va händer ?¿ Ꮺ SUMMARY
you've never been good with words, with actions, and martin sees this as disinterest, as disgust. but in his anger and tender sadness, he finds the real profession of your love for him
va sa du ‼ Ꮺ GENERAL
ᝰ── childhood friends to lovers | angst | hurt/comfort | fluff | argument | martin realizing that you do in fact love him | you being bad at love | making up | kissing | teenage love
Ꮺ REQUESTED BY 2 anons
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Ꮺ sin talking listen to me
ALLLRRIIIGHTYYYY
okay so this is a laaate little birthday special for the amazing martin. it doesn't have a birthday theme persay but it is a martin fic, so whatevs 😋😋😋
AND I'M BAAACK it's literally been like over a month, and I'm so happy to finally be back after literal hell back at school I'VE MISSED YOU GUYSSS 🤧🤧🤧
enjoy my lovelies !! 😽
"you can't possibly still be mad at me?"
but yes, he was still mad. "you have to understand that you did something wrong."
a quiet beat passes, and MARTIN'S able to take in the sight of you. your hair is perfect, as always, and your makeup is flawless, even at the end of the day. you were unattainable. people at school wished and dreamed of either being you or having you.
so what do you have to do with MARTIN of all people? he asks himself that question every day.
MARTIN is, to put it simply, an outsider. people don't look twice as they pass, and they never give him a second thought. he has a few friends, one guy in his class, two in the year below, and then someone who graduated a year ago. but these people, they were it. group projects never lead to new friendships, passing words by the lockers never matter in the long run.
so he took pride in these people, these few guys that cared and showed it. barely two weeks after he met juhoon, the guy in his class, they decided to kickstart a small band from their shared love of music. juhoon on drums and MARTIN on mic and guitar.
two weeks later, juhoon introduced him to two friends who were a year younger, and they were quick to join the band. james kind of just melted into the band eventually, being a neighbor of MARTIN'S, he constantly overheard their rehearsals in his garage. he'd walk up the driveway, saying something like, "I had some leftover cookies I thought you guys might want," and after a few weeks, it turned into him picking up a guitar and playing with.
MARTIN felt as if he had achieved something. he now had somewhere to belong: his overflowing garage, with instruments, amps, and a few wonderfully weird people.
so he'd go from quiet conversations with juhoon at the back of math class to loud beats of music and echoing lyrics. for once, life was a little airy, going from secluded and ignored to having a part he loved and loved him.
and then, you came along. you lived on the same street, MARTIN knew this. back when you were kids, the two of you would even play in the streets from time to time. but as time passed, and social constructs grew in your teenage years, your mellow contact broke; waves in the hallways and gentle smiles came to a halt.
you were never close, but it hurt MARTIN a little to have to go from sheepish waves to nothing. but life goes on, and he learned to let it go, let you stay unattainable.
you didn't think much of him, that is, until that one day. you'd been cramming in study time at the school library for what felt like an eternity. the sun shone encouragingly at first and began to set when you decided to call it a day. chemistry was screwing you sideways, and of course, the teacher was a punishment sent from hell, so you were stuck teaching yourself the syllabus the day before the exam.
you ended up packing up at around 5pm, approximately five hours after your classes ended. your last lesson had been canceled, and instead of your usual departure to the corner shop or hanging out in the courtyard with your group of girl friends, you decided to make camp in a pile of chemistry books and notes, and the sterile light of your laptop.
your friends had laughed, dragged you by the arm towards the exit in protest, but you insisted, and, with a sigh, they left you to your misery as they celebrated their early end to school.
when you finally collected your things, defeated by the pain that is chem, it was too late to go to the corner shop and too late to find any of your friends still available. so you retorted to going home. you took the bus to the closest stop, but it still made your walk home ten minutes.
this walk was often relaxing, a way to start your morning or end your school day, but now, it feels like a death sentence. each step takes more and more out of you. the sky's turned beautifully orange and purple, the spring ─nearly summer─ sun shining everything in comforting tones. but you can't find any energy to actually appreciate the warmth.
the day had defeated you, you're tired, you feel clammy, and you yearn for the shower waiting for you at home.
so what could possibly put you in the position you're in now? stopped dead in your tracks; unmoving, mesmerized.
MARTIN, that's who. the sun hits him in a way that makes his blond-dyed hair golden and his dark brown eyes shine. he's pretty; painted nails strumming his electric guitar, lips close, intimate with the microphone; the mic stand stretched tall to reach him.
you remember him, of course, you do. the boy who'd always come up running to you with the brightest smile on those warm summer days when you two and a couple of the other neighborhood kids would swim and play around in your pool. the boy who'd always share his pocket money with you so you could also buy a popsicle when the ice cream truck came around.
he's sweet, he always has been. but when reputation and standards caught up, letting people go felt non-optional. MARTIN came with that "non-negotiable" ruling, and your friends convinced you not to care. and you haven't cared, not for five years, but now, when you're witnessing him at his best, it's hard not to look away. he's effortless in his strumming and plucking of the guitar; he's cool and natural with the mic that's nearly touching his lips.
you're not the first to stop and stare. a whole crowd has formed in his driveway, clapping in rhythm, and a few shouting the lyrics with MARTIN. he looks so happy, so in his element.
you don't join the crowd; you're too intimidated to, you stay on the sidewalk, a good few meters away from the ordeal. but you stay, you stay for the entire show. over the thirty minutes they play, they don't miss a single time. every song gets the crowd hyped, gets people singing, dancing, and applauding.
MARTIN is quiet, from what you've seen nowadays anyway. soft-spoken in class, on the low-key in hallways. but here, he's loud and catches everyone's attention with as much as a striking smile and an encouraging shout. time passes quickly with his on-stage charm, and after he lands his last chord with a confident strum, he says his thank yous as people start filtering out with newly found smiles and pleased ears.
you however, you're stuck, you can't bring yourself to move, to leave. the crowd grows thin, and the people who once blocked your appearance have left. you ─in your school uniform, imperfect hair, and a mountain of textbooks in your hands─ still stand on the pavement, teetering on the edge of his driveway. you stand out like a sore thumb against the astray people dressed in black and studs.
MARTIN spots you. spots you in your pretty white blouse and plaid skirt, that somehow manages to look better, different on you than on everyone else. you and your ─in his eyes─ perfect hair, holding a pile of school work tight to your chest.
time doesn't slow, sparks don't fly; it's rather clumsy. shivers of shock rush through him at the sight of you, and in his flabbergastment, he drops his guitar, the neck bumps into a cable, tearing it from its socket in the amplifier. feedback screeches for a few seconds at the commotion, echoing and causing the rest of the band to shout annoyances.
"sorry," MARTIN insists, picking up his fallen guitar.
when he starts making his way over, hand grasping his guitar, your body yells at you to move, to leave before you do anything you'll regret, but you're suddenly face-to-face, and it's too late to flee.
when he's close enough, you truly realize how much older the two of you have gotten, because he towers over you, and he's no longer dressed in playfully colorful clothes or wearing hairclips his sister dressed him in.
you see him in the hallways from time to time, his glasses and painted nails, but the fact has never clicked in your head. you realize that MARTIN'S not stuck in some memory in your head. he's real and there.
"you play," is all you can get out, the first words you've spoken to him in five years, and he chuckles, sounding embarrassed.
"yeah, I do," he says sheepishly, glancing down at his red guitar.
"you were great," you say. he smiles, looking down at you.
"we, uhm," he stutters, pointing back to the garage with the guys tidying up and grabbing cans of soda from a red cooler. "this's our first gig, kinda," he laughs awkwardly. he leans his guitar on his shoe so he doesn't have to hold all its weight. "we were playing and people sorta just gathered y'know."
you find yourself smiling. "really?" he glances at your eyes, but looks away after a second. "that's.." you lose your words, the thought of your group's voices taunting you. they make fun of people like MARTIN, the glasses-wearing, note-taking, alone-sitting somebodies that are so easy to ignore and even easier to point and laugh at with the excuse of feeling pity.
it's the fact that you're standing here, in front of this tall, gentle, glass-eyed guitarist, and you don't really care what they'd have to say. you've missed him, a fact only ever made apparent right in this moment when he's close, and the sunrise gleam shines him rosy and flushed, and his glasses are still a little lopsided from past commotion.
you two grew from that, this small interaction. subtle, sheepish waves in the hallways, to you stopping by his house when they were playing. sitting in a nearby armchair, drinking a dr. pepper that MARTIN always offered the minute he saw you walking up his driveway.
you were welcomed in a way you haven't been before, and that just led to you two. a late august evening, the sun mere inches away from hiding under the horizon. just the two of you are left after juhoon said his goodbyes. an innocent conversation turned romantic with the help of a sunset, a blush, and far-too-cute glasses.
one detail that always reminds you of that evening is the fact that he gave you a diet dr. pepper rather than an original. seeing that white can, always reminds you of that smile he gave you, of that kiss you shared.
"you got any studying to get home to?" MARTIN asks as he puts down his guitar on its stand. you chuckle at the question, because you do, quite a lot at that. you have a book seminar in english this friday, and you've got half the book left. it's constantly been slipping your mind thanks to your newly frequented stops at MARTINS and the fact that the book is just mind-numbingly dull.
"just a bit of reading," you lie, taking a sip of your diet dr.pepper. his eyes land on yours again after having put his guitar down, and he's wearing a pleased smile.
"so, maybe you can stay a little longer?" MARTIN proposes, and there's something about the way he looked in that very moment. eyes aglow by the setting sun and glasses beaming.
you end up sitting on his driveway, the gray concrete cold underneath you, and the can in your hand humid with condensation. there are no words to really describe the moment. sunset shining the world golden, laughter blessing your ears. it's simple, yet your flushed skin is nothing but complex. he's sitting close enough for your shoulders to touch, and it makes all his words so foggy.
he chuckles as he makes a remark, and you nod with a smile, but you're lost in him. in his glasses that mirror the sun, the smile that fits him so well, and the hands that are so close. if you were to stretch your pinky, you'd touch his, and wasn't that a little bit too tempting?
he laughs again, a deep, colorful chuckle that infects you with a warmth; a warmth that gives you courage. your pinky touches his, subtle, but undeniable. it makes him trip over his words a little, and the blush that inches up his face is enough to make you reach over properly, your palm against his outer hand.
his words dissolve before they can reach his tongue, and he's left with only breath and a warm pulse. "I-," he chuckles, his throat bobbing as he looks down at your touching hands.
your contact lies there; open for him to acknowledge and pursue. what you expect is him to slowly intertwine your hands, to give you a smile. but before he even tries, he looks to you, and he holds your eyes so carefully, his gaze so gentle.
"I'm happy we get to hang out so often," he nearly whispers, because if he were to speak any louder, when he's this near, it'd ring in your ears.
you smile, and you see the desperately subtle glance he gives your lips. what you want to say is something along the lines of gratitude and a form of reciprocation, but "prove it," is what you end up saying instead.
he blinks at your response, an airy exhale leaving him, but he dares to glance down at your lips again, lingering a little longer, making it obvious. obvious enough that when he does lean in, his lips on yours already feel natural. it feels like instinct, like the easiest thing to do. when his hand finally engulfs your own, and his other dares to reach for the brink of your neck, that's when it melts into you. him and his presence and warm skin.
his glasses bump into you, but it doesn't grow tense; the two of you merely giggle into each other. your hand that's not holding his reaches up to lay on his chest, but through the humidity of your mind and warmth of MARTIN, you forget about the dr.pepper in your grasp. as your hand moves and your fingers grow loose, the can spills onto your uniform and his jeans.
you both yelp, lips disconnecting, touch leaving, but the hand that's holding his managed to grow tighter, safer. you see the now-dented white can roll down the slanted driveway with a clunky, uneven sound. you meet his wide eyes, pink lips, and slanted glasses, and you laugh. your head clunks into his chest, which is now dressed in a wet t-shirt. his chest rumbles with laughter under your temple.
you walked home that day with one of his old, dry t-shirts. and a kiss goodbye at your front door, as he had insisted on walking you the ten meters to your house. you felt blessed, MARTIN thought it was too good to be true.
the two of you grew into something gentle, into something that was just your own. you wanted to keep your relationship on the low-key, and who was MARTIN to object? he didn't mind having you when no one else saw. he blamed it on different circles, on schedules. but you, you realized, that you do in fact care what your friends have to say.
in the beginning of your relationship, it was giggles and soft touches, secret kisses and passing glances when nobody could see.
a month passed, and then three. it was careful what you two had, something you cherished, but nowadays, over the past few weeks, your friends have gotten to your head.
"god, I feel like I see that blond wannabe wherever I look."
you look up from your lunch plate, the comment landing wrong in your chest. "MARTIN?" you inquire.
your friend scoffs a grimace. "that's his name?" the rest laugh. "I swear if I hear him and his little band-geek friend laugh in math one more time, I'm losing it."
the table erupts in further comments and laughs. you utter a forced snicker, but you cower into your plate, the laugh tasting sour on your tongue.
ever since then, it's continued, it's grown. remarks have gotten rougher, laughs tetering on mockery, cruelty. it all sinks into you with bitter force, with a truth you don't want to face. so subconsiously, sharply, your behavior shifted. subtely, your hands started to hesitate rather than assure. your kisses grew fewer and fewer. your glances, your contact, it grew strained. you tried, you begged yourself to get yourself together, but now there's really no denying your behavior.
it leads you to where you are right now. you got home a while ago, been home for a few hours, MARTIN ended just twenty minutes ago. so you're in comfy loungewear and barefaced, while MARTIN'S tense in his school uniform.
"I want to know why," MARTIN says with a yearning urgency. you don't look him in the eye, you can't. you try to muster up an answer, your arms crossed and your eyes on the living room wall.
he says your name with this desperate hurt, and it hits you beneath your ribs, all flesh and close tears. "why is it so hard to give me a glance. a sliver of your attention."
you swallow, close your eyes hard. "MARTIN, please, as if you don't ignore me too." he scoffs, quiet yet obvious.
"I'm not the one that let's go of your hand when we're out." you clear your throat, sight falling to your hardwood floor. "I'm not the one who refuses to look you in the eye as soon as anyone's near. or no one, for that matter."
this is where all this came from. the two of you crossed paths in the hallway today, no one around. when MARTIN smiled at the sight of you and privacy, you saw it as too risky and steered away, not even as much as glancing his direction.
it was silly, dumb. not a hello, not even eye contact.
"I feel like I'm the only one in this relationship," he chokes on his words; they feel too honest, because deep down, MARTIN knows that this really is a possibility.
"please, MARTIN, a glance doesn't mean much," you defend, but you still can't bear the thought of looking him in the eye.
"to you, of course it doesn't," he states. you exhale, holding back a begging urge at your eyes. "because, you-." he inhales, breathing to withhold what's begging to come undone. "you could leave any day."
you do the unbelievable, the unmistakable, you meet his eyes. they're glassy, they're hurt beneath the furrow of his brow. you swallow.
"a glance doesn't matter when you have the choice to go as you please."
you switch your weight from one leg to the other and shift your arms around in their crossed position, you do anything to do something. "and how come you can't, huh?" he huffs, head turning to the wall. "hm, why can't you leave any day you please?"
"because I love you," he confesses, his tone rough with an urge to hold back what leaps forward. but it still comes out as if it's the most obvious thing in the world.
it settles deep in your abdomen, harshly in your throat as your brows furrow and your arms grow loose.
he sniffs. "that's why," he proclaims, meeting your eyes before walking off to the nearest door; your bedroom door, and closing it behind him.
the echo of the door clicking shut is what makes both of you crack. tears fall slowly, hands cover, your body grows limp. you sink into the couch, tears mixing with your skincare, brows folding under the pressure of your head and aching waterline.
MARTIN, he glides down the door, landing with a quiet thud as tears fall with vigor. his lashes crimp, his glasses bend and lift as his hands rub and cover his eyes.
he might be able to choke the excuse that he needed an argument, he needed a way out, but the raw, uncovered truth was that he loves you. every time he sees you walking up that driveway, everything else falters. every time your hand grazes his, nothing else can itch a frown out of him. you make him feel like himself, unfiltered and protected.
but the past few weeks have made him believe that he's not yours, and you're not his. everything you do seems to be in compliance with others. MARTIN knows people think of him as weird, that his dyed-blonde hair is outlandish, and that if he wears glasses, his personality should fit the bill. but he's never believed that you did too. you've convinced him that you're not like your friends, that your surroundings aren't a reflection of who you are.
yet here he is, sobbing against his palms and uneven glasses, having come to the conclusion that it was, in fact, too good to be true. because who could see their lover and not smile, who could see their lover and not care.
MARTIN takes a deep breath, sighing into his palms in an attempt to stop his tears from flowing so harshly. he feels dumb, rather silly, sitting here so insatiably affected by something you don't even seem to classify as an issue.
he huffs, standing up as a way to shake this grimy layer of anxiety off him. the simple action doesn't help at all; it only makes him dizzy behind his cloudy glasses. immediately after standing up, he sits down, your bed comfortable underneath him. it's lacy and pink, it radiates you. you and your pretty outfits with matching colors and jewelry. he sniffs, bringing his nail between the knaw of his teeth.
he bites at the chipping color on his nail. it was you who painted them cherry red. "it matched your guitar," you had said, happy after having found the right color in your large collection. MARTIN smiles bittersweetly, looking down at the almost-gone paint. you're just behind that door, so close yet still so abundantly unreachable.
he bites his lip, wrapping his hand around the old polish on his nails, almost as a desperate attempt at preserving something he believes is nearly over.
through his choked back tears and humid waterline, he catches a glimpse of a blue strip of paper hanging on the edge of your vanity mirror. a vibrant blue he recognizes from his own room. on one of your first dates, you went to this arcade. the usual old and modern games. that one dance battle game, where he won by a landslide, and the racing game, where you came first, and he came last.
they had this photobooth. it cost a dollar for a strip of three pictures. you took one, he took one. MARTIN got the black-and-white pictures of you in that pretty sweater you wore, and peachy eyeshadow that turned white and glittery in the photo. while you got his picture, the one that started off serious before he got childish with his poses. him, and his spiky hair and black-painted nails. here it was, displayed right where you do your makeup every morning.
MARTIN makes his way over, taking a seat in the chair by the white vanity. just a simple glance makes him notice the little chikawa plushy hanging right beside the black-and-white photo. this dumb little white plushy with a taiyaki head.
he chuckles, grazing the wide black eyes on the plush. MARTIN won it that day at the arcade. you had laughed, said it was ugly, in which MARTIN acted offended. it wasn't ugly, it was cute; at least MARTIN thought so.
he finally notices the many differently colored post-it notes stuck to the edges of the mirror. a mix of yellow, green, and pink sticky notes tucked into the slants of the white frame. MARTIN leans in, catching the clunky pencil lines of his handwriting. they were his notes, the ones he had sneaked into your locker and managed to discreetly pass to you in class.
"one you've never tried," one said, accompanied by a heart. he wrote that one on a redbull can he bought you with flavor you'd been wanting to try. which he then put in your locker for you to find on a gloomy thursday morning.
"I like your outfit." MARTIN chuckles reading this one. he had given it to you sneakily in class, and you had giggled, knowing you were wearing the uniform of every single other person in the school.
each one was a little stupid, a quick quip, things that didn't really matter too much, yet here they hung proudly, accompanying you every morning when you get ready.
MARTIN sighs, bottom lip sore under his teeth. was all this really futile? wasn't this affection? keeping parts of him without the need to brag about it. he never knew you kept that plushy, or that blue strip of pictures, or a few silly notes.
MARTIN is taken aback by your preservation of a few gifts and a couple of anecdotes, but why should he be? if you care, how come it doesn't show? why do your touches skim and hesitate? why does your smile falter? why do you cower at the tiniest bit of reciprocation?
in the midst of MARTIN'S quick conclusions and bustling brain, he sees it: the white, dented dr.pepper can sitting so innocently in an empty space on your bookshelf. he sits there for a while, just looking. it's scratched, silver metal peeking through the white cover. the dent is obscure and obvious.
it's only when MARTIN stands up from the small vanity chair that he realizes he's been holding his breath. he exhales abruptly, the breath burning his throat. he walks over to the wooden bookshelf. the can has been cleaned, the debris and dirt washed off. it's meticulously taken care of.
he raises a hand, grazing the roughed-up white surface with a red knuckle, and the cold metal takes him back to that day on his driveway, to you and your perfect hair and deep eyes and soft kiss; his first kiss.
never did he think back to that day and let his thoughts land on that spilled dr.pepper. if only it didn't happen, but here you were, displaying it, taking care of it. did the useless really matter? or was it just because it had a part in the moment? he picks the can up, letting it sink into his palm; both its smooth and rough edges.
MARTIN hears a knock at the door; it's soft, attentive. he turns to the sound and takes a second to breathe your barely-there presence in.
"MARTIN?" he hears you say, crooked and cowardly. his heart palpitated, aches at the sound. he takes the leap and opens the door.
there you are, tear-stained and beautiful.
"I hate my friends," you proclaim, and it stifles a breath from him. "they're so mean to you." you wipe your nose, tears continuing. MARTIN'S never seen you cry, and what some would consider revenge is what he sees as failure, because how could he let you end up feeling like this?
"their words keep coming back to me every time we're together, and it's-." you lay your face in your hands. "it's affected how I treat you."
MARTIN'S hold of the white can tightens the slightest.
"and it shouldn't." you brush your hair back. "you don't deserve that because-." your eyes meet his. "because you're so great, MARTIN," you sigh. "you're so sweet to me, and I just answer with being cold, and it's just cruel-."
he looks at you, really looks at you, and all he sees is passion. passion for him of all people. and love. love for him. isn't he lucky?
"please believe me when I say that-." he envelops you before your words can escape you. his arms wrap around you, your flushed and stained cheeks imprinting on his blue blazer.
"I love you," you say, finishing your sentence. MARTIN smiles into your neck where he's nuzzled into you, a final tear managing to escape and land on the fabric of your tank top.
you let your arms take a slow trip up around his neck, holding him tight against you. you sigh into him, closing your eyes beneath your furrowed brows. "I don't want to leave any day, MARTIN."
he still has a hold of the can, keeping it tucked into him, keeping the cold surface from touching your skin. he looks down at the metal from your shoulder, at its dented, imperfect, useless presence.
"I know," he says, knowing you're honest. he plants a reassuring kiss on your collarbone.
a beat passes, a quiet moment that holds you with such certainty. "I didn't know you kept all this," MARTIN mumbles into you.
you barely hear his words. "kept what?"
you two disconnect, you're still close, but there's enough space between you for him to show you the can in his hands. you exhale a laugh at the sight.
"I've kept prettier things from you," you chuckle. he smiles, planting a kiss on your temple.
"I saw," MARTIN answers, and your ears light up with a subtle pink. "my picture." he kisses your cheek, wrapping one arm around your waist as he delicately sets the white can on the vanity. "some of those sticky notes."
"I kept all of them," you're quick to confess.
MARTIN'S brows furrow, eyes widening. "all of them?"
you laugh, a hand going up to cover your mouth. "I have a box full of 'em in my desk." your cheeks have bloomed pink. "I switch the ones up on my mirror from time to time."
MARTIN'S the one who's blushing now. he cowers in the crook of your neck, and you laugh at the contact of his warm skin.
"and what?" he laughs through his blushing state, steering the subject away from his flushed embarrassment. "the chikawa's still ugly?"
you laugh, hugging him properly as your arms go around his neck once more. "as ugly as ever," you giggle. "but at least the guy that won him is kinda cute." MARTIN laughs, glasses a little crooked as he raises himself from your neck.
you smile contentedly. both of you are blushing, both of you are close. of course, your lips inevitably connect, comfortable and warm in the company of the other.
you don't want to leave, MARTIN doesn't want to leave. not someday. not any day.
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Ꮺ schedule ; future fics
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▎ in which you get ANOTHER sneak peek into cortis’ gc with their female member.
pt. 1 | ib: @pearlywhitefics 🫶🏽
a/n: finally guysss pt.2!!!! i hope you guys enjoy and im so sorry for being m.i.a, school be kicking my ass 😭😭😭🙏🏾🙏🏾🙏🏾 but thank you for reading and THANK YOU FOR 90 MILLION FOLLOWERS (it’s really 90 but who gaf) 🥳🥳🥳🥳🥳🥳!!
heyyy! can u do a fic where hyeon is your older bro’s bestfriend whom you have a secret crush on?? i rlly love that trope tysmmm 💗💗
BROTHER'S BEST FRIEND ── eom seonghyeon.
pairings older sister yn x brother's bestfriend seonghyeon
warnings swearing, mentions of drinking, they are both soooo avoidant (js like me teehee), lots of fluff, mentions of kissing, keonho is SUCH a menace, honourable mention to martin ALSO being a damn menace, JEALOUS HYEON
notes thank u for the req annonieee !!!! also pls ignore timestamps lolz..... this trope is so Dear to me bc i had the FATTEST crush on my older brothers childhood bestfriend and he's lowkey my Roman Empire....... also part 2 here
SYNOPSIS. despite his young age, ahn keonho is one of the most brilliant detectives in the 99th precinct. there's not a perp he can't catch in new york city except for one, and that's you. but one day, after six months of searching for you, he's finally able to bring you in. however... there's a slight problem. two problems, actually. the first is that you're about to cut a deal and avoid going to jail. the second might be worse. keonho thinks he might be in love with you.
or alternatively, ahn keonho realises that you’ve stolen much more than just jewels — you’ve also stolen his heart.
WARNINGS. swearing, kissing, mentions of robbery, guns, keonho and reader are both aged up for plot because you can't really be a cop at the age of 16, they're lowkey both lunatics bc who falls in love w their own perp and who falls in love w the guy thats trying to send them to jail
AUTHOR'S NOTE. THIS IS AN EARLY VALENTINES/KEONHO BDAY FIC. so sorry for the wait on this one after posting the teaser.. i know it's been a while. yes, this is HEAVILY inspired by doug judy and jake peralta's dynamic except this time it's keonho and y/n and they fall in love. mama he's in love with a criminal!! REGARDLESS I HOPE U ENJOY!! LMK UR THOUGHTS
AHN KEONHO KNOWS HE’S ONE OF THE BEST DETECTIVES IN THE NYPD.
He’s not even being cocky about it. For his age, his arrest numbers are staggering. Everyone in the precinct knows that there’s not a case that he can’t solve – even the ones that were deemed impossible, Keonho had somehow solved them in a matter of days. It was astonishing.
But there’s always going to be one person, one criminal that manages to slip away from Keonho’s grasp, and it’s you.
For the past six months, you’ve shown up on the 14th to steal jewellery from a store. It’s surprising to him too that he hasn’t caught you yet, since you’re so predictable. But always, he’s either got a wrong tip about the store that you’ll be hitting, or he’s just a millisecond late. It’s infuriating. He’s managed to bring down entire crime families, yet he can’t find a simple jewellery thief?
Keonho hates you with a burning passion. Every single move you make seems to be specifically to make him mad, and when he first got assigned this case on January 14th, he thought it’d be simple. Somehow, on February 14th – his birthday, mind you – you’d struck again, and you’d even left a post-it note with the words ‘Happy Valentine’s, and Happy Birthday, Detective Ahn!’ on the counter.
Keonho knew everything about you, except your name. What he didn’t expect was for you to know everything about him as well. It was the strangest thing. You knew that his name was Ahn Keonho, and that his birthday was February 14th. You somehow knew that he had a dog named Cookie, and that he enjoyed swimming.
Regarding you, Keonho knew that you wore star-shaped earrings, that your favourite colour was emerald green, and that your McDonald’s order was a Filet-O-Fish with medium fries and a medium Diet Coke. It’s still absurd to Keonho that he doesn’t know your identity when he knows your McDonald’s order, for gods’ sake.
“How the hell do you know the perp’s McDonalds’ order? And why?” Soobin, his captain, asks when he’s looking through the case file.
“Um… with good old fashioned police work? And who knows, maybe we’ll catch her in a McDonalds.” Keonho suffices. Soobin eyes him questionably, but doesn’t ask any other questions. He too, is confused as to how and why you’re somehow able to evade Keonho every single time.
On March 14th, Keonho knew that you were going to show up again, but of course, he was a second too late. You’d left a stupid candy bar on the counter as a gift, telling him that he should eat it. Of course he couldn’t, because it was considered as evidence.
On May 14th, you’d left him dog treats and a note that said it was for Cookie. He couldn’t give those to Cookie either, and they were once again, filed away and tested for DNA. Sure enough, there were none. Keonho nearly punched a wall that day. With the amount of evidence that you were leaving, it was supposed to be easy, but it was everything but.
“Is she stalking me?” He’d asked Seonghyeon after he saw the note, but the other detective had simply shook his head.
“You do know how active you are on social media, right?” Seonghyeon replies, looking at him incredulously. “One glance at your public Instagram feed tells me everything I need to know about you.”
Keonho rolls his eyes. “Curse my stupid popularity,” he mutters. “I have to feed the fans, though!”
“What fans?”
“I have 50 thousand followers! I’m practically a micro-influencer!”
“You’re the micro-influencer?” Seonghyeon suppresses a loud laugh. “They’re all there for Cookie anyways,” He looks back down at the glass case you’d smashed, checking if he can find any traces of hair or prints.
“Come on, it’s not that weird for her to want to find out which detective’s trying to catch her. Maybe that’s why she’s able to avoid you so well.”
On July 14th, you’d left a sticky note with the words ‘Hi, Keonho!’ You drew five hearts on the sticky note, and if Keonho wasn’t so frustrated at the fact that he’d just lost you again, he would’ve thought it was a hint.
“We’re not on a fucking first-name basis!” he exclaims, gritting his teeth and balling his hand into a fist. He hates you. He hates you so bad, and he can’t wait for the day he can throw you in jail for tormenting him every month.
Seonghyeon, his partner, peers over to look at the sticky note, and he raises a brow when he sees that it’s a heart. “A heart?” he laughs. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think she has a crush on you.”
“She’s pissing me off!” Keonho grumbles, storming off the crime scene. He got back into his car, slammed his fist on the wheel, and sighed. You were fucking flirting with him through post-it notes after robbing a jewellery store? Keonho thinks – no, he knows – that you’re an absolute lunatic. Either that, or you enjoy tormenting him. Or maybe both.
Keonho had to catch you. August 14th, mark the date, he thinks. He wasn’t going to let you get away this time.
He walks into the precinct the morning of July 17th with a cup of iced coffee in his hands, and oddly, Seonghyeon wasn’t at his desk. He furrows his brows – Seonghyeon’s always the first one in.
He looks over at Martin, who’s lazily taking a sip of his morning coffee at his desk. “Have you seen Hyeon?”
“He just left. You might want to go, now,” Martin says, flicking through a heavy file on his desk. Keonho knows that Martin’s been leading a task force that’s trying to take down the Jung crime family. It’s been troubling Martin just as much as you have been troubling Keonho.
“Why?”
“He got a tip about your nemesis. Girl who steals every time on the 14th. Seems pretty credible this time.” Martin replies, and Keonho’s eyes immediately widen in alarm.
“What?” He nearly drops his coffee. “You’re kidding. The one every 14th? The criminal that’s been fucking flirting with me through post-it notes?”
“Well, I didn’t know about the flirting bit, but you better get your ass to where Seonghyeon is if you wanna catch your nemesis.” Martin peers up at him through his glasses.
“I can’t believe that son of a bitch stole my case,” Keonho mutters, leaving his coffee on the table. He grabs his coat and his car keys, and sprints towards the stairwell – there was no point in waiting for the lift. As he bounds down the staircase, he calls Seonghyeon.
There’s no way in hell Ahn Keonho is going to let his partner, Eom Seonghyeon, arrest you without him being there. He’s been chasing you for months, and he’s not about to let Seonghyeon’s name be the only one on the arrest report.
“Why didn’t you tell me you got a lead?” Keonho says immediately when the line connects. “You were late to work, Keonho. Plus, once I called you in the morning a few months back when I got a lead on that one murder case we were working together, and you told me to not disturb your beauty sleep.” Seonghyeon responds, and Keonho scoffs.
“Okay, first of all – I give you full permission to disturb my beauty sleep if it’s about her. Second of all, send me your location, because I’m rushing over there right now.”
There’s a pause on the other end of the line before Seonghyeon speaks again. “Don’t freak out, okay? But… I’m heading to the McDonalds on 4th Avenue.”
Keonho’s eyes widen with delight when he hears those words just as he flings open the door to his car. “Oh man. Are we going to arrest her in a McDonalds?” He asks, excitement evident in his tone.
“Just get your ass over here, Keonho.”
“Freeze!”
You drop the fry that you’re dipping in ketchup. “Hands up in the air,” the voice says, and you smile, doing exactly what he says. You can hear the smugness in his tone – he's finally got you.
“Ahn Keonho?” you ask, even though you know exactly who he is. You’ve looked up his Instagram page too many times to even count. Was it strange that you had a crush on the detective that’s been chasing you for months?
When you turn around, and Keonho finally gets a glimpse of your face, his breath quite literally gets caught in his throat.
Because you’re gorgeous.
Ahn Keonho doesn’t, and has never, believed in love at first sight. But whatever he’s feeling right now – his heart fluttering, the world seemingly melting away, and everything just clicking together – this very well may be it. His archnemesis, the one that’s been robbing jewellery stores and tormenting him for months, might be the actual love of his life.
It’s insane that this is one of his first thoughts, rather than feeling satisfaction from finally catching you.
He’s done this thing a million times before. You’re under arrest, you have the right to remain silent… all of that. They’re words that are far too familiar to Keonho, but suddenly, they’re all lost on him at the mere sight of you.
You look just around the same age as him too. He’d expected that, based on the police sketches he'd drawn up on you after talking with other perps that knew you. You’re wearing a hoodie that he just so happens to own as well, and he gulps.
You look at him almost expectantly, lips parted as if you’re about to say something. Keonho just can’t stop looking at you like you’re the most beautiful person he’s ever seen – because truly, he thinks that you might be. He’s so completely taken by you to the point where he’s forgotten what he’s actually here for: arresting you for grand larceny.
“Keonho.” Seonghyeon says, looking at him strangely. Keonho’s completely frozen in place, and Seonghyeon’s never seen Keonho react this way to a perp. He can’t tell if the look on Keonho’s face is one of disbelief that he’s finally caught you, or something else – but a gut feeling tells him that it’s the latter. “Keonho!”
He snaps out of it.
He doesn’t say a word, though. Instead, he motions for Seonghyeon to handcuff you as he puts his gun back into his holster before pinching himself, as if it’s a reminder for him to get his act together.
As Seonghyeon puts the handcuffs around you, all you can really think about is how pretty Keonho is.
Your eyes are completely fixated on him as he stares at the floor, mumbling something to himself. He’s wearing a flannel jacket with a t-shirt underneath it, and his badge is dangling around his neck. He’s tall too, with strong brows and dark hair lightly tousled by the wind. He looked better than he did in the photos on his Instagram feed. You’re crazy, you think. Crushing on the detective that’s planning to put you in jail is laughable.
“Seems like you’ve finally caught me.” you say, and Keonho has to suppress a frustrated groan. This was just great. You were pretty, and your voice was beautiful. Even after he’s caught you, you’re still tormenting him, but truly, not in the way he had expected.
But Seonghyeon shoots him an odd look, as if it’s a reminder for Keonho to do his job.
“You’re under arrest,” he says. He’s longed to say those words for far too long now. The satisfaction he feels from that makes him crack a small smile, suddenly forgetting how he froze on the spot at the mere sight of you. You try to ignore how your heart flips at the mere sight of his smile – after all, you are in handcuffs.
“Well done, Detective Ahn.” you say after he reads you your rights, mirroring his expression. “I’m proud of you.”
Keonho blinks at you, stunned at your words. He’s trying to forget about how the words ‘Detective Ahn’ rolled off your tongue ever so sweetly. For someone who would much rather be called his first name rather than something so formal, Keonho suddenly doesn’t quite mind. But then he remembers that it’s you, and he snaps right back into reality. He still needs to bring you in.
“Why would you be proud of me?” Keonho asks incredulously. “I just caught you, and then I’m sending you to jail!”
“I’m proud of you for achieving your goal, Detective!” Keonho looks at you like you’re fucking insane. Maybe you were. You did try and flirt with him over post-it notes after stealing thousands of dollars worth in jewels. “Also, can you hand me those fries over there? I’m still kinda hungry, you know.”
“You literally just got arrested, and you care about… your fries?”
“I’m hungry, Detective Ahn. I spent money on that! C’mon, please.” you pout.
“Surprised it’s not a fucking Filet-O-Fish,” he grumbles under his breath. Much to his dismay, you hear him.
“How’d you know my usual?” you ask, tilting your head. The corners of your lips quirk up in an amused smile, and Keonho doesn’t know why it stirs up a strange feeling in the pit of his stomach. Surely it can’t be related to him finding you pretty. It can’t, and it shouldn’t.
Must’ve had something bad today, Keonho thinks. But then he remembers that he hasn't eaten breakfast yet. Oh, maybe it’s the coffee. Maybe I’ve finally become lactose intolerant.
“Good old fashioned police work,” Keonho manages to blurt out some clever retort, and he feels like he should pat himself on the back at this point. “I have the same questions for you – how did you find out my name and that I have a dog named Cookie?”
Your smile seems to grow even wider. Keonho hates it. “You have a… striking public presence, I must admit.” you muse. “I like your Instagram feed. Cookie is really cute too.”
You can’t be serious. Here you are, standing in front of him with handcuffs on your wrists, likely to be put away for the next five to ten years. And you’re telling him that you like his Instagram feed and that his dog is cute.
Not to mention that you were extremely beautiful as well. You were simultaneously Keonho’s worst nightmare and dream girl all wrapped up in one, and it is maddeningly confusing. He’s not sure if he should hate you or allow himself to fall hopelessly in love. His job says the former, but his heart might as well be leaning towards the latter.
“Just… get in the car.” he grumbles. You pout at the thought of having to leave your fries behind, but you don’t say anything.
Seonghyeon walks you over to Keonho’s car, and you get in the front-seat without any protest. Keonho slides into the drivers’ seat next to you, letting out a relieved sigh at the thought that he’s finally caught you. But then, he remembers that he hasn’t asked for your name.
“What’s your name?” he asks. “I need it for the police report.”
“Oh, I’m (Name).” you hum, drumming your fingers on your lap. Wonderful, he thinks. Even your name was beautiful. Keonho wants to bash his head against the wall. This was absurd.
You look around the cop car, craning your neck to get a good look at Seonghyeon. “You’re Detective Eom, right?”
“Yeah,” Seonghyeon replies, stunned that you know him too. “You’ve really been keeping tabs on us, haven’t you?”
You shrug in your seat as Keonho starts the engine to his car. “Might as well,” you hum. “I’m curious to know who’s on my tail, I guess. You’re a little bit more discreet, so I don’t know as much about you,” you tell Seonghyeon. But then your eyes turn to Keonho. “You, though. You’ve got a lot of stuff on Instagram.”
“And you,” Keonho says, eyes narrowing. His hands grip the steering wheel tightly. “You’ve stolen a lot of jewellery.”
You only let out a laugh. It’s warm and bubbly, and makes butterflies erupt in Keonho’s stomach. He opts to blame the coffee from this morning, because falling in love with a perp was absolutely ludicrous. Even more ludicrous because it was you, the person that he’s been cursing out every morning whenever he walks into the precinct.
He grips his steering wheel a little tighter before driving back to the precinct. Keonho tries to not look in your direction whenever he hits a red light. You smell like vanilla and gardenia, and he hates it because it’s absolutely intoxicating.
However, you occasionally steal glances here and there of Keonho as he drives. Ahn Keonho’s mere presence is making your heart beat faster than it does when you’re stealing jewellery. And it’s not because he’s sending you to jail — it’s because he’s just too beautiful.
The ride to the precinct is shorter than expected, and when Keonho’s arm grabs yours to lead you in, your cheeks heat up. Wow, you think. This was crazy. You were crazy.
There’s no way you were truly experiencing ‘love at first sight’ with the detective that’s been trying to put you in jail.
The elevator ride up to the fourth floor is uncomfortably quiet. You and Keonho steal glances at one another every now and then as you tap your foot on the floor, his hand still latching onto your arm.
You can’t help but admire how nice Keonho looks, even while you’re in this situation. And when Keonho looks at you and catches you staring, you flash him a smile before you look away, staring at the elevator doors. Keonho’s heart jumps.
Seonghyeon’s standing behind the two of you, staring at you both intensely to try and figure out why he’s sensing the slightest hint of romantic tension.
At this point, even Seonghyeon thinks he’s going crazy. They’ve been friends forever, and he knows that Keonho would never fall in love with a perp.
When the elevator doors open, Keonho spots Soobin and Martin standing at his desk, flicking over his files. “Captain! Look who I’ve brought in,” he says, beaming. Keonho tries to not look at you – he’s worried that he’ll stumble over his words again. “This is (Name). She’s the one who’s been hitting up jewellery stores every month on the 14th.”
“I haven’t confessed.” you interject.
“Oh, so this is the alleged sworn enemy,” Soobin hums, and you raise an eyebrow, looking at Keonho. “Bring her into the interrogation room and see if you can get a confession, then.”
“You talk about me?” you ask Keonho teasingly, and you watch as a faint blush creeps up on his cheeks.
“Of course,” he scoffs, trying to feign indifference. It’s not like you’ve been making him go crazy for six months straight, and now, you were driving him crazy in a completely different way. “We have to discuss the case. And after we get the confession out of you, we’re gonna put you in jail.”
“That’s funny,” you say, and Keonho’s suddenly worried because you haven’t got the slightest hint of concern on your face. “Hypothetically, what would it take for me to cut a deal with you guys and avoid jail time?”
“You aren’t going to be avoiding jail time.” Keonho says, matter-of-factly. He knows he’s got you dead to rights. If you somehow thought that you could charm your way out of prison… honestly, you probably could.
That’s how gone Keonho was – but he was determined to resist your charms. If he couldn’t, at least Seonghyeon would be able to take over for him.
“I’m just saying,” you shrug. “I know a lot of people that you guys might be looking for. And I could lead you to them.”
Soobin raises a brow. “Keonho’s been chasing you for six months. You’d be crazy if you think that we’d be letting you get away this easily.”
“What about a local drug cartel?”
“Not good enough,” Soobin hums, crossing his arms.
“Burglary ring?”
“Nope.” Soobin replies, and a grin slowly spreads across Keonho’s lips. You’re not getting away – not this time.
“What about info on a crime family?” you ask, tilting your head slowly. Martin’s brow quirks up ever so slightly. “The Jungs. Have you heard of them?”
Soobin and Martin immediately turn towards one another, eyes wide in shock. If you could lead them to the Jungs, they would genuinely consider it. Keonho watches as his captain goes silent, and he’s suddenly worried.
Fuck, maybe this is why you weren’t concerned in the slightest, he thinks – you had leverage over them, and you were about to walk free.
“We’re listening.” Soobin replies. Keonho looks at him, jaw slack with disbelief.
“Captain, you cannot let her walk free – I’ve chased her for six months, come on!” Keonho protests, and Soobin gives him a look.
“We’ll discuss this soon. Bring her to the interrogation room first though, Keonho,” Soobin replies. Keonho grits his teeth, groaning before he looks at you. Through his frustration, his heart skips a beat at the sight of your smile – even if it is unfortunately cocky.
“I’m not letting you get away,” Keonho tells you, his hand holding onto your arm again as he brings you to the interrogation room. He smells like earl grey and cucumber, and your heart flips at the proximity between you two as he leans over the desk to click your handcuffs in place, connecting them to the metal bar on the table.
“Sounds like you’re flirting with me.” It’s the first thing you somehow manage to think of, and even you’re shocked at your own boldness. You watch Keonho’s face practically turn bright red.
Those words shouldn’t have made him feel something. The butterflies that erupted in his stomach at those words shouldn’t have happened. He shouldn’t be at a complete loss for words, with his mouth suddenly dry and tongue-tied. His heart shouldn’t be pounding impossibly fast in his chest. Keonho hates how incredibly alluring you are — it’s driving him crazy, and he only caught you less than an hour ago.
When he regains his composure, he looks at you, narrowing his eyes. “You’re the one that’s been flirting with me,” he says, pointing at himself. “I saw all your post-it notes, your treats for my dog, the candy bars, everything! You did all of that just to taunt me, didn’t you?” he hisses.
You don’t say a word, simply leaning back in your chair with an amused smile on your lips. Keonho’s jaw tightens seeing your expression. It’s like you don’t have a single idea of how your words drive him absolutely crazy.
“You infuriate me.” Keonho grumbles.
“I know,” you say, your smile somehow growing even wider. You lean forward in your chair, inching your face closer to his. “And you intrigue me.”
Keonho blinks at you, mouth agape. His cheeks turn even redder than before he takes a deep exhale. He can’t even seem to pull himself away until he hears the soft click of the door, snapping him out of it. It’s only then when he realises the proximity between you two, and his eyes widen.
He jumps back like he’s just touched fire, and Seonghyeon looks at him oddly. “What happened?” Seonghyeon mouths at him, concerned. Keonho clears his throat before excusing himself from the room.
As the door closes behind him, Keonho brings his hand to his mouth, eyes wide with shock as he tries to process whatever the hell just happened.
All he can think about is how those words rolled so smoothly off your tongue, the teasing quirk of the corners of your lips as you smiled, and the smell of your vanilla perfume. Shit, Keonho thinks.
It’s then when Keonho realises that he’s fucked.
Completely and utterly fucked.
“So, how do you know the Jung family?” Soobin asks you in the interrogation room.
“I did some time in juvie with Vanessa Jung. Anyways, Vivian Jung approached me a couple of weeks ago and asked me to do a job for them,” you explain, drumming your fingers on the cool metal of the interrogation room table. You look at Keonho, who’s standing behind Soobin, arms crossed as he stares at you blankly.
“A week ago?” Martin’s brows are furrowed. “What did they want?”
“This one necklace. It’s worth quite a bit of money, and it’ll be on display at the gala. I agreed, but… not really that willingly. Vivian’s been spamming me to see what my plan’s going to be, but I haven’t replied yet.” you hum. “But, I’m just saying that all of them are going to be at the gala. All of them.”
Soobin and Martin look at each other with wide eyes. If what you were saying was true, this would mean that they could bring down the entire Jung family by the end of this week. Truly, it was too good of a possibility to pass up.
“Captain, don’t tell me you’re genuinely considering this – please, I’ve been chasing her for six whole months!” Keonho protests, his bottom lip jutting out in a pout. It was sort of adorable, honestly.
“If we have the opportunity to take down all of the Jungs, we can’t let it go,” Soobin says to Keonho. “Martin’s task force needs a win, and I’m sorry.”
Keonho narrows his eyes at you. “If we do make a deal with her, I want to be on this case. I’m going to make sure that you actually lead us to the Jungs. And we’ll only clear your record and give you zero jail time if you manage to give us all the Jungs. Every single one.”
“Sure,” you say casually, a smile tugging at your lips. “It’ll be fun to have you around, Detective Ahn.”
Keonho’s heart stutters again at the sight of your smile. It’s then when it hits him — joining the case means that he’s going to have to spend the rest of the week with you, and considering how he seems to fumble at almost every turn, he’s getting a little worried. Ahn Keonho doesn’t know how to act around you.
Martin raises an eyebrow at your words. “And… why would that be the case?”
“For no reason in particular.” you shrug, smiling. Martin can tell that there’s more than you’re letting on, and he eyes Keonho with an odd look. Now… would you be so kind as to take these handcuffs off so we can discuss a strategy?”
“You seem extremely confident that we’ll be able to get all the Jungs.” Keonho replies.
“Well, there’s a lot on the line for me, so I’m gonna have to do everything it takes to make sure you catch all of them. Plus... they're not the nicest...” your voice trails off as you look into the distance.
Keonho notices how your jaw tightens ever so slightly, and your brows furrow in what he thinks might be anger. What could that be about? he thinks.
“Alright,” Soobin sighs. “If you do get us all the Jungs, we’ll clear your record and give you zero jail time. I’ll talk to the D.A. Deal?”
You nod. “Deal.”
Soobin nods approvingly, a small smile of satisfaction on his lips. Keonho, on the other hand, does not look happy at all.
“Keonho, uncuff her,” Soobin says. “When’s the gala again?”
Keonho groans before walking over to you and unclasping your handcuffs. The smell of earl grey and cucumber infiltrates your senses again, and you smile at him as he frees your wrists.
“The gala’s this Friday,” you reply, stretching your arms now that they’re free of the restraints. “You need an exclusive invitation to attend, but I’m sure you guys will be able to find a way. Vivian gave me two tickets.”
“I’m going with you,” Keonho blurts out before he can even think. “I’m not letting you out of my sight.”
“Lovely,” you beam. “It’s what I wanted anyways.”
It clicks right then and there for Seonghyeon, who’s been listening in to the entire interrogation.
You think Keonho is cute.
That explains the flirty post-it notes. Seonghyeon thought that Keonho was crazy at first for saying that you were flirting with him. But now, seeing how you were interacting with him, he thinks Keonho may be right.
He doesn’t know what the hell happened between you two when you were alone in the interrogation room, but he knew that Keonho looked panicked when he’d left. He’s never seen him freeze in front of a perp either, but this morning was a first.
“Oh my god,” Seonghyeon mumbles. He didn’t even mean to say it out loud, and now everyone’s eyes are on him. “Sorry. I was just thinking to myself about another case that I was working on. Carry on.” He shoots Keonho a look, as if to say ‘we have to talk’.
Soobin opts to ignore whatever epiphany that Seonghyeon just had, diverting his attention back to you. “So… we’ll need you to contact Vivian to give her the details of your plan. Detective Ahn will accompany you to the gala, and since he’s so adamant about not letting you leave his sights, he’ll be with you for the duration of the week to make sure that you hold up your end of the bargain.”
“I will?” he sputters.
A whole week with you. Keonho doesn’t know how he’s supposed to function properly at all. He’d already just offered to go to the gala as your plus one, and he already regrets that. Now he’s going to be stuck to you like glue for the rest of the week – this couldn’t possibly get any worse.
Soobin nods, confused as to why Keonho seems so shocked. “You said you wanted to jump on the case… and you also just said you’d accompany her to the gala.” He’s never seen Keonho act so strangely before, and he’s been his captain for four years.
Everyone in the precinct knew that Keonho was laser-focused, never faltered and was quick on his feet. Soobin doesn’t know why Keonho seems to have turned into a completely different person overnight.
“Fantastic,” you beam. “One problem – the phone I use to contact Vivian isn’t with me, it’s at home. Also, my little sister lives with me, and I don’t really want her to know I’m involved in… crime, so Detective Ahn will probably need to hide his identity a bit.”
“That’s fine, just say he’s your boyfriend,” Martin says casually, and Keonho quite literally chokes on air. His face is red as he has a cough attack so violent that Seonghyeon’s worried he’s going to cough up a lung.
Boyfriend. Your boyfriend.
Keonho hates how he doesn’t mind at all about being known as your boyfriend. It sounded rather nice, in fact. His eyes widen at the realisation, and oh god – Keonho was in so fucking deep. It’s only been a few hours since he met you for the first time, and you’ve already gotten him hooked.
“Jesus,” Martin says, eyeing Keonho with concern. “What the hell, Keonho?”
“Sorry,” he wheezes, voice raspy. He takes a deep breath before clearing his throat. “He caught me off guard.”
You look at him with an odd look on your face, and Keonho doesn’t dare to make any eye contact with you. “Right…” you hum. “Detective Ahn here doesn’t seem like he wants to be my boyfriend.”
“I never said that!” Keonho practically yells. Everyone in the room looks at him, startled at his sudden outburst. Keonho, specifically, is a little too aware of your eyes on him. His cheeks are hot with embarrassment, and gosh, he really can’t believe he made a fool of himself in front of you. He wants the ground to swallow him whole.
“So… you do want to be her boyfriend?” Soobin asks.
“What?” Keonho doesn’t even know what he’s saying anymore. This is precisely why he regrets saying that he’ll jump on the case – he gets far too flustered around you. “I— no! Fuck, whatever. We’ll go get the fucking phone tomorrow.”
He excuses himself, practically running out the door. You watch as it slams shut, and Soobin, Martin and Seonghyeon all exchange a look. They’ve never seen Keonho act like this before. He’s never been so nervous or flustered around a perp.
“Does he always act like this?” you pipe up, and Soobin shakes his head.
“I’m sure Detective Ahn is fine,” Soobin replies. “And you heard him — we’ll see you tomorrow to get the phone.”
“Sounds like a plan,” you reply. Keonho was cute when he was flustered, but gosh, you really didn’t think it was going to be that easy to rile him up. You get up from the metal chair, waving goodbye to Soobin, Martin and Seonghyeon before you disappear from the interrogation room.
When you’re gone, Soobin turns to Martin and Seonghyeon.
“Is Keonho okay? What the hell was that about?” Soobin asks, brows furrowed together in concern. An amused smile tugs on the corners of Seonghyeon’s lips before he lets out an airy laugh.
“I have an idea of what it may be about,” Seonghyeon chuckles. “But none of us are really going to like it.”
eom seonghyeon work phone | 9:33am
good morning our beautiful ahn keonho
since you’re going to be with our perp all day today, i had to ask
do you have a crush on her???
eom seonghyeon work phone | 9:34am
stop leaving me on read
do you have a crush on our perp
3 2 1 answer now
eom seonghyeon work phone | 9:35am
i’m just going to say that you do
eom seonghyeon work phone | 9:37am
that’s a YES
I CAN’T BELIEVE YOU HAVE A CRUSH ON OUR PERP
SHE IS A CRIMINAL KEONHO
6 COUNTS OF GRAND LARCENY
keonho | 9:37am
I KNOW THAT
eom seonghyeon work phone | 9:37am
wait if you date a criminal and it doesn’t work out well you can just send them to jail right
clean breakup
no i support it now
go get your girl
Keonho groans as he turns off his phone.
How the hell did he get himself into this predicament?
It wasn’t planned, of course. He didn’t expect you to be this beautiful, or for your coy smirk to make his heart race, or for your stupid words to make his brain completely short-circuit. He’s never frozen like that – and as a cop, you should not be stunned at the sight of a perp.
But unfortunately, you were his ideal type – smart, quick-witted and a smooth talker. Maybe that’s why you were also such a good jewel thief.
He had told Seonghyeon that all the dates that he had gone on recently were devastatingly boring. Keonho thinks that in you, he’s finally met his match. However, there was one massive, glaring problem – one that Seonghyeon had reminded him about mere minutes ago.
You were a criminal. Cops did not fall in love with criminals. Or at the very least, they shouldn’t.
The sound of you knocking on his car window snaps him out of your thoughts. Keonho’s breath hitches at the sight of you once again. “Get it together, Keonho. It’s just a case. She’s just a regular perp,” he whispers to himself as a reminder. He unlocks the car door, and you fling the door open.
“Morning, Detective,” you say, beaming at him as you slide into the front seat. You’re holding two cups of coffee, and you hand one over to him. Keonho’s surprised at the gesture, but he thanks you for it nevertheless.
“So, off to my place?”
Keonho nods, not saying a word. He doesn’t want to speak, in fact. He’s worried that he’s going to say something strange like he did in the interrogation room yesterday and embarrass himself. Keonho opts to hand you his phone without a word, motioning for you to put in your address into his GPS app so that he can drive the two of you there.
You hand it back to him, and your fingers brush ever so slightly. Keonho’s cheeks heat up from your touch, sending jolts of electricity through his body. You’d be lying if you didn’t feel the slightest hint of butterflies in your stomach too.
Maybe it was a little absurd to have a small crush on the detective that was hellbent on trying to catch you. But you really couldn’t help it.
“I’m sorry that I was difficult to catch,” you pipe up as Keonho presses his foot on the accelerator, driving out of the precinct parking lot. “I know it was frustrating.”
Keonho’s eyes are strictly focused on the road, and he can’t tell if you’re mocking him with your words. Perps usually didn’t apologise for being difficult to catch – they wanted to avoid jail, in fact.
“You’re a criminal. You weren’t supposed to make it easy,” he replies. “It would’ve been good for me, though. I’m just wondering why you did it.”
For the first time, you don’t have a clever retort. Keonho just hears you sigh, and he doesn’t know why he just gets the feeling that things are a little more complicated than they should be. He wants to pry, but this isn’t an interrogation, and the last thing he wants to do is strike a nerve.
“For fun,” you reply. Somehow, your voice is unconvincing, and Keonho doesn’t really believe you. He sneaks a glance at you, and you’re simply looking out the window – but he catches the way your jaw clenches in what he thinks may be anger.
“I see,” Keonho taps his finger on the steering wheel rhythmically. He’s going to figure out your real motive – he has to. “You were leaving so much evidence, and I still couldn’t catch you. Which is why it was frustrating.”
“I think you could’ve caught me sooner,” you shrug, your voice ever so casual. “You’re smart. I’ve heard of your track record.”
He’s flattered, that’s for sure – but Keonho’s not quite sure what to say. “Um… thanks?”
“You’re welcome,” Keonho hears you say. “Anyways, my little sister should be at home now. She’s six and she’ll ask you a lot of questions. Just… keep your cool, yeah? No outbursts like the one in the interrogation room.”
That teasing tone in your voice is back again, and Keonho clenches his jaw. “That was… that was not my intention,” he replies, and you let out an airy laugh. Of course, it’s one of the most beautiful sounds Keonho has ever heard. He’s so distracted he nearly forgets to make a right turn. “I was simply… shocked at Martin’s words, okay?”
“I know,” you hum. “But you don't have to get so flustered around me, you know.”
Keonho gulps. Of course he knows. You're just... too pretty, too witty, too much of his type. He doesn't even know what to say in response.
The GPS tells him that you two have arrived just before Keonho can come up with anything coherent to say back.
“Oh, we’re here!” you chirp before opening the car door, and Keonho huffs. He gets out of the drivers’ seat, locking up his car before following you into the building, his hands in the pockets of his jacket.
For a jewel thief, your apartment building was rather modest.
You press the button for the elevator, tapping your foot on the floor as you wait for it to arrive. Keonho stands beside you, hesitant to even breathe. Even though your conversation in the car had alleviated some of the awkwardness and tension between you two, Keonho still finds himself confused about how to act around you.
The lift arrives, and you let Keonho enter first. You press the button for the eighth floor, and you press the ‘close lift’ button a few times before it actually closes. Keonho notices that you’re quite impatient.
You lead Keonho to your apartment, pushing your key and turning it before opening the door. “Welcome to my humble abode.” you quip, and Keonho smiles, albeit a little awkwardly. He kicks off his shoes, leaving them neatly against your shoerack.
“Sadie?” you call out. There’s silence for about five seconds before a young girl that looks like you comes running and tackles you in a hug. You pick her up, spinning her around as a smile graces your lips. Keonho’s heart, once again, does another flip.
“This is my little sister Sadie.” you introduce her to Keonho. The boy’s demeanour suddenly changes at the sight of Sadie waving at him, and he beams. Keonho’s smile is awfully pretty – it really could light up the whole room.
“Hi, Sadie,” Keonho replies, crouching down to her height. He was good with kids too. Fuck, you think. He really was the perfect guy. If it weren’t for the whole cop and criminal element, you’re 99% sure that you would’ve already asked him out on a date. “I’m Keonho. It’s nice to meet you.”
Sadie looks at you, and then back at Keonho. “Oh, you’re the one with the cute dog that my sister likes on Instagram!”
Your face is the one that heats up this time, and Keonho quirks a brow, looking at you expectantly for an answer. “You know what…” you mumble, flustered. “Sadie, why don’t you go and play with the new toys that Mom got you? Det— Keonho — and I have to talk about something important.”
Sadie obliges, albeit reluctantly. You lead Keonho to your room, but he manages to sneak in a ‘bye’ to Sadie before following you.
“So… it seems like you talk about me too.” Keonho asks as you open a drawer in your room. This time, he’s the one with the teasing lilt in his voice, and you groan at the fact that he’s now got this information.
“I mean, I told you that I’ve looked up your Instagram. It shouldn’t really be that surprising,” you say, rummaging through your things. “And you’ve finally seemed to get past that nervous stage – you’re teasing me now.”
Keonho lets out a laugh. “Right,” he muses. He looks around your room, and it’s not exactly what he expected of a jewel thief. It’s quaint, cozy even – posters of movies are strewn across your wall, and one in particular catches your eye.
“Ocean’s 8?” Keonho laughs, almost in disbelief. That was the only sign in your room that remotely even indicated that you would commit grand larceny. Your eyes flick up to the poster, and you glance at Keonho, noticing his amused expression.
Your laugh rings through the air, nodding before you start digging through the box again. “Yeah. Jewel robberies, The Met involved… It's what I’ll be doing at the end of the week. Right up my alley, isn’t it?” you reply.
Keonho’s eyes then flick towards another poster – Midnight in Paris. One of his favourite movies. He’s a little stunned and astonished that the two of you have a similar taste in movies. We’re meant to be, he thinks. At that thought, his eyes widen, and he quite literally jumps back due to how easily it slipped into his mind.
You look at him oddly, wondering what could’ve caused him to have that reaction. He simply shakes his head, sighing since he’s embarrassed himself in front of you again. “Sorry,” he says, clearing his throat. “I love that movie.”
He gestures towards the poster, and a smile graces your lips. “Midnight in Paris? It’s one of my favourites too,” you reply. “I didn’t peg you as someone who enjoyed rom-coms, though.”
“And I didn’t expect you to either. Thought you’d be into more crime-related films,” Keonho volleys back. Your lips curl up into a smile as you pull out the phone, handing it to him. Your hands touch once again, and Keonho tries – and fails – to hide the blush that’s already blooming across his cheeks.
“Fair enough,” you hum. “I like rom-coms. Favourite genre.”
“Me too,” Keonho replies. Your smirk grows a little wider.
“Maybe we’re meant to be?” There’s a teasing, flirtatious lilt in your tone, and it sends butterflies straight to Keonho’s stomach.
Instinctively, he replies: “Maybe,” The same coy lilt coats his tone, and your heart races. “I just think you want it to happen, though.” Adrenaline and intrigue courses through your veins at the mere prospect of Ahn Keonho flirting back with you.
Fucking hell, he thinks, when he realises what he’s said. It was too easy, too natural, and perhaps for the first time, he’s actually able to counter your flirting with a teasing comment of his own. He doesn’t think his job has ever been this difficult before. Even foiling that massive bank heist two years ago was easier than this, and he developed a white hair from the stress.
You’re far too hard to resist, and Keonho has to resist you. This case was going to make him go absolutely mental.
The tension in the room is palpable, and somehow, you and Keonho have inched closer to one another. You don’t think you’ve breathed in the last five seconds until Sadie barges into the room, holding a small remote-controlled car. “(Name)! It won’t move!” she says, pouting as she shows you the toy.
The spell, or whatever you and Keonho had going on mere seconds ago is completely broken. The two of you snap out of it, and you jump away from Keonho. You clear your throat before you crouch down and take the car and its remote from her. “Oh,” you hum, inspecting to see if it’s broken. “Isn’t this new?”
“Yeah!” she pouts, clearly upset. “I wanted to show Emily it tomorrow.”
“Let me see,” Keonho pipes up, crouching down as well. You hand him the toy and the remote, and he carefully inspects it as well. He flicks a small switch on the bottom of the car before putting it back on the ground. “I used to love remote-controlled cars when I was a kid.” he tells Sadie, who beams.
He uses the remote to direct the car forward, and it does. Sadie’s eyes completely light up before Keonho hands her the remote and the toy back. “There ya go,” he says, smiling at her. He flips the car around to show her the switch, pointing at it. “You have to flip this to turn the car on.”
“Oh,” Sadie replies. “Thank you, Keonho!”
Keonho grins. “No worries, Sadie. Now if you don’t mind – your sister and I have some work to do, so do you wanna go back out and play with the car? There’s much more space in the living room, right?”
God damn it. The more time you spent with Keonho, the more you think you’re falling. Of course he was good looking, smart, and your sister seemed to love him. The perfect guy for you was also someone who you definitely could not have.
Sadie nods, waving goodbye to you two before heading back to the living room. Keonho turns the phone on, and he notices that you’re abnormally silent, only staring at him with a soft look in your eye.
“What?” he asks, looking around. “Do I have something on my face?”
You snap out of it, shaking your head quickly. “N–no!” you stammer, your face heating up. “Sorry, um… thank you. For being so nice to Sadie – and not mentioning the whole grand larceny thing.”
You’ve never been one to stumble over your words, and this was a first. You’re not at all surprised that it was in front of Ahn Keonho though. Seeing him be so nice to Sadie hit you right at your soft spot.
Keonho nods, giving you a smile. “Of course,” he hums. “Do you mind messaging Vivian about the gala?” He hands you the phone – your hands brush again – and both of your hearts start racing.
You message Vivian, telling her that you’ve got a plan for the gala. She responds almost immediately, which shocks Keonho.
“Someone’s itching to get their hand on some jewels,” he says, leaning over to look at your phone over your shoulder. You look at him, and suddenly, you notice the proximity between you two. Your faces are almost touching, and you jump back like you’ve just touched fire. You stumble on a box that’s behind you, and you silently curse under your breath for embarrassing yourself.
“I…” You stammer, cheeks hot as you blink at Keonho. It’s the second time he’s seen you caught off-guard now. “Sorry.”
If you wanted to kiss me, you should’ve just said so, he thinks.
“What?” you exclaim loudly, cheeks burning hot. Shit, he said that out loud. That was not intended at all.
“I didn’t mean that!” Keonho replies, putting his hands up like he’s the wanted criminal. “Forget what I said, that just slipped out. I mean, I’m not saying that I wouldn’t kiss you, because I would–”
“What?” you exclaim even louder. At this point, Sadie’s about to run in here any minute after hearing all the commotion. Your heart jumps to your throat hearing those words – this wasn’t real. The detective that's been chasing you, and that you'd been crushing for a little bit... would kiss you, if the opportunity arose?
You don’t know what the hell is going on. Everything is happening all too fast, and Keonho claps his hand over his mouth like he’s just said his deepest, darkest secret – because he very likely has.
“Fuck, what?” Keonho’s voice is muffled behind his hand. His eyes are wide in horror. He can’t believe he just told you verbatim that he would kiss you. He wants the ground to swallow him whole right now. This was worse than the humiliating coughing fit in the interrogation room.
The crazy thing was, despite it being an uncharacteristic outburst, Keonho doesn’t really think that those words were a lie.
And oddly enough, you wouldn’t quite mind if Keonho did kiss you.
He takes a deep breath, composing himself. There was no way to get out of it now, was there?
“I… sorry. I don’t know what I’m saying,” he says, trying to seem calm. He’s still freaking out on the inside. You gulp, nodding. For the first time, you’re at a complete loss for words.
Do you flirt back? Do you tell him that you would kiss him as well?
From Keonho’s words, you could tell that he was, at the very least, attracted to you. After all, he did just tell you that he would kiss you. But this… this was wrong, wasn’t it?
Was it a crime in itself to be a cop and date a criminal with six counts of grand larceny on their record? You weren’t sure, but morally, it sure seemed like one.
The flirting over the post-it notes were just for fun, to be completely honest. You weren’t expecting to actually find that Ahn Keonho was your ideal type. You just wanted him to catch you, approve the deal that you’d be making and let you go. You weren’t going to see him again, and he wasn’t going to see you again.
And in the interrogation room, Keonho was just fun to tease and easy to get flustered. There was the added motivation of finding him cute, but of course you didn’t think anything would truly come out of it.
When you looked at his photos on your phone, he was just one of those unattainable crushes, like your favourite actor or singer. It just so happened to be that your unattainable crush was the detective that wanted to throw you in jail.
But him being in your home? Having the same taste in movies? Being nice to Sadie? Telling you that he would kiss you, if the opportunity arose?
Yeah, Keonho didn’t seem like much of an unattainable crush anymore.
You and Keonho make a silent agreement to not talk about it.
The two of you avoid the topic after, but you and Keonho find yourself talking for the next two hours in your room. You’d changed the topic to something about movies, and Keonho’s never been more grateful for that segue. He rambles to you about the Spider-Man movie – you scoff at him jokingly, and in a similar vein, Keonho tells you that he’s not surprised you’re reacting that way to a crime-thwarting vigilante.
You make some comment that's along the lines of 'I'd rather you catch me than Spider-Man', and Keonho doesn't know why in the world his heart races at that.
It’s easy to joke around with Keonho, despite how the two of you are supposed to be enemies. You ask him about Cookie too, and he shows you 500 photos of his dog like the chihuahua is his absolute pride and joy. You find that you really like how his eyes crinkle into crescents when he smiles, how his loud laughter is completely infectious, and how the cadence of his voice completely changes when he’s talking about something that he’s passionate about.
It doesn’t really take any detective skills to figure out that you’re crushing hard on Ahn Keonho.
It’s been three days now, and you head into the 99th precinct every morning now like you’re clocking in for work. Seonghyeon eyes you suspiciously whenever he sees you, and there’s a knowing smile on his lips whenever you even utter the word ‘Keonho’. Martin seems to be onto you as well – you can practically feel his gaze on you and Keonho whenever you two are talking.
The time you spend at the precinct makes Keonho grow closer to you, and unfortunately, that makes his feelings for you even more intense.
Keonho finds that you’re much more of a listener than he thought. He probes you with questions under the pretense of ‘wanting to get to know you better’, and you answer them. Although, he notices that your answers are a little short, more clipped, always on topic – you’re not that much of a rambler.
He knows it may boil down to the fact that you’re hiding something about why you’re stealing jewels in the first place – you don’t want Keonho to get too close.
A particular moment sticks out in Keonho’s mind. He’d asked you about Sadie yesterday, and there was just something behind your eyes that Keonho couldn’t quite decipher. You’d gulped, almost out of nervousness, before you said the words: “I’d do anything for her.”
The detective in him is telling him to pry, but noticing your reaction and your vagueness, Keonho doesn’t push it. But he is still ever so curious.
However, the awkwardness between you two is miraculously gone with that two-hour long conversation at your apartment. Keonho doesn’t find himself stumbling over his words anymore. He’s still sometimes flustered when you throw the occasional flirtatious comment in his direction, but he’s now able to volley with you and throw one back. Before Keonho had left your apartment that day, he didn't miss how Sadie had mouthed ‘my sister really likes you’ to him.
Keonho tries to ignore how his heart flips at those words.
God, he really was falling in love with a criminal.
The slight brushing of your shoulders, the shy smiles across the two of your lips whenever you both get a little too close before looking away, and the quick flirty comments that you both make like it’s the most normal thing in the world – all of it piles up, and Keonho cannot stop thinking about it.
You were perhaps the most intoxicating person that Keonho has ever met, and it kills him a little bit inside when he knows that this is very likely wrong. A cop and a criminal – those words ring in his mind whenever he lets himself get a little too giddy at the interactions between you two.
On Wednesday morning, you arrive at the precinct earlier than Keonho, and Seonghyeon looks at you with this strange look on his face – like usual. He slides a cup of coffee over to you from the precinct coffee machine. It’s in an NYPD mug, and you can’t help but find how ironic it is for you, a criminal, to be drinking out of it. There’s also a sticker on it of a dog that you recognise to be Cookie. It must be Keonho’s.
“It’s Keonho’s mug,” Seonghyeon reminds you, trying to make it sound like it’s no big deal. He eyes you to see if it brings any sort of reaction out of you. All you do is nod before taking a sip, telling him that ‘you figured’. Seonghyeon tries to hide his disappointment.
After finding out that Keonho thought you were cute, Seonghyeon was not going to let this go. He wanted to see if you reciprocated his feelings, wanted to see if Keonho was going to do anything about it, and most of all – he wanted to see the complete mess that Keonho turns into whenever he’s around you.
But, Seonghyeon doesn’t know about how Keonho told you out loud that he would kiss you.
It’s totally not like you and Keonho haven’t been thinking about it constantly.
Keonho heads into the precinct, rubbing his tired eyes as he pushes past the small gate that leads into the bullpen. He didn’t get much sleep last night, with all the tossing and turning… thinking about you. It’s been like this for the past few days, and Keonho doesn’t know if they’re dreams or nightmares at this point.
Yeah, Keonho knows he’s fucked. But he supposes that this is just something that he’s going to have to deal with for the rest of the week, and then after you disappear from his life, he’ll have to move on.
But Keonho doesn’t really want to. Not when you were everything that Keonho really wanted.
He sees you sitting beside his desk, idly scrolling through your phone as you drink from a mug. But Keonho knows that it’s his mug, because there’s a sticker of Cookie’s face on it. Martin made those stickers for him and gave it as a Secret Santa gift three years ago.
It’s actually maddening how good you look without even trying. You’re in a hoodie and jeans, with scruffed up Converses that look identical to the pair that Keonho’s wearing himself. You chew the inside of your cheek, a habit of yours that Keonho notices that you do far too often.
He takes a deep breath, reminding himself to not act too outlandishly in front of you. He’s humiliated himself too much recently. He walks up to you, ever so casual, and dumps his bag on the floor. The noise makes you look up, and Keonho’s heart stutters as he locks eyes with you.
“Morning, sleepy,” you say, placing your – well, his – mug down on the table. “You look tired.”
Keonho plops down in his chair, leaning back. “Didn’t sleep well.” He’s not going to tell you why. He’s also not going to tell you that even for the few hours he was asleep, his dreams somehow included you.
“Oh,” you frown. You push the mug towards him, offering him to take a sip. “Have some coffee. Detective Eom made me a cup. What are your plans for today, by the way?”
Keonho looks at Seonghyeon, who’s got the most devious smirk on his lips. Keonho narrows his eyes at Seonghyeon before turning back to you, giving you a tight-lipped smile before taking a sip from the mug himself.
Wait. Keonho freezes – you just shared a drink. If Keonho was still in the fifth grade, he would be calling this an indirect kiss. He tries to rid his brain of that childishness, drinking the coffee like he didn’t just silently make himself go crazy.
“Thanks,” he tells you, and thankfully, you don’t seem to notice how his brain had practically short-circuited back there. “Anyways, Captain Choi wanted me to head back to my apartment to grab some of the files I had on your case. He thinks it may be of some use, or whatever. He also said if I had the time, to take a quick pit stop at your apartment to see if there’s any other evidence that could be helpful.”
“Oh,” you hum, straightening up in your chair. “You could’ve just texted me or something instead, I would’ve let you into my apartment.”
Keonho rubs the nape of his neck sheepishly with one hand as he taps his pencil on the corner of the desk with another. “I… don’t have your number.” he replies.
You pull your phone out of your pocket, nodding when you realise that he’s right. “Of course – just give me your number,” you say, handing your phone to him. “Then we can keep in touch.”
“For what reason?” Seonghyeon pipes up, a shit-eating smirk on his lips. Keonho glares daggers at him, and Seonghyeon stifles a giggle before returning his attention back to his computer.
Keonho shakes his head before tapping his number into your phone while simultaneously trying to ignore how you’re standing so close to him to the point where he can smell your perfume. In all honesty, it was driving him a little bit crazy.
He hands you back your phone, and your hands brush. It sends jolts of electricity up his fingers, and Keonho gulps when he suddenly remembers what he’d said to you a few days ago. He clears his throat to try and push the memory to the back of his mind, but he doesn’t realise that he’s been in a complete daze for at least twenty seconds now.
Seonghyeon could already tell he was a goner.
Seonghyeon is also far too fixated on his friend’s reaction, and he completely fails to notice how there’s a dazed look in your eye as well. Your heart is racing, and you tell it to settle down. It was nothing – just the mere brushing of a hand. It totally wasn’t like these fleeting moments, along with the flirty comments hadn’t compounded and made you realise that you actually had fallen for the detective that was on your case.
Keonho clears his throat again. “Um… so… is this the first time Vivian’s asked you to do a job for them?” he pipes up, figuring out that small talk was likely the best way to get himself out of his predicament.
Wow, Keonho, he thinks. Such an intense question probably wasn’t the best choice for small talk.
You gulp, clearly hesitant to answer. “No,” you reply. “But it’ll be the last, I think.”
Keonho doesn’t know why he thinks you’re lying, but he doesn’t press you on it. He nods, analysing your expression. You’re completely unreadable. “Right,” he says, voice trailing off as he taps the side of his desk. “Why?”
“Since it’s so… risky, I guess.” You don’t give him any more information, and it’s the first time since the interrogation room where Keonho feels like you’ve got something to hide. So much for small talk, he thinks. He wanted to keep things rather light and breezy, but now Keonho’s seemed to make things a little more awkward.
“Anyways, mind if I tag along with you for today?” Your demeanour changes in an instant, and Keonho just can’t help but get a gut feeling that something’s a little bit off. You’re talking to him like absolutely nothing’s wrong, and you’ve plastered a smile on your face.
“Yeah, of course,” Keonho nods, gulping. He digs through his pocket for his car key, and his eyes widen in alarm when he sees that they’re not there. “My keys,” he mumbles, eyebrows furrowed in worry, frantically searching his desk for them.
“I have ‘em,” you say, throwing them at Keonho – thankfully, he reacts quickly. He looks at you in confusion, wondering how the hell you have them. “Sorry. Old habits die hard.”
Was it weird that he found that oddly… attractive?
Really, it was all too charismatic. You and your sly wit and your dazzling smile made Keonho weak in the knees, and it was rather awful because he’s a cop. He can’t be condoning pickpocketing… even if said pickpocket was completely irresistible.
“Of course,” he exhales, his heart doing a flip at the sight of you smirking at him. He follows you towards the elevator, telling his heart to stop racing as he fidgets with his keys. This crush was bad, he thinks. His phone pings with a notification, and he checks it right when he enters the lift.
eom seonghyeon work phone | 8:34am
you’re so down bad for our perp
Keonho sighs, pocketing his phone.
Seonghyeon really didn’t have to state the obvious.
The files at his apartment were really of no use.
But it made Keonho realise that he was completely doomed when it came to you.
There you were, in his apartment, looking like you completely belonged. You played with Cookie – who had adored you instantly, and didn’t even want you to leave. Keonho sat on his dinner table, flicking through files as you taught Cookie a new trick that Keonho's been trying to get him to do for months, but to no avail.
But of course when you show up, you're able to get Cookie to perfect it instantly. Keonho should grit his teeth at that in frustration, but it only makes his heart jump. Yeah, he truly was a goner.
He's never seen you so happy either. There seemed to be a smile permanently plastered on your lips during the entire time you'd spent at his apartment, and it was rather infectious. Your laughter, combined with the joyous barks of Cookie rang through the air, and all Keonho could think was that he could very much get used to this.
Even when you’d left, Keonho somehow kept trying to find remnants of you that you’d left in his apartment.
Whatever this crush was, it was driving him absolutely insane. Maybe it was really because Keonho had told himself that he couldn’t really have you, which only made him want you more. Keonho was chasing the unattainable, but could anyone really blame him when you were this mesmerising?
God, nobody but you had ever made Keonho feel like this.
The gala’s tomorrow, and Keonho finds himself not wanting the week to end. Mainly because Keonho knew that after this week, he’d likely never see you again. And truth be told, even though Keonho had told himself moving on from you was a necessity, he doesn’t think that he can.
You weren’t going to come into the precinct today, and Keonho found himself somewhat miserable. He knew you had a good reason though – Sadie had a half-day of school today anyways, and you wanted to spend a little bit of time with her before you pulled off the riskiest thing you’ve ever attempted yet.
He was used to your presence already. The two of you had fallen into a routine – you’d show up at the precinct bright and early, waiting for him in his chair. You’d be drinking coffee out of his mug – really, it was yours now – and you’d slide it over to him so that he could take a sip. Seonghyeon would snicker and tease the two of you behind his back, and Keonho would pretend that he hated it when really, he wouldn’t ever mind being called ‘your boyfriend’.
Then, you’d tag along with whatever he had to do today. Sometimes it was heading to his place to go through files – you’d told him that this was your favourite thing to do, because you were able to see Cookie. Keonho would slack off a little bit then, spending some time playing with Cookie as well. If anyone else was in the apartment with the two of you, they’d probably think that they were third-wheeling on a date.
Or sometimes it was just doing paperwork at the precinct, but even you’d make that interesting. He’d let your voice fill the air as he filled out forms, nodding along to your words with a smile on his lips.
Over time, you’ve opened up a little more to him. Your answers to his questions aren't as short or clipped anymore – matter of fact, you've been rambling to him more often now. He can't help but also find it awfully endearing when he sees your lips quirk up in a sly smile when you’ve thought of some smart retort to a flirty comment he's made, or some inane question he's asked you.
So, not seeing you today was extremely odd, and Keonho just can’t help but feel disappointed. Was it too outlandish to just show up at your apartment after his shift was over?
He could make up an excuse about just wanting to go over the plan for tomorrow’s gala, but Keonho had never been a good liar. He’d just probably end up telling you that he was there because he wanted to see your face.
If the last three days had made him realise anything, it was that he truly did want to test the waters with you. He returns to his apartment after his shift, bounding up the staircase as he wonders what you’ve been up to all day. Maybe he should just text you.
“Hi.” Your voice rings in his ears, and Keonho thinks that he’s hallucinating. He pinches himself to make sure that everything’s real, and lo and behold, it is. You’re standing in front of his apartment, jacket draped over you as you scratch the nape of your neck.
“Hi,” Keonho replies, astonished at your presence. “Did you miss me that much today?”
Right after those words slip past his lips, he realises that you’re standing there nervously. It’s almost as if you’re nervous about something – your foot is tapping an unsteady rhythm against the tiles of the floor, and your eyes are shifty. His teasing words seem to cut through a little bit of that nervousness, because you crack a small smile. You also don’t deny it.
“I did,” you reply, but behind the flirtatious retort, there is some truth to your words. “I needed to talk to you.”
Keonho nods, fumbling with his keys before he unlocks his door. He motions for you to step in first, and he follows, closing the door behind him.
Cookie greets you when you step in, barking happily at the sight of you. You coo at the chihuahua as Keonho watches with amusement – once again, he really could get used to seeing you in this light. You, Cookie, his apartment... he shakes his head to stop himself from daydreaming about you before heading to the kitchen to grab a mug, pouring some warm water into it.
He hands it over to you, and you thank him gratefully. Keonho sits down on the couch, and you plop down beside him. “So… what’s up?” he asks. Though your presence was unexpected, Keonho didn’t mind at all. He wanted to see you.
You gulp, the words trapped in your throat. Suddenly, you’re a little too aware that Keonho is a cop.
But you didn’t have anyone else to go to.
Over the week, you’re somehow astonished that Ahn Keonho, the detective who’s been hellbent on making sure that you’re put behind bars, is one of the only people that you feel like you can be vulnerable in front of.
After the two of you had pushed past all that awkwardness, you and Keonho got along well. A little too well, even. Every moment you spent with him made you completely forget about the impending danger of Friday’s gala, and it was only today where it hit you right in the chest – if all were to go wrong, everything would come crashing down on you.
Sadie would be confused as to why you had suddenly disappeared, and your mom would have to have that very difficult conversation with your little sister about how you were involved in crime. You'd also probably never get to see her for years and years. In this moment, you really do regret all the shit you've pulled in the last few months. But it wasn't like you did it for no reason.
You’re so tired of running, though. From danger, from the police, from everything – all you want now is a life of normalcy. It would be hard to achieve after the predicaments that you’ve gotten yourself into, but you wanted to at least try.
Keonho looks at you, and suddenly you feel at ease. As if everything’s going to be okay. You trust him enough to actually let your guard down.
“I was just… thinking about tomorrow, and I got really nervous,” you mumble. Keonho’s almost shocked at your words. You were – unfortunately – a brilliant jewel thief. Keonho doesn’t know why you’re nervous at all, when you’ve pulled off so many heists and he’s never been able to catch you.
You didn’t even have to steal as many jewels as you typically did tomorrow. It was one necklace that they’d managed to get a dupe of, and all you had to do was pull off a fake heist.
Your voice is shaky, your foot is restless and you’re fidgeting with your fingers. He’s never seen you this nervous and unsure of yourself before. Keonho instinctively reaches out to gently caress your hand in an attempt to comfort you, and your breath hitches at the contact. Fuck, he thinks. Should he have done that?
“It’s going to be fine,” Keonho hums. “Just let me know what’s on your mind? I don’t know how much I can help, but… I’m here.”
His hand is warm over yours, and his words are awfully comforting. Over the last few days, you’ve realised that you really do like Keonho. You like how much he cares for you, how he notices the little things, how he manages to make your heart race at every single turn.
But being with Keonho was almost something forbidden – how could he ever date someone who’s got six counts of grand larceny against them? You don’t even know if you’re getting your immunity or not.
“I… I don’t know. I’m worried that even if you are able to catch the Jungs, someone close to them will go after Sadie and my mom, and everything,” you gulp. “I… I’ve already put them in enough danger, and everything, right? I thought severing my ties with the Jungs would make it better, but what if it just makes everything worse? They’re well connected, they could know it’s me – even after they’re all put in jail. I just feel really stupid for getting involved with them in the first place.”
Keonho nods. “It’s going to be okay, (Name). I’ll make sure Sadie and your mom are protected,” he replies, gently using his thumb to caress your hand. “I just… I just want to know, though – how involved are you with them?”
“The jewels… I sold most of them to the Jungs,” you exhale. “In exchange for making sure Sadie’s school fees were accounted for. The rest… I have them. And I’ll return them after this is all over, I promise.”
He knew you wouldn't pull off these heists for no reason. But that’s why you were being so secretive yesterday after saying that this wasn’t the first time that you’d worked for Vivian.
And then he remembers. When he first asked you why you did it, you had told him it was for fun. Keonho knew that he didn't believe you. With you being quiet, vague and nervous when he’d asked about Sadie, and then gulping before you told him that you'd do anything for her – it all added up now.
“Okay,” he breathes out. “You’ve got to promise me that, though.”
You nod quickly. “I know. I… I don’t really want to go back to that life again,” you confess. “You’ll be happy to hear that, I’m sure.” You crack a small smile at him, and Keonho mirrors your expression.
“Well, of course,” he chuckles. “But really, back to what you were saying – I’m gonna make sure that Sadie and your mom are going to be safe. Trust me, okay? And of course, I’ll make sure that you’re okay too.”
You gulp. You don’t really think you deserve this much kindness from Ahn Keonho, especially after you’ve been tormenting him and the precinct for months. You’ve stolen millions of dollars worth of gems, and yet here he was, telling you that he’d make sure that you were taken care of in the event that the Jungs were going to come after you.
Cookie, seemingly noticing how nervous you were, jumps up onto the couch and crawls into your lap. “Oh,” you exhale, and your hand gently goes to pet his fur. “I think Cookie could tell that I was kind of freaking out.”
“He likes you,” Keonho beams. “And he usually doesn’t really like anyone. He still growls at Seonghyeon whenever he comes over, you know.” His words lighten the mood a little bit, and you let out an airy laugh. Keonho’s heart does another flip at the sound.
“Thank you for letting me in, by the way. I know you weren’t expecting me, or this… conversation. I was just spending the entire day with Sadie, and I just couldn’t help but think about the very likely possibility of everything going completely wrong, you know?”
“You’re too nice to me,” you laugh, shaking your head in disbelief. “Considering that I’d made you lose your mind for the past few months. I’m sorry about that, you know.”
“Well, I care about you.”
The words slip past his lips far too easily.
He didn’t intend to say that out loud, but now that he has, the entire atmosphere changes. Keonho knows he’s being honest – he was never a good liar, and especially not in front of you. The air thickens, his pulse thunders in his ears, and Keonho gulps.
It’s the first time he’s admitted it out loud. He cares for you. A criminal. Despite all the odds stacked against you two, admitting that has never felt so right.
“Thank you,” you whisper. “I care about you too.”
You’ve grown far too fond of Keonho in the past week, and despite your brain screaming at you to tell you that things would never work out between you and him, you want to ignore it.
Both yours and Keonho’s words aren’t exactly a confession, but the two of you are very well aware of the underlying message they have. 'I care about you' is the best way that you can tell him 'I like you' without making things far too real.
Silence falls between you two as you let the weight of those words settle in. There are probably a million reasons why this can’t work, but Keonho can’t help but hope that maybe, just maybe – there’s one which makes it all possible.
Keonho’s heart jumps, and he swallows the lump in his throat. He looks at you, and you’re looking at him with the fondest look in your eye. Keonho wants nothing more than to close the distance – to tell you how he really feels.
“I don’t know if I’m being crazy, but…”
“You’re not,” you say, interrupting him. You look at him, eyes glancing towards his lips, but then you look away. Keonho knows that this is it – confirmation that he wasn’t crazy. You felt the same way too. You liked him. Warmth blooms across his chest as you slowly turn your palm, lacing your fingers with his.
"But I don't know how this would work," you confess. "You're you... and I'm... me. We're not supposed to..." you trail off, thinking that if you explicitly acknowledge your feelings for him, they'd have to be addressed right here, right now.
"Hell, you're supposed to be putting me in jail, Keonho."
"I know," he gulps. "But I... I don't know – maybe there's a way we can make it work. After tomorrow, surely there's a way."
“I think we should talk about this after tomorrow, then.” you exhale, gently stroking his hand with the pad of your thumb. “I don’t really know if I’m going to get my immunity unless we pull it off, and I don’t want either of us to have any… false hope.”
You were right.
Keonho wants to tell you so badly that he has feelings for you – the words threaten to spill past his lips, but he holds his tongue.
If he’d told you how he truly felt right then and there, and you still had to be put behind bars, Keonho doesn’t think he’d know what to do with himself. Then, he would be truly wanting someone who he couldn’t have.
The only comfort he has right now is that at least he knows that you feel the same way. He nods, settling for this quiet acknowledgment of your feelings for one another.
All Keonho can hope for is that tomorrow goes exactly the way you’ve planned.
Keonho picks you up to head to The Met.
He hops out of his car, smoothing down the creases in his suit before taking his phone out to message you. He rests against the hood of his car, scrolling through his text messages before sending one out to Soobin to say that he’ll be on his way soon.
“Hi,” you say, and Keonho looks up.
His jaw nearly drops at the sight of you. Keonho’s at a complete loss for words, and he swears that he doesn't even remember how to speak anymore. He doesn’t think he’s seen anybody look this beautiful.
You’re wearing a long, satin red dress, with silver jewellery adorning your neck and your wrists. You’re holding a silver clutch in your hands as you stand on the steps, waiting for Keonho to speak. He’s been gawking at how gorgeous you look for the past few seconds now, lips parted as if he was going to say something.
You soon realise that he isn’t going to, and you simply chuckle. “Keonho, you’re staring.” you say, giggling. That snaps Keonho out of it, and he clears his throat, cheeks tinted pink in embarrassment.
“Sorry, sorry – you look… really pretty,” Keonho stutters, clearly flustered. It’s the first time Keonho’s faltered in front of you since that time he told you he’d kiss you in your apartment.
“Thank you,” you beam. “You look really good too, Keonho.”
You weren’t going to tell him, but your heart had jumped to your throat when you saw Keonho waiting for you at the front of your apartment complex. He was resting against the hood of his car, looking effortlessly good in a nice, crisp suit, with his hair styled to perfection. You were so distracted, you nearly tripped over your own heels as you made your way down the steps.
Keonho heads over to the other side of the car to open the car door for you, doing so in a dramatic fashion. It elicits a bubbly laugh from you, and Keonho can’t stop himself from grinning ear to ear.
“What a gentleman,” you quip, and Keonho chuckles, shaking his head before he heads over to the other side to get into the car.
“Only for you,” he replies when he slides into the seat, and your cheeks heat up. It’s not like either of you have forgotten about last night’s conversation, where the two of you had basically said that you had feelings for one another.
The atmosphere is a little different between the two of you now. Keonho rests his hand on yours like it’s the most normal thing in the world, and you let him. The shift to something a little more than friends, despite the confession being unsaid, is noticeable.
Soobin sees it the second the two of you walk into The Met together, your arm linked with Keonho’s. He eyes the two of you suspiciously, and Keonho simply tells him that ‘it’s for the case’. Martin, who’s standing nearby, is tempted to come up with a clever retort, but the two of you have already scurried off.
“They’re… not dating, are they?” Soobin says, eyeing the two of you from a distance.
“No, they’re just pretending to be boyfriend and girlfriend,” Martin teases, referencing that day in the interrogation room. “It seems like Keonho has changed his mind about being known as her ‘boyfriend’, don’t you think?”
He makes air quotes around the word ‘boyfriend’, and Soobin narrows his eyes. Not in disapproval, Martin notices, but more so intrigue.
“I’ve never had a detective fall in love with their perp before.” Soobin muses, as he picks up the oyster that he’s been served on a platter.
“You think they’re in love?” Martin asks.
“Obviously,” Soobin replies, gesturing towards you and Keonho. He’s leaned in closer to you, and you’re whispering something into his ear. If Soobin’s eyesight isn’t deceiving him, he swears that Keonho’s arm is around your waist. “Look at the two of them. And we’ve all noticed how they’ve been acting all week. I feel like I’m third-wheeling in my own precinct.”
Two hours into the gala, you meet Josh, who works for the Jungs, in the Rockefeller Wing.
You’ve been away from the crowd long enough, dodging anyone who works for the Jungs expertly. Keonho’s been with you all night, admiring you in that red dress as the two of you explore The Met. He’s also miraculously able to make you forget about the very possible outcome of things going completely wrong, but it’s not that hard to be distracted when he looks this perfect.
You’ve picked up the briefcase with the fake necklace from Seonghyeon in one of the hallways, and he looks at the two of you with a knowing smirk on his lips. “Well, don’t you two make a lovely couple!” he says when he sees the two of you.
Strangely enough, but much to his delight, you and Keonho don’t even deny his words. You simply beam, taking the briefcase from him. It’s enough for Seonghyeon to know that something happened.
Your heart pounds anxiously in your chest when you spot Josh, who walks over to you. Keonho’s just mere metres away. Josh nods at you curtly as you hand the briefcase over, and he slides you a cheque.
“Vivian thanks you.” he says, before turning around to leave. You wait a few seconds before you run out of the wing, your eyes darting around to search for Keonho.
“Psst,” he whispers, and your eyes land on him. You rush up to him, your heart still beating a mile a minute. You don’t know if Vivian’s going to examine the necklace – if she found out they were fake before the rest of the cops could find them, you were absolutely doomed.
“You did great,” Keonho says, sensing your nervousness immediately. His hand finds yours to calm you down, and you take a deep breath. Of course Keonho knows exactly what to do whenever it comes to you. “Come on – Josh went in that direction.”
The two of you follow Josh discreetly, your hand still in Keonho’s. You don’t want to let go at all.
When the two of you reach the American Wing – sure enough, you see Vivian. Her long, sleek black hair is tied neatly into a ponytail, lips tinted with rouge. You gulp, your heart racing once again. Even though you’ve seen her multiple times before in person, you were still absolutely terrified.
You lean against the wall, and Keonho stands in front of you, facing Vivian. “You peek into the room – if they see it’s me, it’s not going to end well.” you say, your mouth running dry.
“Talk to me, so our cover isn’t blown. People are still going to walk past. I’m going to text Martin.” Keonho pulls his phone out to tell Martin that he’s found Vivian.
“Um… how was the food?” you ask.
“It was okay,” Keonho replies, taking a deep breath. He tilts his head to peek in the room. Vivian hasn’t noticed him yet. “Crab cakes were so-so.”
“Okay,” you exhale. Keonho can tell that you’re nervous, and he reaches for your hand once again. Your eyes dart up to look at him, and he gives your hand a reassuring squeeze.
“It’s going to be fine. Sadie’s going to be safe, your mom’s going to be safe. I’m not going to let them hurt you or them,” he whispers, and you nod. “Trust me.”
“Thank you.” you reply, your voice matching his. You look into Keonho’s eyes, and suddenly, you really do think that everything’s going to be okay.
Keonho steals another glance at the room – Josh is handing Vivian one of the fake jewels that you handed off to him. This time, Vivian locks eyes with Keonho, her brows furrowing when she sees him.
He quickly ducks back and looks at you. “She caught me. Shit.” Keonho says. He knows it’s a matter of time until they come out and ask him who the hell he is – he needs a way to hide both of your faces.
Fuck.
Keonho knows one way. The mere thought of it is making his heart race. Probably because he's been wanting to do this forever.
He leans closer to you, his face mere inches away from yours. “I need you to trust me,” he whispers. At the proximity, your eyes flick towards his lips. “Can I kiss you?”
Your eyes widen at the question. Yes, of course – is the obvious answer, but it’s strangled in your throat. The sound of footsteps startle you, and you nod before you immediately crash your lips onto his.
Keonho kisses you back, his hands around your waist, holding you steady. Your fingers tangle in his hair as you melt into the kiss. Kissing Ahn Keonho for the first time in such a high-stakes moment was absolutely ridiculous, but it felt right.
It was a little messy, a little rushed as you both tried to figure out a rhythm while trying to hide from a dangerous criminal mere metres away — but it was Keonho, so it felt perfect.
His other hand moves up to cup your cheek – and hide your features from Josh, who’s come to see who’s outside. At the sight of you and Keonho kissing, Josh furrows his brows before returning to the room.
“Just some guests kissing,” he tells Vivian, wrinkling his nose. “I guess they scurried over here for a little more privacy.”
Even though Josh is gone, you don’t want to stop kissing Keonho. You’re completely addicted to the feeling, and for a second you forget who the two of you actually are. A cop and a criminal. Yet, somehow, madly in love.
There truly were a million reasons why you couldn't work, and the biggest one was the fact that the two of you were polar opposites – yet, it's this kiss that makes you realise that you'd regret it for the rest of your life if you didn't take a chance on Ahn Keonho.
Screw false hope, or hesitation, or waiting on your immunity. You had Keonho right here in your arms, his lips pressed against yours, and you don't want to let him go.
When you pull away for air, Keonho’s eyes are practically gleaming, and he forgets that he’s in the middle of a very important mission right now. He cracks into a wide grin, and he can’t stop himself from kissing you again. “Sorry, just one more,” he giggles against your lips.
“We’re on a case, Detective.” you mumble teasingly under your breath, but you’re more than happy to oblige.
“Yeah, and this is what this case calls for,” he quips. “But you’re starting to sound an awful lot like me.” You roll your eyes before you lean in again, pressing your lips to his, and Keonho melts against you.
Suddenly, catching the Jungs isn’t exactly your problem anymore. You’re far more focused on how Keonho presses his lips against yours with a little more insistence, and you can hear his heartbeat with his body flush against yours.
When Keonho pulls away for air again, he’s looking at you with the most idiotic, lovesick grin on his lips. You want to kiss him again, and you’re about to, until someone interrupts the two of you.
“You guys done making out yet, or can we go and arrest them?” Martin hisses under his breath, his presence startling you. The two of you look at him, stunned that you’ve been caught – Keonho just knows that Martin isn’t going to let him live this down.
It doesn’t help that even Soobin is there too – that may be worse. His boss just caught him kissing the thief that he had chased for months. A very funny and beautiful thief that was his exact type.
“I…” Keonho splutters, face flushed red and lips stained with your lipstick. “It was for the case.”
Martin looks at him, amused. “Yeah, whatever you say, buddy — we all know you’ve been waiting for this day since you met her,” he says wryly. “You joining us to bust them or what?”
“Yeah, on it,” Keonho says, wiping his lips with the back of his hand. “Stay here, yeah? It’s going to be fine.” He gently brushes your waist, knowing that you’re still worried about your family if the Jungs find out that you were the snitch.
You nod, gulping. Keonho gives you a warm smile, and just before he heads in, you tug onto the sleeve of his suit. He looks at you, waiting for you to speak – but you lean in, pressing a kiss to his cheek.
“Thank you, Keonho.” you say softly, and Keonho beams.
“Of course,” he replies, practically fighting the urge to kiss you again. “I’ll be right back.”
The mission is a complete success.
Martin and Keonho return to the precinct as heroes, and the two bask in the applause and cheers. Keonho, despite knowing that this may be one of the most successful takedowns of a crime family in recent years, isn’t really thinking about that right now.
It’s 8:30 in the morning, and you’re not at the precinct. He half-expected you to already be sitting in his chair with a smile on your lips, your foot tapping against the floor as you drink from his mug.
His stomach twists with anxiety — you were supposed to be here this time. Soobin was going to tell you that your record was clear, and that you wouldn’t get any jail time. Keonho simply also just wanted to see you.
He can’t get those kisses out of his mind. How could he? After he’d arrested Vivian, he returned to the same hallway, and there you were in your red dress, looking as beautiful as ever.
Then you’d kissed him again. And again. And again. Keonho was addicted to you at this point, and Martin had to practically pry him away from you so that the two of them could actually do their job. For the first time, Keonho wanted to slack off. He cared more about you.
“What’s on your mind?” Seonghyeon hums, as Keonho takes a sip of his coffee. He grumbles, huffing as he places his mug back down. Cookie’s face stares at him as he sighs, wondering where you could possibly be.
“(Name). Where is she?” Keonho asks. He’s completely shameless about his affections for you now — the entire precinct knew anyway. There was no point in hiding it. He was also going to ask you out today, but his plan hinged on you showing up this morning like you usually did. He fumbles with something in his pocket nervously, tapping his foot on the floor like you always did.
Seonghyeon seems to be looking at someone behind Keonho, and noticing that smug look on his colleague’s face, he turns around. He’s greeted by the sight of you, and you’ve got the brightest grin on your lips. Seonghyeon takes that as his cue to leave.
“Seems like you missed me,” you say, your voice teasing, hands in your pockets. Keonho lets out a sigh in relief, his heart flipping at the sight of you once again. “I’ve only been away from you for a few hours, Keonho. I didn’t know you were that clingy.”
Keonho suppresses a loud laugh at your words. God, he could kiss you right now.
“Don’t look at me like that,” Your voice is teasing when you notice how Keonho’s eyes flick towards your lips. “We’re at your workplace.”
“I don’t mind dabbling in a bit of unprofessionalism,” Keonho jokes, and you tilt your head in amusement. “I thought you were well aware of that already.”
“That’s not something to be proud of,” Soobin’s presence startles the both of you, but Keonho notices how he’s barely holding back an amused smile. “Anyways… Detective Ahn, (Name). Good morning.”
“Morning, Captain,” you say to Soobin, before you turn your attention back to Keonho. “And don’t say that in front of your Captain, Detective Ahn,” your lips quirk up into a smile, before dropping low into a whisper. “It’s bad enough you’re in love with a criminal – don’t brag about not taking your job seriously too.”
“Well, your record’s cleared now, I think.” Keonho replies, looking at Soobin expectantly. “So you’re technically a civilian. Unless you decide to go back to stealing jewellery, and then we’d have a problem.”
“Yes, that’s precisely what I wanted to speak with you about,” Soobin nods, his tone authoritative and firm. “In aiding with the arrest of the Jung family, you’ve been offered immunity from all of your past crimes. You’re free to go.”
You beam, smiling at Soobin. “Thank you,” you say. “Pleasure… doing business with you?”
“Just stay out of trouble now,” Soobin tells you, a tight-lipped smile on his lips. But then he turns to Keonho, giving him a pat on the shoulder. “But I’m sure Detective Ahn will be keeping an eye on you.”
“Why’d you say that, Captain?” Martin chimes in, a teasing lilt in his tone. Soobin’s eyes flick over to Martin before he shrugs, pursing his lips.
“Yesterday night spoke for itself,” Soobin hums, referencing how practically everyone involved in the mission had seen you and Keonho kiss. Martin wouldn’t stop teasing him about it in the car, and Keonho had lightly whacked him in the chest afterwards. “Anyways… I’m sure I’ll see you around as well. Maybe at the precinct Christmas party. Friends, families… partners… are all invited.” Soobin makes sure to place extra emphasis on that word.
“Like Martin said… why’d you say that, Captain?” Seonghyeon’s the one who says those words now, and Soobin simply shakes his head, trying to stifle a laugh. He gives you a polite nod before he heads back into his office, and all the detectives are fighting the urge to comment on Soobin practically acknowledging Keonho’s massive crush on you.
Keonho shoots a glare at everyone watching him expectantly – Martin, Juhoon, James and Seonghyeon – as if to tell them to shut up. “So…” he tells you, fidgeting with something in his pockets. “I guess that’s it. Case closed.”
“I guess so,” you hum, sensing that something is just a little off with Keonho, almost as if he’s nervous about something. You can’t quite put your finger on it, though. “It was a fun ride.”
Keonho accompanies you on the elevator ride back to the ground floor of the precinct. He’s eerily quiet on the way there, still fumbling with something in his pocket. You steal a glance at him, and he simply smiles softly at you.
You’re waiting for him to ask you the question that’s been consuming your thoughts ever since last night. You don’t really think that you’ve gotten much sleep, in all honesty. All you thought about was how you’d crashed your lips onto his practically a thousand times, and he still hadn’t asked you out after it.
He’d dropped you off at your doorstep, kissed you goodnight, and you had to try and hide your disappointment that he didn’t ask. You might’ve even punched your pillow in frustration the second you returned to your room, and Sadie had looked at you in concern.
You’re looking at him, practically begging him to stop dragging his feet about it now – hell, even Soobin knew.
“I have one more thing to ask of you – non case related,” Keonho says when the two of you are outside the precinct, and your eyes snap up to look at him.
“Yeah?” you say, trying to not sound too eager. Please be it, you think.
Keonho’s lips quirk up into a smile as he steps a little closer to you. You chew on the inside of your cheek to stop yourself from smiling.
He stifles a giggle as he looks at you with a goofy, lopsided grin. He uses his free hand to rummage through the pocket of his leather jacket, handing you a folded sticky note. “Open it?”
You eye him suspiciously, folding open the sticky note.
Go out with me?
It’s scrawled in Keonho’s handwriting in pink ink, surrounded by five outrageously large doodles of hearts. It’s just like the one you left at the jewellery store on July 14th. Your lips crack open into a wide, giddy grin before you nod.
You turn the sticky note around to show Keonho, and he grins sheepishly. “Seems like you’ve been learning from my tricks.”
“Oh, yeah,” he chuckles, stepping closer to you and snaking his arm around your waist. “Figured if you were going to steal jewels and my heart… I might as well steal something of yours too.”
You stifle a laugh. “Are you falling for a criminal, Detective?”
“Yeah, I am,” Keonho chuckles. “I've fallen for your smile, fallen for how you challenge me with your retorts, and as much as I hate to even admit it, I do love it when you steal my car keys. And also, you’re technically not a criminal, since your record’s clear – but yes, I've fallen head over heels for you.”
“I’m glad you said the thing about the car keys,” you say, and you hold up his car keys in your hand, and Keonho’s eyes widen, gasping as he snatches them back from you. “I’ll keep doing it then.”
“When did you–”
“Just a few seconds ago,” you giggle. “Don’t arrest me.”
“You’re lucky you’re cute,” Keonho huffs, pouting as he shoves his keys back into his pockets. “You haven’t even told me how you feel yet.” You find the expression on his lips to be awfully adorable.
“I've fallen for you too, Keonho,” you grin before pressing a kiss to his cheek. “But for what it’s worth, I already had a little crush on you after I did my internet sleuthing. But then I saw you in my apartment with Sadie, and just the way you care about me… I thought I was crazy for falling for the detective that was hellbent on putting me in jail.”
“You are crazy for that,” Keonho says teasingly. “But I guess I’m a little crazy too for falling for the perp I’ve been chasing for months."
"I guess you are. But then maybe it just means my flirting through the post-it notes worked well."
"I'd say a little too well." Keonho says, before he leans in and presses his lips to yours, closing the distance. You also find that it’s the perfect opportunity for you to steal his car keys again, but this time, Keonho’s a little bit faster. He grips onto your hand that’s reached out for the keys before he pulls away with a smirk on his lips.
“Not letting you get away with this one,” he chuckles, shaking his head as you pout. “I’m getting used to your tricks.” You groan, muttering a ‘next time’ before you lean in to kiss him again.
As you melt against him in the kiss, you’re more than certain that Ahn Keonho’s heart is quite possibly the best thing you’ve ever stolen.
— lebron and savannah, stephen and ayesha, juhoon and you..? that was always the prophecy your boyfriend and you had since you were 6, but puberty changes people and so it did for the two of you. the only thing that didn’t change was his passion for basketball and your (not so) secret crush on him. the two of you swear on everything that things are strictly platonic between you and will always be, so why did it bother juhoon so much when you were seen out with another guy?
pairing ✴︎ nonidol!juhoon x reader
genre ✴︎ humor, fluff, high school (senior year), childhood lovers
status ✴︎ ongoing
warnings ✴︎ curse words, chronically online jokes LOL, stranger things & victorious (if u squint) references, underage drinking, i lowk dk how American school year system works so just assume everyone is at the age they're supposed to be that year idk idk IGNORE, oh and PLEASEEEE ignore all timestamps
playlist ✴︎ Sienna by The Marías, Purple Rain by Prince, Sweet Boy by Malcolm Todd, In My Room by Julia Wolf, Sugar Talking by Sabrina Carpenter, Earrings by Malcolm Todd, Wolf Type by &TEAM, Infrunami by Steve Lacy, Cool Kids by Echosmith
notes ✴︎ this came to me in a dream and is largely dedicated to my younger sister who is a juhoon ult ♡ thats her #08z so i hope yall enjoy this concept as much as she does!!
despite the breakup, your ex always makes sure you know you can call on him for whatever you need chapter one: there's this thing called nepotism....
content: reader has a bad home life, mentions of money struggles, reader has a little sister, martin is absolutely whipped, illit & cortis members ss count: 10 note: cause i like daniel caesar now... thank you maddy!!
synopsis: pretending to be enemies in front of your class just to get paired up for the valentine’s day performance…this is gonna be a lot of work pairing: keonho x f!reader genre: crack, fluff, romance contains: hs au, int lwrcs, possible mistakes, secret relationship word count: 2.8k song recs: mismatch—&team, be my angel—mazzy star, luna—smashing pumpkins a/n: ANOTHER SONGFIC!!! my dear alya (@riumori)thank u for proofreading 🫰🫰 this is super late LOL but i found time because i got sick and didn’t go to school…BUT it was super fun to write!! i love silly romance
EVERY YEAR, SOME KIND OF AN EVENT was held to celebrate Valentine's day at your school, and this year was no exception. but something switched in the administration's heads, and they decided to go all out this year; even though, the holiday itself landed on the weekend.
they announced a month prior that every class had to prepare some performance, be it a musical or a theatrical scene. your class was fired up by the idea of competition, but not so by the work you have to put into the preparation in order to place high. and this is how you found yourself in the current situation.
your class rep—jiwoo—is standing in the front, shaking up a box with everyone’s names, ready to pull out the two fated ones.
“okay! listen everybody, here comes the moment of truth!” she says, dramatically clapping her hands to get the attention from the classroom. you honestly couldn’t be bothered by it, the chance that she’d pull your name was around 3 percent, which isn’t a lot.
you glanced to your right to find your classmate—ahn keonho—staring at you. to others, he looked like he was glaring, but it was far from the truth.
for whatever reason, since your first year, everybody just assumed you and him had some bad blood. so, when you and keonho actually got along and started going out, you decided it would be best to keep up the ‘enemies’ act to avoid unnecessary questions.
keonho actually mentioned that he was glad that valentine’s day was on saturday this time. ‘i can finally spend my birthday and valentine’s day with my lovely girlfriend without acting like i hate her’ or whatever he said the last time you went out. you agree with him, but it was fun to pretend to dislike him.
“[name]!” you are snapped out of your daze by the sudden call of your name. as you turn your head to the source of the sound, you can see the teasing smile appear on your boyfriend’s face. oh he’s gonna get it later. a hit to the face, to be exact.
“huh…” you murmur, not realizing the despair of the situation. your class rep looked at you excitedly, “you’re the main lead for our valentine’s day performance, isn’t that amazing?”
“do i really have to do it…?” it might be true that you’re one of the modest student, but it doesn't mean that you’d love to participate in an event that gives you no academic credit.
jiwoo frowned at your question, “of course you do! it will be fun!”
“right…” you mumbled under your breath. now you just have to pray that keonho wont pout if you get paired up with some guy, which you will. that leaves you with no choice but to think about ways you’ll have to make up to your boyfriend.
“anyways, the second main lead is…” the class rep shuffles inside the box, making the entire class sit in anticipation.
“keonho! wait, what?” she announced enthusiastically, before double checking the name. hearing his name was the last thing you expected, and it showed in your expression. you’re sure as hell that at least half of your classmates is staring at you, the other half is staring at keonho, presumably.
“uh…let's reshuffle, huh?” jiwoo stated nervously, already putting her hand in the box to choose again. her movement was abruptly interrupted by keonho.
”its alright, me and [name] will do it, right?” he glanced at you with that look that told you everything you needed to know.
keonho wanted to do it for fun. you could see it in his smirk and confident posture. something nudges you to follow his lead, agreeing with the preposition.
“whatever, just don’t make me do anything else,” you break eye contact with him and turn your head away.
silence after those words was loud. you swear you could hear someone whisper ‘this is gonna be so awkward’ and ‘are we in the enemies to lovers romcom?’
the one to break it was the vice rep—seonghyeon—keonho’s best friend and one of the people who knew about your predicament.
“if you two don’t mind, then we’ll keep it that way.” seonghyeon chuckles. it was obvious that everything was entertaining him. “someone will be assigned to write a script and play extras,” he continues, “any volunteers?”
and just like that rest of the class seemed to go back into the character. with noise filling up the classroom, you once again glanced at keonho to see his reaction.
when he noticed you, his smile turned wider, eyes becoming crescent shaped. he leans his head onto his hand, mouthing something.
“i look forward to it”
‘is he enjoying this…?’ you grimace at the realization. keonho found it exciting.
the phrase makes your heart flutter. you’re done for.
the next month is going to be a mess. or the opposite?
LATER, AFTER SCHOOL, YOU FOUND yourself laying on the keonho’s bed. school bag left somewhere near the doorframe, school jacket abandoned on the desk chair, hair tie lost somewhere…you didn’t even bother to try and find it.
“well, you seem excited,” your boyfriend laughed, setting his own stuff on the floor. “if it’s about the valentines, i’m sorry for speaking up. did you not wanna do it?”
you look back to see him standing right behind you, slight pout showing. that sight made everything else seem insignificant.
sitting up so you could face him, you wrap your hands around his middle, looking up to meet his eyes.
“no, it’s okay, i don’t mind,” you reassured him. “it’s just gonna be a lot of work, you know? especially with our relationship…” your voice lowered in volume as you spoke the last words.
you really didn’t mind doing this whole thing with keonho, maybe you’d actually enjoy it. but rehearsing and acting like you hate each other? that’s a lot.
your head spiraled with what-ifs, and the boy in front of you seemed to notice it.
he grabs your cheeks and stretches them, maybe to calm you down, then leans down and kisses your forehead. “don’t worry, i know what to do.”
hearing this, you become curious. sending him a questioning look just to receive a grin in response. interest was eating you alive so you couldn’t help but tug at his shirt to indicate your need for an exact answer.
keonho giggled at your antics, stretching your face more. “maybe it’s time we come clean with our class,” he suddenly sang out.
this confession made your eyes widen. did he really want to go public? the thought wasn’t a strange one, he mentioned it once or twice but those were said in a joking manner so you didn’t pay much attention to them.
this time, however, keonho sounded pretty serious.
after pondering about it for a few moments, you muttered, “maybe we should.”
his hands that were busy playing with your hair froze for a second, but almost immediately continued their motion. you could feel the growing smile on his face.
if he’s happy, then you’re happy too.
THE NEXT FEW DAYS WENT AS USUAL. there wasn’t a lot of work for you to do as the rest of the class was perfecting the script and deciding some background stuff.
only a week after the first session you and keonho were asked to rehearse few scenes.
everyone gathered in the conference hall that was booked by jiwoo, ready to see how this is gonna play out.
you wouldn’t say you were extremely nervous, but your body language gave you out. backstage, keonho notices how you’re biting your lower lip. instead of saying something, he just grabs your hand and interlocks your fingers, as if to say ‘we’ll be fine’.
you found yourself calming down little by little. keonho’s presence is truly a blessing.
the curtains weren’t even fully opened yet, but you could already hear doubts from your classmates.
“are they really going to pull this off?” “won’t they start arguing mid sentence?” “it’s gonna look like an action, not romance…”
but your attention was directed to your hand, which keonho squeezed once more before letting go.
“ready, enemy?” he muttered softly. you rolled your eyes at the nickname, “don’t mess this up.”
he chuckled. “you’re the one who can’t hold eye contact, though.”
your heartbeat raced, but before you could reply jiwoo’s voice echoed from the audience.
“okay! scene one!”
you step out first, sitting on the chair, pretending to chat with another girl.
after you, keonho goes past you, slightly touching your shoulder. this prompts you to glance into his direction. you watch him turn back and meet your eyes.
once again, you feel warmth in your chest and your cheeks. everything becomes blurry around him.
keonho is beautiful. you can’t help but smile at the sight of him.
you find yourself admiring him, admiring his slightly curled hair, his bright eyes and barely visible mismatched freckles around his nose.
you’d continue your day just like this, but the surprised voice from somewhere snapped you out.
“this looks…too real, no?”
glancing at your classmates who work behind the scenes, you spot their shocked expressions. you realize that you probably let yourself relax too much. you blush at your previous daydreams, ‘i forgot we’re still pretending…’
daring to peep at your boyfriend, you are jolted by the fact that the comment didn’t faze him at all. he was still chucking.
you decide to get a hold of yourself. tightening your fists and breathing deeply, you continue on with the next scene.
hopefully, you won’t embarrass yourself again.
the next few scenes went pretty smoothly, if you say so yourself. but the climax was near and that was the part you were the most nervous about.
the confession.
overall, the whole script was almost friendly. you guess, your classmates really had your ‘relationship’ with keonho in mind. the only romantic moments in the show were the eye contact in the beginning and the confession itself.
keonho was supposed to be your secret admirer who finally decided to come clean, and you—the receiver of all the gifts—hoped that it would be him. pretty cliche.
so here comes the final part. you were standing in the middle of the stage, your hands behind your back, as you waited for the arrival of your admirer.
keonho jogs up to you from the backstage, paper flowers in one hand. when he stops, you fully turn around, “hey.”
“hi,” he replies, a little bit out of breath. “you’re here.”
“were you the one who asked me to come?” you ask, following the script. according to it, keonho was just supposed to ask you to be his valentine and that’s all. romantic enough for it to count.
“yeah, i’m glad you actually showed up,” he blurted. “these are for you.”
he hands you the flowers and you accept. “thank you,” you giggle slightly, “is there anything else?”
“i wanted to ask you something.”
you look at him with a questioning look, nudging him to continue.
keonho takes a deep breath, cheeks slightly red, he exclaims,
“i love you.”
hearing those words, you felt a wave of heat wash over you, starting in your chest and radiating out to your ears. your heart started beating faster, your eyes blinking rapidly, not knowing where to focus. did he mean to say that?
you take a look at keonho, and he looks surprised with his own words. fingers fumbling with the hem of his jacket, gaze darting everywhere except you—ceiling, floor, flowers.
the newfound tension was only disturbed by jiwoo.
“please stick to the script…” she says quietly, almost as if she's interrupting something sacred. “you’re meant to ask her out for valentines, keonho.”
“right, sorry,” he quickly apologizes. “will you be my valentine?” he stammered, voice cracking in the middle of the sentence.
“of course,” you answer hastily before turning to the front and bowing, signaling that it’s the end.
keonho did the same. both are blushing messes ready to disappear.
a few seconds passed before the applause came in. the first one to start was seonghyeon, not a surprise.
on the way back to class, you refused to answer any questions and look into direction of your boyfriend.
gosh, how you hoped that would be the only misstep.
YOU MANAGED TO AVOID EVERYONE until the end of the day. stepping out of the school, you breathe in the fresh air you needed. the school chattering becomes quieter with each step as you’re approaching the usual spot where keonho would be waiting for you.
and there he was, waiting silently for you, kicking stray pebbles. when he senses your presence, he looks up and freezes. you see it as your chance to come closer.
“hey,” he calls softly when you’re near.
“did you mean that?” you question him, trying (and failing) to sound casual.
keonho rubs his neck, looking mildly embarrassed for the second time today.
“i didn’t plan it,” he admits.
that made your heart drop for a second—
“but i didn’t lie either.”
he looks at you properly now, no smirking, no teasing.
“you just looked really pretty standing there and smiling at me—the lighting did you really good by the way—my brain just froze.”
you blink once. then twice.
“that’s your excuse?”
he shrugs. “i panicked.”
“you panicked and said you love me?”
“pretty much. terrible survival instinct.”
you can’t help it—you burst out laughing. the previous tension dissolving instantly.
he grins at your giggles. “i know i was supposed to say ‘be my valentine’, but you looked at me like that and i just-“
that makes you laugh harder. “you said it before though,” you manage to mutter in between chuckles.
“i know!” he exclaims, “it felt different this time.”
“how so?”
“like everyone is supposed to know.”
this makes you still for a second. then keonho grabs your shoulders and pulls you into a hug. his chin resting on top of your head, fingers squeezing slightly like he’s afraid you’ll leave.
“don’t overthink it,” he says. “you know what i mean.”
and you can’t lie. you do.
THE REST OF THE DAYS PASS in the blur of rehearsals and hushed commentary.
fortunately, there were no other mishaps while you were preparing. others just blamed the nervousness because of the interacting when asked about the first run down.
on the day of the event, the school is packed. teachers, students, banners, pink and red balloons everywhere.
“don’t ad-lib,” jiwoo reminds for the hundredth time.
“i won’t,” keonho says innocently, like he doesn’t know what she’s talking about.
you don’t trust that tone even a little.
jiwoo carefully examines you two before leaving the backstage.
keonho takes you hand again. “are you nervous?” he asks.
“a little,” you reply honestly. you could hear your class buzzing with adrenaline and teachers carefully checking the line up.
keonho squeezed your hand and leans closer, “trust me.”
that’s all he said. no explanation. but he had that look in his eyes whenever he planned to do something impulsive.
maybe that’s when you should’ve known.
when your turn arrived, you take a deep breath, going through the script in your head.
glancing into the direction of your boyfriend, you notice how he keeps staring at the floor. you slightly nudge him, reminding that you're stepping out soon.
in response, he smiles. after taking the first steps, you seem to forget everything, your body moving on its own, remembering all the rehearsals.
everything went perfectly. no stuttering, no mistakes, and no ad-libs. now it was just the confession scene, polished this time.
keonho says the correct line, ‘be my valentine.’ you say yes.
immediately, the applause starts. a cue to bow. both of you do, holding hands. as you stand up straight, you want to let go of his hand, but keonho doesn't let you.
“what are you doing?" you turn slightly, while whispering quietly enough so only he could hear it.
he smiles softly, “you said maybe we should come clean."
you barely have time to proceed what he said before he kisses you.
one of his hands finds its place on your cheek, while the other pulls you closer by the waist.
the kiss isn't dramatic nor long, just soft. intentional.
gasps explode through the conference hall, you swear someone dropped their phone.
for half a second you freeze—then, you kiss him back, wrapping your hands around his neck.
before something else was found broken down on the floor, the curtain closed on you two.
just when you and keonho met your classmates backstage, a number of questions poured on you.
jiwoo just stared at you two with wide eyes, while seonghyeon gave a knowing look.
the most obvious issue was whisper-yelled the loudest. “ARE YOU GUYS DATING?!"
keonho just shrugs while replying, “since the first year."
you hit him lightly in the shoulder. “you could've at least warned me."
he grins and intertwines your hands. "where's the fun in that?”
series mlist ; ft katseye’s yoonchae, cortis members, and seventeen’s woozi
cw: cursing, a few appearances of some shitty exes, meet cutes, ft producer bff oc and yoonchae, idiots in love, literally so obsessed with these two it’s not even funny
when martin edwards bumped into his producing mentor, he never expected her to be a sixteen year old girl.
when y/n l/n finally got her first big role as a main producer for an upcoming boy group, she never expected it would be the group of trainee boys she’d mentored a year prior.
neither of them expected to fall for the other. how could they? they’d never be stupid enough to fall for a coworker…would they?
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want to be added to my taglist? comment under this post 🫶
james hovers in your doorway like some soft, trembling prayer, hoodie sleeves pulled over his hands, eyes warm enough to melt sugar. he doesn’t knock. he never does.
he just stands there, suspended in that tiny breath he always takes before stepping back into your orbit—like he’s afraid you’ll vanish if he blinks wrong, like you’re a dream he’s terrified of waking from.
you don’t look up. you never do. the pink glow from your phone paints your cheek in glossy, cruel light, and he soaks in it like sunlight he’s been starving for, like it’s the only warmth he trusts.
“can i sit with you?” barely a whisper. barely a boy.
a hum slips from your lips, airy and uninterested. not yes, not no. just enough.
james crosses your room like he’s approaching something holy. the mattress dips under his weight—careful, respectful, almost scared— like he thinks the bed might reject him if he moves too fast.
space stretches between you, thin and fragile, until you shift, lazy and thoughtless, and suddenly he’s close enough to drown in your perfume—sweet, poisonous, pink as bitten lips.
he breathes it in like he’s memorizing it, like he’d bottle it if he could.
“you disappeared yesterday,” he murmurs, voice soft and needy, eyes flicking to your profile like he’s checking you’re real. “i kept checking my phone. like… every ten minutes.”
scroll. scroll. scroll. “and?”
his throat tightens. you hear it. you always do.
“i just… i needed to know you were okay.”
your gaze lifts, slow as honey, soft as a blade. one glance and he breaks open. he always does. his shoulders drop, his breath stutters, his whole face rearranges itself around the hope of your attention.
“why wouldn’t i be?”
words collapse in his mouth. he tries again, fails again. you watch him struggle, lashes lowered, smile ghosting at the corner of your lips. he’s so easy. so ruinable. so yours.
“i missed you,” he finally breathes, voice cracking like he hates himself for it. “like… too much.”
your head tilts, pink gloss catching the light. “sounds like a you problem.”
james smiles—actually smiles—like you handed him a gift instead of a knife. “yeah. i know.”
your fingers drift up, brushing his jaw—barely there, barely real, just enough to make him shiver like you’ve touched something vital. his breath stutters. his lashes flutter.
his whole body leans toward you without permission, like gravity isn’t a law for him, only you are.
“dramatic,” you murmur.
“you make me that way,” he whispers, needy and honest, like he’s confessing something sacred.
you roll your eyes, soft and cruel, but he sees that tiny curl of your lips. he always sees too much. he leans in, close enough to feel your breath, far enough to remind himself you’re untouchable.
he waits—trembling, reverent—for permission you’ll never give, eyes flicking to your mouth like he’s praying for crumbs.
“james,” you whisper, voice dipped in pink venom, “you know you can’t fix me.”
his eyes shine, warm and desperate, devotion spilling everywhere. “i know. i still want to try. i… i need to.”
a laugh slips out of you—sweet, cruel, pretty. “that’s why you’ll never leave.”
and he won’t. not tomorrow. not ever.
not as long as you keep giving him crumbs shaped like hope. not as long as you let him sit here breathing your air.
not as long as you let him believe he’s special for knowing nothing about you at all.
not as long as you let him orbit you like you hung the sky he worships.
and you will. because it’s easy. because he’s easy. because he’s yours.
KIM JUHOON
rose‑gold dusk spills across rooftop garden in slow, molten waves, soft and hazy, turning city skyline into a watercolor blur. fairy lights glow along railing, warm and delicate, catching in your hair like tiny stars.
jasmine drifts through warm air, sweet and dizzying, wrapping around you like a perfume meant for trouble.
you sit on cushioned bench, legs crossed, phone glowing in your hand as you scroll with lazy, poisonous grace—the kind that looks effortless but is engineered to wound.
you’re not hiding. you’re punishing him.
he got sharp yesterday—a clipped tone, a narrowed glance, a moment of irritation he tried to swallow. you didn’t like it. so you ignored him. all day. all night. all morning. a slow, deliberate cruelty he felt in every hour you stayed silent.
door clicks open behind you.
juhoon steps out, posture perfect, expression carved from cold sugar. hands in pockets, shoulders stiff, eyes locked on you like you’re gravity and he’s exhausted from pretending he isn’t orbiting.
“you’re up here,” he says, voice smooth, low, too calm to be real — the kind of calm that hides a storm.
you don’t look up. “looks like it.”
he walks closer, steps slow, measured, like he’s afraid any sudden movement will expose how badly he wanted to find you. warm lights catch on his cheekbones, turning him into something sharp and heartbreak‑beautiful.
“you didn’t answer me,” he says, tone flat but eyes burning.
you shrug, pretty and cruel. “didn’t feel like it.”
a tiny crack appears in his composure—a flicker of hurt, a flash of something raw. he hides it instantly, but you see it. you always do.
“did i do something?” he asks, voice soft but tight around edges, like he’s bracing for impact.
you stand, brushing past him, letting your shoulder graze his. he stiffens, breath catching like you’ve touched a live wire. you walk toward railing, letting city lights paint your skin in warm pinks and golds.
juhoon follows, silent, drawn to you like a tide he can’t fight.
“you snapped at me yesterday,” you say, voice dipped in honeyed venom. “so i ignored you.”
juhoon’s eyes widen, shock flickering across his face. “i wasn’t snapping at you.”
“sure looked like it.”
“i was frustrated,” he admits, voice low. “not at you. at myself.”
you tilt your head, studying him—the tension in his jaw, the way his fingers curl in his pockets, the way he can’t stop looking at your mouth.
“why?”
his gaze drops to your lips, then back to your eyes, like he’s fighting something dangerous. “because you get under my skin,” he whispers. “and i hate when i can’t control it.”
you step closer, slow and deliberate, until he’s breathing your air. his composure wavers, shoulders tense, breath uneven, like he’s standing on the edge of something he can’t name.
“you talk too much,” you murmur.
“i— what?”
you kiss him.
soft, sudden, silencing.
juhoon freezes, eyes wide, breath stolen clean out of him. then he melts—slow, helpless, like he’s been waiting for this longer than he’ll ever admit. his hands hover at your waist, terrified to touch, terrified to lose, terrified of wanting.
you pull back first, lips glossy, eyes half‑lidded. “better.”
his mask shatters completely. “because i’ll want more.”
you smile—pink, cruel, irresistible. “sounds like a you problem.”
juhoon steps closer, voice low, reverent, devotion spilling through every crack you carved into him. “i don’t care.”
and he means it. he’d let you ruin him with a kiss again and again—as long as it’s you doing the ruining.
MARTIN EDWARDS PARK
soft neon lights wash over pastel arcade, pinks and blues flickering across glossy floors like spilled candy. machines hum in gentle loops, screens glowing with idle animations that paint everything in dreamy, bubblegum haze.
you lean against claw machine, phone in hand, lashes lowered, expression bored and poisonous.
you’re not hiding. you’re punishing him. he was too friendly yesterday — too smiley, too bright, too quick to laugh at some girl’s joke at café. you didn’t like it. so you vanished. no replies. no glances. no crumbs.
martin spots you instantly.
he practically skids across floor, his short, tousled strands shifting with every quick step, cheeks flushed, eyes wide with relief and panic and something stupidly sweet. he stops right in front of you, chest rising fast, smelling like cherry soda and warm sugar.
“oh my god, finally,” he breathes, voice cracking. “i’ve been looking everywhere.” you don’t look up. “hm.”
martin freezes, thrown off by single syllable. “uh… hi?”
you scroll.
he steps closer, sneakers squeaking softly. “you didn’t answer me. like… at all.”
silence.
“i sent thirteen messages.”
you blink once. slow. uninterested.
martin presses a hand to his heart like you stabbed him, expression crumpling in dramatic agony. “thirteen! that’s a lot! that’s, like, a cry for help.”
you keep scrolling.
he circles around claw machine, trying to catch your gaze. you turn slightly, gliding away from him in that quiet, glossy way that feels like a dare he keeps losing. he follows, confused and desperate, like a golden retriever chasing a laser pointer.
“did i do something?” he asks, voice softer now. “just tell me. i’ll fix it. i’ll do anything.”
you sigh, bored. “you were flirting.”
martin’s whole face collapses. “what? with who?”
you don’t answer.
he gasps. “wait—café girl? seriously? she asked what i wanted to order and i panicked and said ‘uhm.’ that’s not flirting. that’s me malfunctioning.”
you scroll. “you smiled.”
“i smile at everyone! i’m like… genetically cursed.”
you tilt your head, still not looking at him. “you laughed.”
martin throws his hands up. “i laugh when i’m nervous! i laugh when i’m confused! i laugh when i’m breathing!”
you shrug.
martin steps closer, voice dropping to something small and helpless. “you’re really mad, huh.”
you don’t respond.
he tries again, softer. “you’re ignoring me because i smiled at someone?”
you nod once.
martin looks at you like you just rewired his whole brain, then laughs under his breath, all wrecked sweetness and pretty panic. “that’s insane. you’re insane. i love it.”
you turn away.
he follows instantly, steps quick, expression melting into something warm and desperate. “okay, okay, i won’t smile at anyone ever again. i’ll be stone‑faced. terrifying. unreadable. like a statue.”
you scroll.
“please look at me,” he whispers.
you don’t.
martin leans against machine beside you, shoulders slumping, voice cracking just a little. “i missed you.”
you hum, airy and uninterested.
martin’s grin appears, crooked and hopeful, hair falling into his eyes as he looks at you like you hung moon. “i’ll take that,” he says, breath catching.
he stays beside you, quiet for once, waiting for any scrap of attention you might drop.
and you don’t give him a single one.
he stays anyway.
EOM SEONGHYEON
warm afternoon light pours across practice room in slow, golden ribbons, catching on mirrors and polished floor until everything glows like it’s been dipped in honey.
you’re on mat with your arms crossed, jaw tight, scrolling your phone with sharp, irritated little flicks that make your mood impossible to miss. even air feels tense around you, warm and charged.
door opens with a soft click.
seonghyeon slips inside like he’s afraid to disturb anything, hoodie sleeves swallowing half his hands, hair falling into his eyes in soft, uneven pieces he keeps forgetting to push back.
he spots you instantly—and stops dead, breath catching like he’s run straight into invisible wall.
your expression alone knocks air out of him.
“um… hi,” he says, voice small, careful, almost trembling.
you don’t look up. “hi.”
your tone is clipped, sharp around edges, dipped in quiet venom he feels immediately. he flinches like it grazed skin.
he takes a slow, cautious step closer. “are you… okay?”
“no.”
his whole face folds, soft and stricken, like you just pulled ground out from under him. “did… did something happen?”
you finally look at him—one sharp, irritated glance—and he goes pink instantly, shoulders tensing like he’s bracing for impact.
“you,” you say.
his eyes widen. “m‑me?”
“yes, you.”
he looks like he might pass out. “what did i do?”
you toss your phone down beside you, the sound small but decisive, like a verdict. “you said you’d meet me after class. you didn’t show up.”
seonghyeon’s breath catches, eyes going huge. “i— i didn’t? i— oh my god— i thought you meant after practice, not after class— i waited in wrong room— i swear i wasn’t avoiding you— i just— i’m stupid— i’m so stupid—”
you lift a hand, stopping his spiral mid‑sentence.
he freezes instantly, lips pressed together, eyes wide and shimmering like he’s holding breath.
“you made me wait,” you say, voice low, honey‑sharp.
he steps closer, sleeves tugged over his hands like he’s trying to make himself smaller, safer, less disappointing. “i’m sorry. i’m really, really sorry. i didn’t mean to. i was looking for you everywhere. i checked hall twice. i even asked instructor if they saw you and they looked at me like i was lost.”
you stare at him, unimpressed, letting silence sit heavy and warm between you.
he swallows hard. “i didn’t want to make you upset.”
“well, you did.”
his shoulders drop, breath shaky. “i know. i deserve that.”
you sigh, leaning back against wall, irritation still warm in your chest. “you should’ve texted.”
“i did!” he blurts. “three times! but my phone died right after and i didn’t have charger and i panicked and—”
you blink. “three?”
he nods frantically. “three.”
you pick up your phone, check screen. three unsent messages appear at once—his phone must’ve died mid‑send.
your irritation softens, just a little, like warm sugar melting at edges.
seonghyeon watches your face like he’s reading shifting weather, terrified of storm returning. “i really tried,” he whispers. “i didn’t want you thinking i forgot you.”
you sigh again, softer this time. “you still made me wait.”
he nods, cheeks warm, voice small. “i know. i’ll make it up to you. anything you want. just… don’t be mad anymore.”
you look at him—small, trembling, sleeves covering his hands, eyes wide and earnest, like he’s offering his whole heart without realizing it.
“sit,” you say.
he sits immediately, almost too fast, like he’s been waiting for that single word to breathe again.
after a moment, he murmurs, “i’m really glad you’re talking to me.”
you roll your eyes, but your voice comes out gentler, softened at edges. “don’t mess up again.”
he nods quickly, hair falling into his eyes. “i won’t. i promise.”
and he stays right beside you, soft and relieved, like being near you is the only place he can breathe properly.
AHN KEONHO
twilight settles over rooftop greenhouse like a spell, warm and violet‑gold, filtering through glass panes smudged with fingerprints and summer dust. vines curl along metal beams, leaves trembling in the faint breeze from cracked windows.
tiny string lights glow between hanging plants, turning whole space into a dreamy, humid, flower‑scented cocoon.
you’re sitting on a wooden crate near a cluster of orchids, legs crossed, phone in hand, expression carved in bored, pretty cruelty. the kind of look that could make someone apologize just for breathing wrong.
door creaks open.
keonho steps inside, breath catching the moment he sees you. the soft greenhouse light hits him in warm streaks, catching on his cheekbones, making him look even more undone than usual.
his hoodie sleeves are pushed up, hair slightly messy, eyes too warm for someone who’s been searching.
“there you are,” he murmurs, voice low, relieved in a way he can’t hide.
you don’t look up. “congratulations. you found me.”
your tone is honey‑venom, lazy and sharp. it hits him like a touch.
he walks toward you, drawn like a moth to flame, stopping close enough that your knees almost brush. “i was looking everywhere.”
“sounds like a personal issue.”
keonho’s lips twitch—not offended, but ruined. “maybe. but i still looked.”
you finally glance up, slow and devastating. “why?”
his cheeks warm instantly. he looks away for a heartbeat, then back at you, unable to help himself. “because you left without telling me.”
“i don’t report my location.”
“i know,” he says softly, “but i still wanted to know.”
you roll your eyes, pretty and cruel. “clingy.”
“with you?” he murmurs. “always.”
he steps closer, the humid greenhouse air making everything feel warmer, thicker, more intimate. “you were gone for an hour.”
“and?”
“and i checked courtyard, stairwell, studio three, even the roof.” his voice drops. “i thought you were avoiding me.”
you blink, unimpressed. “you think too much.”
“only about you.”
you slide your phone into your pocket, tilting your head. “you could’ve texted.”
keonho’s ears go pink. “i did.”
“show me.”
he hesitates—embarrassed—then unlocks his phone and hands it to you.
three unsent drafts glow on screen:
“where did you go?”
“can i come find you?”
“i don’t like when you disappear.”
you look up slowly.
keonho’s voice is barely a whisper. “i didn’t send them. they sounded… too much.”
“they are too much.”
he swallows. “i know.”
you hop off crate, brushing past him just enough to make him shiver. “you worry too easily.”
“only when it’s you,” he says, following without thinking, like a shadow with a heartbeat.
you stop between rows of hanging ferns, turning to face him. “and what if i don’t care?”
keonho drifts closer, his gaze catching on you with a slow, deliberate pull, something warm and too focused simmering beneath it. “then i’ll care enough for both of us.”
your breath catches—just a little—and he sees it. he always sees it.
he lifts a hand, brushing a leaf from your hair with a touch so gentle it borders on worship. “don’t leave without telling me,” he murmurs. “i hate not knowing where you are.”
“why?”
his voice slips, warm and trembling: “because i want to be where you are.”
you stare at him, sharp and pretty and unreadable.
keonho stares back, unblinking, needy, devoted, a little too intense in a way that feels like silk tightening around your ribs.
“is that too much?” he asks softly.
you shake your head. “no.”
keonho exhales, relieved, stepping close enough that his forehead almost touches yours. “good,” he whispers. “because i don’t think i can be less with you.”
and in the warm, flower‑scented twilight, he stays pressed close.
loud, whole world fading into neon glow around you.
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