Glimpse: when he deliberately not tell you about his new MV drops featuring a female dancer, you realize the rules of your love game just changed — and your counterattack comes in a heart-shaped box from the intern.
Genre: Romantic Comedy/Drama | Jealousy AU | Office Romance
Rating: mature (Teen+ for mild sensuality & emotional tension)
Warnings: mild possessive behavior, flirtatious workplace dynamics, sugary warfare (literal and metaphorical), jimin being dangerously good at button manipulation (shirt-related and otherwise
"Drafted agreement for your review, Attorney Mi. I'll send it to the client once approved."
Ben Hyuk, your intern, places a stack of papers gently on your desk.
You flipped through the pages absently. "Good work. Head home early, it's past office hours."
“Yes Attorney Mi, um, I…” the junior associate stammers. You glance up, noticing him clutching a pastel pink box tied with satin ribbon.
Your stern demeanor softens into a gentle, slightly teasing smile that lands squarely on the flustered intern. "What's this?"
Ben’s face flushes scarlet, and he quickly looks away. “I—I heard your birthday was a few days ago, so I got these chocolates… just a small gift.” His whisper faded into the hum of the air conditioner. “Sorry it’s a bit late…”
You chuckle softly and wave a hand. “Thank you, Ben, but there was really no need to go to any trouble.” Your French tip tapped the gold embossed logo. "These cost half your stipend."
When the offering hovered mid-air like a guilt-ridden peace treaty, you relented. “All right, leave them here. But next time, just say it with a coffee.”
The box landed beside you with finality. Ben practically teleported out, his ears matching the ribbon's hue.
Leather creaked as you leaned back, observing the pink, heart-shaped box of chocolates, amused. Intern crushes were common, but this... adorable. Especially when you’ve got a sweet talker at home, this kind of shy hit ups become rather oddly refreshing. Still, this required strategic disposal before Jimin's bloodhound nose detected it.
By the time you’re done with your final task, most of your coworkers have already headed home. The sky outside has shifted from a warm orange to a deep blue, and car headlights now form glowing streams of light against the darkening skyline.
You lean back in your ergonomic chair and stretch, feeling a wave of relief roll through your body. Absentmindedly, you run your fingers through your hair a few times—a habit you’ve unconsciously picked up since you started dating Jimin. You used to tease him with the fan edit of him raking his hand through his hair, and now here you are, doing the exact same thing.
Scrolling through Instagram, you notice that Jimin’s new song, “Who,” has been out for three hours. When he was working on his album, he’d shared almost everything—demos, concept clips—asking for your opinion. But this particular track he kept suspiciously under wraps, simply telling you, “Wait for the MV.” You never did figure out what he was plotting, and the secrecy only piqued your curiosity more. You slip on your Bluetooth earbuds.
The MV exploded across your screen in golden fractals. Neon lights dripped like liquid mercury over Jimin's glistening torso. His movements liquid fire like a golden phantom moving with grace in a grungy, punk-infused world.
Chin propped on your hand, you can’t help smiling. You know that alluring, come-hither gaze of his all too well.
“One, two, three, four, five, So many people…”
As the second verse begins, something feels off. Jimin and his female dance partner move closer… wave in sync… push, pull… her arms slide around his neck, twined around him like human ivy.
You stare at your phone screen, stunned for a moment, then let out a quiet scoff. So this was his grand secret.
You watch calmly until the end, then gather up your things. Your eyes land on the box of chocolates, and a mischievous light flashes in them. Fine, Park Jimin. If you want to play, count me in…
Nighttime at home carries a special hush. A vintage record player is spinning low, sultry jazz that drifts through the room. Jimin lounges on a black sofa in a crisp white shirt, casually scrolling on his phone. The clock on the wall reads half past seven. After a moment’s deliberation, he undoes two more buttons, revealing skin that glows under the lamp.
The front door finally clicks open, and you step inside.
Usually, Jimin’s either still at work when you come home or he’s draped like a pampered prince in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows, sipping wine and admiring the view. But tonight…
“Missed you,” Jimin murmurs, his breath ghosting over your collarbone as he slips your coat from your shoulders. It’s reminiscent of your best friend’s cat—smarmy and sweet right before knocking something off the table.
“I said I missed you.” He leans in to wrap you halfway in his arms when you don’t respond. His familiar cologne envelops you, but there’s something new—a hint of floral warmth that seeps through to your core.
Your gaze drifts to his half-open collar, revealing a sliver of alabaster skin and hair tousled like he just rolled off a Vogue shoot. You give him a wry grin—if a man’s worth is measured by how well he knows his girlfriend, then Park Jimin is the model student of the century.
“Your new single’s got a lot of buzz,” you remark, calmly meeting his eyes before cutting off his attempts at sweet talk.
“Oh? You watched it?” He arches an eyebrow and leans in closer, studying your face like he’s trying to read your every reaction.
“How was it?” he asks. His bang falls forward, hiding the growing smile in his eyes. Jimin’s eyes aren’t classically perfect, but there’s always been a flirtatious spark in them.
“It’s good,” you say simply. “I like it.”
“But babe, you ruined my plan,” he whines, playing the hurt puppy. “I wanted us to watch it together at home, but now it’s too late.”
You’d love to deck his infuriatingly handsome face right about now, but it’s way too soon to blow your cover. Someone as slippery—and as shameless—as Jimin needs a slow, careful simmer.
Feigning casual indifference, you slip both arm around his neck.
“Very…collaborative,” you remark playfully.
He pauses, then laughs, clearly pleased by your comment. When he looks back at you, his eyes have crinkled into smiling crescents. “Jealous?”
You slide a hand along his collar, your cool fingertips brushing the pale skin at his neck. “Do you want me to be jealous?”
Jimin holds your gaze for a moment, silently noting that you haven’t raged, sulked, or thrown a tantrum. That’s precisely what makes the situation so dangerous for him. He sighs inwardly—at this point, the only winning move is to spoil you.
“Hungry?” he asks, giving your chin a playful rub. “I made some sweet spiced chestnut porridge. It should be done by now.”
You’ve loved warm, comforting flavors ever since you were little. When you were a kid, your mom used to make chestnut porridge to soothe your stomach. Over time, you developed a soft spot for that aroma. You never told Jimin about it, so you have no idea how he found out. The more time you spend together, the more it feels like half your world has switched sides and started giving him intel.
Reading your expression, Jimin steers you toward the kitchen, looking smug. “Your mom and I have been getting along really well. She told me all kinds of funny stories about you as a kid.”
You pause, offering a tiny, helpless smile. Great—he’s recruited yet another ally. Jimin has always been a pro at charming elderlies: any hint of mischief in his personality disappears, and magically transforms into the perfect “ideal son-in-law.”
You take a small sip of the chestnut porridge. “It’s kind of bland,” you remark.
Jimin raises his eyebrows in mild surprise. “Really?” He seems ready to defend your mom’s recipe, but thinks better of it and goes to grab some sugar instead.
“Actually, I’ve been into chocolate lately.”
Preoccupied with whether he’s adding too much sugar, Jimin freezes. He turns around just in time to see you pull a pink box out of your bag.
A pink, heart-shaped box of chocolate.
You unwrap a piece and pop it into your mouth, only to be assaulted by a sickly-sweet burst of artificial strawberry flavor. It nearly makes you see stars.
“Mmm, so good,” you force out, swallowing hard and managing a smile.
“Since when do you eat sugar bombs?”
“Tastes change.” You retorted nonchalantly.
Jimin narrows his eyes. Something’s definitely up. He sets down the sugar and walks toward you. “What do you mean, your tastes changed?” he asks, voice dropping an octave.
You glance up, giving him a silent enigmatic smile.
He watches you carefully, and then a knowing grin flickers across his face. He finally realizes the game you’re playing. It’s both exasperating and thrilling, and he feels a spark of anticipation for whatever’s coming next.
Leaning in, he places his hands on either side of you, pinning you against the counter. The gentle warmth of his presence closes in around you.
“So,” he says smoothly, “who gave you that chocolate?”
You hold your ground, resting your arms on his chest. Your gaze drifts from his lips back up to his eyes, and you flash a tantalizing smile.
Jimin’s heart gives a jolt under your teasing. His arms wrap more snugly around your waist as he leans in for a kiss.
But just as he takes the bait, you push lightly against his chest. Turning around, you take another piece of chocolate from the box and hold it to his lips.
“Eat this, and I’ll tell you.”
He gives a rueful little laugh, staring at the candy as if trying to decide if you’re actually poisoning him for the sake of some grand scheme. Then, right on cue, your phone rings—loud and shrill—shattering the heated atmosphere.
It’s your phone. Jimin is closest, so he picks it up and hands it to you. Glancing at the caller ID, you are surprised.
Well, isn’t this convenient, you muse. You answer and surreptitiously turn the volume up.
“Noona, it’s Ben Hyuk. Sorry to call so late… is this a bad time?”
Hearing the young male voice from the other end, Jimin lifts his gaze to you.
“No, It’s no problem at all. What’s up?” Your voice is sweeter and lighter than normal, carrying a faint lilt of flirtation. Immediately, Jimin’s expression stiffens, displeasure carving a deep furrow in his brow.
“I’m sorry I gave you your birthday gift so late. I just… wasn’t sure if you’d like the chocolate?”
The moment “chocolate” is mentioned, the temperature in the room drops another ten degrees. You can practically feel Jimin’s heated stare burning holes through that pink box, as if he’d like nothing more than to reduce it—and possibly the whole kitchen—to ashes.
Ignoring the tension, you continue, “Oh, that’s perfect timing. I’m actually eating it right now! My friend thinks it’s too sweet, but he obviously has no taste. I think it’s delicious.”
You cast a sly, sidelong glance at Jimin, lips curving into a subtle smile.
“Oh… that’s great. Um, actually, I was wondering if you’d have time this weekend to grab dinner downtown. There’s a new restaurant I heard is really good…”
“Of course! I’ve finally wrapped up that merger case, so I’m free to celebrate.”
Meanwhile, Jimin’s expression has turned dark, all his earlier tenderness gone. The jealousy in the air is practically visible, roiling like a storm about to tear the roof off.
“Ah… t-that’s great,” Ben stutters, clearly not expecting such an enthusiastic yes. “If it’s too far away, we can always pick somewhere else… I don’t want to inconvenience you.”
“No need for that. I’ve got a ‘friend’ who can drive me wherever I want—so of course I want the best place,” you say, looking directly at Jimin and arching an eyebrow: You’re available to chauffeur, right?
He’s had enough. Snatching the phone from your hand, he switches on speaker and discards it on the bar table.
Your lips are claimed by an impatient kiss, a small cry escaping before you can stop it. The faint warmth of his breath mingles with yours as your fingers curl into his shirt, pulling him closer. At the edge of your vision, the kitchen lights blur into a soft, hazy glow…
The rich, cozy scent of dinner hangs thick in the kitchen, and the timer on the stovetop lets out a long beep. The pot has hit its boiling point—time to turn down the heat and let everything simmer...
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