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PLAYING THE PART : OFF SCRIPTS

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Jungkook slouched in his father's opulent office chair, one long leg draped over the armrest as he scrolled through his phone. The headlines blared louder than the furious man pacing behind the desk:

"Model Makes Headlines for Public Display of Affection!"

"Verité luxe Cosmetics Heir at it again, what's new?!"

"Another Wild Night out Costs Millions in Reputation Damage!"

oh, and to add color, the pièce de résistance, a grainy photo of Jungkook pressed against a person outside a Paris nightclub, the kiss blurred but unmistakable

"Do you even care how much this affects the company?" his father barked, slamming a stack of glossy magazines onto the desk.

Jungkook tossed his phone aside, unfazed. "Come on, Dad. Bad publicity is still publicity."

His father looked at him like he was a moment away from snapping. "Bad publicity?" He fumed "You think the board, the shareholders, would see it that way? You think the media sees it that way? Do you think I see it that way?"

Jungkook rolled his eyes, a bored sigh escaping him. "This is getting old." He muttered, kicking his feet up onto the coffee table. "It's not even that bad??"

"pas si mal?" He slammed his hand down on the table, rattling the silverware. "You are a headline. Again. Investors are calling me nonstop, questioning our family's stability. Do you think Dior wants their campaign face splashed across tabloids like this?"

"Okay. So You want me to kowtow before those fucking nosy creeps and cry a sorry for even daring to enjoy my life? FINE. Have it. I'll release an apology or whatever the hell that you want tonight, if that'll save my dear father from a heart seizure." He smiled, but it was thin, insincere.

"That won't be enough."

Jungkook froze. His posture stiffened, and the fake smile slipped from his face. There was something in his father's voice-something final-that unsettled him. He narrowed his eyes, his gaze sharpening.

"Pardon?"

His father sighed roughly and stepped around the desk, his commanding presence suddenly suffocating. "This isn't your first scandal, Jungkook. I've covered for you more times than I care to count. The parties, the drugs, the hookups-cette folie, this circus of recklessness is a direct hit to the family name. To my name."

"Dad-"

"Ça suffit!" His father's voice cracked like a whip, halting Jungkook mid-sentence. Switching between languages, his words grew faster, sharper- "I will not-I will not-sit here and watch you ruin everything I've worked for."

Jungkook's pulse quickened. "Dad..." His tone was clipped now, defensive, and a contrast from his earlier nonchalance.

His father finally stopped pacing, crossing his arms and leveling Jungkook with a cold stare. "You need to realize there are consequences for every one of your actions, Jungkook. And you need to face them."

Jungkook clenched his jaw, exhaling sharply. "I already agreed to make an apology. I don't know what more do you-"

"And I said that's not fucking enough!"

Hearing René Étienne Lemoine curse was a rare occurrence. Jungkook flinched, his smile freezing, as his father snapped with an unusual rage. Silence fell between them, thick and suffocating. Jungkook could feel an ugly knot tightening in his stomach. He knew this wasn't going to go his way. His father stood there, silent but intense, his gaze heavy with something that felt like burial. Jungkook parted his lips, struggling to find a response.

"Tu vas te marier."

Jungkook froze. The words took a moment to sink in. Then, after a beat, he let out a loud, incredulous laugh-manic, almost desperate. "Okay, I'll bite. You're joking, right? Because that's insane. Absolutely insane."

His father didn't budge. Arms crossed, gaze unwavering.

Jungkook's smile faltered, his throat suddenly dry, his skin tight.

"No." He forced a laugh, but it was hollow. "Non. Non-"

His laughter trailed off as his father remained unmoving. Jungkook's palms went clammy. His heart thudded painfully in his chest, his cocky bravado nowhere to be seen. "Non," he repeated slowly, the word testing the air like he could somehow make it change. "Non. Non. Qu'est-ce que tu fais là?"

His father held his gaze, unblinking. Jungkook's glare wavered. For the first time, he felt small, powerless, and he shouted,

"You can't be serious."

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Jungkook is rich in all the best ways: rich in wealth, rich in looks, and of course, rich in arrogance with a PhD in assholery. A model with a face that could launch a thousand ships-and probably sink a few, too. He's so used to getting whatever he wants, it's practically his superpower- or he thinks. But when his latest scandal threatens to bring down his family's shiny, carefully curated empire, his father decides it's time for damage - or pest (which is his son) control. The solution? An arranged marriage. Ironic right? and that to a guy who couldn't care less about the model's glossy magazine covers-or his "charming" personality.

Enter Park Jimin: blunt, indifferent, and unimpressed by Jungkook's existence itself. The only thing Jimin's here for is, well, he'll have to revise that part-but surely, a good cup of coffee, if he can find one in this mess.

now now, let's raise a toast to their upcoming wedding and a married life that's bound to go very much "off scripts"

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Apologies firsthand : I changed my guy's nationality a bit.

warning :

don't expect a regular update. Knowing myself, i wonder if I'd even keep it here for long