Most wanted | p.jm x reader

1.4

"Why the hell are you so fucking late?" Heonwoo grills into me as the whole room goes silent at my entrance.

I gulp as I stare into Heonwoo's eyes with a glare as ferocious as the one he's burning through my retinas right now. But even as he glares, I can still spot a hideous smirk that threatens to tug on the corner of his lips as he attempts to embarrass me in front of everybody.

I could take his crap, but this was too much. Especially since he was the reason I was so late in the first place.

-

2 hours ago

After the devil incarnate, Manager Heonwoo, forced me to stay here and clean up the huge mess he had made on the lounge's luxury carpets, I had to brainstorm what I could do to make sure that the water would dry fast enough for me to make it on time to the vans.

It took me about 5 minutes and a mini mental breakdown to finally come up with a solution, but once I did, I immediately sprinted out the room faster than Usain Bolt at the Rio 2016 Olympics.

I remember there were all these huge fans that were still left all over the shooting lot. They were used to keep Taehyung's makeup from creasing while shooting intense shots that required lots of physicality and caused him to sweat like crazy. I figured fans that size could dry up the water in an instant.

But when I ran down to go get one from the loading trucks and asked the crew to borrow one for a while, I soon realized how much I underestimated the size of them.

Big was an understatement. They were huge.

But it was the only way. The material of carpet was much too luxurious and expensive for me to put a blow dryer to it without ruining the material and forcing someone from Taehyung's team to pay for it. And doing that would only get me an earful from Manager Heonwoo.

So, I put on my big police girl pants, rolled up my sleeves, and proceeded to carry one fan off on my own.

But determination can only take one so far.

For the first five seconds of lifting the fan off the ground, I felt like the strongest woman in the world. Like I could take Ronda Rousey out with one punch.

Then by the sixth second, I had fallen flat on my ass, embarrassed by the pity stares given to me by the crew and movers.

After seeing my humiliating fall, they offered to help me haul the fan all the way up to the lounge room.

Though it took a while, we were able to bring them all the way to the room. On our way up, I saw Yeri, running up to me in a panic.

"Y/N? What're all the fans for? What happ--"

I cut her off mid-sentence. I didn't have the time to stop and chat with her, especially since time was precious.

"I have to go take care of something real quick. I don't have a lot of time. You need to call my cell when the cars get here for us if I'm not down here by 2:30."

"But--"

"Thanks, Yeri! I can't talk anymore, got to go!" I frantically say, jogging away from her in quick speed as I headed for upstairs.

When I finally get there, the men (and the single woman who helped) had already set up the fan for me and had it running at full speed. After multiple bows to show my gratitude towards them, they told me I could just leave it there when I finished and left me to my own devices.