jeon clapped her hands together delightedly.
"Aigoo, you're so beautiful! My son has good taste, after all!"
Jake made a noise of protest, but Ivory just giggled.
Then Ivory, cheeks slightly pink but heart full, added bravely,
"I will be going to Korea with Jungkook soon, omonim. I'd love to meet you properly."
At that, Mrs. Jeon practically beamed.
"Ahh! You must come for dinner then! We must properly welcome the woman my son never shuts up about!"
Jake let out a strangled noise of embarrassment.
"Omma—!"
But Mrs. Jeon just winked at Ivory, entirely ignoring her flustered son.
"I'll prepare all of Jungkookie's favorite foods. And yours too, dear."
Ivory nodded shyly, feeling Jake's arms tighten around her waist in a squeeze that felt a lot like gratitude.
Mrs. Jeon ended the call only after extracting several promises from both of them — to arrive hungry, to stay the night if they could, and to bring their "sweet, coffee-smelling love" home safe.
As the call ended, Jake buried his face into Ivory's neck again, groaning dramatically.
"I'm never going to survive dinner," he mumbled.
Ivory just laughed, pulling his arms tighter around her, her heart drumming fast with excitement and a touch of nerves.
But deep inside, it felt right — like a new door had opened.
And she was walking through it hand-in-hand with the man she loved.
***
[Jake's Hotel Room – New York]
Ivory was sprawled on the bed, laptop open, fingers flying over the keyboard.
Deadlines. Emails. Coffee launch stuff.
She barely looked up when she heard the door click open.
"I'm back," Jake's voice came, soft and casual.
"Mhm," she hummed distractedly. "How was the—"
The words caught and choked in her throat when she finally glanced up.
Jake stood there, in loose black jeans and a plain black shirt tucked just enough to show his waist, a sleek leather jacket slung over one shoulder.
But it wasn't the outfit that made Ivory's brain blue screen.
It was the hair.
That freshly trimmed modern mullet, the soft dark strands tousled just right, making him look devastatingly hot — dangerous, even.
The kind of hot that made your heart forget its natural rhythm.
He looked like he had just walked out of a fever dream. Effortlessly cool. Maddeningly attractive.
Ivory's mouth went dry.
Her fingers paused mid-air above her keyboard.
Ivory blinked. Once. Twice.
Jake cocked his head, playful. "What?"
As if he didn't know.
Ivory shut her laptop with a snap and swung her legs off the bed, standing slowly — like a hunter circling prey.
"You—" she started, voice oddly breathy, "You cut your hair."
Jake smirked, setting his jacket on a chair. "You like it?"
"Like it?" Ivory echoed, stalking closer, eyes wide and gleaming.
"Jake," she said, almost reverently, "I feel like I need a warning next time you decide to look like this."
Jake burst out laughing — a deep, belly-warming sound — as she stopped just inches from him.
Ivory reached up, barely brushing the ends of his hair with trembling fingers. "You should be arrested for looking like that."
Jake grinned, teeth showing. "Are you—"
"Simping?" she cut him off shamelessly. "Absolutely. Unapologetically."
He leaned closer, voice dropping to a murmur. "Does that mean I get to stay in tonight?"
He didn't even get a chance to defend himself before she snaked her hands on his neck to the back of his head and pulled him down into a kiss that was all teeth and desperation. Jake grinned against her mouth, his hands slipping easily around her waist.
"Oh, you're not going anywhere," she whispered against his lips.
Jake chuckled, hands already sliding around her waist. "Bossy."
"Blame yourself," she shot back, "for walking in here looking like every bad decision I want to make."
Jake didn't even make it halfway to the bed before Ivory had him pinned against the wall, her lips finding his again, greedy and aching. His laugh was swallowed between kisses, his hands gripping her thighs as she wrapped herself around him.
"So aggressive," he breathed, amused.
"I'm allowed," she said defiantly, tugging at his shirt, "I'm dating a sin."
Jake laughed—a deep, genuine sound that filled the room—before carrying her the rest of the way to the bed, dropping her onto the plush mattress like she weighed nothing.
And when he looked down at her, flushed and laughing, reaching up for him like he was the only thing she ever wanted, Jake realized he would hand over the whole world if she asked.
The night unfolded in stolen kisses, soft laughter, whispered "I love you's" tangled between sheets. Clothes were forgotten, the world was forgotten. There was only her—her smile, her warmth, her everything—and Jake gave in gladly, loving her until neither of them could remember where one ended and the other began.
And that night, Jake absolutely stayed.
*
*
*
The next morning.
Jake bolted upright in bed at the shrill sound of his alarm blaring for the fourth time in between Manager hyung's calls. He blinked groggily at the clock.
7:32 AM.
He was supposed to be at soundcheck at 7:00.
"Shit, shit, sh*t," he hissed, scrambling out of bed while Ivory sleepily reached for him with a pout. "Stayyy," she whined, clutching his arm.
The hotel room was a mess — clothes half on the floor, the sheets tangled, pillows kicked to oblivion.
And right in the middle of it all, Ivory was curled up like a cat, dozing peacefully, wearing nothing but the blankets covering her and a ridiculously satisfied smile.
Jake groaned, scrubbing a hand over his face. Torn between diving back under the covers or surviving his career.
He was late.
Very, very late.
He stumbled on his suitcase yanking on his jeans and searching for a shirt like a man possessed.
It wasn't until he was halfway through changing that he caught sight of it in the mirror— a very vivid hickey blooming proudly on his chest, right above his heart and neck just by his collarbones.
"Are you kidding me?" he whispered at his reflection, poking it like it would disappear.
Ivory, now sitting up and grinning sleepily at the show he was putting on, just shrugged smugly. "Oops?"
"God, Ivory," he muttered, half amused, half exasperated, "this is your fault."
From the bed, Ivory cracked open one eye, her voice a lazy purr. "My fault?"
She propped herself up on her elbows, the hotel sunlight kissing her skin. The bed sheet slipped a little lower, exposing the hidden mole she has on her sternum. Her heart-shaped pearl necklace shifted softly on her chest.
Jake shot her a look — a dangerous, teasing one — as he finally found his shirt and tugged it on. "Yeah. You."
He pointed an accusing finger at her. "You didn't let me sleep. You—" he stopped, shaking his head like he still couldn't believe it, "—you were feral last night. I'm traumatized."
Ivory only grinned, the devil in human form, completely unbothered. "Aww," she said sweetly, "you poor, poor man."
Jake narrowed his eyes, grabbing his jacket. "You think this is funny? I have to cover a crime scene because of you!"
He gestured vaguely to his chest — where, hidden under his shirt, was the infamous hickey situation as he darted the sink to brush.
Ivory laughed, actually laughed, throwing her head back without a single shred of guilt. "You're welcome," she said brightly.
He went back to the bedroom and hastily slung his bag over his shoulder and leaned over her, hands braced on either side of her head.
"When I get back," he murmured, voice low and dangerous, "you're dead."
Ivory batted her lashes innocently. "Can't wait."
Jake kissed her hard — a quick, toe-curling press of lips that left her stunned — and then pulled away with a wicked grin. "See you later, trouble."
As he slammed the door behind him, Ivory flopped back onto the bed, a smug smile tugging at her mouth.
"Worth it," she whispered into the empty room, stretching like a lazy kitten before she finally had the strength to sit up the bed.
Jake grabbed the makeup tape (the nude ones that he had used before to cover his tattoos for the media) from his bag like a man on a mission, while muttering how Ivory was a menace as he went down the elevator.
By the time he ran into the van waiting for him downstairs, his manager shot him a confused look. "You okay? You're... glowing?"
Jake just flashed him a guilty smile, adjusting the collar of his shirt higher over the taped-up crime scene.
"Yeah," he said, voice still a little breathless. "Never better."
[Backstage at Jungkook's New York morning concert]
Jake burst through the backstage doors, still adjusting the cuffs of his shirt, his hair slightly messier than usual but still unfairly good-looking.
He was breathing slightly hard, muttering curses under his breath about certain girlfriends who didn't know the meaning of "rest." when the door creaked open behind him.
He barely glanced up, assuming it was another staff member.
Until a very familiar high-pitched giggle echoed across the room.
Jake was just getting into the chair when Jimin strolled in — coffee in one hand, devilish smirk already plastered across his face.
"Well, well," Jimin said, voice way too loud, "if it isn't Mr. Punctuality himself." arms spread wide like he just won an award.
Jake dropped his mic. Literally. It hit the floor with a clatter.
"Jimin?!" he blinked, doing a full double take like his brain short-circuited. "WHAT THE—HOW—WHY—"
Jimin just laughed harder, practically bouncing over to him and tackling Jake in a hug. Jake stumbled, laughing loudly now as the shock wore off.
"You crazy—what are you doing here?!"
Jimin pulled back, grinning like a devil. "Your girlfriend's idea. I'm your surprise encore, duh."
Jake looked over Jimin's shoulder just in time to see Ivory peek her head into the room, winking like the little mastermind she was.
He gawked at her, hand over his heart. "You... you did this?"
She only blew him a kiss before disappearing again as one of the staff ushered her to her seat.
Jake groaned into his hands. "I love her so much it's disgusting."
"Yeah, I can tell," Jimin said, raising an eyebrow. "Especially with..."
He gestured vaguely at Jake's chest.
Jake frowned. "What?"
Jimin, trying SO hard not to laugh, yanked the jacket collar down just a little—
and there it was.
The taped crime scene.
A giant hickey awkwardly covered with a beige patch. Badly taped. Sloppily concealed. Bold enough that even the thick layer of tape couldn't hide the truth.
For a second, there was silence.
Then —
"Oh my god," Jimin absolutely LOST it, practically bending over from laughter. "You maniac. You absolute menace."
Jake clapped a hand over his chest, and shot him a glare. "Shut UP!"
"You let your girlfriend maul you before your final concert," Jimin cackled. "Iconic!"
Jake just whined into his hands as his stylist returned, giving him a suspicious look before seeing the cause of Jimin's sudden howl of laughter. Her eyes widened. Not because of the sloppy cover up, but the shirt he's wearing.
He's wearing an open chest-ed shirt. He'll be dancing. And with dancing, the covered sloppiness will be seen. To the media. Who's broadcasting on the internet. To the whole world.
She gasped. "Call the styling team back! We need to change his shirt—ASAP!"
Jake groaned, dragging a hand down his face. "I'm gonna kill her."
Jimin wiped tears from his eyes, completely unsympathetic. "No you're not. You love her."
"Fix it!" Jake barked at the poor makeup artist, pointing at his neck like it personally offended him.
The makeup artist just smiled sweetly and said, "Next time, tell your girlfriend to put them when you're not broadcasting live to the whole world, JungKook-ssi."
Jake groaned again. Jimin just patted his back sympathetically — and then pulled out his phone.
"Smile!" Jimin said, snapping a picture of Jake's murderous expression mid-taping. "For the archives."
"Delete that," Jake growled.
"Over my dead body," Jimin grinned.