➝ summary: for almost four years it had been just him and sarang, and he had no plans on changing the life they had become accustomed to any time soon, but of course y/n has to come and shake his world.
The Most Beautiful Moment in Life x OT7 @bts-reveries
➝ summary: We all knew that to get to the pretty parts of life, you’d have to get ugly first.
If you ever feel like you’re falling apart, maybe you’re just falling into place.
Maybe
Just maybe
You’re about to reach the most beautiful moment of your life.
Do it Again x MYG @kimnjss
➝ summary: Months after deciding to end their three year long relationship, a sex tape hits the internet. fans go wild speculating that rap star, min yoongi and aspiring model, yn are the stars. old feelings arise as the couple try to figure out a way out of this.
My Only Wish x KNJ @ppersonna
➝ summary: There are few things you hate most in this world. Hornets, unnecessary fruit pieces in otherwise perfectly good jello, certain shades of orange… But nothing takes the cake more than two simple things. Christmas. And Kim Namjoon. So why did you agree to pretend to be Kim Namjoon’s girlfriend at his family Christmas party? Bah-Humbug.
Dichotomy x KTH @kpopfanfictrash
➝ summary: You hate him. He hates you. It’s a fine line though, isn’t it – between love and hate?
The Art of the RomCom x JJK @gukyi
➝ summary: FILM395, the art of the rom-com, was supposed to be an easy a with one of your favorite professors, but it’s not. it’s actually a sisyphean torture that comes in the form of fellow film student jeon jungkook, who has no problem responding to every one of your discussion posts about the consumerist ideals underlying every romance movie with his own paragraphs on the beauty of love like the hopeless romantic he is. and when the two of you find yourselves partnered up for your final project, which is to create a short film on rom-coms, jungkook decides to take it upon himself to show you what love is really like.
The Wedding Planners x JJK @/gukyi
➝ summary: Jeon jungkook is three things: cocky, terrible, and your worst enemy. then your best friend hoseok gets engaged to the love of his life, and suddenly jeon jungkook is four things: cocky, terrible, your worst enemy, and the man you will be spending the next seven months with in order to plan your best friend’s wedding.
And then, as if your life couldn’t get any shittier, you make the poor decision of sleeping with him on the first day of the job.
Love Me or We Both Go Down x KTH @/gukyi
➝ summary: After going through with an arranged marriage to please his parents and secure his inheritance of the family business, kim taehyung thinks he’s got it all figured out. he doesn’t. apparently just being married to you isn’t enough, not when everybody and their mother can pick up on the fact that the two of you absolutely loathe each other. but taehyung wants his inheritance one way or another, so he decides that desperate times call for desperate measures: the two of you need to fall in love, and you need to fall in love fast.
Four Weeks x KTH @/gukyi
➝ summary: Four weeks. that’s how long you’re trapped on campus after missing your flight home because of a grossly overtime final. and as you’re walking around your empty campus, thinking that you could sink no lower, you find yourself alone in the art building with a certain freshman-year-dorm-neighbor from hell, and he’s got an offer that you don’t think you can refuse: he’s staying on campus this winter break as well, and he’s happy to let you live with him.
Or, four weeks is all it takes to fall in love.
Let it Snow x KTH @suga-kookiemonster
➝ summary: It all started by accident, but it continues by choice—even before you began sleeping together, things with your friend taehyung have always been comfortable and easy. simple, and this new arrangement between you is certainly no exception to that rule. well...that's definitely what you thought before a major snowstorm traps the two of you in his apartment over the holidays. now? now, it is quickly becoming apparent that things are a bit more complicated than you realized.
The Hush Series x KTH x JJK @/suga-kookiemonster
➝ summary: Four seats, five bodies. “careful, sweetheart,” he breathes into the shell of your ear, hands tightening over your waist in warning. you lick your lips, pausing just long enough to ponder: what if you don’t want to be careful?
Bad Influence x JJK @noteguk
➝ summary: In which you know Jungkook is a bad influence on you, but you can’t avoid falling for him every time.
Wicked x JJK @/noteguk
➝ summary: In which incubus!jungkook likes to ruin pretty innocent things, and you might just be the perfect target.
The New Law x JJK @theunknowncryptid
➝ summary: After half of the Earth’s population is killed, International Governments take drastic action and Y/n is forced to live her worst nightmare.
The Clue x ? @/theunknowncryptid
➝ summary: After being locked inside their restaurant, Y/n and the boys must fight for their lives to escape the night and discover a murderer.
Once Upon a Bracelet x JJK @/ladyartemesia
➝ summary: You were born to nothing, but your powerful craft caught the eye of a charming prince. However, his distinctly un-charming younger brother challenged your betrothal and is routinely challenging you. Jeon Jungkook is (probably) a former necromancer and (definitely) the wrong prince…
But the bracelets tell a different story.
Scattered Stars x JJK @taegularities
➝ summary: It’s easy to despise Jungkook when your contradicting magic doesn’t allow you to touch each other without fatal consequences - but what if your eternal enemy turns out to be your soulmate with whom you, unfortunately, do fall in love?
Obsidian x KTH @/kpopfanfictrash
➝ summary: The world of magic is divided into dark and light, witches and warlocks, choice and fate. You’re a prodigy of light, a witch who works within the police force. You’ve heard of Taehyung in passing, spoken in whispers as the warlock of dark who has the world holding it’s breath. All this changes on the night you’re assigned as security for a mysterious singer named V and you come face to face with Taehyung himself. What happens after that might be fate.
The Art of War More x JJK @/kpopfanfictrash
➝ summary: Jeon Jungkook had messed with you for the last time. That was what you thought when the hockey team – led by the insufferable Jungkook – kicked your dance team out again from your reserved room at the gym. In retaliation, you planned a prank of epic proportions and were caught in the act by none other than Jungkook himself. Before the rift between you could grow any deeper, you accidentally overheard something you were not meant to hear. Something which overshadowed even your heated rivalry. Faced with the choice between obvious wrong and teaming up with your worst enemy – you reluctantly chose the latter. But what will you do when feelings you once thought of as hatred become something decidedly… not?
The Truth Between Us x MYG @/gukyi + @jimlingss
➝ summary: A book deal should be the most exciting time of your life, but there seems to be a constant and omnipresent damper on your mood in the form of a certain min yoongi, who you would just cut out from your life, if he weren’t your editor. but then, the world shifts beneath your feet, and you begin to wonder if maybe you’ve always been looking at life from the wrong angle.
Under Wraps x KTH @jungkxook
➝ summary: There’s nothing you and taehyung seem to hate more than each other - except for christmas. having recently been dumped by your (now ex) boyfriend only seems to make this holiday even worse. but when taehyung suggests that you should pretend to be dating each other to save you both the embarrassment, pity, and bothersome questions from family and friends alike for a fun carefree month of celebrations, you can’t possibly say no.
I'll Float Away x MYG @/ppersonna
➝ summary: Years after the breakup, yoongi, a successful award-winning rapper with an unhealthy addiction, finds your wedding invite on Facebook.
Heartstrings Melodies x MYG @whitesparrows97
➝ summary: Min Yoongi, the fuckboy of the whole college and the guy all girls fall for, should be your soulmate? You don’t believe that, you don’t want to believe that. Therefore, you and your best friend make a pact: She pretends to be you and gets together with Yoongi. Nothing can go wrong with that, right?
Love is a Foolish Thing x KTH @/whitesparrows97
➝ summary: Falling in love… it sounded so simple. Falling. Like one wrong step, a small stumble and you were deeply in love. But there was nothing easy about love.
Bound x OT7 @/kpopfanfictrash
➝ summary: In a world where marriage isn’t by choice and love isn’t an option – will you ever find happiness? Or just continue to search?
Inevitable x JJK @ahundredtimesover
➝ summary: You convinced Jungkook to break up years ago so he could pursue his lifelong baseball dream. Now he’s back home, staring at you, and the little boy next to you who looks unmistakably like him.
Please Love Me x JJK @/ahundredtimesover
➝ summary: As the only unmarried Jeon and Kim children, your families propose a union to symbolize your unbreakable bond that spans generations. But despite developing an affection for Jungkook growing up, he never returned it; he never seemed to like you, actually. You’re okay with the proposal, but surprise surprise, he isn’t.
Nice Guys Finish Last x KNJ @ktheist
➝ summary: You thought you were over yoongi’s dick move of ending your engagement through his parents - not even a text when he disappeared out of your life. that’s why you agreed to the newly arranged marriage with his brother, namjoon, but on the brink of your wedding day, it becomes apparent that you haven’t really let go of the past as you tear up in front of your soon-to-be husband at the back room of the church.
(Why) We Got Married x KTH @/ktheist
➝ summary: They say the 7th year of your marriage is always an uphill battle - but with the existence of your prenup coming to light thanks to taehyung’s lawyer slash family friend’s slip of tongue - first it reached your and his families, and then your family’s close friends and then your family’s close friends’ friends until - almost everyone is speculating on the grounds of you and taehyung’s marriage being anything but love.
You’re not sure if you’re even going to make past the second year mark in your marriage. But is the reason you got married really as important as why you choose to stay or leave?
F is For x JJK @1kook
➝ summary: We collectively had a vision of a hot lecture bae fuckboy and well... Here we are.
The Dark x MYG @bratkook
➝ summary: Your small town thrives on the occult, luring tourists in with endless themed festivities, but the only place you’re determined to see is the mysterious club that comes to life the week before Halloween. what makes The Dark so exclusive, and what secrets are they hiding behind closed doors?
Lovely Demons x PJM @/kpopfanfictrash
➝ summary: As penance for a crime committed long, long ago, the Witch Council banished you to the feared Tholoss forest. Your sentence was one hundred thousand days of solitude – or death, whichever came first. Your only hope of salvation comes from the demon names routinely sent your way; creatures who escape the inner circles of Hell and pose a threat to the mortal realms. For each demon you kill, days are removed from your sentence. For years you’ve existed, biding your time, until one morning you receive a name which throws your entire world into chaos: the name of Park Jimin, High Prince of Hell himself.
Rattled x JJK @gukslut
➝ summary: "He should have hung up the phone. He should have called her crazy, insisted on some kind of proof. He should have used a condom. He should have spent the last two hours searching the internet for the safest infant car seat. Instead, he sat, glassy-eyed and numb, watching the sun rise behind the building he’s parked in front of."
Warm Hands (Ice Cold Heart) x PJM @hobidreams
➝ summary: For those of you who belong to the upper echelons of society, the holidays are synonymous with parties. lavish and (in your opinion) excessive gatherings — opportunities to show off what you’ve accomplished and acquired over the year. unfortunately for you, tonight’s particular celebration features two special guests: the man you thought you would be with for the rest of your life, and the man you married.
First and Last and Always x MYG @floralseokjin
➝ summary: You and Yoongi broke up two months ago. It was mutual, you’re positive, but there’s one teeny tiny issue... You never told your parents, and now they’ve invited you back home for Christmas. Both of you. You can’t say no, but you also can’t bear to go alone, so you do the only thing you can think of, plead with Yoongi to come with you and pretend like everything’s okay...
Mind in the Gutter x JJK @/kpopfanfictrash
➝ summary: Starting over is never fun. Especially not when you decide to take the phrase fully to heart; new job, new city, new coworkers and new relationships. When you are dragged to a happy hour by your new co-worker, Taehyung, you end up sitting beside a (very) cute, (very) shy IT worker named Jungkook. Several drinks later, he mentions he is in a professional bowling league with his friends and you rather enthusiastically invite yourself along. As time passes and you begin to grow closer, you still find it impossible to read Jungkook. Working in the same company and seeing each other so often, it is only so long before one of you snaps. But who?
Wicked x JJK @adonis-koo
➝ summary: In a desperate hope to stop war from breaking you are a serviced to wed the most vile man alive, the one who has committed atrocities and war crimes beyond comprehension, he who is responsible for the fall of many nations, the wicked prince who’s heart is made of stone. You are to marry a man who challenges every belief and moral you stand for, all while being faced in a foreign land with nobody but yourself too trust…But are you both truly that different? Or is hate not too far from love?
Euphoria x JJK @btssavedmylifeblr
➝ summary: At the end of your life, you are given one day to live again with the man you loved. A lifetime’s love story told in a single day.
A Holiday Snowdown x JJK @/kpopfanfictrash
➝ summary: The Inn on the Hill is in trouble. Or that's what your boss, Namjoon, says during the last-minute All Staff holiday meeting he calls. You need money, and you need money fast, or his parents are planning to sell the resort. When no one can think of an easy solution, Namjoon proposes his parents' idea: a weeklong social media blitz with a celebrity guest. The celebrity? None other than Jungkook Jeon himself: two-time Olympic gold medalist, world-class snowboarder and the nation's sweetheart. What's the problem? You happen to have met Jungkook Jeon before, and sincerely hoped you'd never see him again.
Ember Burning x JJK @/kpopfanfictrash
➝ summary: The dragon riders of Duret Ghal are known across the continent; fierce warriors who take to the skies on their leashed, winged beasts. You are the last Dragon Queen of Ashya, ruler of a dying species who can transform from human to Dragon at will. When a new foe emerges which threatens both Dragon and rider alike, you find yourself forced to broker peace with your former enemy. The King of Duret Ghal, and a dragon rider himself: Jeon Jungkook.
Raise the Bar x PJM @/kpopfanfictrash
➝ summary: You and Park Jimin have been rivals for as long as you’ve known one another; ever since he tripped you in the front row of your first dance convention. When you graduate from high school and enter Russet Ballet Academy, you tell yourself you’re leaving all past quarrels behind. The main problem with this though, is that your past seems determined not to leave you alone.
Worse still, the obstacles you face while out in the real world might prove more challenging than anything your enemy has to offer.
Like a Pirate x KNJ @yoon2k
➝ summary: You were immediately met with heavy boots stomping right in front of you, the mindless chatter ceasing as the voices you had blocked out drifted back into your consciousness. Your eyes trailed up the tall body of the human that had dared stepped close to you. Your teeth bared as you met his eyes. His woefully cruel and boasting eyes. Kim Namjoon.
New Guy x KNJ @kithtaehyung
➝ summary: All you want to do is have a successful meeting after experiencing dwindling attendance. but the new guy is completely disrupting things... or is he?
This Christmas x MYG @/suga-kookiemonster
➝ summary: It's been a while since you've been home for the holidays, but this year, you finally plan on rectifying that. things are going well for you—great job, great friends, and a new boyfriend who you have a pretty great feeling about—and it seems everything in your life is finally slotting into place. but, of course, the past is a relentless specter and the universe always has a way of humbling you. in a ridiculous twist of fate, you soon find yourself stuck in a car with the very reason you have avoided coming back in the first place.
Signed in Black x MYG @yoon-kooks
➝ summary: Min Yoongi. That was the name magically tattooed to your skin. You were told he was your lover by fate. And as cute as it would be to have a soulmate, Yoongi was the last person you ever wanted to be bound to. But thankfully, there was a way to remove the tattoo. All you had to do was convince six Bulletproof Fairies that the two of you were in love.
The Crown that is Ours x KTH @taeshobipop
➝ summary: You never wished for it, but it was inevitable — an arranged marriage to a royal stranger. The Crown Prince Kim Taehyung.
A year into your marriage and life still holds you firmly in its grip. How do you plan to steer through this mess when the public suddenly comes knocking at your door, pitchforks and torches in hand, threatening: "death to all who commit fraud!"
Into my Bones x MYG @inkofyoonkoo
➝ summary: Small slice-of-life scenes in non-chronological order that describe the slow growth of your relationship, started as a friends-with-benefits affair. Aka, Yoongi is dumb and learns that love can’t be controlled.
9 Months to Fall in Love x KSJ @/floralseokjin
➝ summary: It seems like everyone around you is either already in love, or in the process of falling, and while normally you couldn’t give a damn, finding out the co-worker you’ve had a teensy crush on is dating someone else at the office seems to sucker punch you right in the gut. It’s stupid, and you’re irritated at yourself, but you can’t seem to shake out of the funk you’ve fallen face first in.
Feeling lonely and heartsore, and mad for no reason, during drinks with your best friend you spot a man at the bar. Tequila confident, you make your way over to the stranger, and successfully one thing leads to another. The next morning you leave before he’s woken up, feeling satisfied in one way, but still as discontented as ever. Telling yourself it was an inebriated mistake, you quickly try to forget about it.
Only, three weeks later that night comes back to haunt you – in a very unescapable way…
House of Serpents x OT7 @smasmashie
➝ summary: Straight-A student by day, Kim Namjoon’s personal toy by night, you didn’t live a terrible life. At least not until you met his six equally depraved “friends.”
Bunny x JJK @btssmutgalore
➝ summary: An anonymous streamer puts on a show every couple of days. When you become one of his biggest fans, your social life takes a hit—you'd rather stay glued to your laptop and stare at him than go out and meet men in real life.
But, what if?
Et Sic Incipit x KTH @lavienjin
➝ summary: For Taehyung, born of old and before the dawn of man, tempting mortals is nothing more than a pass-time to quench his boredom. Everything changes when he met you, literally too good to be true, but no human has ever resisted his pull. And he’s sure that you’re no different.
How I Love You x KNJ @/ahundredtimesover
➝ summary: Sometimes distance isn’t a space between two people, but cracks and crevices that build up over time. It's what you learned after being married to Namjoon all these years. But all it takes is a trip back home and the acknowledgement of what your relationship has become, and the realization that it might be the final puncture that would make everything else break.
Hold Me Close x JJK @/ahundredtimesover
➝ summary: When Jimin hits a crisis, he enlists the help of his older sister - you - and his best friend, Jungkook, to put the pieces back again. That proves to be difficult when 1) Jimin’s a brat and a certified pain in the ass, and 2) Jungkook has grown and suddenly, you can’t keep your eyes off him.
Love To Hate x JJK @/kpopfanfictrash
➝ summary: Born with a silver spoon in your mouth, you've done your best to rid yourself of the taste since you were old enough to walk. Occasionally though, your mother manages to rope you into an obligatory function – or a blind date with playboy billionaire, Jeon Jungkook. Jungkook stands for everything you loathe about the world you left behind, but you can’t deny the spark of attraction between you. Intrigued by the promise of mutual satisfaction, you agree to one night in bed… and quickly realize you’re in far, far deeper than you ever intended.
Officially Yours x JJK @/personasintro
➝ summary: you're his and he is yours on the paper – but what is the reality?
Love Again x PJM @taestefully-in-luv
➝ summary: A friend of yours is eager to introduce you to her new man but what happens when Park Jimin, the man who broke your heart 5 years ago walks in through the door?
The Lucky One x JJK @babystrcandy
➝ summary: Growing up you only had one goal: beat Jeon Jungkook. Sometimes you'd win, other times you'd lose. Sometimes he'd lose, other times he'd win. But you'd both walk away from the match thinking the other was the lucky one.
Hours x JJK @sugakookitty
➝ summary: You walk across the hall and visit your neighbor Jungkook every Wednesday to drink, chill, sing some karaoke… watch some Netflix. But you always end up wobbling back to your apartment after hours of doing all kind of unholy things. Not tonight.
Candles and Flames x JJK @/taegularities
➝ summary: He wasn’t supposed to be yours. His foolery wasn’t supposed to target you. This wasn’t supposed to happen.
Dextrocardia. Originally a medical term, but also a way to describe someone who's got their heart in the right place.
"She's been moved to another operation to help out. This pairing is necessary because you'll be undercover as spouses. I know you two can be professional about this."
"What?!" It's Jeongguk's upset voice that sounds, and for once, you share his displeased opinion.
The sun has long since set when Jeongguk comes to pick you up. The air is cold, your apartment too even though you closed all the windows hours ago.
Fittingly, Jeongguk’s wearing a thick, black hoodie zipped up to his chin under a black jacket, and he smiles warmly when you open the door, his cheeks rosy. You’re relieved when he doesn’t ask any questions or try to comfort you with shallow words because you don’t have the energy for that at the moment.
Having already packed what you need in the same duffel bag you just unpacked from the hospital, you set out to retrieve it from your bedroom. When you return with it in hand a moment later, you find Jeongguk inspecting your new front door.
Halting, you watch him quietly as he looks the door over from top to bottom, using his hands to feel the hinges and the handle. Satisfied, he nods to himself, and you can’t help but think that he looks like a dad. Of course, your own dad has never been like that, but it’s a thing better dads do, right? You think maybe your grandpa was a bit like that before he died. It’s very… endearing, the fact that he’s making sure it’s properly installed.
“I’ll walk this time.”
He turns around at the sound of your voice, a second later wordlessly reaching out to take the bag from you.
“Okay,” he says, holding his free hand up. “Just let me know if you want me to carry you.”
Your feet are still sore, but you manage the trip to his car quite well anyway, if a bit slow. Of course, you don’t miss his watchful eye, and even though he doesn’t pester you about carrying you instead, you can tell he probably wants to.
The drive is spent mostly in silence; a welcome thing. The few hours you managed to sleep the night before weren’t good, and cleaning nonstop for multiple hours definitely drained what energy you had.
The silence—except for the low, occasional ticking of the blinkers—and the low contrast shadows moving over you in the already dark car have you almost falling asleep more than once. Trying half-heartedly to stay awake, you keep your eyes on Jeongguk’s right hand, relaxed in the way it loosely grips the bottom of the steering wheel.
You trace the veins with your gaze, from his knuckles to where they disappear under his sleeves. Jeongguk doesn’t say anything, comfortably focused on driving and not on keeping you awake or entertained; he drives and then announces your arrival in a soft voice.
He opens the car door for you, warm hands helping you out. Slowly, you follow him up to the front door of his house. It’s dark inside, but it feels lighter somehow, and a comfortable warmth envelops you as you enter.
Jeongguk turns the lights on, and yeah, it’s warm. It smells like him instead of cleaning supplies, doesn’t carry remnants of pain—at least not that kind—and it’s not… lonely. Even though you didn’t leave this house in the best state of mind, it feels more like home than your actual apartment.
“Do you want a tour?” Jeongguk asks as he’s taking off his shoes.
You chuckle. “I think I remember.”
But slowly, your smile dies, and it all finally hits you. Your lip starts to tremble, and the more you try to hold it in—not wanting to break down in front of him—the harder it gets. It catches you off guard probably almost as much as it does him, but he doesn’t make a big deal out of it. He just steps closer and pulls you into his arms.
You let him, wrapping your arms around his waist and resting your head against his chest. The tears come, one after another soaking into his hoodie, but he doesn’t seem to mind. Slow and gentle, he strokes your back, letting you cry as much as you need.
“I almost died.”
Your voice is quiet, not much louder than a shaky whisper. It’s happened too many times now, and you’re starting to wonder how many times a person can experience true fear of death before their heart gives out.
In the past, you’ve processed it differently. Sometimes by fighting—like when Hoseong first revealed his true self at the motel—and other times with some kind of fear-fueled indifference, like when he tried to kill you at the house. When you thought Jeongguk was going to end you with that knife, you also reacted with fear, but you didn’t actively fight him like you fought Hoseong this last time.
You can’t say what’s been the worst. The first time you thought your life was ending, it scarred you and changed how you saw the world, showing you just how little control you as a woman have over your destiny. But the look in Hoseong’s eyes this last time? He didn’t have much to lose.
“I know,” Jeongguk says, gently stroking your hair.
“I’ll sit with you if you want me to.”
You offer a small smile. “I’ll be fine. I think I want to do it alone.”
He doesn’t love that answer. You can see it in the way he exhales, not annoyed, just reluctant. “Okay. Call me if you need me. I’ll be out here.”
Nodding, you turn to where the detective waits, hand holding the door to the interrogation room open for you. Jinyoung, you think his name was. He’s tall and an objectively very handsome man, and although you’re wary of trusting the feature on its own, he looks kind. Normally, someone would’ve taken your statement as soon as you woke up at the hospital, but Jeongguk evidently pulled some strings to make sure you got the peace and quiet you needed.
“Do you want anything to drink?” Jinyoung asks, closing the door behind you but keeping his hand on the handle.
“Uh… A Coke, please?” you say, taking a seat in the chair clearly meant for you. Even though you’re well aware of the psychology behind an interrogation room—such as the subject’s chair being placed toward the corner to make them feel, well… cornered—you can’t help but feel a little nervous.
Jinyoung opens the door a sliver, calling out to someone to bring two Cokes before he returns his focus to you. The door clicks shut behind him.
“So, I’d like you to tell me what happened last Thursday. From the start,” he says, taking the other chair, his back to the door. You take a deep breath, fiddling with your fingers.
While you might have preferred a woman, at least Jinyoung doesn’t sound... unaffected. Sometimes men will walk in and outright interrogate a female victim because he doesn’t care to connect with her in any way, but you can tell by a certain subtle softness in his dark eyes that Jinyoung understands the dimensions of what happened to you. Jeongguk didn’t say it, but you’re pretty sure he vetted Jinyoung thoroughly before letting him in the room with you.
“I was at home. I had just spoken to my mother on the phone. She was about to catch a flight,” you say, staring out into the air as you try to recall everything. Jinyoung nods.
“Just before ten, I put on the kettle to make some tea, and I was watching the news to stay updated on the mass shooting. I was worried about my colleagues sent to the scene.”
You walk him through it, your voice surprisingly steady even when you speak about the fear, and even the phone call you made to Jeongguk. Deeming it the best choice, you stay as close to the truth as possible, with two exceptions.
You don’t describe the excessive violence Jeongguk subjected Hoseong to while he was already incapacitated. Instead, you describe vaguely how they both fought for longer, making sure to mention that your blood loss and shock could have affected your perception.
And when it comes to the threats Hoseong uttered, you sharpen them. He did say something about feeling better with you six feet under, but you can’t let there be any misinterpretations, intentional or not.
That man cannot, under any circumstances, be allowed to use his status or connections to soften his probable sentence if you can help it.
Besides, telling Jinyoung how Hoseong promised he’d kill you if it was the last thing he ever did isn’t much of a lie; it’s a valid interpretation of both his actions and words. Showing up at your apartment while on the run was a risky move, something he’d only do if getting you alone was worth the undeniable risk of getting caught.
More than two hours later, Jinyoung thanks you, and you leave the room feeling a little hollow. At first, it’s a strange feeling, but then you realize that it’s just weight you’ve been carrying in your chest and around your heart lifting. It feels… good, and it eases some of the quiet worry you’ve been feeling about the rest of the case procedures.
But with the big, stomping elephant partially out of the room, it leaves you dwelling on the smaller one, standing quietly in the corner.
It’s a strange dynamic, how Jeongguk spent countless nights with you at the hospital, even sleeping in your bed with you. At your initiative, too. Yet you find yourself unsure and insecure and all things not… confident when it comes to him in his own home.
You’d simply call it a matter of priorities. You almost died, and you were so relieved, so incredibly thankful, that Jeongguk showed up to save you yet again. That you didn’t have to face a painful death at the hands of someone who despised you with every bone in his body and who would’ve gotten his precious revenge.
Besides, there were always other people around. Always a nurse’s footsteps in the hall, shadows moving in the light slipping in under the door, and some low occasional beeping from a machine somewhere. At any time, someone could walk in.
But now, the warm lights in his home are dimmed in the evening, and you see the broad expanse of his back as he cooks in the kitchen. And you know that there’s no one else around. The issues you’ve been drowning are resurfacing, gasping for air.
There’s a tension. You can’t say for sure that he senses it like you do, but even if he does, he’s nothing but calm, his kind eyes shining warmly your way. You’ve only spent one night back so far, deciding early on to sleep in the guest room simply to give him space from you. Maybe to give yourself some too.
After returning from the station and later on having dinner together, you decide to take a bath. It’s a rare occurrence for you simply because you bore easily.
Normally, you’d have to bring a screen—preferably your Ipad since it’s more splash-proof than a laptop and bigger than a phone—and entertainment of some kind, usually Youtube. But as the bath runs, you sit on the closed toilet lid, staring out into the air.
Did you escape to the bathroom to get another moment alone? Maybe. It’s ironic considering ‘time alone’ was what had you practically begging Jeongguk to spend time with you in the first place.
You’re only reminded of your stitches when your shirt hits the bathroom floor. Fuck. You’re not allowed to take baths yet, something about prolonged exposure to water potentially both dissolving the sutures prematurely and increasing the risk of infection. You sit back down on the closed toilet lid, not wanting to admit defeat and emerge from your hiding spot just yet.
You don’t know what Jeongguk is up to at the moment; he was washing the last of the dishes when you slipped away, but you need an innocent moment alone.
Jeongguk.
It really all comes back to him, doesn’t it? Your gaze is locked onto the water in the bathtub, the surface completely still. You wish your thoughts and feelings were as motionless and shallow. Clear and see-through and comfortably warm.
You never solved what drove you apart before Hoseong struck. Instead, you’ve ended up in some state of limbo that you know you can’t stay in for long. Do you want him or not? Does he still want you? That’s the condensed version, right? Sure, there are more aspects, but it’s what it all boils down to in the end.
In an attempt to untangle some of your thoughts and feelings, you start with the first question. Do you want him or not? You consider the positives, trying to list them in your head without overthinking. Yes, it’s all ‘he seems’ and ‘he probably’ but that can go on forever, and you need to deal in absolutes.
He’s done a lot of nice things for you, that’s for sure. Saved your life on multiple occasions included. He’s smart and passionate and works for women’s rights—not because he has to or because it will give him brownie points but because he wants to. He’s incredibly handsome, pulling you in like no one else, and he said he thinks you’re pretty.
The negatives:
You’re not actually sure he finds you that pretty. You want to believe him, and you hate how shallow and insecure it makes you feel to always keep circling back to the same thing, but at any moment, his ruthless voice and disgusted eyes are a thought away.
And it matters. If there’s even an ounce of truth in what he so passionately told you all those months ago, then the consequences are too big to sweep under the rug. If he doesn’t find you pretty, a romantic relationship is out of the question, and you wouldn’t be able to look him in the eye, knowing you repulse him.
Not only that, but he used your looks against you simply to punish you. And then he lied when he said he never meant anything he said. It also brings the question of what his motives are. Why is he so intent on caring for you? Convincing you he actually finds you attractive if he doesn’t?
On top of everything, no matter what he’s done for you… He’s a man. You’ve seen what he is and what he can do. Maybe that’s what everything comes back to.
The moment you unlock the bathroom door—fully dressed; tub drained—-you hear muffled music. It doesn’t take you long to conclude that Jeongguk is working out in the garage.
Not wanting to disturb him, you decide to curl up on the couch with your laptop to do some modern-day window shopping. In preparation, you pour yourself a cold glass of Coke in the kitchen before you grab your headphones from the guest room. However, halfway to the living room, you press the on-button only to discover that they’re dead. Shit. Did you even bring the charger?
You leave your laptop and the glass on the coffee table while you journey back into the guest room, digging through the bag you brought. It’s to no avail because, as you scrape your hand against the very bottom of the bag, you begrudgingly remember placing the charger on the couch, but you have no memory of actually putting it in the bag.
Sighing, you exit your room and decide to see where Jeongguk keeps his chargers. It’s one of those… micro USBs you need, so while you’re sure he has one lying around somewhere, it’s not the most common type anymore.
The first place you check is his office, and while there are various cables plugged into different outlets, you don’t find what you need. You leave, muttering in disappointment.
Next is his bedroom. It feels more invasive than he’d probably argue it is, so you try to be quick, just checking the chargers he keeps by his bed. There’s one for his phone and one for his Ipad, but not the kind you need.
With the headphones still in hand, you steer your steps toward the garage, figuring you’ll just ask him. The music grows louder the closer you get, and since you doubt he’ll hear it if you knock, you simply open the door.
You knew he was inside, and that he was working out. But what you didn’t expect was to catch him boxing. You’ve seen it before, how he aims powerful hits against the sandbag and how the huge thing swings.
He’s only wearing black shorts, no shirt, and as he lands hit after hit in quick succession, you find yourself frozen to the floor. He’s handsome and attractive and impressive, the golden, sweat-slicked muscles rippling with every hit that sends the bag flying.
He’s also focused, his brows furrowed as he concentrates. Your face is blank. Even if you don’t think he’s angry—unless he’s channeling something for motivation—there’s still so much… anger and force in his hits. Violence. You recall what Sana said just yesterday about Hoseong. More specifically, about his injuries.
‘He’s bad. Some of the burns are second degree, but that’s probably the least of his problems. Besides the broken nose, eye socket, and jaw, I heard he’s got a concussion and what appears to be permanent hearing loss in one ear. His face was so swollen, Jihyo almost didn’t recognize him.’
There are details from that day you can’t fully recall, but despite the blood loss and shock wrecking your body at the time, the hits Jeongguk aimed at Hoseong’s face remain clear as day.
It replays in front of your eyes, full HD. The violence. The blood flying, some landing on your living room wall. You hear the sounds of fists hitting flesh, a crack you weren’t sure could be bone, but after Sana’s message, you realize maybe it was. You hear the grunts from rage and pain. It’s all ingrained in your mind.
Even though you know what men are capable of, it’s still different to see it. You watch him, how he hits and hits and hits.
“Hey,” Jeongguk breathes, having finally noticed you. With his gloved hands, he grabs ahold of the swinging bag to stop it. He’s breathing heavily, looking at you with something that looks almost like worry.
Snapped out of your thoughts, you meet his eyes. “Do you have any micro USB chargers?” you ask over the music, holding your headphones up.
“Uh… yeah. I have one here, I think. Hold on.”
You watch him loosen one glove with his teeth before dropping it to the floor. The music—some uptempo pop song you guess is part of a gym playlist—keeps playing as Jeongguk moves things around next to the speakers. He finds something; a thin, black cable, which he then approaches you with.
“Here,” he says, handing it to you.
He looks like he wants to say something, but you only mumble a quick ‘thanks’ and turn on your heel, closing the door behind you.
You don’t see much of Jeongguk over the next few days, quickly realizing that he’s compensating for the time off work he spent with you at the hospital. Still needing time to get better both physically and mentally, you’re better off at home for a little longer. Jeongguk’s home. While it feels better than being stuck in your apartment, it’s annoying considering you just returned to work.
When Jeongguk is home, he keeps his distance—maybe even increasing it—to give you space. You’re grateful because you find that you can’t think very clearly whenever he’s near, and while you almost… miss him, or at least what you had before, you need to untangle your thoughts.
“And he said that he prefers John Krasinski in A quiet place over The office.”
You put the spoon down, leaning back in the kitchen chair. Despite the increased distance, you’re still friendly. You still eat together unless Jeongguk’s schedule prevents it, and he still does his best to appear light and friendly. Not that it’s unnatural for him.
“I haven’t seen A quiet place,” you admit.
His brows shoot up mid-chew. “What?”
“Yeah.”
“We have to watch it then,” he concludes, shifting in his seat. Your eyes fall to the arm he rests on the table, tracing the thick veins all the way from his elbow to the hand he holds his spoon with. The army green t-shirt doesn’t exactly make it easier to focus on his words, nor does his soft but slightly messy looking hair. “This weekend maybe? I still have some stuff to hopefully finish at the station.”
“Sure,” you agree, well aware that it might not happen seeing how busy he is. “Shouldn’t you be taking it a bit easier, though?”
Not only is he patrolling and spending long hours basically getting interrogated about your case by the outside investigators brought in, but he also does his best to conclude his prior research of it. No matter how many times Jihyo’s ordered him to take just half a step back now that others are actively investigating, he just can’t seem to do it.
Additionally, the station has to deal with the aftermath of the mass shooting and the media attention that followed, as well as the criticism for being so understaffed. Jihyo is extremely busy to say the least, and while you try not to consume media coverage of your station—mostly to avoid hearing people talk about your own case—you do catch one or two of the press conferences.
Jihyo’s standing tall, looking and sounding so professional that you can’t help but feel proud. But your eyes always drift. More often than not, Jeongguk attends the press conferences with her, if nothing else than to provide support. He’s not the focus, but you find yourself always searching for him where he stands, off to the side and dressed in his navy uniform, hands behind his back.
“I am,” he defends, snapping you out of your thoughts. That’s an outright lie, and you both know it.
Jeongguk moves his spoon around the bowl, drawing your gaze to the muscles in his forearm. “By the way, I heard that JJ’s been spilling more.”
You pause. It doesn’t come as a surprise since JJ already confessed to being the one to throw the poisoned steak that killed Fenrir. He apparently claimed he was more or less forced to, and while he seemed regretful, you’re not sure how much of it you believe. It’s all third-party details anyway, someone in the investigation leaking information that shouldn’t be available just yet.
“What did he say?” you ask, trying not to think about Fenrir. Your heart hurts enough simply seeing a dog on the street.
“He confirmed that he was the one who told Hoseong you were back in your apartment. And about your door. He said he overheard us talking about it at the station.”
“I have many regrets, but you are my biggest. What I did to you.”
As if she’s been waiting for the right moment to make her return, you hear Sana call your name. When you turn around, you spot her approaching.
“I gotta go,” you excuse yourself.
Sana looks between you and Jeongguk, but when no one says anything, she shrugs and turns her attention to you. “So, Jihyo said you had a problem with your apartment? The door, was it? Cause I can call my brother, and he’ll fix it for free next week if you want?”
“You’re living in your apartment? On your own?” Jeongguk questions, his voice upset.
You turn back at him, “Yeah. Have been since I left your house. It’s fine.”
Of course. You hadn’t seen JJ, but he could’ve been close enough to hear, considering the stream of officers passing by a mere few steps away.
“I’m so sorry,” Jeongguk says, regret clear in his dark eyes, “I should’ve been more careful.”
Licking your lips, you find that there’s nothing for you to think twice about. “It’s not your fault.”
Jeongguk looks at you, and you know he doesn’t share your opinion; he just doesn’t want to argue about it. Yes, you could’ve all been more careful, but you don’t blame anyone.
“Does Sana know?”
“If she doesn’t already, she will soon.”
“Don’t tell her, please,” you beg, knowing she’ll hate herself for having any part in indirectly putting you in danger.
“I won’t. I understand what you’re trying to do, but it'll come up during the investigation sooner or later.”
You shut your eyes, realizing he’s right. Maybe you should be the one to tell her? If she hasn’t reached out to apologize yet then she probably doesn’t know, and you could make sure to immediately assure her that you don’t blame her.
“So… in conclusion,” you start, trying to collect your thoughts. “Hoseong had no idea I’d returned home until JJ overheard us and told him? And when the shooting happened, he saw his chance, knowing we were understaffed and most officers, including you, would be busy?”
“Yeah. As I understood it, he’d thought you were living with me up until that point and took the opportunity.”
You nod slowly, focusing on your food. A theory quickly brought up—mostly by the public and those not directly involved—was that the mass shooting and what happened to you were connected. But it never seemed that way to you, seeing as the now-dead gunmen couldn’t be tied to Hoseong or anyone else at the station, and their motives, if anything, appeared to have been ideological. But that’s currently a different investigation.
Hoseong just seemingly saw his chance and hated you enough to take the risk. He bided his time while you were staying at your aunt’s, most likely more patient back then, and when you moved in with Jeongguk, the risk was just too big. Keeping tabs on your every move was probably not possible either.
You imagine him stewing, growing angrier and more frustrated by the day, and when JJ finally told him about the possible opening, he couldn’t not take it.
Reaching for your glass of water, you take a sip before putting it down again. “I had more journalists calling today.”
“Block them.”
“I did. But I think one of them was the same guy I’ve already blocked twice.”
Jeongguk tilts his head slightly. “I can help you change your number if you want?”
You smile a small smile, more out of gratitude than happiness. “Yeah, that might be for the best.”
“What do you think about this one? It’s not too far.”
You look up from your laptop, eyes falling on the screen that your mother turns toward you.
Skimming the text and the promising photos, you shake your head at the very large number. “It’s too expensive. I’d need to save up for a long time for something like that.”
“I can help, you know?”
The smile she gives is soft and sweet, and you know she would, to the best of her ability. Your mother, who’s been through so much, done so much for others, and been put last so many times. But you’re not in any rush to move because, while you don’t want to return to your apartment, you still have one.
“But it’s perfect. And not far from here. We could be neighbors!”
“Yeah, that would be nice. I’ll see how long I’d have to save, and what my current one is valued at,” you say to placate her, your gaze hardening slightly when she’s about to butt in. “But I don’t want any money from you. You need it for yourself. Besides, Jeongguk doesn’t mind me staying at his for a while. He’s rarely home, anyway.”
To avoid the look you know she’s giving you, you drop your gaze to your laptop on the kitchen table in front of you, pretending not to notice what she’s doing.
“Is he nice?”
“Jeongguk?” you ask, clearing your throat as you’re navigating the page.
“Yeah.”
“He is.”
“He seemed like it,” she continues, and you can hear it in her voice, how she’s smiling.
“He is. He’s really sweet. And probably the only reason the station is still standing, to be honest. Him and Jihyo.”
“You should invite him.”
Your head shoots up, confusion on your face. “Invite him where? Here?”
She’s smiling, her aged eyes more animated than you’ve seen them since you basically unloaded all your trauma onto her. “Yeah. I wanna see him.”
“Mom, he’s… busy. Very busy, actually. And you don’t need to vet him for me.”
The long talk you had about everything that happened is never far away, but you can tell that your mother’s chosen your approach: to finally try to move on. At your pace and direction, of course. Occasionally, you still see a certain somber softness in her eyes, but she can clearly tell that you don’t want to talk about it anymore.
“I know that. But since you seem to like him, I’d really love to get to know him.”
“It’s… complicated,” you say, lowering your eyes again. You’ve never had that kind of relationship with your mother where you talked much about boys. At least not when it came to more… tender feelings. “He’s not complicated, but we’re not… we’re not a couple, if that’s what you’re thinking.”
“You could still invite him. Even as a friend or colleague.”
Lifting your eyebrows, you chuckle. “Invite him, as a colleague, to meet my mother? At her house?”
She rolls her eyes. “We’ve already met. It wouldn’t be that weird.”
“Uhm, yeah. It would.”
“Then invite him to Chaeyoung’s wedding?”
“Has she even chosen a date?” you ask, discreetly trying to change the subject.
Your mom looks off in the distance, thinking. “I… don’t know. I remember her saying she wanted a June wedding.”
“That’s only a few months away, though. Unless she means next year?”
“No, I’m pretty sure she said this year. She wants a small wedding, and I think she’s gotten her dress already, so it’s not like she needs that much time to prepare.”
“Alright. I guess we’ll see. She hasn’t invited Dad, has she?”
“No, she knows it’ll only be us,” she says, smiling gently, “and our plus ones, if we bring any.”
“Okay, Mom, I got it. Did you have any more apartments to show me?”
Sitting up straighter, she clicks excitedly on the trackpad of her laptop. “Yes! Look, here. Isn’t this cute? A little farther away but still doable. It’s in a really nice area, and look at this balcony!”
After several more hours at your mother’s, you drive back home to Jeongguk’s. His black, shiny car drives smoothly, and while you’re a decent driver, you’re still slightly suspicious as to why he lets you drive it. A guy with this nice of a car (and bike) usually cares a lot for them, yet when you mentioned going to visit your mother, Jeongguk offered—just like he hasn’t minded any of the other times you’ve borrowed it.
Sure, for a long while, your own car was pretty much undrivable, considering the unknown number of moles around, potentially waiting to sabotage it in hopes of your demise, but you could’ve taken a cab? Your car is still stashed away at the forensic garage, mostly as evidence, and partly because you don’t want to drive it, even if you probably could get it out and fix it.
Hearing music coming from the garage, you settle for parking the car outside it, not wanting to disturb Jeongguk seeing as he’s probably working out in there. After entering through the front door and removing your shoes and jacket, you head toward the kitchen.
It catches you by surprise, however, to see him leaning back against the counter beside the sink, a glass of water in his hand and his black boxing gloves on the counter. You’re startled, taking a step back before putting your hand over your chest. Speaking of chests, Jeongguk’s is bare. Sweaty and bare and heaving, letting you know he’s just taking a water break.
You gulp, your eyes tracing everything from his glistening, bulging muscles to the scars on his chest. And then the hand that holds the glass. You don’t think he ever had his hands properly looked at, and while they didn’t seem that hurt, you think you’re still able to see remnants of the fight.
The slight redness could be from his current boxing session, but there’s a clear scar, still healing, across his knuckles. You divert your eyes, trying not to think about how massive he is, or how the veins spanning his arms seem even more prominent than usual.
“Doesn’t it hurt?” you ask, nodding toward his hand while resting yours on the island between you.
He glances down and shakes his head slightly, the hair closest to his face visibly wet with sweat. “No. I don’t hit hard.”
It’s definitely a lie, at least if he’s boxing anything like what you've seen before. You can’t say that you understand him because after what he did to Hoseong, you can’t imagine his hands not hurting.
“I’m probably gonna go to bed. I have a bit of a headache,” you say, smiling politely.
“Oh… okay,” he says, brown eyes turning mildly worried. “Goodnight.”
“Goodnight,” you say, pushing off the kitchen island and quickly heading toward the guest room.
<previous | next>
author's note: i really really hope you like it!! and please consider telling me if you do, it makes my day 🥺🥹❤️
Dextrocardia. Originally a medical term, but also a way to describe someone who's got their heart in the right place.
"She's been moved to another operation to help out. This pairing is necessary because you'll be undercover as spouses. I know you two can be professional about this."
"What?!" It's Jeongguk's upset voice that sounds, and for once, you share his displeased opinion.
You run, feet pounding the floor as you flee into the living room. Determined, Hoseong follows, though not as quickly as before. A loud booming sound echoes through the apartment just as it looks like he's about to charge again—how, you don’t know. The water wasn’t quite boiling anymore, so it wasn’t hot enough to melt his skin off, but it might have left burns. You hope it has. His face did turn red almost immediately, but whether it’s from the water or rage, you’re not sure.
You don't know what the sound was either, not until you see a tall, dark figure storm into the living room with quick, furious steps. The living room is dimmer than the kitchen, and the figure is a little blurry, but you try to focus your eyes on it as it appears behind Hoseong.
“Oh, you fucking idiot,” the man spits, his voice even sharper than Hoseong’s.
You close your eyes and let out a shaky sigh as your body relaxes almost involuntarily.
You’re not sure if Hoseong even registers what’s happening before Jeongguk yanks him back by the collar of his jacket, knocking the knife from his hand and immediately delivering a series of hard punches to his face.
Leaving the rest of the fight to Jeongguk, you stumble toward the wall and slide down with your back against it, partially protected by the L-shaped sectional sofa. You watch the fight—or rather, you watch Jeongguk beat the living shit out of Hoseong, your breaths ragged. At first, Hoseong makes a real effort to fight back, landing maybe one or two hits, but even in his prime, you doubt he’d stand a chance one on one against Jeongguk, much less now, worn out and possibly (hopefully) injured.
Even though you assume you’re out of immediate danger, you still can’t calm down. Pain is starting to set in everywhere, and you can’t seem to take a deep breath, either from panic or the pain itself. Maybe it’s the adrenaline wearing off, or perhaps you’re going into shock? Your trembling hands press against your side, and you don’t dare look down to see the extent of your injuries. The glimpses you caught of your hands earlier were more than enough. Any more might push you into a full-blown panic.
With Hoseong now on his back, his upper half obscured from your view by the couch, the loud sound of fists meeting flesh echoes through the room.
You watch.
Punch after punch.
Losing track of time, you can't tell whether it’s been thirty seconds or three minutes when Jeongguk straightens up. There are dark circles of varying sizes scattered unevenly across your white living room wall. He pauses, glancing your way quickly with his chest heaving as he pulls something shiny from his pocket.
You hear the unmistakable sound of handcuffs clicking shut when Jeongguk bends back down. Hoseong, still mostly hidden from your view, only mumbles something when Jeongguk drags him closer to the wall, fastening the handcuffs to a radiator.
Then, Jeongguk hurries toward you, touching his jaw and unknowingly smearing blood across his skin. His wide, worried eyes meet yours as he kneels in front of you, trying to look you over and deem your condition.
“Are you alright?” he asks, voice low but tense.
“I haven’t—haven’t looked, but it feels like I’m dying," you whisper, voice shaky.
You force your trembling hands to lift the hoodie for him, seeing his eyes go even wider.
“Fuck,” he curses under his breath, panic filling his voice as he reaches for you. “Put pressure on it.”
He pulls you closer by your wrist, effortlessly scooping you up into his arms. You slump against his chest, trying to stay awake. Unsure of how deep the wound to your side is, you at least know you’ve lost a lot of blood; your black clothes are damp with it, and there's a worrying puddle on the floor.
Jeongguk carries you through the apartment, past the door he evidently kicked in, and rushes down the stairs to his waiting car that stands abandoned, practically in the middle of the street. His bad parking job has gathered attention from a couple of pedestrians and a middle aged woman, loudly complaining about how her car's blocked in. It feels like you’re seconds away from passing out, maybe even dying, but you manage to stand (with his support) for the second it takes him to open the passenger door, his strong arms quickly helping you inside.
Without a word to the curious—now silent—bystanders, Jeongguk darts around to the driver’s side, jumping into the seat and starting the car in one fluid motion. A second later, he's speeding out of there, and besides the fact that he’s driving like a Formula 1 driver, you don’t pay much attention, already knowing you’re headed to the hospital. Jeongguk calls ahead, rushed but clear words warning them that you’re coming in with a 'deep stab wound and significant blood loss.'
“Keep putting pressure,” Jeongguk instructs after hanging up and tossing his phone somewhere to the side, his voice desperate, and his strong hand right hand pressing over yours.
But you can’t, feeling your own hand lose the last of its strength. Your eyes are already closing.
You feel absolutely terrible the next time you open them. There’s no sharp pain, but your whole body feels sore, beaten, and heavy. A tired groan slips from your dry throat as you try to orient yourself. It’s bright, way too bright, but the rhythmic beeping to your left is what helps you place where you are.
You’re not alone. Your slight movement has alerted your visitor that you’re awake, and he immediately looks your way.
Jimin.
His eyes are soft as he meets your tired gaze, sitting slightly hunched over in a chair by your bedside, his hair a little messy. Although it’s good to see him, he’s not the one you want.
“Jeongguk?” you ask, your voice a weak whisper as your memories return to wash over you.
Just then, the door to your room opens as a nurse steps in. Before it swings shut behind her, you spot two figures in the hallway, their hushed, emotional voices drifting faintly into the room.
“...Right in front of her,” a familiar voice complains quietly, laced with anger and frustration.
“He wasn’t sure you wanted to see him,” Jimin explains, looking cautious.
“I want him,” you plead, still groggy, hurting, and starting to get teary-eyed.
Jimin nods and stands up. “I’ll get him. Want me to dim the light?”
You nod gratefully as Jimin flicks off a switch near the door, dimming one of the ceiling lights. The nurse, smiling gently, copies some numbers from the monitor onto her clipboard.
She introduces herself, but you’re on the brink of breaking down, your eyes watering more with each second, and so you can’t find it in you to care. She seems to understand and leaves quietly just as the door opens again, and Jeongguk steps inside. Your heart feels incredibly heavy as your eyes land on him. Heavy with both need and relief, weirdly enough. He approaches you carefully, his wide eyes hesitant, and he looks exhausted, still wearing the same black hoodie and dark gray jeans as before.
Like a child on the verge of an inconsolable breakdown, you hold your arms out for him, your hands thickly bandaged. Maybe you’re still high on pain meds, or maybe it’s just how you are now, but you don’t care. After all, you nearly died again, and all you wanted was him. You survived, and here he is. What else matters?
Jeongguk is careful in the way he bends down, letting you place your weak, injured hands around his neck. There’s nothing holding your tears back anymore, and you hug him as tightly as you can, so thankful and relieved.
In turn, he wraps his arms around you, holding you close but carefully, as if afraid he might hurt you.
You still haven’t said anything, and you don’t for a while; the only sounds in the room being your quiet sobs and the steady beeping of the machine. After a few minutes, you manage to calm down a little, but you don’t let go of him; instead you try to pull him into the bed with you. He gets the hint, mumbling “It’s bloody,” as he straightens up to shrug off his hoodie, dropping it carelessly on the floor. Left in just a black t-shirt, he bends down again and, this time, lets you pull him into the small hospital bed.
Still breathing shakily, you rest your head against his collarbone, breathing him in. It soothes you. He’s very warm, very safe, and he smells like the best thing in the world to you. His arms hold you tightly, and the slow and gentle motion of his hands rubbing across your back lulls you back to sleep.
The next time you come to, it’s to hushed voices.
“Oh? I’m sorry, sir, you cannot be in here. Visitation hours are between ten and six.”
Fluttering your tired eyes open, you see that the blurry room is dark, and so you simply close them again.
“She needs police protection,” Jeongguk answers tiredly and absentmindedly from beside, almost underneath you, and you feel his slow, warm breath in your hair at the top of your head.
“Police usually stay outside the patient’s room,” the nurse counters. Her voice is unfamiliar and although you’re not sure what time it is, you assume she must be part of the morning shift. “And I’ve certainly never seen them in bed with the patient.”
“Look, lady, respectfully, I don’t care.”
She doesn’t seem to buy it, and you’re a little surprised at Jeongguk’s choice of words. But then again, he’s probably exhausted and worried too, and he didn’t sound mean—just… tired and maybe a little annoyed. When the nurse doesn’t respond right away, Jeongguk sighs.
“I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be rude, but I’m not leaving. If you want to call security, go ahead. As long as she wants me here, I’ll find a legal reason to stay.”
There’s a brief pause as the nurse considers before finally relenting. “Fine.”
She leaves. If you weren’t still mostly asleep and pretty out of it, you might’ve laughed. You still think it warms something in you, though.
“You awake?” Jeongguk asks quietly, softly brushing your hair away from your face with his fingers.
You shift, trying to pull him closer as you hold onto his shirt, breathing him in.
“Yeah,” you mumble tiredly, eyes still adjusting to the light. As they do, they land on his hand as it comes into view.
The damage to your hands was mostly to the palms, one worse than the other, so the thick bandages leave your fingers free to reach for Jeongguk’s hand. His knuckles are red, swollen, and there are a few cuts on his skin. He lets you hold his hand to your face and gently run your fingers over his knuckles. Worry grows in you—don’t they look swollen? Could they maybe even be broken?
“You know I’d never… hurt you, right?” he asks quietly, and it takes you a second to realize what he means. It certainly wasn’t what you were thinking about.
You nod. “I know.”
“Good. So, how are you feeling?”
“I… don’t know. I feel… heavy. I take it I had surgery on my hands and… my stomach?”
“Yeah. Let’s call the doctor back here to explain everything. Also, Jihyo called your mom. She’s on a plane back.”
“Oh, no,” you groan.
“Yeah, sorry. But you were pretty bad.”
“It’s okay,” you say, knowing they did what they thought was best. It just means that you’ll have to actually tell her everything when she arrives. Which reminds you.
“What about... Hoseong?”
“In custody. He’s being treated at another hospital.”
“Okay. Good.”
Half an hour later, a female doctor stands at the foot of the hospital bed—while Jeongguk sits in the chair for once—going over everything. She has a kind face, looks to be in her forties, and she’s dressed in blue scrubs with one of those long white coats draped over them.
“So, while the wound to your abdomen was relatively deep and there were pretty significant lacerations to some of your intestines, we managed to stop the bleeding and repair everything. You’ll need to take it easy for a while, but if everything goes according to plan, there shouldn’t be any long-lasting damage.”
Well, it’s safe to say you’re relieved you didn’t look at your stomach; it seems like Hoseong essentially sliced it right open.
“As for your hands, there will be some scarring as well unfortunately, and we can’t tell just yet if there’s been any nerve damage. Fortunately, the injuries were to your palms and not the fingers or back of your hands, where there are more ligaments and delicate structures. So we'll remain hopeful that the your recovery is smooth and that there's been no damage to your nerves.”
Nodding, you follow along as she explains. It sounds reasonable enough, and you’re just happy that you’ll hopefully still have two functioning hands.
The doctor continues, gesturing to the foot of the bed. “We also treated the cuts on your feet. They weren’t as severe as your hands, but we did put in a few stitches, so I’d suggest staying off your feet for a while. Both for your own comfort but also to not risk reopening the wounds.“
You must’ve really been out of it because you didn’t even really notice until now that, yeah, there’s something wrapped around your feet that’s not socks.
“So there’s a chance I could make a full recovery, except for some scars?”
“Yes,” she smiles. “You were very lucky.”
“Okay, thank you.”
“No problem. We’d like to keep you for a few more days to make sure everything’s healing properly and to assess your hands as the swelling goes down.”
“Okay, I can do that.”
“Good. Just let us know if you have any more questions. The hand surgeon will be by later to talk more in depth about your hands as well.”
A few hours later, there’s another knock on the door. Expecting it to be a nurse or the hand surgeon, Jeongguk calls ‘Come in’ from beside you in the hospital bed, where he lies with your head on his chest. He went home for a bit to shower and change, Jimin staying by your side in the meantime, and when he came back, all you wanted to do was rest. And you wanted him close.
But it’s not a nurse. The person entering takes one look at you and bursts out in tears.
“Mom?” you say, and the bed shifts as Jeongguk rushes to stand, straightening his clothes—a black t-shirt and some gray sweatpants—as if he needs to look presentable for your mother.
You’re sure she would’ve asked about the man in your hospital bed if she wasn’t so distraught, but she barely glances between you and him before she approaches the bed with teary eyes.
“I got the call, and I–I was so scared,” she sniffles, her gaze trailing over your body and bandaged hands like she wants to hold you but isn’t sure how to.
“I know,” you say, trying to comfort her. “But I’m going to be okay, I promise.”
“So… what… what happened?”
You bite your lip, looking to Jeongguk.
“I’ll head to the cafeteria for a while,” he says, and you nod, grateful.
It’s time to tell your mother everything.
The next hour is a hard and very emotional one. The pain on your mother's face as you recount everything, starting with what Hoseong first did to you and what the consequences were, cuts through your heart as well.
Of course, you spare her the details of the rape and most of the following abuse, not wanting to hurt her more than necessary or put yourself through the shame you know you shouldn’t feel but can’t help experiencing.
You decide to leave Jeongguk’s involvement out of it, certainly not telling her that you spent months wholeheartedly believing he would kill you if only given the chance. For reasons you don’t want to untangle at the moment, you realize that you don’t want your mother to doubt him.
Jeongguk returns at the hour mark, a brown bag in one hand and a takeaway tray with three coffees in the other. Although you didn’t tell your mother about the time you spent deathly afraid of him, you did tell her that you’re essentially only alive right now because of this one very kind policeman. Maybe you also admitted, a little shyly, when she asked that you really like him. And you do; it’s just a summary of your feelings if they were simple.
His hair looks windswept, and you’re briefly taken aback by how handsome he truly is. You’re well aware of the fact—and you’d definitely never forget—but sometimes it just hits you. His dark eyes scan the room, widening in surprise when your mother approaches him so quickly he barely has time to set the coffees down on the small table by the bed before she grasps his hand.
“Thank you,” she says, trying hard not to cry as she clasps his one hand between her smaller ones. “I can’t tell you how grateful I am that you—that you saved my daughter. I wish there was anything I could do to repay you.”
“Mom,” you warn, embarrassed and wishing she wouldn’t ambush him like that.
However, Jeongguk’s surprised expression softens, and he pulls her into a very gentle one-armed hug, the brown bag still occupying his other hand.
“No need,” is all he says, and you meet his soft gaze over your mother’s head.
Your mother doesn’t stay long. By the time another thirty minutes have passed, she’s struggling to keep her eyes open. When you ask her about it, she admits to not sleeping at all, too worried ever since Jihyo called her with the news. She even forgot to retrieve her luggage at the airport in her haste to grab a cab to the hospital. Unfortunately, knowing that Hoseong is in custody but his friends are not still has her worried. It takes some time, but after convincing her that you’re safe now—not only do you have Jeongguk, but Jimin and Jin are always close by—she reluctantly agrees to go home and rest.
“So… how was it?” Jeongguk asks quietly a few seconds after the door shuts behind her.
You lean back in bed, letting your shoulders relax. You’re sure he knows how hard that conversation was; can tell from your puffy eyes and tired posture.
“Emotional,” you admit. “I never told her anything.”
His eyes widen slightly. “Nothing at all?”
You shake your head. “No. At first, I just didn’t want to worry her, and as things escalated… I was scared that involving her would make her more of a target. She couldn’t have done anything to help either way.”
He seems to be thinking about something, his gaze stuck on the hospital bed, maybe even on your hand where it lies by your side.
“What does she know now?”
“Basically everything, except the… gory details. Or are you asking what she knows about you?”
“Both, I guess. I mean, I take it you didn’t tell her what an ass I’ve been?”
If you had, she would’ve tried to tell him off, her shaky voice cursing him to hell. Evidently, she didn't do that.
“I didn’t, no. I left some details out; figured there was no use.”
Jeongguk leans back in the chair, clearly still bothered by something.
You raise your eyebrows in curiosity. “Why, did you want me to tell her?”
“No, but I also don’t want you to lie to her about me.”
You don't really know what to say to that, so you just look at him, understanding his mixed feelings. Unable to stop it, you yawn. These meds are making you so incredibly sleepy, and you feel like you’ll fall asleep within the next ten minutes whether you like it or not. Noticing how you lie back down, snuggling up with the blanket pulled to your chin, Jeongguk pulls out his phone. You keep your tired eyes on him while he focuses on the small screen, scrolling lazily.
So effortlessly handsome. You can’t even tell if you prefer him with his hair styled—which he doesn’t do very often—and wearing something clean and ironed, or like this: in a hoodie and sweatpants, his black hair a little wild and messy. He looks so warm and so cozy, leaning back in the chair and manspreading casually.
Manspreading is not something you typically like, but when he does it, it just looks… attractive. Probably because you know he’s not one to subject some poor woman to it on the morning commute. He doesn’t invade someone else’s personal space, doesn’t take up room that isn’t his.
“I spoke to Jihyo while I was getting the coffee earlier,” he says, eyes still casually glued to the phone. “She’s really busy, but she wanted me to tell you that she wishes she could be here.”
“It’s fine. She’s already been here,” you mumble into the blanket. He looks so warm.
“Yeah, but you were still unconscious.”
The blanket smells like a washed hospital blanket, not like you know he does. He smells like comfort.
“Mhm,” you agree tiredly, fighting to keep your eyes open. A second later, Jeongguk looks up to see you still watching him—tiredly but with a hint of longing.
He smiles. “Are you waiting for me to join you?”
You nod, certain that it comes off a little shyly. You weren’t very discreet, were you? The bed is pretty small, but you definitely prefer sleeping cuddled up to him rather than alone. It’s the scent of him, the feeling of his warm body against yours that makes you feel… You’re not sure if you can put it into words or if you just don’t want to, choosing to ignore aspects that will inevitably force you to make a decision. Not now.
Still smiling, he locks the phone and rises from the chair, making sure to flick the lights off before he comes to stand at your side. Scooting back to give him room, you watch as he lies down in front of you and slips his arm underneath your head. Then he’s pulling you close. So close that your face is practically in his chest. It becomes clear what he’s doing when a faint glow and quiet taps appear, originating from somewhere behind and above your head. Of course, he doesn’t have the same sleep requirements as you do at the moment, and if you were to guess, he’s probably working on something.
You’ve been left in a bit of a conundrum, though. What do you do with the arm that’s ended up in a bit of an awkward position at your side? The most natural thing would be to rest it against his waist, but it also feels… awkward to do that? Just because you, high on painkillers and almost murdered, like to cuddle with him doesn't mean everything's fine and dandy.
“You don’t have to do all of this,” you say quietly. Even in your slightly drowsy state of denial, you know that you’re confusing. You haven’t brought up the reason for your previous ‘split,’ and you haven’t really solved anything. After you almost died, you’re just relieved to be alive and that he’s okay too, and you hope he realizes that.
The near-silent tapping stops.
“I don’t mind,” he assures calmly, and his voice is quieter too. You like that he’s never seemed like much of an overthinker—at least not when it comes to what he wants. You lift your arm to put it around him, letting it hang off his waist.
He’s so warm, smells so good, and his slow and steady breaths lull you to sleep. As you drift off, you tell yourself not to think so much.
For the next few days, you remain on a fairly high dose of painkillers that keep you drowsy. You’re almost never alone; most of the time, Jeongguk is with you, but when he reluctantly leaves—either for the station or to go home and shower and change—Jin and Jimin take turns watching over you. Occasionally, they pop in to see if you’d like company, quickly taking the hint if you don’t and staying outside.
Your mother sits with you a few times as well, but you can’t relax when she looks at you like she does; as if she’s heartbroken, which you realize she might very well be. You’ve had years to process most of what’s happened to you, and you guess you’d feel the same if the roles were reversed, but you can’t take it, so you send her home with the promise that you’ll be fine. You’re just resting, anyway. After a bit of convincing, she leaves, but not before making a knowing comment about how cute the kind policeman is. You dismiss her with an embarrassed smile and a wave of your bandaged hand.
As the hours turn to days in that hospital room, think is unfortunately all you do. You think about what you’ve experienced and what you’ve seen. The feelings you feel are complicated, woven together in an intricate pattern with threads of varying thickness. Pull on one and it tugs at another; pull too hard on a strong thread and thinner might snap. The closer Jeongguk is, the more tangled the mess seems to be.
<previous | next>
author's note: here's this!! posted in celebration of jeonstudios reaching a follower milestone and more importantly: the boys returning!!! i hope you liked it, please tell me if you did!! <3<3
➵ summary: jungkook’s drunken one night stand goes awry when he comes to learn not only is he being forced into an arranged marriage, but it’s to the very girl he abandoned that night—and things get a lot more complicated when you’re the best hookup he’s ever had.
➵ warnings: swearing, bickering as always, juicy tension, MARIJUANA USE (edibles, all situations involving the marijuana are consensual), depictions of ptsd, feelings of panic, heavy making out, neck kissing, so much touchING
➵ a/n: third chapter has arrived after a millennium thank you SO much to everyone who waited!!! I apologize if this chapter isn’t everything you’d hoped for but I promise, now that I’ve gotten out of my writer’s block and found my passion for writing again, I hope to release more chapters and get this story rolling!! pls forgive me for mistakes i did not have a beta bLEH. your feedback means the world to me <3
chapter three: “don’t know what to do, am I livin’ this right?”
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You shuffle your feet skittishly, clutching your purse as though it were your heart, and you could manually snuff out its erratic beating.
Jungkook’s parents have called you in for a private meeting; there’s nothing in the universe that could quiet your nerves right now. These are influential people capable of compelling even your mother to abandon her morals. People who could request luxury and have it served to them on a silver platter, just as your hand in marriage was.
Exhaling steadily, you push open the heavy door, revealing Jungkook’s regal-looking mother and father chatting away. They appear pleasant, perhaps even friendly, but they’re overly polished—an impenetrable facade drapes them, indicating that their true selves are hidden behind shitty masks.
How ironic it is for them to have such an open, genuine son.
“Ah, Y/N, welcome.” Jungkook’s father beams, his doe eyes smiling as he motions towards a couch opposite his desk. Their suite is exquisite and personalized with opulent items, confident that this suite, perhaps even this entire resort, belongs to them.
“Have a seat, dear.” Jungkook’s mother coos, her saccharine-sweet smile nearly rotting your teeth.
➵ summary: jungkook’s drunken one night stand goes awry when he comes to learn not only is he being forced into an arranged marriage, but it’s to the very girl he abandoned that night—and things get a lot more complicated when you’re the best hookup he’s ever had.
➵ warnings: swearing, loads of angsty arguing aGAIN, sexual tension at its finest, depictions of anxiety and ptsd
➵ a/n: second chapter is hERE! thank you endlessly to everyone who waited for me despite completely disappearing 😭 life got crazy but i was always working on this second chapter, can’t wait until the third hehehehe. 🥺 pls forgive me for mistakes i did not have a beta bLEH. your feedback means the world to me <3
chapter two: “i’ll be in airplane mode”
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Jungkook is going to implode.
He’s currently showering, letting the therapeutic water beat down his body this morning as he nurses a nasty crook in his neck; courtesy of sleeping on the couch. But that’s not the worst of his problems, no, the worst of his problems is soundlessly slumbering in his bed outside.
Dextrocardia. Originally a medical term, but also a way to describe someone who's got their heart in the right place.
"She's been moved to another operation to help out. This pairing is necessary because you'll be undercover as spouses. I know you two can be professional about this."
"What?!" It's Jeongguk's upset voice that sounds, and for once, you share his displeased opinion.
The ride home lasts ten minutes, during which you’re holding back tears the entire time. It’s only when you’re finally inside your own apartment that you let them fall. It doesn’t help to see Fenrir’s collar and leash hanging next to your jackets, or his bowls still on the floor. In a way, it feels like you’re back at square one.
You know you promised Jeongguk you’d call Jihyo, but you don’t, knowing she’d disapprove of you being on your own probably just as much as he does. Still, realizing that sooner or later you’ll need to either get back to work or find another job, you send her a text, asking if there’s any case for you to work on remotely until you’re ready to return fully.
The first night back is emotional, but you’re relieved to finally be home.
“I don’t think it matters how hard you throw it,” a worried Jimin watches Jeongguk hurl a dart at the dartboard. “Actually, I’m pretty sure you’d see better results if you didn’t throw it like an Olympic javelin thrower.”
Jeongguk doesn’t reply, just rolls his eyes and grabs another dart. The music around them is surprisingly quiet, drowned out by the chatter of the bustling bar.
“So, care to tell me what’s up with him?” Jin asks, nodding toward Jeongguk as he sets the three pints of beer on the table and takes a seat.
“His little lady left him,” Jimin explains sadly, sliding one of the pints closer to Jeongguk.
“Oh. Why? You weren’t a couple, were you?” Jin asks.
“No,” is all Jeongguk mutters before he heads over to the dartboard to retrieve the darts. He has three of them, but only one actually hit the board; the other two embarrassingly stuck to the wood-paneled wall. From the marks already there, he’s at least not the first terrible dart-thrower. When he returns to the table with all the darts in hand, he pushes his designated pint back toward Jimin. “Can’t drink.”
Jimin meets his eyes, looking defeated. Jeongguk already explained that when you’re not with him, he can’t risk being drunk in case you need him. If you called, saying Hoseong had found you, Jeongguk would not hesitate to get on his bike or in his car, no matter how much he’s had to drink, and driving under the influence is something he’d rather avoid.
“She’s scared of me,” he repeats what you told him a few nights ago. Hearing the words from his own mouth stings less, but his heart still aches and his blood boils. He throws another dart but misses the board, and it sticks to the wall a few inches left of it.
“Wait. What do you mean?” Jin asks, confusion written all over his face.
“Yeah. Although I’m pretty sure she hasn’t ruled out that I’ll just snap one day and kill her, she’s mostly scared that I’ll want to hurt her emotionally.”
“But why would you? I thought you two were doing alright? I mean, she’s been living with you for, what, the last month?”
“We were. Or at least, I thought so. She kissed me, and we were… getting closer, but I guess it freaked her out.”
“Why?”
“Remember how I told you I was horrible to her before I found out what Hoseong had done? Yeah, the things I said… they were inhumane.”
“What did you say?”
Jeongguk throws another dart, swinging his arm and using way too much force. “What haven’t I said? I’ve told her that she’s too ugly for me to look at, that she needs to stop eating, that she’s incompetent, and that she basically deserved being trafficked if only the traffickers would take her. That’s the short version.”
“Fuck, man,” Jimin breathes in disbelief. Jeongguk told him what happened ages ago but not explicitly what he’d said to you.
“Yeah. I just… I wanted her to hurt, to pay for what I thought she’d done, but she never seemed affected. I’d call her something, and she’d flip me off or glare at me or call me an idiot or whatever, but she never… I thought she didn’t care, so the next time I saw her, I said something worse. But I wouldn’t have, obviously, if I… If I… knew.”
Jin puts his glass down, wiping the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand. “I mean, I haven’t met her, but isn’t she, like, objectively very pretty? From what I’ve heard?”
“Yeah, she is,” Jeongguk sighs. “Which is also why I didn’t think she’d take it to heart, ‘cause what I said isn’t true in the slightest.”
“But can’t she see how pathetically in love you are? No offense,” Jimin asks. “I mean, I take it you’ve apologized and probably told her what you really think? She doesn’t trust that?”
Jeongguk falls silent as he retrieves the darts again, shamefully avoiding eye contact with his friends on his way back.
“Wait, you haven’t apologized?”
“Of course I have,” he argues before lowering his voice. “I just kinda… fucked it up.”
He feels the confused stares of his friends. “I’ve apologized many, many times for how I treated her, and she seemed to kinda accept that? But I never explicitly apologized for the things I said. Nor have I told her how I actually feel about her.”
He sees how Jimin is about to tell him exactly what he thinks about that, but Jeongguk cuts him off before he's able to.
“After I somehow convinced her to stay with me, I thought carefully about how to act around her. I thought that it would be better to apologize for… everything. I thought ‘I’m sorry for how I treated you’ would cover it. And I didn’t want her to second-guess my intentions, so I didn’t actually tell her what I really think.”
“You mean ‘second-guess your intentions’ as in…” Jin trails off.
“As in think that I chose to help her because I was interested in her. I didn’t want her to think I had an agenda or to feel like she’d owe me in any way. She hasn’t had the best experience with men—men in law enforcement, especially—so I wanted to be as… safe, I guess, as possible for her. I didn’t realize she was still thinking about it, taking what I said as the truth.”
Jimin sighs. “So she thinks you might still consider her the ugliest creature to walk the earth is what you’re saying?”
“Apparently. I tried to convince her before she left, but of course, it didn’t seem genuine. I don’t blame her.”
A bit more optimistic, Jin tilts his head. “You don’t think she’ll believe you if you just tell her exactly what you just told us?”
But Jeongguk lets his shoulders slump. “I don’t think so. She told me I scare her because I have a desire to hurt anyone who wrongs me, and she doesn’t feel like she can read me. And I believe her. I wanted to hurt her, and during the mission, I had to pretend to love her when I really didn’t, so I kept switching up on her.”
The atmosphere shifts from frustrated and sad to just sad as Jeongguk runs his thumb over the dart in his hand.
“I lose either way. If I tell her that what I said back then was true, then I think she’s ugly, and I wanted to hurt her by saying so. But if I say that I lied and that she’s really the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, then I still wanted to hurt her. And after everything she’s been through, she doesn’t want a man with a desire to hurt.”
“But like you said, you didn’t mean to hurt her to that point, more so to be taken down a notch? And it got out of hand?”
“Is there a difference? I’ve hurt her, probably beyond what is salvageable, and she thinks I’m still capable of that; that if we disagree on something, I might turn on her.”
With a deep breath, you pull open the doors to the police station one chilly Monday morning, the sky outside gray and heavy with the threat of snow. It’s been three weeks since you came home, and though Jihyo put up a fight, she eventually agreed to let you stay.
Since months have passed, and you still haven’t caught Hoseong and his crew, you figure you might as well try to get back to normal. So you started planning your return to work, but then Christmas came, which you spent at your mother’s, two hours away.
Jihyo also agreed not to tell Jeongguk about your living arrangements, per your desperate request. You’d rather not deal with his savior complex, and you know he’d park outside your building if he thought you were in danger. You scoff to yourself, but almost immediately, guilt settles in. A savior complex isn’t why he’s worried about you; he’s just a good guy. You know that. Still, you don’t want him to know.
Walking through the station at nine a.m.—on your way to Jihyo’s office to discuss your new assignment—you almost hold your breath. Some officers glance your way, still not used to seeing you back, and maybe even less used to seeing you without Jeongguk. Or maybe they know you had a “falling out?” Would he tell anyone here? Jihyo, maybe, if she didn’t already know, but you’re not sure if he’d tell anyone else; his closest friends besides Jimin don’t work at this station anyway. And Jimin probably wouldn’t gossip about you either.
Jihyo is waiting for you when you reach the door to her office, calling out for you to come in as soon as you knock.
“Hey,” you say, closing the door behind you.
“Hey. Want a donut?” she asks from behind her desk, happily pointing to the open box, a half-eaten donut in hand and what you assume is part of the other half in her mouth.
“Nah, I’m good,” you grin, sitting down in front of her.
“Alright,” she says, swallowing and wiping some crumbs from her lap. “So, I’ve been looking over your request and proposed methods.”
You watch as she pulls her laptop in front of her, setting the donut down on the table, and starts scrolling.
“And I’d say it’s very reasonable if we’re okay with the risks.”
“I don’t think there are any risks at all, actually,” you argue softly. “We parted on good terms.”
“Yeah, I know. And they played a part in your survival. But I’m still gonna need to have a risk analysis performed. Who would you want to go with you? I could assign Sana, I think, if you want her? She’s on an assignment right now, but we’re hoping they’ll be done by Wednesday, give or take.”
“Yeah, that would be great. Thanks.”
“No problem. I’m glad to see you back and wanting to work on what matters to you. I know the chief—ex-chief—did his best to be a pain in the ass for you.”
“Yeah. I can’t wait until the investigation’s finished, honestly. He deserves to rot in jail.”
“Agreed. I haven’t heard anything else from the higher-ups, so they’re probably still elbow-deep in it. Anyway, if you have any details you’d like to show me, I’m all ears.”
Your smile grows, and you reach into your bag for your laptop and notebook.
“Thanks,” you smile, standing up an hour later with your bag in hand. But before you exit her office and close the door behind you, you glance back at Jihyo. “By the way, I’m so glad you got the job. You deserve it more than anyone.”
“Thank you. It’s been… rough, these last couple of months. A lot to do and a lot of stress and pressure, but I think it’s worth it. And I’ve had help, making it easier for me to adjust.”
You know who she’s talking about; you don’t need to hear a name.
“He asks about you, you know.”
Holding onto the door, you look away. You’re well aware of what Jeongguk has done for not only you but also Jihyo, Sana, and the entire police station.
“Let me avoid him for at least another month. Then you can tell him whatever you want, and I can try to be a better colleague. But now? I can’t… I don’t…”
Jihyo looks at you, seeing the pain well up in your eyes when you think about the reason you left his house that night. If you can just have another month to force the warm, yet invalid and hurt feelings you have for him back into the box they broke out of when you first kissed him, you can try to be more civil with him. Hell, you’ll even work with him if he can keep it professional as well.
Jihyo nods, sad but understanding. After all, she had a front-row seat when he used to tear you bloody.
For another hour, you sit at an empty desk, excitedly looking over the preliminary plan that starts on Thursday. You can’t believe it’s about to actually become reality.
Step one:
Preliminary timeframe: Thursday.
Possible obstacles and risks: Low risk of hostility or danger.
Safety measures: Two detectives, civilian clothes, civilian car, concealed firearms.
Step two: Plan A or B, depending on what you find, if anything.
With your notes full of prepared questions, you rise from the chair, deeming it time to leave the station for the day. As you stand there, organizing your papers, movement catches your eye, and you look up just in time to see Jimin enter the big room. And of course, who does he have in tow if not Jeon Jeongguk, dressed, like so often, in the academy's navy crewneck and uniform pants?
Meeting both of their eyes, you’re saved by your phone’s ringtone, a sound that seems to stop even Jeongguk from taking an impulsive step toward you.
Fishing the phone out from the pocket of your black pants, you swipe your finger across the screen to answer. It’s Sana.
“Hello?”
“Hey! So I talked to Jihyo, and she said that your request got pre-approved? I’m a little busy at the moment and for the next few days, but send me anything you’d like me to look over in preparation.”
“So you’re up for it?” you ask, a wide smile forming. Out of the corner of your eye, you watch Jeongguk reluctantly follow Jimin further into the room, where they start talking to two other officers with their backs turned. If you were more of a hopeless romantic instead of a realistic one, you’d describe the glances he sends your way as… yearning. To avoid his gaze, you focus on the notebook lying on the desk.
“Of course! You and me, just like old times.”
“Old times? It’s only been like a year since we worked on a case together.”
“You know what I mean. Anyway, I gotta go. See you.”
“I’ll send the info tonight. See you.”
Discreetly, you end the call and gather your things, quickly but quietly heading for the exit. But in the corridor, you hear a call of your name. You shut your eyes for a second before turning around. It hurts to see him, to walk these halls, avoiding him just like you used to. Only this time, it’s a different kind of pain.
The shame creeps in at the same rate Jeongguk approaches. It’s the same shame for how he sees you, but also for how you’ve reacted. You can barely look at him, yet you’re ashamed for not giving him a chance, even though he’s the one who made the bed he’s now tossing and turning in. He's so handsome, looking so warm and strong as he approaches, his black hair looking soft, shiny and just a little longer than last time. A part of you wishes he’d close his eyes so that you could throw your arms around his neck and breathe him in.
“Can you please leave me alone for a while?” is what you ask instead, clutching your notebook to your chest.
Now standing right before you, he looks down at you with sad, desperate eyes. “I’ll be quick, I promise. Two minutes is all I need.”
You’re not sure why, because you’re not an immature person, but you press your lips together, trying to suppress a smile. Noticing the shift in your expression, Jeongguk thinks back to what he said, smiling as well. “I set that one up pretty well, didn’t I?”
You turn your head, trying to stifle the smile, but you find that it fades easier than expected.
“And you think I’d wanna fuck that?” he snaps, eyeing your body with disgust.
Your gaze locks on the lower part of the wall. You wish someone would lend you the cloak of invisibility so that you could hide yourself from him and the world.
“Look at me,” he instructs, but you don’t. The more you think about his eyes on your body, the more you want to leave.
“Look. At me,” he repeats, firmer this time but still without sounding angry.
So you do.
“I get it if you don’t want anything else to do with me, but I can’t have you walking around, believing what I said is true.”
Although you don’t cry, you reluctantly let him see just how hurt you are.
“You were right. I wanted to hurt you. I said those things because I was angry, and I wanted just… some kind of justice. When you instead seemed so… unfazed, I let it get the best of me, and somewhere along the way, I lost myself. But I was wrong and although I wanted payback, I didn’t mean to hurt you to this degree. I was only looking for a reaction, anything that showed me that you were paying for what I thought you’d done. If I’d known how I really made you feel, regardless of if you were innocent or not, I would’ve stopped.“
“So you’re just a man, after all?” you ask, and maybe it’s uncalled for, maybe it’s not.
Jeongguk takes half a step back, appearing lost for words, and with enough pain in his surprised eyes for you to think he looks hurt.
He blinks and lowers his voice. “Yeah. Just a man. But listen to me—the things I said were. Not. True. Okay? You hear me? I cannot let you go around thinking you’re anything like what I told you.”
“I find that hard to believe. How else would you know exactly where to hit? What to say to cause maximum damage? Talking about my cellulite and my… weight and…”
“I said what I figured any woman would be scared to hear.”
“Yeah, sure,” you dismiss.
It doesn’t matter what he says now—he did know exactly what to say, which means he must have looked at you, inspected your body and found every single one of your flaws. It makes you nauseous, as if some of those flaws didn’t exist to the world simply because no one other than you had noticed or mentioned them. Then Jeongguk and his friends scrutinized every inch of you, uncovering them all and putting them on display.
“I think you’re gorgeous.”
“You would’ve told me.”
You really think he would have. The Jeongguk who wants you to sleep in his bed, holding you from behind, who asks to hold your hand, and who puts frosting on your lips as an excuse to kiss them—he would have told you if he liked you. If he thought you were beautiful.
“I didn’t. I thought–incredibly dumbly–that if I told you what I really think of you, you’d think I was hitting on you. If things were different, if we ran into each other somewhere without all this… baggage, I would’ve hit on you, but all I wanted at the time was for you to trust me as a friend and to trust that I just wanted you to be safe. I didn’t want you to think I was looking to get laid or that I would… that I was anything like Hoseong. I didn’t know that you took my bullshit to heart—because again, it’s just not true—and so I chose not to say anything.”
“But we’ve been past that point for a while, haven’t we?” you ask, finding his explanation a little too weak to believe. “I trusted you enough to tell you about the worst moment of my life, I kissed you, and I told you how pretty I think you are, yet you couldn’t even…”
Frustration boils in your veins, mixing with the raw disappointment and hurt which cools you back down. You feel so… small, so defeated. “I don’t need compliments. Just… something. Something that would’ve shown me you weren’t being sweet only because you felt guilty.”
Jeongguk doesn’t know what to say to that. In retrospect, yeah, he should’ve told you, and thinking back to his joke about pretty being for girls makes him cringe with both shame and regret. Especially since he’d used multiple occasions to taunt you with the fact that you’re not a pretty girl. But it had been hard, finding a balance in showing his affection without scaring you off. When you reacted the way you did that night during the power outage, he... didn’t want to risk making you more uncomfortable or afraid. He’d decided to take a step back, let you lead, and he would follow. Of course, that backfired horribly.
You look at him, hurt still brimming in your eyes.
He searches for words, trying to explain himself better. “I should’ve told you, but I… I didn’t want to risk making you uncomfortable. I wanted to follow your lead and let you decide everything. You wanted me handcuffed and blindfolded—of course I realized you were nervous. But I thought you were more worried I’d do something to you, rather than what I would think of you. I didn’t want to influence you to do anything you would’ve regretted.”
You’re clearly not convinced, and you shake your head slowly.
“You could’ve just given me a ‘you too.’ That’s all I would’ve needed.”
Jeongguk can only watch as you leave, obviously still very much hurt by him. Ten seconds after your footsteps have disappeared, he heads back to the desk area, his head hung low.
Jimin looks at him, JJ and Min gone. The unasked question hangs in the air, and Jeongguk can see Jimin realize that no, it didn’t go very well.
“You gotta remember that she’s had a hectic few months and maybe wasn’t really able to process everything. You being an ass was probably the least of her worries for a while—until it wasn’t anymore. And healing isn’t always linear. I’m sure she’ll come around one day.”
Jeongguk sighs. “I don’t think she will, and I can’t expect that of her. I just… hate myself for what I did to her. I never even realized she was just walking around, bleeding from my words.”
You haven’t fixed your car since the last tampering, but fortunately, Jihyo agreed to lend you one of the station’s unmarked cars. A discreet black thing that you park outside the station at ten a.m. on Thursday to pick up Sana, who needed to retrieve some things and told you to meet her there.
Getting no reply, you lock your phone and step out of the car with a sigh. The ground is powdered white, your shoes leaving tracks as you walk up to the station’s main entrance.
Warm air envelops you as you step inside, the doors falling shut behind you.
“Good morning!” Sana rushes over, a coffee in hand. “Sorry, I’ll be done in a minute, I just gotta ask Mark something.”
She gestures for you to follow, and you do, trailing behind her into the sea of desks. The place is unusually crowded with officers, so you decide to wait near the wall, leaving her to weasel her way into the middle on her own.
There usually aren’t this many people here when you’re around, but in your case, the problem isn’t necessarily people; it’s big, strong, law enforcement men. Though they’re not paying you much attention—they must be preparing for something big—you still can’t will your body to fully relax.
By instinct, you tug at your clothes, wishing you hadn’t left your jacket in the car. Since you decided to wear civilian clothes today, you thought you might as well dress somewhat according to your original mission’s dress code. Except adjusted for winter, of course.
You’re wearing winter boots that reach your upper calves, a pair of those invisibly fleece-lined pantyhose you’ve seen all over social media the last few months, and a cream-colored knitted turtleneck dress. It’s been in your closet forever, but unfortunately, you didn’t try it on before you had to leave.
It feels too tight on your body. Not to wear into a ‘strangely religious neighborhood,’ but too tight to wear here. You pull at the hem where it ends at your mid-thigh, keeping your eyes down when people pass you and hoping no one is looking at you and taking note of how awkwardly shaped your body is.
You stand there for a while, avoiding people’s eyes while you wait for Sana.
However, when you—out of the corner of your eye—notice a uniformed man walking toward you, you look up. Jeongguk’s eyes flicker between you and the people walking past you, as if he’s seen exactly the shameful way you carry yourself around men—these men—nowadays. It’s gotten worse since you left his house; you know that, but when all of your confidence was fueled by anger and then denial, removing those leaves… not much left.
He comes to stand in front of you, looking down at you with frustrated eyes. He’s so broad, so imposing, and it’s very evident when he wears his navy uniform, the sleeves rolled up his veiny forearms.
“Listen to me—”
You look away, about to step back, but he grasps your hand—not just to stop you but to guide the two of you a few steps away from the path of officers and behind the tall panels of a cubicle.
“No. Listen to me. I’ll leave you alone after this if that’s what you want, but I need you to know that you are so incredibly beautiful.”
You sigh, looking at him and wordlessly begging him to just give up already. He’s quiet for a few long seconds, his frustration seemingly growing.
When he speaks again, his voice is calm, more earnest. “Do you remember the first time we met?”
“No,” you shake your head. You can’t recall the very first time you met him.
“I do. It was a rainy day—my fourth at the station—and I ran into you at the main entrance. The rain had wet your hair, and I held the door open for you. You thanked me, but you didn’t really smile much, just politely. I think you also bowed your head slightly. I remember thinking that you must’ve been cold from the rain, but I realize you were wary around the men here, even if you and I didn’t know each other.”
Sounds about right.
“And I thought that you were just so beautiful.”
You look down. It’s humiliating, and you feel like shit, hearing him throw compliments your way just to make you feel better. You can’t tell if he’s lying or not, but what else would he say? You can’t exactly say you expected him to approach you today to call you ugly.
Noticing your hesitation, he appears to be searching his mind for something, and you glance at him.
Suddenly, his eyes widen slightly, and he reaches into the pocket of his navy uniform pants. It’s his phone that he pulls out, and he starts to scroll. He scrolls, and he scrolls, until he finally finds what he’s looking for.
“Look,” he says, handing you the phone.
Although you’re not too keen on entertaining whatever this is, you can’t help but be a little curious. What could he have on his phone that would convince you?
Accepting the device, you start reading the words on the screen. They’re text messages from an old group chat, dated years back, and though you can’t remember the exact date Jeongguk first showed up at the station, you assume it was right around then. The chat seems to have consisted mostly of him, Ryung, Hoseong, Seunghwan, and Junseo.
Seunghwan: Yeah, we’re excited to have you, just let us know if you need anything.
The next few texts are from the following day.
Jeongguk: So I just met the most gorgeous woman I think I’ve ever seen??
Jeongguk: Quick question, is there a work dating policy here? I can’t remember.
Jeongguk: And if not, where do I find this woman again? Is she an officer? I’m not even kidding when I say that I’m absolutely head over heels from a three-second interaction, and she didn’t even really say anything.
Jeongguk: I’d love to ask her out.
Ryung: If it’s who I think it is then you better stay away, man.
You read on, seeing how Ryung goes on to describe a woman’s features, which happen to align with yours. The length, color, and style of your hair, the color of your eyes, and your height. But also a very generous way of describing your face and the shape of your body.
Jeongguk: Yeah! Is she with one of you already? In that case, I apologize!
Ryung: No, but Hoseong did her briefly, and she’s absolutely mental. Pretty, but crazy
The next words are not very nice, the men urging Jeongguk to stay away from the woman who could only ever be you, promising to tell him what happened the day after.
“See,” Jeongguk says, “Even Ryung knew exactly who I meant; I didn’t even have to describe you, just say that you were the most gorgeous woman I’d ever seen.”
You’re not sure. Yeah, the evidence points to that, and you can’t deny that you’re definitely feeling some form of relief, but… you can still hear his voice in your ears, see the anger and hatred in his dark eyes.
You hand the phone back, and Jeongguk looks around, sighing before turning his attention back to you. “You want me to be completely honest? Tell you exactly what I think of you?”
Your eyebrows knit together in confusion. “No? That’s the point? I know that I’m not your type. I’m full of flaws. I don’t have a body fat percentage in the negatives like you, I don’t always have the energy to shave every inch of my body, and I’ve never gotten flowers. No matter what you say now, I’m not someone you want.”
“You think I’m someone who would care about any of that?” he asks, his voice tinged with hurt.
“You look like someone who would.”
Jeongguk looks away, taking a second to gather his thoughts.
“I… wanted to ask you out that day, after I first met you. You looked so pretty out there in the rain, and I think my heart stopped for a while. I think that you’re cute—really fucking adorable—and charming, and you’re smart and kind, and you’re absolutely breath-taking and sexy as hell.
"Which was another reason I was so angry at you; I saw this… stunning woman, who appeared to live a very privileged life, yelling ‘sexism’ whenever something didn’t go your way to… I don’t know, avoid consequences and get ahead, not realizing what sexism truly meant for other women. I didn’t think there was that much harm in what I said because I thought you knew very well how goddamn pretty you are, so I gripped at every straw, trying to get a reaction.”
You listen to every word he says, still unable to decide. You want to believe him, but the deep wounds he carved into your skin are still bleeding.
“I was so conflicted during our mission. On one hand, I had to pretend to like the person who had shot one of my best friends, who got away with it and refused to be held accountable for it. On the other hand… I liked seeing you pretend to like me too. First, out of spite, but then I realized that I liked seeing you smile, and how nice you were to the people around you, except for me, of course, but I guess I always started it. Then you fell asleep in my arms at the barbeque, and I knew I was fucked. I felt like I betrayed my friends for… feeling something other than hatred for you.
“But this little thing, that hated me so much, let herself be so vulnerable as to sleep in my arms. And I guess I looked at you differently after that. The more I realized that you might actually be a pretty decent detective; a decent person, the harder it was for me to be mean to you. After everything, and after I’d found out what had happened, I wanted to tell you how much I liked you and how pretty I thought you were, but I was scared you wouldn’t come with me if I did. I was scared they’d look for you at your apartment, so I kept quiet.
“Even after you came to stay with me, and it seemed like you started to trust me, even just a little bit, I had to convince myself to wait. And the more I got to know you, the harder it became. Do you have any idea how much I wanted to bury you in flowers? Hold you and kiss you silly? And you know why I was always up before you—or at least I tried to be—when you slept in my bed with me?”
You shake your head because you don’t know.
There's something else in his eyes when he holds your gaze, “Because I dream about you, and I wake up hard. But I remembered how I freaked you out when we made out back at the house, when you were on my lap and I got hard. I didn’t want to scare you or make you uncomfortable, so I made sure to wake up before you, just in case.
“I wanted to kiss you and hold you and really, it would’ve been my pleasure if you’d wanted to sleep with me. But more than that, I wanted you to be safe and feel safe, never doubting why I was doing what I was.”
He shuts his eyes for a short moment. “I guess that’s all I can say. I don’t need you to forgive me, I just need you to know that all I wanted was revenge; nothing of what I said was true.”
He opens his eyes again, looking into yours with his soft, brown ones and a gentle sincerity. Though it’s overshadowed by something else. “I have many regrets, but you are my biggest. What I did to you.”
Regret.
As if she’s been waiting for the right moment to make her return, you hear Sana call your name. When you turn around, you spot her approaching.
“I gotta go,” you excuse yourself.
Sana looks between you and Jeongguk, but when no one says anything, she shrugs and turns her attention to you. “So, Jihyo said you had a problem with your apartment? The door, was it? Cause I can call my brother, and he’ll fix it for free next week if you want?”
“You’re living in your apartment? On your own?” Jeongguk questions, his voice upset.
You turn back at him, “Yeah. Have been since I left your house. It’s fine.”
Despite the clear worry his eyes display, he makes no effort to follow you and talk you straight, probably realizing that there’s nothing else he can do; that was his last chance.
<previous | next>
author's note: so there's that! thanks for waiting for it <3 this was the last puzzle piece of their past, i think, and i'd love to hear your thoughts on everything, but especially him lol <3<3
Dextrocardia. Originally a medical term, but also a way to describe someone who's got their heart in the right place.
"She's been moved to another operation to help out. This pairing is necessary because you'll be undercover as spouses. I know you two can be professional about this."
"What?!" It's Jeongguk's upset voice that sounds, and for once, you share his displeased opinion.
“I hope you know that I appreciate all the things you’ve been telling me. I know it can’t be easy, all the things you’ve gone through. So I appreciate it, even if I unfortunately…”
“Don’t have much to say?” you smile at him as you turn to close his bedroom door behind you.
“Yeah. It’s a lot different than when I’m talking to someone who maybe just got out of a… situation because, while that’s always hard, you just have to listen and assure them they did the right thing, going to the cops and that we’ll guide them through the rest and hopefully help them get justice. That it wasn’t their fault, you know? But you know all that already, and I’m not much help; in fact, I was a big part of your problem and going to the police probably made it worse in your case because we let you down instead of helping you.”
It’s sad, the way he says it, reaching for the collar of his t-shirt at the back of his neck. He pulls it over his head before he suddenly stops, the shirt stuck across his lowered arms. You meet his deer-in-the-headlights eyes and see how it dawns on him that despite explaining earlier that he wants to keep his shirt on–at least with you in the house?–he hasn’t actually been committing to that promise. You wonder if it had anything to do with his scars, if he wanted to spare you from seeing them or just not risk you being uncomfortable.
“It’s fine, take it off,” you comment casually, “but do know that I might warm my cold feet against your skin.”
He grins, finally removing the shirt entirely and throwing it onto the chair in the corner. “Feel free.”
Flicking the lights off, Jeongguk joins you in the dark, getting under the duvet and getting comfortable.
It’s silent for a while, and you’re halfway between sleep and consciousness when Jeongguk says something you definitely weren’t expecting.
“Are you still scared of me?”
You roll over to face him, even though the room is almost pitch black.
“Do you want me to be honest?”
“Of course.”
“I think that I will always be aware… of what you can do. Even right now, if you in this moment decided to hurt me, there would be nothing I could do about it. I can spend my days in the gym but odds are a vast majority of men could overpower me anyway. If I were to trust my gut, it would say that you’re a… good guy, but I know that most women murdered by a man they knew or even their male partners didn’t fall for someone openly abusive. They’re sweet at the start, and then they change. Hoseong was like that too; kind until he wasn’t. I know you know that because he fooled you too.
“When it comes to you, I think the only reason I’m here with you is because of what you did that night. I would’ve found any reason to believe that you were still playing a game of making me trust you, just waiting for the right moment to strike, if I hadn’t seen you fight them. No matter how talented of an actor you are, they were prepared to kill you, and you… were prepared to die.
“And this…” you move your hand under the sheets, tentatively finding his chest and the scar. “I don’t like looking at it, and it feels like it’s my fault your mom almost lost her son, but it’s also… almost a relief. I don’t have to second-guess if you really want to help me or if it’s just a long con to… finish something. But like I said… just because you haven’t tried to kill me yet doesn’t statistically mean you won’t. I don’t think you will, but then again, there are a lot of dead women who probably wouldn’t have imagined their murderer being someone they knew.”
Jeongguk places his hand over yours on his chest. “For what it’s worth, I could never hurt you. I know I did; that I hurt you emotionally and scared you, but not even when I thought you were the most selfish person on the planet would I have physically hurt you.”
“I will let the fact that I came to live with you speak for how I feel about you, or at least want to feel about you. Also the fact that I’m sleeping in your bed with you.”
“That you find me entirely irresistible, dying to be close to me at all times?”
You roll your eyes, however, blood rushes to your cheeks. “Yeah. Absolutely.”
“Good that we’re on the same page then, cause I’m kinda stuck on the fact that you kissed me.”
Inevitably, your cheeks warm up further, but it’s okay since it’s dark anyway.
“I did. It was a good kiss.”
“Yeah. I totally wouldn’t hate it if you did it again. In fact, I am open to kisses anytime, just as I am hand-holding.”
“You’re sure? Even from me?”
You hate that you have to ask, but… you do.
“Absolutely.”
You consider it for a moment, but eventually decide to trust his words, at least tonight. Empowered by the dark, you move your hand from his chest. It travels over his warm neck before it reaches his jaw. Your heart beats so hard you’re almost convinced he can hear it, but you ignore it and move closer. Despite the dark, you see his face and how he’s smiling, patiently waiting. It’s both a blessing and a hellish curse how handsome he is; he truly takes your breath away.
Using your hand, you move your hair away, and you lean down to connect your lips. His are so soft, and he kisses you back so sweetly, letting you set the pace. You move your mouth against his, pulling back an inch just to do it again. Jeongguk lets his hand hold your waist, and even though kissing him is… a dream, you’re reminded that there’s a limit you’re not comfortable crossing.
So you pull back, but you still let him hold your waist.
“There.”
You fall asleep quicker than the nights before. A few hours later–and a few hours before morning–you blink your eyes open, finding yourself entangled with him. You’ve got your arm thrown over his middle, your cheek resting on his naked chest, right below his chin, and one of your legs lies between his.
For a while, you listen to his breaths, thinking about what it is that you’re doing. He’s so warm, and he feels so… safe, but there’s still a certain thought in your head.
When you wake up the next time, you’re once again alone in Jeongguk’s bed, and the first thought crossing your mind is how unnecessary boarding up your window really was when you’re practically almost always sleeping in his bed these days. Also, does he count on being able to hear a potential intruder trying to break in through his window? Because there is one, and it’s definitely not boarded up.
Your curiosity grows when you hear Jeongguk move throughout the house, and the sound of a…. what is that?
Rolling out of his bed, you yawn as you open the bedroom door to almost run head first into a stressed-looking Jeongguk. The sound you heard you identify as the now turned off blow dryer, something you’ve borrowed yourself but never seen him use. Looking up, you realize that, yeah, his hair is still wet from a shower and blow drying it means that he either doesn’t want to wait for it to air dry or he can’t.
“You’re going to the station?” you ask, noticing that he is actually indeed wearing his dark blue, almost black uniform.
“Yeah, uh, multiple trafficking victims on their way. Want to be there before they arrive.”
A very specific feeling moves through your chest; an uncomfortable sadness that someone has most likely been through hell, but there’s a warmth there too, for Jeongguk.
“What are you looking for?”
He looks around, patting his pockets, “Uhm, I have my phone, wallet, house keys. I need the… bike key and the helmet. The helmet is probably in the garage, but I’m not sure where the key is.”
You blink, trying to remember what jacket he was wearing the last time you recall him using the bike. The leather one, right? You step up to the coat rack, looking through the jackets until you find it. Swiftly, you search the pockets until…
“Found it. Do I put it in your uniform jacket?”
“Oh, thank you. Yes, please,” he says over the sound of the blow dryer that he grabs once more.
You watch him dry his hair, incessantly running his fingers through it to speed up the process. A few minutes later, he turns the machine off and runs his fingers through the black hair one last time, “It’ll have to do.”
Then, he’s gathering his stuff, taking the jacket from your hands and heading toward the door leading to the garage as he throws it on. “Not sure when I’ll be back, it might take a while cause I don’t know how many they are or what they’ve been through, but I can update you?”
“Jeongguk?”
“Yeah?” he asks.
“Come here for a second.”
Confused, he takes the four steps until he’s in front of you looking down curiously but a little stressed at you.
You smile at him, at how pretty and caring he is. “Be careful.”
He grins, a little surprised. “I always am. But it’s mostly just letting them talk and writing it all down, and–”
“I meant on the road. With the bike. I know you can handle the case.”
“Oh. Will do.”
For a millisecond, he looks at you, his bottom lip bitten. Then he’s pulling you closer by your waist, pecking your lips sweetly.
“I’ll see you later.”
With warm cheeks, you watch him enter the garage, thinking of his kind, brown eyes. You don’t know what to feel.
When Jeongguk returns, he’s angry. He doesn’t say much except frustratingly relaying that apparently, one of the women had called the police about a creepy neighbor appearing to watch her house six months ago. The two officers sent did absolutely nothing at all. Couldn’t offer any protection, didn’t talk to the neighbor, couldn’t even give the woman any advice, just left. Two weeks later, the neighbor takes her. You understand Jeongguk’s frustration toward the system, but when he’s spent two hours in the gym without any kind of break, you decide to check up on him.
You hear the brutal beating of the punching bag long before you spot him.
“How are you doing? You’ve been in here a while…”
Jeongguk stops and looks at you from behind the sand-filled bag, breathing heavily. He’s shirtless, and there’s sweat covering his skin and wetting his hair.
“I’m alright.”
But you can tell that he’s frustrated by the turmoil in his eyes. Although it’s hot to see him work out, you don’t like seeing him like this. It has an uncomfortable feeling growing in your stomach.
“You’re doing what you can.”
“Yet there’s always more to do. It never ends, and it’s never enough.”
He’s definitely right about that, but does it help to be so worked up about it? Or are you the weird one, more likely to go apathetic when reminded of the injustices of the world these days?
“But you did your part today, and I know you made an impact in their lives.”
He looks disappointedly at the sandbag, as if your words didn’t affect him at all.
“Hey,” you call softly. He looks at you.
“If it weren’t for you, I probably wouldn’t be here right now.”
‘Right now’ as in alive.
“But I–”
“If you never transferred, they would’ve gotten me at this point.”
“Bare minimum,” is all he mumbles.
“It meant a lot to me. Everything, actually. And I’m really grateful.”
At that, he finally smiles a little, and you find yourself dangerously lost in his eyes again.
Thirty minutes later, at nine p.m., the power goes out. You stop what you’re doing, your hand, holding the kettle frozen in mid air over the mug. Even the very, very low humming of the fridge and freezer stops. You put the kettle down, glad that you probably managed to fill your mug with enough tea water.
Where is your roommate? Last you heard, he was about to take a shower.
“Jeongguk?” you call, but the moment you peek out into the hallway, you run straight into him, still wet from the shower and with a towel around his hips, you think.
“What happened?” he asks, his hands steadying your elbows.
“Uh? I don’t know? I was pouring tea and the lights and everything went out.”
“Oh? So that means it wasn’t our doing. I’ll check if there’s a blown fuse; you never know.”
“Okay,” you pat the pockets of your sweatpants, “Here’s my phone if you want a flashlight.”
“Thanks,” he nods, grabbing it from your hand.
He taps the screen to turn the flashlight function on, the light pointed down immediately illuminating every little crevice in his abs and the glints of water still on his skin. The white towel hangs low, exposing a bit of a happy trail.
You look away, and Jeongguk, seemingly none the wiser, turns around to find the fuse box somewhere other than in the kitchen, guided by your phone.
Sighing to yourself the moment you’re alone again, you go back to your tea, removing the bag from the mug. Opening the fridge, you’re once again reminded of how dependent on electricity you are when the open door doesn’t trigger the built in light. Still, you find the milk, and you manage to pour a little bit into the mug and put the container back in the still chilly fridge.
By the time you finish stirring the tea spoon around, you hear Jeongguk’s steps approaching you, and you see the ray of light illuminate the floor in front of him.
“No blown fuses. I’m gonna see if there’s anything on the provider’s site or else I’ll give them a call.”
“Are you gonna get dressed as well, or?” you joke, watching him smile cheekily.
“Yeah. I was just barely done washing my hair when the light went out.”
“I can see that; you’re dripping all over the floor.”
“Sorry,” he says and shakes his head like a dog, launching drops of water at your clothes and face.
“Jeongguk!”
Laughing, he leaves the kitchen and steps out into the dark.
“What if I slip and fall?” you call after him, wiping the drops from your face before returning to your mug to take a test sip. It tastes good, but you’ll definitely try to remember to buy honey next time you go grocery shopping because you’re a sucker for a little sweetness.
Half a minute later, you hear footsteps approaching, and when you turn around from the sink, Jeongguk is drying the floor with the towel he was just using, now wearing what looks like a pair of sweatpants of his own. He doesn’t say anything, just makes sure the floor is dry and then he leaves again, much to your amusement. Like you said; you’re a sucker for sweetness.
While he’s gone, you use your phone’s flashlight to pour the rest of the water into another mug in case Jeongguk wants some tea too. Then you venture carefully into the living room, trying not to spill the hot contents. It goes without accidents, and so you set the mug down onto the coffee table before reaching for the remote. Which doesn’t work.
“Fuck, no TV,” you mutter to yourself. And you’ve used your laptop without the charger all day. Even more fuck.
“Jeongguk, is your laptop charged?” you call out, praying to the gods.
“Uh, yeah,” he appears behind you, having matched a black hoodie to his gray sweatpants.
He’s holding something in his arms, a lot of smaller things. Candles, you realize when he leans down to gently dump them onto the table. From his pocket he then produces a lighter.
“You wanna watch something?” he asks, lighting the candles one by one, the coziness factor doubling with every flame added.
“I was gonna watch this documentary, but my laptop isn’t charged,” you pout. “Oh, and also, the Wifi won’t work.”
Jeongguk chuckles. “Mine should be fully charged. And we can use my mobile data.”
Wow, way to flex.
“Great. I made tea, do you want some?”
“Sure. Thank you.”
While he goes to grab his laptop, you return to the kitchen to fix his mug of tea as well, returning as he’s setting everything up, the screen illuminating his face where he sits on the couch. The flickering candles are doing their best too, casting a more yellowy glow across the room.
“Thanks,” he says once more when you place the mug in front of him. “Here.”
You accept the laptop, navigating to the specific streaming site and the documentary released just last week about the development of the space shuttles. Due to the size difference between Jeongguk’s TV and that of his laptop, you take your seat closer to him than usual.
Jeongguk sips his tea, but the moment he’s put the mug back safely on the table and is leaning back against the couch and watching the screen, he slowly lets his hand find yours.
In turn, you find yourself moving closer, leaning your head against his shoulder. He smells nice, and he feels nice. And it’s suddenly like someone started some kind of wordless game. You don’t say anything, but there’s also a kind of tension that builds, no less in your body.
Perhaps also feeling the… electricity building, Jeongguk makes his next move, this time slowly lifting his arm to put around you, making you lean against his chest instead. The action has his hoodie riding up just a little, exposing a sliver of his stomach.
When it’s your turn again–and you feel your shared anticipation grow–you try to psych yourself up. He likes you, he likes you.
So, you place your hand on the exposed section of skin, caressing it carefully with your thumb.
Besides the documentary, it’s quiet, although you’re almost positive Jeongguk can hear your heart beat erratically; it’s definitely beating loudly in your ears. For his next turn, Jeongguk somehow both swiftly and slowly pulls you onto his lap, and before you know it, you’re straddling him, staring down at his smiling face.
The narrator speaks in the background, but you can only focus on Jeongguk and how your heart might soon beat its way out of your chest.
You could kiss him. You could.
He looks at you like he’s hoping for it but not expecting it, and you pray to God he actually does want you to. Because you want to kiss him so badly.
He’s got his gentle hands on your thighs, and you place yours softly on his face, holding his jaw and rubbing your thumbs slowly over his cheeks. Until you move one thumb and press it even softer against his lips.
This man is too good to be true, he has to be. As you let your eyes admire him, you think about the fact that, even if you disregard how he literally took a sword to the heart for you, he’s done more for you in the short period of time you’ve known him than any other man in your life.
So you move your finger from his mouth, nervously switching it out for your lips. You can’t even describe how much you like kissing him. When it’s sweet and innocent and just lips and a wordless confession of ‘I like you,’ or when you use a little tongue, and he chooses to follow your lead, kissing you back with the same growing heat. But there’s still something bothering you that you can’t ignore.
In the midst, you pull back an inch, eyes glued to his lips to avoid his eyes. “I like kissing you, but… “
“But what?” he wonders, his hands drawing innocent shapes on your thighs. Your heart pumps even harder as you choose your next words.
“I’m not really your type.”
He smiles, looking carefree, “You are. I think you’re a sweet girl.”
Jeongguk kisses you again, and you try not to think about it, but even with his lips against yours, it’s hard. A sweet girl. Letting one of your hands fall from his face, you grab the collar of his hoodie, clumsily placing your hand inside it to touch his chest, feeling for the scar.
Taking it as you wanting it off, he pulls away to yank the hoodie over his head, and it ends up somewhere toward the end of the couch. Even without it, his bare skin is just as warm under your hands, but before you know it, you’re on your back on the couch, and he’s above you. He’s very sweet, and in this moment–with your hands splayed across his back and the scar there–you know he won’t hurt you.
A sweet girl.
Right?
A sweet girl. You hear the voices and feel the anxiety and fear return to fill you. You go with the flow, unsure of what to think or do. Jeongguk helps you out of your shirt and then your bra, and you watch him sit back to throw them onto the floor somewhere.
But the moment he returns his attention to you underneath him, he stops. Because you’re covering your naked chest with your hands like your life depends on it, eyes teary and absolutely and helplessly begging him to look anywhere but at you.
He still does, and you can tell he’s surprised, his wide eyes taking in the situation from above you.
So you plead quietly, “Please don’t look at me.”
It takes half a second, and he’s immediately closing his eyes, turning to feel around for something behind him. Your shirt probably lies somewhere farther away on the floor, and so his black hoodie is what he ends up grabbing, handing it to you still with his eyes closed.
And he of course moves off of you, the only sounds in the room being the documentary, the slight rustling as you’re putting the hoodie on, and your quiet breaths.
When he assumes you’re dressed, he opens his eyes, heart visibly breaking when he sees how absolutely shaken to the core you look, hugging your body and sitting up. You turn your eyes to the documentary on the screen even though both of you know you haven’t been watching it.
“I’m so sorry, I wasn’t thinking,” he starts to explain, sounding genuinely apologetic.
“It’s fine,” you say quietly, wanting desperately not to make a big deal out of it. If you could just will your hands to stop shaking.
“No, I–”
“Jeongguk, please. I’m fine, okay. I’m not… I’m not ready, but… Can we not talk about it, please?”
Reluctantly, you meet his eyes and see the somber worry in them as he watches you from where he’s sitting, still shirtless.
“Okay. If there’s anything I can do…”
You smile tentatively at him, desperate to move on from the subject, “Watch the rest of the documentary with me?”
“Okay.”
“Okay,” you repeat, “I’ll, uh, go and change so you can get your hoodie back.”
“No, no, it’s alright. Keep it,” he’s quick to rise to his feet, already on his way somewhere–presumably his bedroom.
The forty seconds he’s gone you use to calm your breathing and stabilize your voice. It wasn’t his fault. He wasn’t going too fast or not listening to you. He listened to what you gave him; you, yourself only figured out where exactly the line was drawn when it was basically already crossed.
He’s wearing a black t-shirt when he returns, taking a seat next to you and focusing his eyes on the screen, probably more so for your sake than his. “I hope you know that you can tell me anything. And I have no certain expectations you have to fulfill or so.”
You already know that he’s not asking sex for rent, if that’s what he’s wondering. But regarding his first statement… there are definitely things you don’t want to talk to him about.
“Yeah,” you answer regardless.
When the credits roll only a few minutes later, you know that you have two options. If you sleep in your own bed like you ideally want to, you risk there being an awkwardness tomorrow and that you definitely don’t want. Or you sleep in his bed with him like you have the last few days, and sure, it might be a little awkward, but he probably realizes you’re not up for cuddling, and it’ll be easier tomorrow.
“Oh. Finally,” Jeongguk exclaims when the ceiling light flickers on, signaling the return of the electricity. “I was starting to worry about all the food in the freezer.”
Subsequently, he leans over the coffee table, blowing out the small candles one after the other. It’s late anyway.
“So, uh…” he rises from the couch, “I’ll keep my door open, but I’m not offended if you choose to sleep in your bedroom.”
“Okay,” you nod at him, watching as he leaves to brush his teeth and get ready for bed.
You stand up too, but no matter how much you want to crawl into bed next to him and have him hold you the entire night, you get ready for bed, and you lie down in your own room. You’re still wearing his hoodie because it smells like him, and it ironically brings you comfort. Still, you lie there in the dark, and you think about his face, and his eyes, and his body. His voice, even, and how he might actually be a good guy. Maybe even everything you want, even if it doesn't matter. And you curl up, a few tears running silently down your cheeks. Because Jeon Jeongguk is so very far out of your league, it’s not even funny.
After waking up, you trudge toward the kitchen, still feeling half asleep. After everything that happened yesterday, you still managed to sleep pretty well, most likely because you were exhausted and sleeping alone.
“Morning.”
You stop, hands mid eye-rub.
“I… thought you’d be at the station?” you say, redirecting your focus to taming your hair. Jeongguk is sitting at the kitchen table, donning a white t-shirt and black, what looks to be cotton, shorts.
“No, I’ll use today to go over some of the potential leads you helped find. Can do that from here.”
He takes a bite of a cupcake, and you catch his eyes linger a second on your body and how a small smile pulls on his lips before he looks into his phone in front of him. Glancing down, you realize that since you didn’t expect him to be home, you didn’t change out of his hoodie so what he saw waddle into the room was you, swallowed by his hoodie, sweater paws rubbing your eyes.
“It, uh, smells good,” you mumble quietly, realizing way too late that it’s not that great of a defense. “But I’ll wash it and you can have it back.”
It smells good because he smells good.
He waves his hand, still looking almost… fond. “It’s okay, keep it as long as you’d like. I have a ton of them.”
“Okay, uh, thank you.”
“No problem.”
At least the awkwardness was for another reason.
You decide to do a bit of laundry, although skipping the black hoodie and hiding it away under your duvet for a little while longer. Doing the laundry, vacuuming most of the house, and emptying the dishwasher takes you almost an hour, and then you find yourself outside Jeongguk’s office, knocking on the open door and peeking inside.
“Making any progress?”
He lifts his head from the laptop screen and swivels around in his chair to face you, a pen in his hand.
“No,” he sighs, “I’m looking into the girlfriend angle and so far, we’ve put detectives on a recent ex of Seunghwa’s and on two of Ryung’s flings, but it hasn’t resulted in anything. Regarding Hoseong… I’m not sure I ever actually heard him mention anyone by name, at least not any name that I can seem to match to anyone.”
“What about… I remember him talking about this Jimin?”
“Who’s that? I think we’ve covered most of his friends?”
You search your memory, but it’s hard to remember details. It’s been years since the conversations you try to recall, and as far as you remember, he only mentioned her in passing. “It was a woman, and I think they were more than friends. Or at least she wanted to be.”
“I didn’t even think of that; I only know male Jimins. Tell me more,” he urges, and you can tell he’s trying to recall if there was ever a mention of a Jimin.
“Well, I heard him complain about her a few times; said she was clingy and honestly a little obsessed with him. He made it sound like he didn’t care for her that much. In retrospect–besides being a very red flag–it sounds like something he could’ve said about me when I liked him.”
“Someone who maybe is mostly just a regular woman and would still maybe help them if they’re desperate enough to ask. Or him, at least.”
“Yeah.”
For a few hours, you and Jeongguk work together in his office, and you nearly forget about yesterday’s mishap, trying to find more info on this ‘Jimin.’ Until you find yourself nearly chest to chest with him after turning around too quickly and not expecting him so close. Instead of meeting your eyes sweetly and slowly lowering his head to kiss you like he probably would’ve even yesterday, he smiles and… backs up a few steps.
“Hey, should we take a break? Have a late lunch?” Jeongguk stretches his arms out in front of him.
You continue noting down some last names from your phone onto a paper, using the chair Jeongguk wheeled into his office specifically for you as a table while sitting on the floor. “Uh, you go ahead. I had a late breakfast.”
He stands up. “Oh. I didn’t notice.”
“Mhm, you were already in here.”
“I can wait then, and we can eat together.”
“It’s alright; go ahead.”
He mumbles something you don’t quite catch, but he does leave you to your notes and disappears from the office.
For the rest of the day, it’s just as if you’ve taken two or even three steps back. You don’t… touch a lot, and you definitely don’t kiss. A part of you misses it, but another part is relieved that he’s giving you space. He’s still very, very sweet, of course. You didn’t expect anything else.
Like when you open a cupboard, gaze set on a specific mug of his you’ve taken a liking to thanks to the very big ear that prevents the hot tea from burning your hand even through the ceramic. Compared to your male roommate, you’re lacking a little more in the vertical department and for some reason, whoever emptied the dishwasher placed the mug on the top shelf.
You look at it for three seconds, debating on whether you should grab a kitchen chair and climb or simply admit defeat and choose the next best mug. You’re about to go for the latter option when your hero swoops in, wordlessly and casually picking it down for you, a mug of his own raised to his mouth.
“Thank you,” you take the offering from his hand, a smile growing on your lips.
“You’re welcome.”
Or how he’ll still open whatever door you run into for you, to the point that it wouldn’t surprise you if he tried to open the automatic doors and hold them open with his hands when he takes you grocery shopping.
And sometimes, you do touch. Whenever he’s quick enough to exit the driver’s seat and open the passenger door for you, he holds his hand out for you, and when you take it, he helps you out as if you can’t step out of the car on your own.
When you watch a movie, you don’t sit glued to each other, but he’s not scared to gently pull your feet–which you’ve complained all day of being tired–onto his lap to briefly massage them for you. He smiles at you, all crinkle-cornered sparkly-eyed and dimpled. On two short occasions, he holds your hand carefully, something you don’t object to because it feels nice, it really does.
But despite all these things, you still sleep in your bedroom. You don’t lock the door, but you do sleep alone.
Three days after the incident during the power outage, you’ve worked a long day in Jeongguk’s office. Alone, because he had to leave for the station at nine a.m.. You’ve had a lot of time to think, not only today but ever since what happened–and before that honestly–and it’s become very clear that you need to make a decision. Maybe you should simply gather your courage, give it a shot, and tell him how you feel about him, no matter what happens after?
Despite feeling somewhat determined and having some kind of honestly not very thought out plan, you’re anxious, wandering around the house as you wait for him to return.
An hour before he comes home, you find yourself in front of the washing machine, throwing the black hoodie into it finally. With the machine on, you head into the kitchen, pouring yourself a glass of wine. It helps a little, and the remaining nerves that still reside in your chest, you decide to just try to ignore.
The sound of his bike is what notifies you of his return, and you leave the kitchen to meet him in the garage, watching as he swings his leg over the bike and takes the black helmet off, holding it under his arm.
“Hey,” he greets when he sees you waiting, a genuine smile on his face. “How was your day?”
“Uh… good. Narrowed down the Jimins a bit, I think.”
“That’s great,” he grins, his elatedness infecting you too, causing you to smile a little hesitantly despite the nerves devouring you. “Have you eaten yet? I know it’s kinda late but if not; I could cook something?”
He puts the helmet on one of the shelves that line one of the walls, and then he comes to stand before you.
You keep your eyes on the jacket with the police emblem on it before you peer up at him. A little hesitantly, you reach for the zipper of his jacket, fiddling a little with it.
“I, uh… actually have something else I want to do. Something I’d like to try… If you’re up for it…”
Tentatively, you reach your hand out, fingers pulling down the zipper of his jacket. He watches you curiously, doing nothing to stop you.
“What is it? That you want to do?” he asks, his warm voice definitely sounding curious but not overly so.
You swallow, deciding to just go for it and slowly placing your arms around his neck, “Well… Do you have any… handcuffs?”
He tilts his head, holding your waist while looking at you, searching. “For me? I do, but we don’t have to do anything; you know that, right?”
“Yeah, but if I really want to? Or maybe you…” you realize that he might just not want to. Like, at all. Oh, how embarrassing.
Seemingly noticing the way you take a step back, lowering your arms from around his neck, he stops you, his hands keeping them there.
“No, no. I’m always willing to let you do whatever you’re comfortable with. I don’t mind.”
His encouragement has a more genuine smile pulling on your mouth.
“Meet me in your bedroom then?” you ask, “And bring the cuffs.”
Not waiting for a confirmation, you drop your hands from his neck, and you turn around to head inside the house. Your heart is pounding, going absolutely haywire while you wait for him on the edge of his bed. Maybe you should’ve worn something else? Something other than just a pair of mom jeans and a blue sweater, but it’s too late now, you guess.
He shows up only a minute later, eyes curiously observing the heavy chair you’ve moved from the corner and into the middle of his room. The first thing he does is unbutton the dark blue shirt of his uniform, sliding it down his arms and throwing it onto the bed. You look at his chest and his arms and his stomach, and you see how he notices. This… humble confidence looks so good on him, and it’s so insanely different from how he acted during the mission. You’ve never seen anyone so attractive.
The next thing he does is approach you where you’re sitting, offering you his hand all while smiling sweetly… but still a little cheekily.
Placing your hand in his, you’re pulled up to your feet, basically chest to chest with him. There’s heat in his gaze, but it’s not scalding; it’s just warm.
You give in.
“Kiss me?”
He searches your eyes for hidden answers, but you really do want him to kiss you, and so he does. He places one hand on your lower back, moving your body with him as he steps back and sits down on the chair. Ending up sitting across one of his thighs, you open your eyes when he pulls away just enough to speak.
“I don’t mind you doing… whatever you want to do, if that’s just sitting on my lap or… exploring me. I’m all for it. Do what you want to do. But,” he says, emphasis on that last word. “Only do what you actually want to.”
You nod, and he reaches down to pull something out of his pocket. The handcuffs. You take them from him, pocketing the small key.
“By the way, how did you get out of the cuffs at the house?” you ask, weighing the metal in your hand.
“I went and got another key before. So I threw you one key and kept the other.”
You feel your forehead crease as you think about what that means. You were only able to relax when you thought he couldn’t hurt you, but he… could? At any point, he could’ve simply unlocked the cuffs himself?
“I didn’t keep a key because I had ulterior motives or anything. I was just worried you might hurt yourself or pass out for real, like, stop breathing and everything, so I needed a way to get to you if that were to happen.”
“I didn’t even think about that,” you admit quietly. It’s true; the fact that you had multiple pairs of handcuffs with you to the house, and they all use the same universal key entirely slipped your mind. “But of course. How stupid of me.”
“It wasn’t stupid. You were under a lot of stress, and I used that to my advantage, hoping you wouldn’t think about it.”
Standing up, you round the chair to kneel behind it. Without having to be asked, Jeongguk puts his hands back and waits for you to cuff them together.
“So I’m tightening these extra hard and making sure I have all keys,” you joke, still fastening them tight enough for him not to be able to slip them off.
“If that’s what you need to feel comfortable. But I hope you know that I’ll always listen to you.”
You nod, maybe more so to yourself when you stand in front of him again. He looks up at you where he sits, shirtless and looking gorgeous and absolutely mouthwatering.
You bite your lip briefly. “Can I… kiss you?”
“Whatever you want,” he grins, a smile that widens when you sit down on one of his thighs again.
“Okay. Close your eyes?”
Without a word, he obeys your request, and you feel yourself get almost hypnotized, looking at him. You’ve truly never seen anyone so stunning, even to the point that you could sit and gaze at him for hours. The best of mankind but still very much a man. You remember how you used to hate him, thinking God wasted this incredible beauty on someone so ugly, but although you’re not entirely sure how you feel about him, you know you don’t hate him.
Carefully, you trace your fingers along his sharp jaw, and despite his eyelashes fluttering, he doesn’t open his eyes. Unable to help yourself and because you truly don’t think he minds, you allow your gaze to drop. His neck is relatively thick, and the veins are only slightly visible compared to when he’s physically active. Your eyes then land on his collarbones. Then his wide, muscular shoulders and pecs. Then the scar, before traveling across his abs.
“You’re so pretty,” you state quietly, looking up at his face just in time to watch him smirk.
“Pretty is for girls; I’m a man.”
You can’t quite explain the emotional wave that hits you as you come to terms with what you have to do–the decision he’s made for you–but you know that you have to hide it, can’t make a sound of hurt in the silent room. Pressing your lips together, you look around the bedroom before you rise from his thigh.
“What are you doing?” Jeongguk asks, still smiling and oblivious, his eyes closed.
Already at the window, you untie the white curtain’s tieback and hold it up. “What about this?”
He opens his eyes and looks at the white piece of fabric in your hand, but doesn’t appear too skeptical. “For what purpose?”
“Blindfold.”
Trying to keep a positive and somewhat fear free mindset, it still hurts when you see how he immediately connects the blindfold to how you shielded your chest from his eyes. There’s pain and there’s guilt swimming in his dark eyes.
“You can, but please don’t do anything you don’t want to.”
“I won’t,” you promise.
“Okay then.”
With his permission, you place the folded sash over his eyes and tie it in the back, careful not to trap any hairs. When you’re done, you take another second to look at him. There is something so irresistible about him, something that has your heart yearning and your body pulled in. He’s so warm, both body and presence. You bite your lip, using your hand to trace his cheek softly while thinking about how he’s so conflicting. What if you want to stay here forever? Curl up like this where he can’t touch you, and lean your head against his neck where he can’t see you?
Like the time when you kissed three days ago, you touch your thumb to his soft lips, and you let the smile and the mask you’ve been wearing fall. Quietly, you stand up, and you take a step back.
“I thought you were going to kiss me?” Jeongguk jokes lightly.
You don’t know what to say, stuck in your footing to the floor and how he can’t see you. It’s like a weight has dropped from your shoulders, but your heart still feels heavy.
“I’m sorry.”
Not picking up the real meaning behind your words, Jeongguk tilts his head. “Okay. It’s alright. Why don’t you uncuff me and we can maybe order dinner instead?”
“I’m leaving tonight.”
“Wait… what?” he straightens up, struggling to process your words, “Why?”
But you go silent again, unsure of exactly how you’ll ever be able to tell him everything. He calls your name, sounding stressed, and you hear how he tugs on the cuffs.
“You scare me.”
He stops, and you can tell by the way he seems to almost be holding his breath that it wasn’t exactly what he wanted to hear.
“I… I understand that you’ve been through a lot, but I’m never going to hurt you.”
You keep your eyes on him, feeling like he, himself most likely believes what he’s saying. But it’s not that easy.
“I know… that all in all, you’re a good man. You want to help me and others, and I know you said that not even when you thought I was the most selfish person in the world would you be able to hurt me physically. But you had no problem hurting me in other ways.”
“I know, and I’m so sorry for what I did. I’ve apologized for that, and I’ll keep doing it.”
“I don’t know how to read you,” you add, disregarding what he said because he has apologized, but not in the way that you needed. Not in a way that really matters to you. If this man hasn’t had you broken in a thousand pieces and still insisted on stepping on the remains.
So you keep going. “You look sweet–you’ve been sweet, but you look just like him. Hoseong was sweet too, until he wasn’t. And you… you have this desire to hurt, you want to inflict pain on those who wrong you or who you think have done you wrong. What happens if you think I’ve done something you don’t agree with?”
“I’m not jumping to conclusions without talking to you, I’m not making the same mistake again–”
“What if I actually do something you don’t like?”
For a few seconds, he goes quiet. “I’m not going to hurt you ever again, I promise.”
You fiddle with your hands, glancing down at them. “Are you sure? It was so easy for you, using all my weaknesses against me and breaking me down without ever asking me for my side of the story. And it scares me how you, during the mission, showed just how easy it was for you to one moment act like you could stand me–looking just as sweet as you do now–then angrily tear me down the next.”
It hurts in your whole body but the worst pain originates from your chest. You feel small, insignificant, but also like you take up too much room.
“I know that you probably don’t want to hurt me physically, and that you’re a better man than most, and at first when we came back, it wasn’t too difficult to ignore what you…. think of me, but now…? I kissed you, and you kissed me back, and it just… everything is coming back. I’ve been trying to tell myself that you wouldn’t hurt me at all anymore and that maybe you even like me like I like you, but I know that you don’t. Which in turn makes it hard to know why you’re doing all of this. I think maybe you feel guilty or want to be nice? Give me a chance even though I’m not your… type. But I… I like you. I really, really like you.”
It’s easier to admit than you originally thought, but it doesn’t make it hurt any less. “I want to look at you every second of the day and my hands absolutely yearn to touch you all over. But I don’t want you to touch me. I don’t want you to look at me. I don’t want to be perceived at all. I know that if I stay here and show myself to you, you will not like what you see. You will be disappointed.”
Jeongguk shakes his head, not straining against the cuffs anymore but taking on a calmer approach. “It’s not true. I really do like you, and I think you’re really pretty. Please, I apologized for the things I said, and I’ll do it again. I’m really sorry; I just said those things because I wanted to hurt you. “
“You did. You hurt me, and I’m hurt. You apologized for wanting to hurt me, but you’ve never impli–actually, It doesn’t matter. I know what I look like, it’s kinda hard to forget when you’re constantly reminded. You and your friends came for every single flaw of mine, Jeongguk. “
“I only continued because you never seemed fazed by it.”
“‘I never seemed–’”, you stop to chuckle in disbelief. Your eyes are tearing up as you recall the moments you’re about to remind him of.
“Are you saying that you never noticed that I stopped eating lunch at the cafeteria after what you did? Hoseong said that maybe someone would actually like me if I ‘ate less,’ and you laughed like it was the funniest thing you’d ever heard. That was the day after you walked past me in the cafeteria, saying ‘leave some for the rest of us, why don’t you?’ Jihyo brought cookies for her birthday two weeks later, and you suggested–in front of everyone–that maybe I should do something else with my mouth besides eat. I criticized the fact that no male officer wanted to work on ‘low-rewarding’ cases like my trafficking case, and you… Do you remember what you said?”
Your eyes are already blurry with silent tears, and you feel the humiliation drown you. There’s no way to go, nowhere to hide. People like Jeongguk are watching, inspecting and observing every little part of you. Your bottom lip trembles.
Jeongguk is silent. If he could see, he’d be looking at your feet. You were right to blindfold him because you would’ve never been able to speak so earnestly had you not. Although you like him, and he’s been so kind and sweet to you, you’re back to feeling like nothing in his eyes.
“‘It’s not about the case; it’s about you. You couldn’t pay me to even look at you. In fact, I bet not even the traffickers would take you, otherwise we would’ve definitely traded you.’”
The pain radiates from your chest, leaving no cell of your body unaffected at the implications. You are so ugly and disgusting to him that if he had the chance, he would’ve sacrificed you to a fate no one should ever have to face.
He doesn’t give you a reaction now either; he just sits there with his head lowered. But this is your one chance to tell him how you really feel. You take a big, shaky breath.
“I was doing okay before all of this. Sure, I’ve always known that I have a lot of flaws, but I was doing okay. But you’ve said over and over again that I disgust you, my body makes you want to hurl, you wouldn’t fuck me if your life depended on it, etcetera. It takes its toll. Eating around men gives me anxiety, even if I try to hide it. I cover up my… shoulders as much as I can because I can hear you describe them as ‘manly,’ and how every man within earshot chuckles.
“I wear thick bras and tops, especially around you, because you made it a habit to comment on my breasts and how unfortunately shaped and sized they are. I remember how you asked me how on earth I ever expected Hoseong to like me when I had the ‘saggiest tits in the district.’ And I remember the field day you had when you found out they’re a bit uneven, finding a way to lower your rating of me from a 0.5 out of 10 to a 0.1. Then you asked the other men for their opinion and rating. Or how you’ve so kindly informed me that I didn’t have the tits for that pretty, blue dress and that it looked awful on me. Are you saying that you didn’t notice that whatever you’ve commented on, I’ve never worn again? Not even anything similar?
“I don’t wear tighter pants without a longer shirt to cover my ‘misshapen,’ ‘unfeminine’ hips and the ‘weird dips’ you’ve laughed at, and whenever work dress codes require me to, I’ve avoided you and other men the best I could.
“I wore a skirt to work once, and when I ran into you before changing into my uniform, you said that skirts are for pretty girls and that no one wanted to see my… cellulite. You took every chance to remind me that I have myself to blame for being undesirable, and that men weren’t the problem, I am, and ‘how wasn’t I ashamed for thinking someone like Hoseong could ever like me?’
"Believe me, I was ashamed. I am ashamed. Do you think I never considered just… drinking the poisoned coffee? Or just starting the car even though I knew the brakes wouldn’t work? If there was a way to get rid of one’s body, believe me, I would’ve. It doesn’t matter that you didn’t know what he did to me at the time because how I looked never changed. But looking like you do, I get that you don’t understand how it is to walk around, filled with shame for existing in such an unfortunate body, but I can tell that you want to be better. Maybe you feel bad and want to give me a free trial of how it is to be with a Good Man. Or you want to do the ‘right thing’ so that your dad would be proud? I don’t know, but I can’t ignore the fact that I know how you really perceive me and how you are so far out of my league, it’s embarrassing to even stand here and say it.
"So while I appreciate everything you’ve done for me cause I’d be dead and gone without you, I can’t stay here. You want someone to hold hands with and to buy flowers for, but that’s not for people like me.”
Finally done, you wipe the tears that fall, and you shakily swallow the lump that’s formed in your throat.
“Take the blindfold off and uncuff me,” he begs, once again straining against the handcuffs. You know he isn’t getting out of them, and while he could stand up, the chair is too heavy for him to just pull along with him when he’s got the blindfold on and no sight. He knows, just as well as you, that there’s no use.
“No.”
“Then listen to me; none of that was true. You are so pretty, so breathtaking. I like you so much.”
“Forgive me for not believing you. If you really thought I was even remotely pretty, there have been countless opportunities for you to say so. Or even just a ‘hey, you know you’re not actually as revolting as I told you.’”
“I… I didn’t want to overwhelm you or have you doubt my intentions, but I’m telling you now that I’ve always thought you to be beautiful.”
You scoff sadly. “Yeah, now when the consequences of your actions have arrived,” you glance down at your feet, feeling so insignificant.
“Please don’t leave.”
“I’ve already packed my stuff.”
“Where are you going? You can’t go home; it isn’t safe there.”
Truly, at this moment, your safety doesn’t seem like your top priority. “I’ll be careful.”
“Can’t you stay with someone, at least?” he bargains, “Jihyo or Sana?”
Another tear falls, and your voice goes quiet. “I want to go home.”
You really do. You haven't been home in months, and you feel like a child sleeping over at a friend's, missing your mom so much it hurts and just wishing she'd come and pick you up.
“I know, but you just gotta hold out a little bit longer. Call Jihyo, please. Do you want me to watch your house twenty-four seven, cause I will.”
You consider his words, and if there’s anything you don’t want, it’s to have him so close again. “Fine. I’ll call her tomorrow.”
“Thank you.”
“Yeah…”
With nothing really left to say, you pull your phone out of your pocket, opening the Uber app.
“I’ll uncuff you in a few minutes, I’m just ordering an Uber.”
Luckily, a car is only three minutes away, and so with quick fingers you confirm it. You packed your stuff three hours ago in case this would be the outcome, something you’re very grateful for now. Maybe, maybe, if he had said something, you would’ve kissed him and decided to stay, hoping that he was being honest. But you know that you might be a sweet girl to him, but you're not a pretty girl.
A minute passes, and you sigh sadly. “Okay, I’m gonna open the handcuffs, but I’m begging you, Jeongguk, stay there until I’m gone, okay? Don’t remove the blindfold, please?”
It’s his turn to seemingly consider what you’re saying. What you did, agreeing to call Jihyo, was for him and respecting his wishes. So he has to respect yours. He can’t rip off the blindfold the moment you twist the key in the cuffs and try to persuade you to stay, no matter if he wants to.
“Okay.”
“Promise?”
“I promise.”
You decide to trust him, and with the key belonging to the cuffs, you round the chair where he’s sitting. Kneeling like before, you manage to unlock one of the cuffs in two seconds, and the metal clinks as it falls off his wrist. Instead of freeing his other wrist as well, you grasp his free hand and put the key into his palm, closing his fist around it.
Though you shouldn’t have expected him to be entirely quiet and still, because while he doesn’t make any move to rise from the chair or remove the blindfold, he does swiftly grab your hand, holding it firmly. Despite being blindfolded, it definitely feels like he’s staring straight at you behind him.
“Don’t believe anything any of us said, please. You really are so gorgeous, and not only that but you’re incredibly smart and hard-working. You’re amazing, and I will regret what I did to you for the rest of my life.”
But you hurt so much on the inside that you don’t say anything to that, you just pull your hand out of his grasp.
<previous | next>
author's note: so.... anyway, uh... like, comment, and subscribe <333
Dextrocardia. Originally a medical term, but also a way to describe someone who's got their heart in the right place.
"She's been moved to another operation to help out. This pairing is necessary because you'll be undercover as spouses. I know you two can be professional about this."
"What?!" It's Jeongguk's upset voice that sounds, and for once, you share his displeased opinion.
It keeps raining, and two hours later when it’s hitting the roof in a calm rhythm, you enter the garage through the open door. Rock music sounds from a speaker but it’s overshadowed by the powerful hits of Jeongguk’s gloved hands against the sandbag hanging from the mount. He’s foregone a shirt, his sweat-covered muscles glistening.
“You call that ‘taking it easy?’” you call out, notifying him of your presence.
He stops his punches, turning to face you with his hand steadying the bag.
“Huh?” he questions, chest heaving.
“I said: ‘you call that taking it easy?’”
He smiles, very out of breath. “I didn’t say ‘easy,’ just easier than what I’m used to.”
You shake your head, venturing further into the garage and reaching the bike.
“How do you even get on this thing? It’s so tall?” you wonder skeptically out loud as you trace the black leather seat with your fingers. It’s definitely a lot taller and wider than just an ordinary bicycle.
Jeongguk steps away from the sandbag, loosening the gloves with his teeth as he heads your way, heavy breaths echoing. You follow him with your eyes as he approaches, but instead of demonstrating like you thought he would, he stops behind you.
“Here,” he places his hands under your armpits.
“Oh, no, no, no,” you try to protest, but it’s too late, and you’re already being lifted onto the seat like a three-year-old.
You definitely also feel like a three-year-old because you don’t even try to reach for the handlebars, instead holding onto the little hill in front of the seat. It probably goes without saying that your feet don’t wholly touch the ground.
“We could go for a ride someday if you want?”
You turn your head to look at his grinning face.
“Uh... no.”
“What, you don’t trust me?”
You see the realization of what he just asked flash across his face, but you know it wasn’t how he meant it.
“You don’t seem to value your life very much, no,” you argue, hinting at how he almost died for you.
His face turns relieved, a small smile decorating his lips. “I do. But sometimes, there might be risks I’m willing to take.”
It’s your turn to not know exactly what to say, so you're quick to ask something else instead. You lean forward, actually managing to grab the handlebars somewhat correctly. “Do I look cool?”
Jeongguk’s smile widens, “Absolutely. Even more so if you had the appropriate gear.”
“So… highway patrol? Car or one of these things?”
“One of these things,” he chuckles. “It was exciting, especially car chases really got your blood pumping. Although I think my mom was in a constant state of a heart attack. And the chases didn’t happen that often; most of the time, it was just writing tickets, and I wanted to make more of a difference.”
“Understandable. Your mom, I mean.”
“Yeah. Also, who told you?” he narrows his eyes playfully.
“Jimin. He told me absolutely everything there is to know about you. All your secrets.”
“Nice try; I don’t have any secrets.”
You wonder to yourself how true that really is.
You’ve managed to keep your mind busy and occupied during the day, but when night time rolls around and the rain has only increased, you’re feeling a little anxious.
Standing outside the door to your room and staring at the handle, you don’t notice Jeongguk.
“You know, I don’t mind you sleeping with me.”
You lift your head, meeting his eyes. He’s shirtless again, looking as if he just came from the kitchen. Should you? Last night was very cozy, and if you're being honest with yourself, you liked it a lot. Probably more than you should. You felt… safer.
You hesitate.
“It’s up to you, but I’ll leave the door open.”
He prepares to leave, but you’re quick to make up your mind.
“No, I, um… I’ll just go and change, first?”
Giving you a soft nod, he leaves for his bedroom.
It takes you five minutes to change into a large t-shirt and some shorts and to wash up, and when you enter through the open door, closing it behind you, Jeongguk is folding a pair of pants to hang over a chair. You won’t pretend that you don’t let your eyes quickly skim over his shirtless body as he moves, your heart skipping a beat or maybe two.
“Is that the ring you wore during the mission?” you ask, watching him turn, first to face you and then to look at the object in question on his nightstand.
“Yeah.”
“Why did you keep it?”
He shrugs as he approaches the other side of the bed, the same side he slept on yesterday. “I don’t know. I wore it, then the hospital put it in one of those bags with my other belongings while they took me into surgery. Took the whole bag home, put the ring there. Didn’t wear it because… well, we’re not married, but I didn’t want to get rid of it.”
“Hm, okay,” you accept what sounds like a reasonable explanation.
Jeongguk lifts the duvet, getting into the bed while watching you. “You didn’t keep yours?”
“Don’t know what happened to it, but it was fake and pretty much worthless, so…”
“Ouch,” Jeongguk says, clutching his chest.
“Okay, first of all, you just said we weren’t married. And there was no material worth to it. Second, your heart is on the other side.”
Smoothly–and definitely making you giggle while you follow his lead and get into bed–he switches hands to hold the right side of his chest instead. You guess it’s a learning curve.
“Ouch,” he repeats, “Just tell me if you want a divorce.”
It’s with a big smile that you get comfortable, pulling the white duvet up to your chin as you lay on your side, facing the nightstand.
You feel Jeongguk move around a bit too.
“I think the rain’s gonna let up tomorrow,” he mumbles. “It’s been a while since it was this… persistent.”
“Yeah… Thank you for letting me sleep here. It feels… better to not be alone.”
“It’s no problem; I don’t mind.”
Silence falls after that. You listen to the rhythmic beat of raindrops hitting the roof, trying to slow your breaths and heartbeat enough to fall asleep. Although you don’t feel as anxious anymore, it still doesn’t happen.
Minute by minute ticks by, and you don’t know if Jeongguk is asleep or not.
“It was raining,” you say, your voice barely louder than a whisper. “That night when we followed a suspect into a hotel bar.”
You take a breath, listening to the silence of the room, half expecting Jeongguk to stop you. But he doesn’t; maybe because he’s asleep? So you continue quietly, revisiting a memory.
“He stayed there for quite a few hours, so we did as well. We were hoping he’d lead us to his brother so we could arrest both of them for arms trafficking. Hoseong ordered us beer, more so for appearances, but still, and we talked while we kept an eye on the man and waited for him to leave. I remember that we talked about another case we’d just solved, and Hoseong was going on and on about how smart he thought I was and how glad he was to have me as his partner. I was smiling ear to ear, thinking that I was so incredibly lucky, getting to work with and learn from someone who truly saw me. When the suspect instead got a room there for the night, we did as well, figuring it would be more comfortable than sitting in the car all night.”
It’s still quiet, but it feels cathartic to get it out, regardless if Jeongguk is awake to hear it or not. While you've unfortunately noticed more similarities between him and Hoseong than you'd like--like their dark, expressive eyes--Jeongguk feels... different.
“We were meant to do shifts, always have the door open just a sliver so we’d notice if he left. We took our jackets off and Hoseong placed his stuff on the bedside table. Since it was summer, I was wearing a t-shirt and a skirt with my gun strapped to my thigh under it, and so I put the gun in the pocket of my jacket. When I turned around… he kissed me. I was caught by surprise, but I… I kissed him back at first because… Well, I loved him. But then I tried to step back to tell him that we really shouldn’t, that we needed to be alert and ready to follow if the suspect left. But he didn’t listen.”
You pause, feeling the pain and the fear from that day all over again, your skin turning cold. There’s movement behind you, and an arm is slowly and gently draped across your middle, grasping your freezing hand. It makes you feel something, peering down at his hand and the tattoos covering his skin. He’s very warm, and he feels like he’s… stable. Like he has roots growing into the ground that makes him unshakeable. Meanwhile, you’re a leaf; at the mercy of everyone and everything. Easy to blow away, to rip to shreds, to stomp flat to the sound of your bones crunching.
“He held my jaw so tight, I couldn’t speak, and he told me that I’d been teasing him all day in the skirt and that I should be happy because he knew that I loved him. Said I should just suck it up and put out. He… ” you go quiet, unsure of how many details you’re willing to relive.
Does Jeongguk need to know every step you were pushed toward the bed, how he threw you onto it and got on top of you while you fought? How he unzipped his pants and how he violated you? He probably doesn’t.
“He used his handcuffs and cuffed my hands around the metal bed frame. I tried to…. He said he’d kill me if I screamed.”
You remember his hushed yet furious voice in your ear, remember knowing how it was going to end, how he’d kill you right then and there.
“I don’t know if he did it at first because he enjoyed it or if he realized right away that he would need to get rid of me, but he put both his hands around my neck and squeezed as hard as he could. I pulled my hands so violently that I dislocated a thumb, but… I got one out. So I tried to stop him, but he was too strong, using all his body weight. My nails on his skin didn’t faze him, and I was losing consciousness. At the very last second–while my vision was turning spotty–I managed to grab the gun from his holster. I aimed it for his thigh and pulled the trigger. He let go. Somehow, I managed to get him off me, and… out of me… but I could barely see or breathe, and there was blood everywhere.
“He swore at me, and I think he tried to get up but couldn’t, so he reached for his phone, and I ran for the door as best I could. But what was I supposed to do? Call the cops? What do you think he was doing? I heard him ask our coworkers for help, and I knew. They were coming to help him. So I stood there, in the hall of a shitty hotel, with no car keys, no phone, and nowhere to go, while his back-up was mere minutes away.
“Then, someone down the hall opened their door. It was a young woman, and she peeked out, looked at me where I stood, a shaky, bloody, wheezy mess, and she came and pulled me inside right before the police exited the elevator. I managed to say that we were all law enforcement, but I didn’t need to tell her that they’d kill me off if they found me because we heard Ryung’s voice through the door, telling the rest to find me and make me… pay.
“I don’t know if I’ve ever been as scared as I was when they knocked on her door. She gestured for me to get inside the bathroom, and I did, watching as she pulled a bathrobe around her body, turning most of the lights off and opening the door to pretend like she’d just woken up. I heard them ask for me, and I heard her politely tell them that no, she hadn’t seen a woman or noticed any commotion. But I saw how her hand trembled behind the door, and I thought the whole time that they knew and were just waiting to push their way inside to get me. But they didn’t. Instead, they left. Shaken, she sat with me on the bathroom floor as I cried, and she helped me clean up a bit and loaned me some of her clothes before she helped me to the hospital across the city border. I stayed the night to have my injuries tended to and documented and a kit done, and the next day, I went to that city’s station to file a report. A female officer helped me, and she’s the only one I’ve told most of this stuff to. Well, except for you now, but I take it you read the report? And the station… you weren’t working that day, but it was your station, wasn’t it?”
“Yeah,” comes a strained mumble, and you feel him hug you just a bit tighter.
You stare at the wall, feeling both anxious and numb. “It changes you, having someone do that to you. All my life, I’ve known, theoretically speaking, that there’s a risk. A man, anywho, anywhere, anytime, can decide that I don’t get to live anymore. But to experience it, to see the intentions in his eyes, and how he’s… deciding… and not being able to do anything about it. It changes you. It’s always there, the feeling of helplessness.”
“I…”
Sounding like he wants to say something but can’t find the words, Jeongguk lets silence fall again.
“You don’t know what to say, do you?” you smile a sad smile to yourself.
“No.”
“It’s alright, you don’t need to say anything, I just thought I’d tell you.”
You feel him move closer while also gently pulling you back toward him. You roll back, finding yourself inches away from him where he lies, head supported by his hand and looking down at you.
“I’m just… furious, and frustrated, and I wish so badly that I’d been there to help you. If I had just transferred earlier… maybe I could’ve prevented it, or stopped it, or even just caught him and helped you get your justice. Instead, I came along and made it worse.”
You find yourself so lost in him. In the warmth of his body that’s thawing the entirety of yours, and in his kind brown eyes. You can’t believe he’s the same person who took every chance he could to hurt you as recently as a few months ago. He just… looks so sweet.
“You know, you look like a little kid when you’re sleeping” you smile, watching Jeongguk slowly open his eyes, looking a little confused. “You’re also always up before me, so I’ve rarely seen you asleep. I’m not really a morning person.”
The moment he comes to properly, he smiles lazily and rolls his eyes half-heartedly. “I’m not a morning person either, actually,” he explains, his voice lower and raspier than usual.
“Then why are you always awake so early?”
He looks at you as if he’s not sure what to say. “Cause… I have… stuff to do?”
“Okay…”
Jeongguk doesn’t address the suspicion in your voice, instead, he stretches his arms over his head. The duvet moves, exposing his chest and the scar to your eyes.
Letting your fingertip hover just above it, you look back at his still very sleepy face. “Did you really never know about your organs being mirrored?”
“No,” he yawns.
“But… how? Didn’t you ever have your heart and lungs listened to?”
“I did, but apparently, it’s not too much of a different sound. Sure, my heart beat would have sounded a bit fainter from my left side but it’s such a rare condition that there was no real use investigating further. I had a heart that beat in the right rhythm and no other symptoms so that was enough, I guess,” he shrugs.
“Can I listen?” you bite your lip hopefully.
He raises his eyebrows, “To my heart?”
You nod enthusiastically
“Buy me dinner first, why don’t you?”
Rolling your eyes, you feel warm. You meet his gaze and slowly lower your head to his chest while moving your hair out of your face.
His skin feels nice against the side of your face, his chest moving up and down under you slowly, and you hear it. It’s strong, rhythmic, but…
“Are you sure you’re fine, though?” you ask, turning a little more serious, “It’s beating kinda… fast?”
Surely a fit guy like Jeongguk has a slower resting heart rate?
“You’re also, you know, listening to my heart,” he says, like it’s supposed to mean something?
Wait. Is he… Is he implying that you listening to his heart is making it race? That can’t be true, can it?
You lift your face off of his chest, and for a moment, you’re just looking at each other softly, curiously. His black hair is a little messy, but he looks so warm, and you–.
His phone rings.
Jeongguk sighs but reaches for it where it lies on his nightstand, his eyes widening when he reads the screen. “Shit, I gotta take this.”
He throws the duvet off of him and gets up as he answers the call, and you see him in just his shorts as he disappears out of the room with the phone to his ear.
Following his lead, you rise from the bed, but instead of going wherever Jeongguk disappeared to, you head into your room to throw on a hoodie and some sweatpants. While alone, you take a moment to think about last night. You weren’t actually planning on talking about it. You never have, not in that much detail, although you definitely left some things out. And while it feels… hard, it also feels… better? Or, like you’re at least not too scared of him looking at you weirdly or saying it was your fault. Or even worse, like you opened his eyes how easy it was to render you entirely helpless…
Quietly, you enter the kitchen, spotting Jeongguk standing at the counter with the tray of cupcakes you made together in front of him. He’s wearing a dark green t-shirt now.
He places the phone between his raised shoulder and ear as he peels a wrapper off, “can you ask them to mail copies of the documents to the station? And how did it go, did you manage to reach the mechanic?”
You watch him as he listens to whoever’s on the other side, putting half a cupcake in his mouth. “Mhm, no, no, just book whatever time she’s available. We can meet at the station if she wants to come in or I can go to her. Same for the hotel staff.”
Is he… looking into your case again? Like, thoroughly following up on all leads and with all possible witnesses? You definitely know it’s not because of what you told him last night; he must’ve decided to do it priorly.
His eyes find you as he listens intently to what the voice has to say. You take a few steps, coming to stand next to him, smiling softly at how cute he looks when he’s multitasking. With one hand, he lifts the other end of the cupcake to you. You take it, watching him as he looks off into the distance absentmindedly. “Alright, thank you.”
You pop the piece into your mouth, chewing it while making a note to definitely bake more.
He ends the call and puts the phone down on the counter. “These are actually really good,” he says, putting his frosting-covered fingertip to his mouth.
You smile, admiring him and all he’s done and is doing for you. A little overcome with emotions, you place your hand on his shirt, pulling it down slowly at the collar and him toward you. He looks curious, but you focus on his lips. Biting your own, you try not to let the fear of rejection win, and you stand on your toes, and you kiss him carefully.
It’s brief, and it’s sweet, and you can’t help but smile when your heels touch the floor again.
“Thank you.”
He blinks, looking happy but surprised.
“What?” you chuckle a little nervously when he doesn’t say anything.
“Nothing. I just… wasn’t sure you actually liked me. Like, at all.”
You tilt your head, listening to him as he continues.
“I know that we kissed that time on the hammock, but we probably weren’t on the same page then, were we? Cause I thought we were, that we were alone and that we had something, but you… you played along because there were people watching, right? You were still acting while I wasn’t.”
You haven’t thought a lot about that moment, embarrassed about what happened and how you reacted, but he’s right. You were acting. You weren’t sure he was, but if he really wasn’t… What were his motives that night?
“Yeah, but you kinda literally took a sword to the heart for me later, and you’ve been really, really kind and sweet to me ever since.”
He grabs another cupcake, chewing a piece of it with a look on his face that tells you he’s… planning something. You wait, expecting him to say something but he just smiles and lifts the other piece to your mouth. Before you can even decide whether to take a bite or not, he nudges the cupcake against your mouth, getting streaks of frosting across your lips.
“What the…”
But he grins, puts the cupcake down, and smiles in a way that lets you know this was exactly what he wanted. Putting his fingers under your chin to lift your head, he leans down to kiss you. You hold your breath, feeling his soft lips against yours again.
He tastes of frosting and racing heart beats, and you’re pretty sure your cheeks are warmer than usual.
“You don’t need to thank me for that.”
And you feel warm, almost ecstatic, but also like you’ve… forgotten something.
The day after, Jeongguk receives a call that has him hurriedly looking through the house for the keys to his bike, rushing off somewhere after telling you that he’ll probably be back in a few hours. ‘A few hours’ is too vague to really tell you anything, and you’re so used to not asking questions that you don’t think to.
While he’s gone, you decide to start the dishwasher, and you’ve come to learn that Jeongguk always has at least one mug in his office that he’ll keep refilling with coffee way too many times without washing.
Approaching the office, you’re not surprised to see the door to it ajar. It’s rarely closed, and it’s almost like it signifies the transparency between you. Jeongguk doesn’t say much about the case, but it’s not because you can’t know; it’s because he knows you don’t want to know.
Or didn’t want to know. As you’re standing in the quiet room, his blue mug in your hand, you see a disheveled stack of papers. Usually, you would’ve walked past it, or maybe even re-stacked it neatly before walking past it.
This time, Hoseong’s name catches your eye. Of course, it’s not weird considering it’s Jeongguk’s main case, but you still find yourself staring at the printed letters.
Three hours after he left, Jeongguk unlocks his front door, opening it and stepping inside. He sighs at how the people he despises most on the planet always just seem to slip out of his grasp. But when inside, he finds himself easily letting go of that thought and instead thinking about something that has him smiling to himself.
With his shoes and jacket off, he begins his search, expecting to find you either in the living room or your bedroom and getting confused when you aren’t. He peers inside the kitchen and even puts his head into his own bedroom, almost starting to get worried when you’re nowhere to be seen.
He’s about to visit the second bathroom when he passes his office, seeing movement from within the small sliver in the doorway.
“There you are,” he comments happily as he opens the door wider, looking around and taking a moment to process what he’s seeing. “I almost thought you’d evaporated.”
You look up from the floor, where you’re sitting with a bunch of papers spread out in front of you, Jeongguk’s empty cup beside you.
“These are the ones you’re observing?” you ask, lifting a paper toward him, a pen wedged between your index and middle finger.
He takes it from you, quickly reading a summary of months of hard work. “Mhm.”
“Okay,” you say, looking at another paper in your hand, twirling the pen absentmindedly in your other, “I think I have some suggestions.”
After spending hours and hours with Jeongguk, having him explain the progress they’ve made and who they’re investigating, you take a step back to look at the post-its on the living room wall. It has all the fugitives’ relatives, their friends, coworkers, neighbors…. everyone. Since neither of the four men have used their card nor phone, they must’ve almost certainly gotten help, but from who?
You sink down onto the soft cushions of Jeongguk’s couch with a tired sigh, reaching for the remote and smiling when there’s a rerun of a zombie movie.
Jeongguk follows your lead, spreading out as well. “You wanna like… hold hands or something? Cause I could do with a good hand-holding.”
You can’t help but let out a laugh, feeling your chest warm from the inside. It’s so easy for him to make you all giddy, forgetting about all of your pains and worries. Or almost all of them, at least.
Still, you nod, and your smile grows when he scoots closer to you and takes your hand in his warm one.
Even as he directs his focus toward the TV, you keep yours on him. On his tired yet still bright, dark eyes, his nose, the faint hollowness under his cheekbones, and his mouth. His hair is just calling out for you to run your fingers through, but you stand your ground, settling for getting to hold his hand.
“What?” he asks, smiling cheekily at you.
“You asked to hold my hand?” you remind, moving his hand between the two of yours, tracing the veins on the back of it.
“Yeah?”
“It’s cute. You buy flowers and hold hands and open doors.”
Surely, a guy like him can’t exist, right?
“I do. Which reminds me, you were just giving my flowers away?”
He looks at you, faking hurt. Slowly, and with your heart beating hard to nourish the butterflies growing in your stomach, you intertwine your fingers with his. “I didn’t know they were from you; there was never a card or anything.”
“Fine.”
Seemingly accepting your short answer, Jeongguk watches the movie with you for a while in silence, your head coming to rest against the top of his arm. You keep his hand between yours, trying to stay cool despite how being this close to him affects you. There are definitely some sort of butterflies.
“You know what I’ve been thinking about as well?” he mumbles quietly after a while.
“No?”
“At the barbeque, the guy that you were talking to? Who was that? And what did he say?”
You search your mind for a second before it comes back to you; the tall, handsome man who approached you. “I don’t know. He said his name was Haneul, but I don’t think he lived there. I think I heard something about someone having their cousin over or something like that, so I think that was him. Don’t think I saw him again.”
“And what did he say to you? You didn’t look…. very happy.”
You recall the way he felt… off and how he wasted absolutely no time, insulting your husband and offering to take his place. You definitely remember the unfunny feeling of actually wanting to have a rude Jeongguk around just to keep Haneul away.
“Uh, he hit on me.”
“Did you say you were married?”
You scoff. “Yeah, but he didn’t seem to mind. Basically accused you of lacking in bed and offering to take your place in secret.”
“What?” Jeongguk asks, sounding surprised. “He didn’t look that ballsy to me?”
“It was before he saw how intimidating you are.”
“I’m glad it seemed like I scared him off then. If he was bothering you?”
“Yeah…”
“So why didn’t you tell me? When I asked about him? I would’ve kept an even closer eye on you.”
That, you don’t have to search your mind for. You remember very clearly how scared you were that Jeongguk would laugh. Or that he wouldn’t even believe you because after all, why would anyone hit on someone like you? Especially a man who looked like Haneul because creep or not, he was handsome. Like so often, you fill with shame. Embarrassment for who you are and how you look. It’s been surprisingly easy to not focus as much on it, but it will always be at the back of your mind, and this is just a painful reminder.
“I… didn’t think you’d believe me.”
He squeezes your hand, and you hear and feel him sigh sadly. “I’m sorry for being so mean to you and for being such an overall disappointment. I want to think that I sensed that you were scared and that’s why I kept an eye on you after and asked you about it. But I couldn’t even tell that you were afraid of me as well, so I don’t know, honestly.”
“It’s fine…”
“No, it’s not. I guess I hope your future real husband will be better than your fake one,” he jokes in an attempt to lift the mood.
“Oh. I’m not… I don’t think the possibilities of me getting married are very big.”
“Oh? Because you don’t like… men?”
You nearly snort. Honestly, yeah, all of your problems and issues could be summarized into that short sentence.
“Yeah. Unfortunately, I’m not interested in marrying a woman, but I’m not… I’ve never had a relationship of any kind with a man–that went deeper than acquaintances–which didn't leave me hurt in one way or another. And I don’t want to do that anymore.”
“I know you said your dad’s an ass, and I know what happened with Hoseong and us guys at the station, but what… If you want to talk about it, what else…?”
“Who else has hurt me, you mean? It’s complicated, I guess.”
You look down at your intertwined hands, how Jeongguk’s looks so big between yours.
You sigh at the memory of how… non mind-blowing your relationships have been so far. Most guys you’ve dated haven’t made even the slightest of efforts for your birthday–if they even remembered it–or to plan dates of any kind after the first honeymoon months. You’ve tried, but with many men, it feels more like they want a live-in maid, who provides sex. It's definitely a conscious effort, how you try not to match Jeongguk to what your younger self dreamed of in a man.
“You remember… at the house? When you said you loved your ex, and I laughed because you’re a man and not capable of love?”
“Yeah.”
“I think that sums it up. My dad didn’t care for my mom or me, he only returned when his new, younger girlfriends–whose bodies weren’t ruined by childbearing–grew tired of his disrespectful, old ass. He knew that she still loved him, and he took advantage of that. I guess I was a little weary around men from a young age after that, but still hopeful that there could be good men out there too. Then I started dating and noticed pretty quickly that… I wasn’t really important like I’d hoped. I wanted dates–even just a picnic in the park occasionally–and I guess I took birthday celebrations–of any kind–for granted. One guy got me a bunch of candy he knew I didn’t like, so he could eat it himself, and another guy entirely forgot it was my birthday even though his was ten days before, and I got him a relatively expensive watch he’d been wanting. One guy did take me out to eat at a pretty nice restaurant, but he was also shamelessly checking out the waitress right in front of me. I saw my friends be treated the same way, and we all just… kept trying. One of my friends was in a relationship for four years, and he was a real sweetheart; made time for her, got her flowers, gave her compliments, all that. Then she discovered he’d been cheating since day one. It wasn’t until Hoseong that I truly decided it wasn’t worth it.”
“You shouldn’t give up hope.”
“It’s easy for you to say, Jeongguk. You’re a man. Your fellow men look out for you and women still care for you. And to be honest… like I said, what happened to me… it’s not something you just move past. Wherever I go, I know that practically every man I meet on the street could decide to hurt me just because he wants to. And it would be up to him, the fate of my entire life is in the hands of every random guy I pass. If he wanted to kill me, there isn’t much I could do. Not only do I know that theoretically speaking, most of them are stronger than me and don’t care what happens to me, but I know the feeling of having it happen.”
“I understand,” he assures softly, squeezing your hand, “I didn’t mean it in a ‘get over it’ way, just that I know there are men out there who would treat you like an equal partner and who would like to do those things you described that you used to want.”
“Yeah. Maybe. I don’t know, it just isn’t worth the risk for me. Romantic love isn’t everything.”
There is still a trace of pity in the look he gives you when you smile sadly at him.
After brushing your teeth and changing into your sleepwear, you find yourself outside the door to your bedroom. The storm has passed, so you definitely should go back to sleeping in your own room.
As if he could read your mind, Jeongguk, on his way to his bedroom, slows down as he passes you. He turns, looks at you and smiles gently as he continues to back toward his door. “You don’t need an excuse, you know? If you want to sleep in your room, that’s fine, but I can’t say I’m not hoping you’ll sleep with me.”
You lift your eyebrows at him, as if to say ‘oh, really?’ He should definitely stop saying ‘sleep with me.’
He shrugs, “I like having you close.”
For half a second, you shut your eyes, realizing you have no defense against him. So you open them, sighing and dropping your shoulders before following him with some species of critter in your stomach. He chuckles.
<previous | next>
author's note: please let me know if you like it! i feel like this part was really important and it was definitely hard to write because fortunately(!!!) i have not experienced what reader has and while i did my best to portray it how i think someone could react and deal with stuff like this, at the end of the day, i don't actually know and i'd hate if it comes off as wrong or glamorizing in any way. if it does, that is 1000% not my intention. on a lighter note; this is very much a calm before a storm lol
Yoongi’s a murder detective fighting burnout when he’s assigned the case that you and your former partner fucked up.
Paring: Yoongi x f! Reader
Genre: Detectives!Yoongi and reader
Rating: 18+
Word count: 6.6k
Warnings: Swearing, descriptions of murder, bloodshed and assault, sex, depression and burnout, mentions of guns
The flashing blue lights in Yoongi’s window are followed by the wail of sirens cutting through the early evening bustle.
Yoongi looks out the window. He’s three floors up from street level, there’s raindrops tracking along the dirty glass, the faint smell of mildew that accompanies any rainfall in this filthy city.
Under the table, his good leather shoes, the ones he saves for weddings and funerals, have rubbed a hole in the skin over his achilles. Yoongi had worn them for his disciplinary hearing today, the part of him that still wants to be a cop temporarily winning over the part of him that doesn’t.
He wonders if this is what burnout feels like.
His superior, Kim Namjoon, had called him into his office after the hearing to tell him he was on probation, to clean up his act because he wouldn’t be so lucky as to get off next time.
The truth is, Yoongi had known while he was pressing the suspect’s face into gravel with his booted foot that it would come back to bite him on the ass.
He’d done it anyway.
Yoongi’s never been kind to scum who exploit children, but his partner, Jung Hoseok, had seen something in Yoongi’s face that day that had made him report Yoongi.
Yoongi doesn’t blame him. Hoseok has been his partner on and off for five years and he’s as sterling as they come. His moral compass is as strong as it was the day they graduated from the academy, despite all the fucked up shit they’ve seen.
Unlike Yoongi.
Yoongi was never black and white to begin with and now he’s so far into the grey he scares himself sometimes. It’s never been his goal to be the kind of cop who metes out his own justice.
Only madness lies that way.
Anyway now Hoseok’s been reassigned temporarily to narcotics, supposedly a break from homicide, and Yoongi’s partnerless.
Probably not for long, there’s always some hungry rookie wanting the credibility of working homicide.
Yoongi sighs, closes the file he’d been skimming. It’s well past seven, there aren’t any open cases that need his immediate attention and he figures he might as well go home to his apartment and his cat, Kenzo.
The pavement’s slippery under the smooth soles of his good shoes, Yoongi pulls his coat tighter against the early autumn chill as he walks the five blocks to his apartment.
The smell of fried wontons fills his nostrils as he passes a conduit street in the back end of Little China, Yoongi’s tempted to stop and pick up dinner.
He’s tempted every time and succumbed yesterday so he soldiers on, not without a pang of regret. He regrets food choices because he’d rather that, than think about his actual regrets.
The bang of a gunshot when he’d been two minutes too late to what then became a crime scene.
Fucking some girl with a cute face because he hadn’t been man enough to treat Mara the way she deserved.
Choosing to stay in homicide even after it had become clear to him that he had plumbed the depths of human depravity. Scarring his psyche repeatedly because it’s easier than making the active choice to request a transfer.
Yoongi unlocks his door, toes his shoes off, hangs up his coat.
There’s a flicker of movement in the corner of his eye, a flash of grey fur as Kenzo skitters across the entryway, close but not touching him.
It’s the kind of greeting Yoongi can get behind.
He pours out a serving of dry food into Kenzo’s dish, heads to the fridge to reheat yesterday’s wontons.
Eats standing at the tiny kitchen island, cracks open a beer to wash it all down.
He catches sight of his face, pinched in the scowl it seems to fall into more often than not these days.
Jesus, is he getting old?
Yoongi avoids looking at his reflection again as he showers. Changes into the same t-shirt he’s been wearing for weeks, contemplates watching porn just to take the edge off, but decides he can’t be bothered.
He falls into sleep, deep and dreamless, wakes up with an almighty crick in his neck just before dawn from the way he’d been huddled in a tight ball under the covers.
He knows he’s not right, but he’s been not right for so long Yoongi wouldn’t even know where to start putting himself together again.
***
Redemption comes in odd packages, Yoongi thinks, as he looks up a case he worked on six months ago, a shady businessman on the fringe of organised crime who’d got high as a kite and beat a sex worker to death.
He’d been killed on the way to serving out his sentence in the cushy prison in Busan his fancy lawyer had managed to negotiate, crushed in the back of the transport vehicle when it had been t-boned by a lorry.
Apparently a freak accident, Yoongi doubts it but he’s also not going to look too closely, it’s out of his jurisdiction and he’s too jaded to mourn the loss of another brutal asshole. They’d had to identify the sex worker by her dental records and DNA, her face had been unrecognisable.
There’s a knock on the frosted glass panel on his office door, Yoongi looks up as Kim Namjoon walks in, followed by the latest hungry rookie angling for a stint in homicide.
‘Min Yoongi, this is Y/N L/N,’ Namjoon says. ‘She’s a new transfer in from the Seoul branch.’
Yoongi doesn’t have to fake his disinterest as he nods politely at you.
‘What’s the case?’ he asks.
Namjoon looks pointedly at the crime scene photo blown up on Yoongi’s screen.
Yoongi waits.
He can feel your gaze on him, but he’ll get to that later.
The anticipation of a new case never gets old, he’s been in homicide since he graduated off the beat ten years ago and he no longer thinks it’s sick of him to get excited about another murder.
It’s the thrill of the hunt that he lives for, the translation of nebulous facts and witness statements into a puzzle that he can solve.
Yoongi’s damn good at his job. It almost makes the sacrifices in the rest of his so-called life worth it.
Namjoon hands Yoongi a case file, crisp, sharp edges waiting to razor his fingertips open. Flat.
Inside, the standard cover page, then a note that makes Yoongi sit up straight out of his slouch.
He looks at Namjoon to find Namjoon’s already looking at him.
‘The reaper of Seoul?’
Yoongi realises as he says the words out loud how it sounds.
The capture and subsequent conviction of the serial killer who’d terrorised the citizens of Seoul for three years had made headlines nationwide.
Last year.
‘Yeah,’ Namjoon says, the tension in his jaw evident now that Yoongi’s looking at him properly.
Namjoon glances at you. ‘It would seem he never left.’
You shift your weight and your eyes meet Yoongi’s.
‘My partner and I broke the case,’ you say. There’s a brittle smoothness to your voice that Yoongi recognises as a paper thin facade over the hauntedness underneath. ‘Turns out we didn’t.’
***
The note in the case file is a single sheet of letter paper, lined in blue.
The handwriting is precise, neat between the lines.
Oh dear.
Better luck this time?
Best regards from your neighbourhood Reaper.
Yoongi looks at you, sitting across the room at the desk Hoseok’s temporarily vacated.
You’re staring at your screen, face backlit in blue, expression unreadable. You’re in black, nondescript knitwear, your hair pushed back from your face, eyes narrowed.
He clears his throat. ‘You worked the case with your partner.’
It’s a statement you answer to like a question.
‘It was the first case I picked up when I joined homicide,’ you say, turning to Yoongi. ‘It started with -‘
‘Kim Seulgi,’ Yoongi says.
You nod, almost grimacing at the name of the Seoul Reaper’s first high profile victim.
‘Her family wanted answers.’
Kim Seulgi had been born of Seoul’s elite, an architect with her grandfather’s firm who had picked up a number of accolades for her work on the National Opera House.
She’d been engaged to an equally accomplished classical pianist, Jeong Minho, and had been the only offspring of her wealthy parents.
She’d disappeared three days before her wedding, only to turn up on her wedding day, floating in the Hangang, dressed in the clothes she’d disappeared in.
You say, ‘She was an ambitious first target.’
‘Was she the first?’ Yoongi asks.
The flicker in your eyes tells him this isn’t the first time you’ve considered this.
‘My partner Kiho.’ There’s strain in your voice. You start again. ‘My partner, Kiho, and I thought he’d killed before.’
You shrug. ‘The captain felt we were wasting time looking back into his early years.’
Yoongi says, neutral, ‘Budgets are limited, your case must have passed the thresholds for plausible deniability.’
‘It seemed to fit,’ you agree.
Your eyes meet again. ‘Not all of it, though.’
Yoongi knows, intimately, what it’s like to not be certain. Sometimes all you have is your instinct. It’s one thing to build a case no reasonable person would doubt, but you’re also betting on your gut. You’re betting on being a good enough detective to know that the pieces fit, without forcing them to fit.
You’re betting on being honest with yourself, and Yoongi knows more than anyone how tempting the lies can be.
Now you’re the one watching him, taking the measure of him.
His email pings.
‘That’s the link to the full case file,’ you say.
You get up, carry a stack of notebooks to his desk.
‘Our notebooks,’ you say.
Yoongi looks at the stack.
Every cop’s got their own collection of notebooks, raw data and impressions that don’t always make it into official reports.
The equivalent of dirty underwear when you’re not expecting company versus lingerie when you’re down to fuck.
This close, he can smell your shampoo, bright and faintly floral.
You blink at him.
‘I need to sort something with human resources,’ you say. ‘I’ll see you later.’
In actual fact it’s 36 hours later when he next sees you, at 4am, at a crime scene.
***
The rain falling is more than a drizzle, enough that the tent around the victim is the first priority.
There’s an imprint of violence in the air, Yoongi knows you feel it too by the way your lips tighten as you duck under the yellow tape to join him.
You nod at him in greeting, then there’s silence as you enter the tent.
The victim’s on her front, face turned to the right, hand tucked under her cheek.
She hasn’t been dead long enough for livedo to set in, she would almost look asleep if it weren’t for the purple of her lips, the greyness to her complexion.
The bath of blood she’s lying in.
Yoongi can just see the edge of the gaping wound on her neck.
You wait until forensics turns her body over.
The top three buttons of her silk blouse are undone, her chest slick with blood.
Yoongi’s reading the crime scene like he’s reading you, and he knows what you’re going to say before you say it.
‘It’s him,’ you breathe. The devastation in your eyes makes it difficult for him to look at you. ‘Fuck, it’s him.’
***
You’re shivering visibly despite the hot coffee Yoongi’s poured you, despite the fact that he’s turned the heating in his ancient Hyundai up as far as it’ll go.
There are droplets of water in your hair, sparkling incongruously in the gloom.
You’re waiting till first light to knock on neighbourhood doors, the victim was found in a quiet cul-de-sac.
Two minutes from her own front door.
Not much chills Yoongi these days but that fact does make him pause.
The audacity of it.
He says, ‘I have a blanket in the trunk.’
You’re protesting but Yoongi gets back out in the rain anyway, grabs the blanket and gets back in.
Hands it to you, takes your cup as you drape the blanket around yourself.
‘It gets colder here than Seoul,’ Yoongi offers, handing you your coffee back.
‘We fucked it up,’ you say, and Yoongi knows that’s what you’ve been thinking since you saw the body.
He’s just been waiting for you to be ready to say it.
‘So make it right,’ he says, simple.
‘An innocent man’s in prison because Kiho and I fucked up,’ you say.
Yoongi doesn’t want to minimise it but he doubts the man you put away was completely innocent.
‘I read your notebooks,’ he says. ‘Who’s Jeon Bogyeol?’
There had been twelve murders before the arrest. All women in their late twenties to mid thirties, all living alone.
They’d all lived in the same part of Seoul, but apart from that there was nothing to link them that he could find.
You look at him warily. ‘He was a night watchman at the apartments of seven of the women.’
Yoongi waits.
‘We cross-referenced staff at all the addresses, and his name kept coming up. Like Jang Daeseong.’
You flinch at the name of the man convicted of the murders, as though it didn’t fall from your own lips.
You keep talking, though, your voice never faltering. ‘We never found any links between Jeon Bogyeol and the other five women.’
‘Did he have a history?’ Yoongi asks. He’s looking out the window at the first rays of sunrise, muted orange through the rain. His shoulder aches, an old injury he doesn’t think about except when he’s tired, and cold.
‘There was a neighbour,’ you say. You’re chewing on your bottom lip, a tell Yoongi’s noticed for the first time tonight.
‘She called the police once saying she’d seen Bogyeol taking a woman into his apartment against her will.’
You’re frowning. ‘The beat cops who responded to the call out said there was no sign of anyone else in his apartment. The neighbour moved away.’
‘Moved away?’ Yoongi asks, and you glance at him, understanding the sharpness in his tone.
‘I was going to look into it when the Chief shut us down,’ you say. It’s stated simply, like a fact, no sign of defensiveness.
Yoongi offers you more coffee from his flask.
‘Where’s Bogyeol now?’
‘When the new letter came in I looked him up,’ you say. The steam rising from your cup obscures part of your expression for a moment, but Yoongi can hear the tremor in your voice.
‘He’s less than fifty miles east of here.’
Dawn’s breaking, the rain’s finally starting to peter out, but Yoongi’s chilled anyway.
***
The morning sun is high in the sky by the time Yoongi and you finish interviewing the neighbours and the new victim’s friends and family.
Yoongi’s phone rings. It’s Namjoon.
‘Can you talk?’ Namjoon asks.
Yoongi mouths ‘Namjoon’ in response to your inquiring expression, puts some distance between you and him.
‘Yeah,’ he answers.
‘The post-mortem results are back, and the preliminary tox screen is negative. The ME’s put the cause of death as exsanguination.’
Yoongi processes this. ‘It’s the same MO as the previous Seoul reaper victims,’ he says.
Namjoon sighs. ‘Has anything new come out of your interviews?’
‘No,’ Yoongi says. The victim had been well-liked, none of the neighbours had seen or heard anything, and on the surface of it there were no conflicts he could see. Her boyfriend of two years had been away on a work trip, his location confirmed around the window of the crime.
Yoongi’s looking at you as you wait against the car, and when your name comes out of Namjoon’s mouth he’s already got an inkling of what Namjoon wants to know.
‘I reviewed the case,’ Namjoon says. ‘There are no obvious flaws or errors in their investigation.’
Yoongi grunts. ‘There was a lead that they didn’t follow up on.’
He fills Namjoon in.
‘I’ll follow it up.’
Namjoon says, thoughtfully, ‘I wonder where her partner’s working now.’
Yoongi’s surprised Namjoon doesn’t already know, to be honest, he’s always two steps ahead of Yoongi.
He flicks his gaze to you again. You’re still waiting against the car, and there’s a loneliness to your posture, a fatigued downturn to your mouth that makes him say, ‘Hey Joon, I’ll call you back, ok?’
He ends the call, unlocks the car.
‘We should get back and compare notes,’ Yoongi says. His voice has dropped the way it does when he’s tired, and shit, he is tired. He hasn’t slept well for a while.
‘Let me drive,’ you offer. You take his keys, and your fingers brush his for an instant.
The contact, brief though it is, makes Yoongi’s skin tingle.
He wonders if you notice his reaction, but you’re already sliding in, adjusting the seat, starting up the car.
***
Yoongi wakes when you’re parking the car, sits up, a little embarrassed.
‘I’m sorry,’ he says, looking to gauge your reaction.
‘Don’t be,’ you reply. ‘I would have done the same if you’d driven.’
There’s a hint of mischief in the curve of your half-smile.
‘You mumble in your sleep.’
Yoongi rubs a hand over his face. ‘What’d I say?’
‘I couldn’t make out any words,’ you tell him, but there’s a twinkle in your eye that makes him wonder if that’s really true.
Mara is the only person who’s shared his bed in recent years, and she’d never mentioned anything.
You swipe your ID to get into the station, hit the lifts.
In the dire grey lighting you look almost as tired as he does.
‘Coffee?’ Yoongi offers, when you pass the vending machine on the way to the office.
‘Yeah,’ you say. You’re on your phone, frowning over a text.
Yoongi passes you a cup.
‘Problem?’ he asks.
‘Kiho,’ you say. You look at him. ‘My old partner. He wants to meet up.’
‘It’d be useful to talk through the case with him,’ Yoongi agrees.
Your expression is difficult to read. ‘He’s in a retreat a couple hours drive from here. He took time off after we closed the case.’
Yoongi gulps his coffee. ‘There isn’t anything else we can do here anyway, we’re waiting on leads.’
He reaches out his hand for the car keys. ‘I can drive.’
***
The retreat Kiho is staying in is set amongst the foothills of a mountain, rolling grounds all around, a view of the cliffs overlooking the sea.
It seems to Yoongi like a place only the very rich or the very damaged would live.
Unless you get better pay packets in Seoul he’s apprehensive about meeting Kiho.
You sign in at the front desk, the receptionist greets you warmly, like she’s met you a few times before.
You lead Yoongi through a huge lounge, through open patio doors and into a green. Yoongi’s looking around at the residents, scanning the area the way he does automatically whenever he’s in an unfamiliar place.
You’re waving a hand, and then you’re embracing a tall man tightly. Neither of you say anything but Yoongi can see the way your shoulders slump, like the tension’s draining out of you.
It’s only when the tall man looks up at Yoongi inquiringly that Yoongi notices the long scar running along his neck. Tracing the path of his jugular, vertical rather than horizontal.
Kiho extends a hand.
‘So you’re going to get our guy,’ he says.
Yoongi doesn’t know what to say to that.
‘We’re going to get him,’ he says, finally.
Kiho turns to you. ‘You haven’t told him,’ he says to you.
You’re looking at Yoongi.
‘We can tell him now.’
***
‘I started getting notes after Jang Daeseong was convicted,’ you say. You’re sitting in a gazebo with Yoongi and Kiho, mugs of coffee in front of you.
Yoongi raises an eyebrow.
You flick your eyes to his, then look away, unlock your phone.
Yoongi takes your phone, scrolls through a gallery of pictures.
Lined paper, handwriting he’s seen before.
Yoongi reads through the content, then returns your phone to you.
‘The originals are with forensics,’ you tell him. ‘The paper and ink are generic, impossible to trace. There’s no trace of DNA, not so much as a partial print.’
‘The notes stopped coming last month,’ you say. ‘Right around the time I moved.’
Kiho’s scratching his neck absently, Yoongi catches how your gaze drops to his scar.
The length of it’s longer than a stab wound, he thinks the surgeons might have had to extend the scar to repair the vessels beneath.
You turn to Yoongi.
‘We have to stop him,’ you say. ‘Use me to lure him out.’
‘He nearly killed me,’ Kiho says. His expression is sober, his tone flat.
He stops there, but Yoongi can hear his next words, loud and clear.
What’s he going to do to you?
‘We can’t let him keep going like this,’ you say, very gently.
Kiho meets Yoongi’s gaze.
Yoongi doesn’t falter.
‘He has to be stopped,’ he agrees.
***
The drive back to the police station goes quicker - there’s something about seeing your old partner that’s given you a bump of energy.
Yoongi can practically feel the adrenaline fizzing in your blood, coming off you in waves.
He’s worried about the crash when the adrenaline ebbs.
He sure as fuck hopes you can cope with the lows better than he can.
He’d put in a call before you left the retreat, Namjoon’s fast tracking a last known address on the neighbour of Jeon Bogyeol who’d moved away.
You’re typing an address into the satnav yourself, face drawn, eyes serious.
Yoongi doesn’t have to ask whose address it is.
‘Are you sure you’re up to this?’ he asks.
His voice is as neutral as he can make it but he already knows that you’ve made your decision.
It’s written all over you, in the way your shoulders are squared, in the tilt of your chin, in the way your hands are tensed into fists in your lap.
‘I need to see this through, Yoongi,’ you say.
Yoongi takes a moment.
‘What happened to Kiho?’ he asks.
‘He didn’t see who it was,’ you answer. Your eyes are fixed in front of you, jaw tensed.
‘He was heading home in between shifts and he got jumped in the car park under his apartment. If he hadn’t been found by the car park attendant —‘ you voice trails off, and you shiver.
‘He was lucky the car park attendant called for help right away. That his next door neighbour, fresh off a shift in the trauma department, arrived home when she did and was there to take over. That he lives five minutes on blue lights away from the best trauma centre in Seoul.’
You look at Yoongi. ‘Kiho’s damned lucky to be alive.’
‘It’s a different injury from the reaper’s usual MO,’ Yoongi says slowly.
You nod. ‘He was toying with us.’
‘You said you received notes from the Reaper,’ Yoongi says. He’s watching you carefully in the rearview. ‘What did they say?’
Your lips press together in a line, but your voice is steady when you answer.
‘He said he’d been watching me, and that he was coming for me. That I’d be his final kill.’
***
The address you’ve put in for Jeon Bogyeol is a house in a run down suburban neighbourhood, the type of place Yoongi grew up.
The houses are haphazardly arranged, like a careless scatter on a Monopoly board, connected by a warren of roads too narrow for more than one car to pass.
Yoongi can see you tensing up the closer you get to your destination, and after he parks and switches off the engine, he places his hand on your arm.
Your eyes are expressive, more so than your voice.
‘We haven’t got grounds yet for an arrest warrant,’ you say, flat.
‘We’re working the case,’ Yoongi replies. ‘And if it’s right, we’ll work it until it’s airtight.’
Your response is to stare at him a moment, then to push open the car door.
Yoongi notices that you’ve unzipped your jacket, making your holstered gun more visible.
His own gun presses against his hip, the weight of it reminding him that although he’s only drawn it a handful of times, each time has been with intent.
He sure as fuck hopes neither of you will have reason to draw your gun today.
***
The address is little more than a shack, a rickety door that looks like it’ll give under a strong kick, a boarded up window that’s visibly cracked.
Yoongi knocks, identifies you both.
Follows procedure because he’s determined to get it all right this time.
Get the monster locked up where he belongs.
You don’t have grounds to break down the door, at least not until you go round to the back and see the pink tricycle upended in the dirt, streamers splayed tendrils of pink and white.
There isn’t much that sends Yoongi into the grey as much as the suggestion that a child might be involved.
He doesn’t really recall looking at you to confirm, just knows that one minute he’s outside in the chill and the next he’s inside the shack, gun drawn, the metallic tang of blood in the back of his throat.
There’s nowhere to hide in the empty shack, Jeon Bogyeol is gone.
You do a cursory search but both of you know you aren’t going to find your answers here.
Then Yoongi must blank out, because the next thing he hears is your voice, firm, saying his name.
He’s panting, covered in sweat, back against a wall, your hands grabbing fistfuls of his jacket to keep him upright.
He blinks, and you snap into focus. There’s ringing in his ears.
Your mouth opens, and the ringing stops. He hears your voice.
‘Let’s go, Yoongi.’
He lets you lead him out, folds himself into the passenger seat of your car, notes distantly how you put your hand on the top of the doorframe like you’re worried he’s going to bang his head.
You start the engine and then you drive, and Yoongi’s grateful that you don’t say anything at all, don’t ask for an explanation of why a fucking tricycle sent him into a tailspin.
Yoongi looks down in his lap because he’s not ready to see if you’re looking at him differently now that you’ve seen him wig out.
You put the radio on after a few minutes, stop at a drive thru after an hour.
It’s only when you hand him a coffee, silently, that he’s moved to speak.
He clears his throat, and you’re the one who speaks, still looking straight ahead, out the windscreen.
‘You don’t have to tell me. I mean, I’ll listen if you do, but you don’t have to.’
Yoongi chews on that a moment.
‘Three years ago I worked what we thought was a murder in Busan. It turned out to be an abduction.’
Yoongi laughs. There’s no humour in it.
‘We found her. She was still warm. If we’d been ten minutes quicker at figuring it out, if her fucking dad had told us about the business deal he had that had gone sour sooner, if I’d even just tried harder…’
His voice trails off.
He risks a glance at you.
You’re still not looking at him.
‘I can’t speak to whether you could have prevented it, Yoongi. All I know is that none of us come to work to do a bad job.’
Your hand lands on his forearm briefly.
‘Some days are just bad days at the office.’
It’s not the first time Yoongi’s heard it, but it’s the first time it’s been said to him with no judgement that he can hear.
***
When you get back to the precinct, Namjoon’s waiting.
He hands Yoongi another case file.
‘I got Jimin to follow up on those leads we talked about,’ Namjoon says, no preamble.
‘We visited Jeon Bogyeol’s last known address,’ you say. ‘There’s no one there now, but it hasn’t been long since he moved out.’
Namjoon says, ‘Keep me informed.’
He nods to the case file. ‘There’s some interesting information in there.’
As Namjoon walks off, you turn to Yoongi.
‘I’m going down to visit someone I know in forensics, see if they can check the house.’
Yoongi heads for your joint office.
There’s a cleaning cart parked just outside the door, which opens just as Yoongi reaches for the doorknob.
The cleaner apologises and bows politely.
Yoongi steps aside to let her pass.
‘You forgot this,’ he says, spotting the dusting cloth left on your desk.
He hands it to her and places the file on his desk.
Outside, it’s raining again.
***
Yoongi wakes with a jolt.
You’re perched on the edge of his desk.
‘You should go home, get some sleep.’
‘In the middle of an active murder investigation?’ Yoongi mumbles.
‘I’m one of the potential targets, remember?’ you say, grimacing. ‘He might come to us.’
At Yoongi’s expression, you say, ‘We’ve been doing nothing but following up leads since the last murder. The last investigation took months, almost a year. What are you going to do, not sleep until he’s caught?’
‘I don’t sleep much anyway,’ Yoongi says, but he knows you’re right.
‘I know you don’t,’ you reply. There’s an empathy in your tone that reminds him you’re a homicide detective too.
You exchange a look, and then you both speak at the same time.
‘I should go —‘
‘Do you like wontons?’ Yoongi blurts out.
You raise an eyebrow. ‘Is this like inviting me in for ramen?’
‘What?’ Yoongi splutters. ‘No, not like that. There’s this place I go. They have—-‘
‘Wontons, I get it,’ you say. You get up. ‘Yeah. Let’s go.’
***
It’s been a while since Yoongi shared a meal with someone else, the last person was Hoseok, who could go straight from a crime scene to a steakhouse without turning a hair.
You’re chasing a wonton around your plate, fatigue lining the corners of your mouth.
Yoongi asks, ‘Where do you live?’
‘The other side of town,’ you tell him. ‘Near the financial district.’
‘Fancy,’ Yoongi muses.
‘More than I can afford,’ you say darkly. ‘If this case goes on for a while I’m going to need to move.’
You look up at him. ‘Where do you live?’
‘Close to here,’ Yoongi says.
‘Yeah?’
You put your chopsticks down. ‘I should —-‘
This time, Yoongi interrupts.
‘Do you want to come round for ramen?’
Your eyes meet, and there’s a beat of silence. Then a pulse of connection that sends heat through Yoongi’s veins.
Your knee brushes his under the table.
‘Yeah,’ you answer, deliberate. ‘Fuck, yeah.’
***
Yoongi’s always hated the preamble to a hookup, in his line of work uncertainty is a thing to be avoided.
You work the case until you get an explanation no reasonable person would doubt.
He finds himself waiting, though, now that you’re standing in his apartment.
You’re looking around, and he wonders if his existence seems as lonely on the outside as it feels on the inside.
He’s wondering if you’ve changed your mind, if you really did think he meant ramen, when you reach out and grasp the front of his shirt.
Slip the tips of your fingers just under, hold the placket as you use your other hand to unbutton. Start at his throat, work your way down, slowly.
His skin prickles under the warmth of your fingers.
You lean forward and press a kiss to the base of his neck.
Yoongi reaches up, slides a hand around the nape of your neck, and you tilt your face to his.
Close up, you’re soft.
Yoongi traces your bottom lip with his thumb, and your lips part.
You don’t say anything, though, and that’s ok, because Yoongi thinks you’re as talked out as he is.
It’s been a hell of a fucking day.
You’re kissing his neck again, instead of his mouth, and that’s ok, because this isn’t love, it’s comfort.
A human connection in a day filled with monsters.
Yoongi sighs as your hands slip over his bare chest, round to his back.
He helps you lift your top over your head, admires your breasts, nipples pressing against the fabric of your bra.
He cups the weight of them in his hands, and you moan.
Yoongi’s cock is filling out, and you’re undoing his belt like you want to see for yourself.
You drop to your knees in front of him, press your mouth onto the length of him over his boxer briefs, sigh with pleasure.
‘Not too much,’ Yoongi warns, ‘not if you want me to fuck you.’
You look up at him, hair mussed, a smile curving your lips.
You tug his boxer briefs down, and Yoongi curls a hand around himself so as not to hit you in the face.
‘Just let me —‘
You open your mouth to take him in, and Yoongi groans at the feel of your warmth.
When did he last —
His crown nudges the back of your throat, and you swallow, and he loses his train of thought.
He grabs your shoulder, tugs you up, kisses the smear of his own stickiness at the corner of your mouth.
The light slanting in through the window is hues of gold and orange, filling in the hollows of your face, outlining the curves of your body.
Yoongi has to stop looking at you because he doesn’t want to cry at how much he’s missed being close to someone like this.
‘Where do you want me?’ he asks, voice taut.
‘Anywhere,’ you say. ‘Just turn these fucking lights out.’
***
In the dark, Yoongi’s most enraptured by the warmth of you.
Your skin is smooth, so soft under his hands as he wraps his fingers around the curve of your hips.
His cock glides in and out of the heat between your legs, and your moans are beautiful but what really gets him are the hitches in your breathing as he moves.
He turns you over, onto your back, and you pull him to you. Your mouth opens on his shoulder in what would be a kiss if you weren’t biting down. Your tongue flicks over his bruised skin, an apology.
You haven’t spoken to each other in words in a while but Yoongi doesn’t think either of you need words right now.
At least he doesn’t.
You’re tightening around his cock now, your cries quickening until you gasp his name in a tone that makes him grunt and his hips jerk, taking him deep as he can go.
Even in his pleasure he makes sure not to crush you as he collapses next to you.
Then you’re up, walking over to the window, pulling up the sash, lighting a cigarette without asking if he’s ok with it.
Yoongi admires the outline of your profile against the glass.
‘I needed that,’ you say, taking a drag, hunching a little to blow smoke out of his window.
‘Me too,’ Yoongi says, honestly.
He ties off the condom, gets up to toss it in the trash on top of yesterday’s takeout.
Pours you a glass of water on his way back to bed.
He half expects you to be dressed, and you are, but in his clothes, not your own, an old t-shirt he’d tossed on the chair by the bed yesterday morning before he left for work.
He can’t see your face clearly in the dark. It makes it easy to find his voice.
‘You should stay,’ he says. ‘We can get coffee in the morning.’
You’re quiet. ‘I want to.’
Yoongi climbs into bed, and after a moment you slide in next to him.
Your bodies aren’t touching at all, but somehow having you there with him is enough.
Yoongi means to check on you, but he’s asleep so quickly he doesn’t get a chance to.
***
There’s a basketball hoop set into the wall in the back end of the station, a concrete square with a chain-link fence.
The building opposite is a block of offices, as is the building next to it.
Yoongi makes the shot, and you grab the ball on its first bounce.
You say, ‘Forensics got nothing from Jeon Bogyeol’s shack. He bleached the shit out of the place before he left.’
Yoongi grunts, watches you point and shoot.
He’d read through the file Namjoon gave him on the neighbour - it’s incomplete but she was last seen alive twelve weeks ago in a coastal town.
There’s something niggling at the back of his brain, he’d suggested shooting hoops in the hopes that the activity might shake the thought loose so his conscious mind can make the connection.
His phone vibrates in his pocket.
Namjoon.
‘I’m going up to see Namjoon,’ he says. ‘You coming?’
‘I’ll stay here for a bit,’ you say. ‘I’ll be up in a sec.’
Yoongi shrugs, lets himself back in.
Takes the stairs up to Namjoon’s office on the third floor.
There’s a cleaning cart parked next to the staff kitchen as he rounds the corner.
Yoongi’s about to knock on Namjoon’s door when his scattered thoughts crystallise.
The case file Namjoon had given him had a grainy photo of Jeon Bogyeol’s neighbour, the one who’d reported him and then disappeared.
He’s seen her face before, and recently.
Coming out of your office.
‘Fuck,’ he swears.
He grabs his phone out of his pocket, dials your number.
Your phone rings, and rings.
Yoongi takes off, down the stairs, back the way he came.
By the time he bursts out of the back door of the station, gun drawn, his heart’s thumping triple speed, but his hand is steady as he aims it at the man with a knife standing over you.
His finger goes from trigger guard to trigger.
‘Fucking drop it,’ Yoongi warns.
He doesn’t, so Yoongi shoots.
***
Jeon Bogyeol’s neighbour who had reported him was called Seo Hyerin.
She was in her early forties, an ex-teacher who he’d coerced into helping him by turning up at her new place even after she’d moved to get away from him.
She’d been too scared to disobey him, but in forcing her to help him, Jeon Bogyeol had given her access to enough information to clinch the case against him.
Once she’d found out he’d been shot and was likely to go straight from hospital to prison, she’d shared all that information with Yoongi and you.
The pieces fell into place so easily there was no need to make any of it fit.
And now Yoongi’s sitting in the kitchen of your apartment, watching as you pack things up.
He’d been right. Your place was fancy.
You were being transferred back to Seoul to finish up, see things through with the case.
He realises you’re looking at him.
‘My new place is a couple hours drive from here,’ you say.
‘Yeah?’ Yoongi says, like he hadn’t already looked it up.
He’d also looked up timed automated cat food dispensers, just because it was one thing to have a neighbour drop in and feed Kenzo if he’s stuck with a case occasionally, but it’s another thing if he’s regularly going to be driving down to see you.
If he’s regularly going to be spending the night away.
It’s uncharacteristic, for him, but he’s hopeful.
‘I slept pretty well that time,’ you say, looking down into your box.
You look up at him, and the curve of your lips makes Yoongi think to himself that he’d like to kiss you, sometime.
‘In your apartment,’ you clarify, like he wouldn’t already know.
‘I make good ramen,’ Yoongi says. ‘I can make it again for you, you know.’
3tan717 drabble #1: would u?
pairing: 3tan!yoongi x reader(f)
series: masterlist | three tangerines | 3tan717
rating/genre: pg (18+) ; fluff ; brother’s best friend au, implied age gap au
summary: you see a certain fruit-centered trend online.. and decide to test it on yoongi
note: i am so so so sorry this is out on the very last day of feb but things have been absolute bananas lately! tbh i’m surprised this is even getting posted on time and i have even more to do after this is shared but eff it shibal!!!
note 2: as promised, this is dedicated to the people that submitted the answers i’m using for this drabble: anon, grapes / @yoongrace, and apryl @aprylynn for this idea hehehe! also i literally just finished this so it's legit unedited so i'm sry for any mistakes! off to go prep for events now!
warnings: 3tan yoongi as always, working yoongi??, kitchen, period cramps suck but yoongi to the mf rescue
drop date: feb 29th, 2024, 10:03pm est
word count: 2.3k
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Ugh.
Why does this have to happen every fucking month. Why can’t it happen every three? Or six? Or never ever ever?
Groaning, you roll over, burying your face into the pillow on Yoongi’s side.
To some degree, you feel placated, probably due to his scent still lingering next to your dismay. He had to get up early to finish a track, but he assured you can be in the room.
You can hear a little bit of what he’s working on as it bleeds through his headphones, and even just this sliver of sound gives you chills. Not just because of what it sounds like, but the sole fact that Yoongi’s letting you even listen in the first place.
Huffing out a bit of amusement, you remember the last time Yoongi let you stay while he worked—albeit at his place while he went to the studio.
Damn, how much you’ve grown since then. All those memories, those quiet times and tumultuous times, everything leading up to now. How time has molded you with knowing hands.
However, no matter how much has changed all these months, some things have not wavered, like the fact that you needed to be sure he was okay with it—and his answer making you absurdly shy.
Did he really have to say that you’re either staying or he’s gonna leave? That scheming motherfucker!
Some drum beats hit your cheek before you realize the menace himself is playing multiple different ones. It’s only a couple hits before he moves onto the next, and you’re about to lift your hea—
“Fuck, where the hell is that kick?”
Your laugh is stifled by cotton. As tickled as you are to hear Yoongi like this, you don’t wanna do anything to distract him.
But by doing so, that causes your body to tighten and fuck, it hurts. It hurts to move, it hurts to laugh, it hurts to just exist. God, you want him to come back and join you so bad, but you don’t wanna be that person.
…Yet. Maybe if it gets so bad you can’t even sleep?
“Found you! Fucking finally. Thought you could hide from me, huh?”
Oh, fucking hell, he’s adorable.
Yeah, there’s no way you’re making him drop everything right now. This is too precious of an afternoon to stop.
Exhaling a mile long breath, you fight through your pain and feel for your phone, groaning as you shift yourself. When in position under sheets and warm sunlight, you cycle through apps as a distraction.
Scrolling. Scrolling. Smiling at some animal videos a bit before scrolling again.
After all of five minutes, you start to see a trend on your feed, and suddenly get the idea to try it on Yoongi. It’s simple and harmless, right?
You [3:30pm]: would u peel an orange for me
Yoongi doesn’t say anything, and you lift your head slightly to see if he looks at his phone.
When he does, he checks it really quick before setting it back down on his desk, back to clicking on his screen.
Ah. Damn. He must really be in the zone because…
Uhh.
Blinking, you watch as Yoongi rolls his chair out to get up, setting his glasses down and heading out of the room with a light swing of his chains.
Uh. What just happened? Did you upset him? You’re so stunned that his swift exit has you wanting to get up and follow him.
But ow. Ouch. It’s maddening how much your cramps are getting to you.
Bearing the punches to your gut, you start sliding out of the bed, straining and sucking in sharp breaths just to stand and pull Yoongi’s comforter over your tension.
Padding out the bedroom, your worries make your steps tiny and heavy, and you regret sending that text because you literally just said you weren’t… gonna…
On the dining table—quiet—lie three tangerines, peeled and placed next to vibrant scraps while your lover peels a fourth with diligent, devoted hands.
And you can’t even form words that match how you feel.
Your vision swims right as Yoongi looks your way, his body stilling before he puts the fruit down.
When he approaches with concern, you answer his silent questions through hiccups, “I—I thought you left cus—you were mad.”
“Huh?”
“I don’t even know,” you swallow, gesturing to all of your lower half and feeling him hold the slipping blanket. “It’s just… this, I guess.”
“Does it hurt?”
“Like a motherfucker.”
“Oh, shit, I’m sorry, doll. Hold up.” Handing you the comforter, Yoongi goes to his cabinets in the kitchen, grabbing a bottle of medicine before walking it over. “You gotta take something as soon as you feel it. Don’t let it get this bad.”
“I know,” you groan, resting your head on his shirt and inhaling his healing presence. “I didn’t wanna bother you.”
Your forehead is kissed. “You’re not bothering me. Especially with something like this.”
“Okay.”
He walks away again to grab some water, and you watch as he pours some into an electric kettle before starting it up.
Glancing back at the fruit, you sigh, clutching the bottle of pills while feeling the weight of his comforter. He’s probably not pleased with the way it might drag on the ground, so you gather it and pick the end chair to sit on.
And then you sigh, “Sorry for making you peel those. I didn’t even plan on eating anything.”
“Too bad. You’re gonna eat what I make you anyway.”
Wait, he’s cooking? He has work to do! “You’re working, though. Don’t worry about me right now.”
“It’ll be quick.”
“What are you making?”
A glass bowl and pan are procured from random places before Yoongi blinks in place. “Uhh.. You’ll see.”
As he clunks them onto his counter and stove, you watch with hearts for eyes as he bustles around the kitchen space. Even doing things as simple as washing his hands, opening his fridge, and simply grabbing a knife gives you pause.
And this is when you realize that you can watch Yoongi do absolutely anything and be amazed.
Even when he stands, watching you with a look that’s wait why doesn’t he look—
“Take the medicine, baby girl.”
Oh.
Snapping out of your trance, you nod. “Sorry.”
Yoongi continues to give you glances until you swallow down the painkillers, satisfied enough to continue his cooking venture when you take the second one.
As the sun paints the apartment in marigold and light, you keep watching with a smile as he brings the kitchen to life. Butter sizzles in a pan, tangerines are getting halved on a board, and something is getting mixed with a whisk.
Who knew that the neighborhood fuckboy would have a whisk on hand? Not the younger you, that’s for damn sure.
But here Yoongi is, in the flesh, whisking away with veiny forearms that have you thinking the most absurd thoughts during this time of the month. The only thing that would cut through the raging horniness would be getting up to see what the hell he’s making.
It’s starting to smell familiar though. But he put the tangerines in the pan so you don’t even know what to expect right now.
Walking up—blanket left behind—you observe the kitchen before peering over his broad shoulder. “Mm.. Smells like pancakes.”
Yoongi doesn’t answer, but when you see the consistency of the batter, you realize you’re correct. “Oh, it is! I’m smart.”
“You are,” he laughs. “But you didn’t get it all the way right.”
“No?”
“Nope.” Yoongi then gently gets you to move before he pours the batter over the slices, and you crane your neck to watch as he evens it all out. “Just one tangerine pancake.”
“Oh, okay,” you scoff, earning a laugh at your side. “Whatever, chef.”
“We’ll see what you say in a bit.”
Is he gonna leave it or flip it? Probably the latter.
“K. Gonna flip that once it’s done.”
Nice. You smile to yourself, loving how you’re starting to really be on the same page. Nudging him, you keep watching as he lowers the heat and sets the lid on the pan. “What now?”
“We wait,” he responds, dusting his hands together before cleaning up his mixing bowl. “And I’m gonna see if we have any sugar.”
Damn it, Yoongi cannot keep saying that two-letter word. It’s starting to be detrimental to your health. “I can help.”
“S’ok,” he assures, nose upturned. “Just watch me work.”
“Oh, I’m very good at doing that.”
At this, Yoongi turns and gives you a smile that immediately reminds you of summer, and you almost feel like crying again.
“I’ve actually never tried this, but. We’ll see if this works.”
With nothing snarky, or teasing, or fake to say, you reply with a smile and a genuine, “I’m sure it will.”
When he keeps staring, his eyes lower to your lips, and you don’t care that you probably look like a wreck, or feel like one. Because the way he’s looking at you now makes you glow.
If only the kettle didn’t decide this was the moment to stop boiling.
You were probably about to get the kiss of your life.
But Yoongi halts in his tracks before shifting to get a mug, setting it down with a thud before checking on the pancakes. Pancake. Whatever that delicious-smelling thing is gonna be.
“There’s some tea packets in that right drawer. Help yourself cus I’d rather you pick.”
Chuckling, you oblige before scooting over. After seeing a small jar of granules on the counter, you start rummaging through the drawer, exploring the various options while hearing the sound of a plate behind you.
Ah, Yoongi’s flipping it.
As you turn, you’re just in time to watch the muscles in his back protrude through his shirt as he flips the pan, impressed as he sets the plate down because holy hell that looks great.
“Sugar, sugar, sugar… Suga, suga, suga.”
Laughing, you interrupt his silly search as you grab the jar you just saw. “Suga suga, how you get so fly?”
Yoongi stops to see what’s in your hand, and he huffs through a grin before grabbing it. “Thanks, doll.”
You keep humming the song that’s now wedged into your head as you watch him sprinkle bits on the pancake.
“I don’t have a blowtorch,” he admits, “But I do have this.”
Rolling out a drawer, Yoongi takes out a long lighter before holding it to the sugary top, humming the same song you were just singing without even knowing it. As the sugar slowly but surely heats, you both keep humming and basking in a calm afternoon.
And you don’t even feel the pain anymore.
“Go ahead and sit, babe.”
“You sure?”
“Uh huh.”
Following instructions, you make your way to the table, cocooning yourself in his comforter again as you await the cutest meal you’ve had in weeks. Months. Lifetimes.
Speaking of lifetimes… You hope every version of you meets every version of him. No matter when. No matter where. Because you want every version of yourself to find happiness, and Yoongi has been the one to help you finally find it.
And he certainly passed whatever the hell this orange theory thing was supposed to be.
Plates are set down to break you out of introspection, and you glance up with eyes sparkling.
When Yoongi raises a brow, you just smile. When he asks what’s gotten into you, a chuckle escapes before you shake your head,
“Nothing, baby. Just didn’t expect all this from that text.”
As he plops into the next chair, you love the way the sun settles on his skin. Highlights his hair. Shimmers in his eyes.
“Don’t even need to ask, babe.” He captures your attention with a calm look. “I was waiting for any distractions anyways.”
So this was for him, too? Good.
Grabbing your fork, you giggle. “Sounded like you were having a little trouble over there.”
“I was! This is what I get for not saving my shit.”
Both of you sit back in laugher as you throw your hands out. “Do that!”
“I’m lazy!”
“Tough shit!”
“I know!”
Grinning, you loll your head before waving your fork out. “You’re gonna save those sounds, and you’re gonna remember this day and thank me.”
Yoongi just tightens his lips in a smile, eyes creased and glimmering. “Maybe.”
“Yes. I’ll stand there and watch you until you do it.”
"Really.."
For the rest of the afternoon—with full bellies and clear minds—you rest on the edge of Yoongi’s bed, forcing him to find the files he needs and watching him groan his way through saving everything.
Constantly laughing at the ridiculously random names he’s assigning them.
When he’s done, you watch as he spins around in his chair, heart thumping with anticipation as you’re met with a waiting pair of eyes.
Breathtaking.
When he leans in, you feel incredibly shy. Always, always, always. This will forever remain the same.
And—just as well—Yoongi's kisses will forever taste like tangerines.
Three of them, to be exact.
-
-
fin. :)
-
how did the first 717 drabble go! | join the discord hehe
a/n: nothing much to say other than i love y'all so much! i will try responding to anything when i can (there's literally still all the 3tan12 feedback to get to) but i do read all the commentary sent in and it keeps me going strong :'))) so thank you again for being here and being amazingly patient with me. off to work on more things but i shall be back once the wild weeks are over!
In the opulent halls of the kingdom of Veridian, where whispers echoed like the rustle of silk and secrets lingered in every shadow, Princess - stood resolute. Her kingdom teetered on the brink of collapse, ravaged by war and famine, and the only solution lay in a fragile alliance with their long-standing enemy, the Kingdom of Azure.
Thus, the stage was set for an arranged marriage between Isabella and Prince of Azure, a man whose indifference was as notorious as his lineage. With the weight of her people's hopes upon her shoulders, Isabella approached the altar with a heart heavy with duty.
Prince, with his piercing gaze, an enigmatic charm and allure, but a calculated indifference, stood waiting. His eyes held no warmth, no hint of emotion as they met her's.
Their union was a dance of shadows and secrets, veiled beneath the façade of royal decorum. Isabella's attempts to break through his icy exterior were met with indifference, his every word a dagger aimed at her resolve.
But beneath his stoic exterior lay a man burdened by his own demons, haunted by a past he could not escape. Her determination to understand him, to unravel the mysteries that shrouded him, stirred something within his hardened heart.
As days turned into weeks and weeks into months, their forced proximity began to chip away at the walls they had erected around themselves. Slowly, begrudgingly, they found solace in each other's company, sharing moments of laughter amidst the chaos of courtly affairs.
And amidst the whispers of courtiers and the schemes of rival factions, a forbidden bond began to blossom between them. The princess, once resigned to her fate, found herself drawn to him in ways she could not comprehend, while the prince, for the first time, dared to dream of a future beyond his obligations.
In the end, it was not duty or obligation that bound them together, but a love forged in the crucible of adversity. And as they stood side by side, facing the challenges that lay ahead, they knew that together, they were destined to rule not as enemies, but as partners in a kingdom united by love.
I just discovered IA can make scenes or whole plots about whatever we ask it.
Are you telling me I can read the plot of what I'm thinking... without having to write it? Especially when I want to but I have no time or am I too lazy?
Example 1 of this section called "If IA can do it, so could you".
Title: The Royal Union
In the opulent halls of the modern royal palace, Princess - found solace in the pages of her books, her sanctuary amidst the chaos of courtly affairs. With a passion for knowledge and a heart yearning to heal, she often lost herself in the world of academia, dreaming of a future where she could make a difference.
Enter Prince Joon, the suave and sharp-witted heir to the neighboring kingdom. Known for his icy demeanor and sharp tongue, he was the epitome of a reluctant royal, preferring jests and banter to the weight of his responsibilities.
Their worlds collided when their families arranged a marriage to unite their realms, a union meant to strengthen alliances and secure peace. Despite their protests, - and Joon found themselves bound by duty, thrust into a partnership neither desired.
As the wedding approached, tensions simmered between the two royals. - buried herself in her studies, determined to make the best of her situation, while Joon resorted to his usual antics, teasing and tormenting - whenever he could.
Yet, beneath their facade of indifference, a spark ignited, a flicker of something more profound than animosity. In the quiet moments shared between banters and barbs, - glimpsed glimpses of vulnerability in Joon, a yearning for connection buried beneath his aloof exterior.
On the eve of their wedding, as - sat alone in her chambers, lost in her thoughts, Joon appeared at her door, a rare vulnerability in his eyes. In a moment of unspoken understanding, they set aside their differences, acknowledging the inevitability of their union and the potential for something deeper between them.
As they exchanged vows before their families and subjects, - and Joon embarked on a journey of unlikely love, their union a testament to the power of fate and the strength found in unity. Together, they would navigate the challenges of royal life, their bond forged not by duty, but by the genuine affection that blossomed between them.
Just for fun I think is entertaining, what do you think?
title: broken (pt. 2)
pairing: 3tan!yoongi x reader(f)
series:masterlist | three tangerines | fireworks | house party | basketball | stay | sidewalk talk | friends | dalo | like that | anytime | sundress season | yoongi’s interlude | forfeit | flutter | video call | busted | broken (pt. 1)
rating/genre: m (18+) ; angst , fluff , smut ; brother’s best friend au, implied age gap au
summary: the championship game lights up... and everything goes down.
note: not too much to say other than thank you. this part is definitely another very, very close one to my heart. please buckle up and enjoy the ride.
warnings: [spice warnings under the cut] language, angst, tension, alcohol mention & consumption, fights, basketball!yoongi🧍♀️, cocky!yoongi, jimin😳, tense situations, did i say angst?, long hair yoongi, crying, bro😀, reader is a real one i don’t make the rules, arguments, the chains stay on(???), …bad boy yoongi😀👍, saying softhours puts some of this lightly, bro🥲, blood/wound mentions, hurt/comfort, there’s just a lot in here y’all idek, taehyung being the best ever, …angst.
drop date: february 9th, 2024, 10:37pm est
word count: 17.7k my god
smut warnings: cursing, choking, light slapping, breast play, angry s*x a ha ha, crying, multiple explicit scenes y'all istg don't perceive me lol, c*nt slapping, penetrative s*x, brat!reader, protected s*x, edging, consent king ofc :), rough s*x, b*cksh*ts and a lot of them, ...unprotected s*x (yeah it's here and y'all better be responsible or so help me!!!), f*ngering, or*l (m/f rec), brat tamer!3tan yoongi!!!, reader loses themselves for a sec, but yoongi is a king, pain k*nk whewwww, kissing, so much kissing lmfao, c*m play, slight bond*ge (yoongi hands), spanking, aftercare ofc :'))
-
-
There’s no way.
How the fuck is he here? When did that horrible excuse of a guy even join a team? Had he been playing intramurals this whole time?
“No fuckin’ way.”
Your eyes find your brother standing rigid at your side, wrists tensed to hell and shoulders spiked. Did he not know he was playing, either? Judging by his smoldering question, you’re going to guess he wasn’t aware.
“Were they always on this team?”
“No.”
“I don’t remember them being on any teams.”
They? Them? So they recognize more from the court on that day you try to not think about. Shifting your vision, you start gauge reactions under sounds of the growing crowd.
It’s Yoongi that looks at you first, eyes lowering to the hand you still have on your arm damn it you should be okay about that night already. But you can’t seem to let your limb go, your fingers covering it in a weak attempt at protection and resilience.
The blaze in his eyes makes you shake. Even as you swallow your pleas for everyone to just go home, he doesn’t look away. Instead, he walks over to stand in front of your knees, motioning for you to scoot over one so he can take the end seat.
Normally, you would slightly question why he wouldn’t just sit next to you. But this time, you’re hyper aware of what he’s doing—and why. It’s so obvious that you wanna reach out and grip his sweaty hand.
Yoongi absolutely sat there to shield you.
And your heart burns and burns.
If only he could do more, be more, show more. Because with a rattled ego and tainted mind, you’re already yearning for his touch, wanting him to whisk you out of here and bring you back to the comfort of his home—just like he did that night.
God, he makes you dizzy doing absolutely nothing.
“What’s the plan,” he asks, eyes on the court and palms between his knees.
“Dunno yet.” Your brother shakes his head before looking back, eyes narrowing at the laughs on the other bench. “But I might get my ass thrown out if we—”
“Play.”
Immediately, all three of them snap their heads your way. Fuck, your arm is still…
One person cannot have this hold on you. There’s no way you’re going to let him control your every waking moment, and your determination bubbles into your commands. “Play the game and beat his ass,” you seethe, holding yourself together and aiming daggers everywhere. “Just make it quick.”
Yoongi gives you a look before Jimin snags him with an eyebrow raise.
“And you’re paying me double.”
Looking at the man beside you, it’s almost comforting seeing his attention fully on your face. If it weren’t for your ghost on the other side of the scoring table and your brother standing there, you wouldn’t hesitate to kiss him.
But you only nod, getting a huff and a lopsided curve in response before you watch him lock eyes with your brother, “What do you wanna do?”
After a long, resigned sigh, your sibling finally relents, “Fuck this shit up.”
Good. Yes. This is what you want—for you and them. “Exactly.”
Scanning around the tight circle, you notice that you have everyone’s attention.
But one person seems to send a question without any words at all. In kind, you answer the same way, wings battering your stomach when all of them send thunder to the court with lightning in their eyes.
Yoongi scoffs through a slant, carrying the air of someone you never want to mess with in your fucking life. “The fuckin’ nerve.”
Jimin hums, sliding a finger along his flexed to hell jaw. “Bold,” he adds. And his voice drop sends shivers when he turns to you,
“Don’t worry, love.”
You stare.
“This will be over soon.”
-
-
The game is… just a game. For now.
No one’s taunted hard other than a few smirks and winks, and right now it seems as if both teams are just being competitive more than antagonistic. Which relaxes you to the point where you’re cheering from the bench with the other players—and their coach that arrived late—jumping and yelling and clapping when things go in their favor.
Your brother’s slamming down dunks. Jimin’s been playing amazing defense with his quick reflexes and high stamina.
And Yoongi? Has gotten sickeningly sharp. All those late nights at the rec center are paying off in this championship and, when he scores a hard shot, the pride you feel launches you to your feet.
“Nice job, b—” Oh fuck you almost shout something that should never be public knowledge. Holding your tongue, you quickly switch it up with a hasty, “Let’s go!”
That was close. Way too close.
Get it together.
But you cannot help it right now. Seeing Yoongi facing off against the man you both wanna square up against? And making it look easy? The fluttering you feel in your belly grows double. Triple. Tenfold. His gestures, the way he acts like it’s nothing, his shrugs at their failed attempts to stop him—everything’s making you scratch proverbial walls and kick bench chairs.
And it’s not just him—the whole team has been playing excellently. Each play seems intentional; every pass and movement is strategic. If you didn’t know this was a casual rec game, you would think they’re gunning for a real, prestigious trophy.
However.
When it’s starting to be very clear who the better squad is, that’s when things start getting more than tense.
On a foul call, both sides start getting in each others’ faces. And you peg that as normal until someone on your team gets shoved and your brother immediately gets between the action.
Both you and the coach shoot up from your seats.
Shit, shit, shit. If there’s one thing your older sibling’s gonna do in this game, it’ll be finding any excuse to deck that man in the face. And once that happens, there’s no telling how many injuries are gonna walk off polished floors.
Thankfully, everyone separates without a ruckus, and timeout is called on your side. The crowd starts to yell in favor of either team, and that’s when you notice that Taehyung has been joined by Shiv and your friends. From the looks of things, all five of them are laser focused on you.
You hold a quick thumbs-up before you’re covered by hot and sweaty men huddling around the bench. And you immediately agree with their coach when he barks,
“I need you all to calm down.”
“No can do, coach.”
“Not if they aren’t.”
Shit. All of them look fucking livid, not giving any shits whatsoever if they’re willing to talk back to their leader. What’s really been happening on the court? Has it been even more tense than you perceived?
Oblivious to the context behind this matchup, their coach keeps yelling, “Look, I don’t give a shit if you have something to settle. Play the game and leave it on the floor. Understood?” When there’s charged silence, he yells it even louder.
And a smattering of agreement comes out before all of you hear an even bigger yelling session booming from the other bench. When you look over, it’s quickly noticeable that they’re getting reamed over there, too.
Jimin watches before speaking, and it seems like your coach’s pleas fell on deaf ears, “Fifteen went for my legs.”
“Saw that. Let’s switch cus he can’t guard me.”
“K.” Park swivels his head to address someone else. “You good to keep playing?”
Your brother responds with a nod, wiping his never-ending sweat. “Yeah, I’m good.”
Huh. Even though you know he’s mad, the man seems… Calm. Eerily calm. It’s reminding you of the way he acted after you came home from Yoongi’s.
And you don’t like it one bit.
But the timeout is over, and both teams eye each other on their walk back onto the court. As it continues, the gym erupts into life again, with a bit of back and forth shots racking the scoreboard up.
And Yoongi keeps scoring. And scoring. And scoring.
Which lands him in a bit of trouble when the same idiot from Dalo pushes him during a layup. After he manages to make the shot, Yoongi immediately flicks him off—which gets a whistle blown. Which also means he has to sit on the bench for a second because his coach is pissed.
Ignoring the scathing remarks being thrown, he dumps himself next to you. And you immediately feel the heat roll off of him in waves, trying hard to focus on the game. “Don’t be stupid,” you jut out.
“What?”
“Don’t be stupid. These guys aren’t worth it.”
“After what he did to you?”
The way those words leave his mouth ice you over, flares spiraling through every fiber of your being. Your reaction is so visceral that you can barely get your response out, “Yeah, but…”
Leaning on his knees, Yoongi wipes his forehead with a crinkled to hell jersey, excess sweat pinging onto his sneakers. The crowd is loud and the buzzers even louder, but they aren’t enough to drown out his bite,
“I can’t let that shit go.”
“Yoongi.”
“Sorry, doll.”
“Please just—”
Yoongi leaves the bench before you can finish, and you whip your head in a rush, hands jutting out in a desperate attempt to hold him back.
Only for him to be just out of reach.
-
-
After halftime, it’s a whole different game.
From an outside perspective, it’s as if everyone was using the first half to sniff each other out, circling around each other before deciding how and when to go in for the kill.
And Yoongi isn’t the only one that you’re starting to worry about. Jimin, your brother, and even Rohan and the other guys are on edge, playing hard and doing everything they can to keep their scoring lead.
Both you and their coach know you can’t stop whatever’s going on out there. And you’re starting to feel yourself getting angry at how your brother and them are egging the guys on.
Why are they taunting? What the hell is making them so bent on making the other team pissed? Yes, all that went down with you, but nothing else had happened since then. And they clearly aren’t listening to anyone telling them to calm down.
If they end up starting shit you are going to—the fuck!
Yoongi gets straight shoved again as he goes for a layup, and you shoot up in your chair as he hits the back wall with a thud. While the players at your side are yelling and everyone on the court starts grouping in shouts, you stay rigid, solely watching Yoongi eye his attacker—the same idiot from Dalo.
Fuck everything, you wanna rush into the fray and throw hands yourself because that looked painful.
The only thing that’s stopping you is the chilling fact that Yoongi is… Grinning.
Wiping his curved lips, he waits while the refs break up the squabble, still looking triumphant as he walks to the line to shoot his free throws. When both of them are made, he stares directly at your assaulter—as you finally call it like it is—and doesn’t stop even when the coward looks away.
A whistle blows, and the game continues to be close. Too close, too close, too close. A couple more timeouts let you see just how laser-focused everyone is, and you’re a little shaken when it feels like they forgot you were even occupying their bench.
What the hell is being said on the court? Even Jimin is brimming with anger.
But after a few back and forths, Yoongi passes to your brother for a hard dunk, basket ringing from his throwdown and shaking when he lands.
Thank god. Those points are enough. They’re gonna win.
All the pent up anxiety you’ve harbored all game releases as everyone starts cheering, and your pride soars as your boys stare down their opponents while the clock winds down.
It’s over. The game is over, nothing too serious happened, and you can all go the fuck home to eat dinner and celebrate.
Your eyes catch Yoongi throwing a rudely lopsided curve across the court. Even when Jimin comes up to push him back in excitement, his expression doesn’t change.
And you find that wildly, unfathomably attractive.
Then, as it goes, your brother comes up and they all share quick daps, eyes ablaze and not letting the losers out of their sight.
Well. All of them are infamous for a reason. You would guess their energy altogether certainly contributes to that. Because the aura you feel oozing from them fills the gymnasium all the way up to your knees.
And the sigh you let out mingles with their coach’s shake of his head.
-
-
Things are still tense as they all shake hands—or at least offer hands to shake—with the other team. The atmosphere is even a little iced when they receive their trophy.
But the way you’re currently being surrounded as your guys converse hides you from plain sight, so you feel heavily protected. Even Jimin, who’s usually cheerful even when exhausted, wields sharp eyes as he keeps glancing over his shoulder.
Honestly? You wouldn’t know what to do without them. Both your brother and all his friends, good pasts or not, are great people. They didn’t need to shield you like this. But they’re doing it anyway, because they won’t give that lowlife another reason or chance to approach you.
Yeah. Your older sibling knows how to choose his circle.
It’s making you wonder if…
Nah.
That’s still too big a reach.
When it seems like all of them and their cheering squad are gone, everyone starts making their way over to the bleachers—and you’re acutely reminded of what went down under similar looking ones the other night.
Your shivers are overshadowed by Yuri’s telltale screams to Rohan, “You were so good, baby! Are you okay?”
Reia and Dom shake their heads before focusing on you, the latter being the spokeswoman, “So what was all that for?”
“Don’t ask,” you sigh, knowing exactly what she’s referring to. “I’m just glad they won and that we can go home.”
“You’re not coming to Yuri’s?” Reia asks. “I thought we planned on that, no?”
Ah, shit. Earlier this week, you did make plans with them without really thinking about what day they were gonna fall on. But now you’re so mentally drained that you kinda just wanna go—
“Is anyone else starving? I’m hungry as fuck!”
Right. Food. Adrenaline made you forget you were starving. Glancing towards your brother, you quickly remind him, “Yeah, me. And you’re paying.”
“Ah, shit, that’s right.” As he lets out a hard groan and deals with Jimin and Yoongi’s comments, your sibling relents, “Alright, where are we going.”
“Up to you,” you shrug, stealing a little look at the man you want to kiss like hell for his performance tonight.
God, Yoongi’s so handsome. As Jimin leaves his side, he silently wipes his forehead of any excess sweat, hands and shoulders shining in the lights wait wait wait. Hold on.
Walking over, you toss any care about who notices you out the window. And as he eyes your approach, you murmur with care and concern, “Is your back okay?”
Blinking once, twice, the man nods. “Yeah, it’s all good.”
“You sure? That looked…”
Of course he decides that now is the perfect time to rake his sweaty locks back. Speaking so low that only you can hear, Yoongi reassures with a fist full of hair, “I’m fine, doll.”
Motherfucker.
Pinning down your urge to reach out and smother him, you only breathe relief. And before you move away to put some distance between, you whisper, “Thank you.”
Yoongi looks your way again. “For what?”
Swallowing what’s left of your anxiety, you sigh. “For not getting into it out there. I was about to get mad as hell, but.. Looks like they were all talk.”
“Mm.”
Honestly? It’s a miracle. The game’s over without any hitches or brawls? More relief starts blossoming in your chest, prompting a smile to grace your features. “You looked so good out there, by the way. I almost called you ba—”
“What are y’all talking about over there!”
Your mouth snaps shut as soon as you see your brother watching, but Yoongi is quick to fire off an insult, “The way you always take so long to pick something.”
“I picked already!”
“Then let’s go then.”
Laughing, you join the whole crew as you’re all the last ones to walk out. Your friends and Shiv parked in another lot since one side was already full, so you tell them you’ll meet at the restaurant.
Some other teammates decide to join, with jerseys being shucked off as everyone heads out the door. Immediately, body odor swoops into your nose, making you welcome the crisp, fresh air of night.
Scratch that. You smell oncoming rain.
Conversations cease, which only leaves the sound confirming your observation: booming, rolling thunder. Stopping at the edge of the gym’s awning, multiple heads turn up at the rumbles, watching lightning crack the sky.
In front of you, Jimin shifts his head to the side. “Still?”
And when you look at who he’s asking, you see Yoongi nod.
Weird.
But it’s not raining just yet, so all of you make your way into the lot and to your cars. As you do, you check your phone while making your way over, aiming a question at Tae, “You know where we’re going?”
“Yeah, it’s not far,” he responds, fishing out his own device. “I think we’ve been there before.”
We? Looks like things are progressing nicely over there. Since you’re lingering behind the guys, you start to take a small jab, “We, huh? Cute.”
Lips spread as tight as his eyes, Taehyung parries. “Cute? Look who’s talking, miss whipped.”
“You’re whipped.”
“No, you.”
“No, you,” you giggle out, reaching out to tickle Tae’s side and laughing as he flinches away. You chase him for a few seconds before you see his whole body freeze completely, asking a small question before going quiet.
And when you slowly follow his line of vision, your heart freefalls to your gut, smashing it so hard you feel bile sting the back of your throat.
The man from Dalo. And all the guys from the court plus some.
Surround both Jimin’s and your brother’s cars.
Fuck. Oh, fuck, there’s so many of them, standing and waiting and unflinching in the bursts of thunder inching closer and closer what the fuck are you gonna do—
“Taehyung.”
Your eyes shake.
“Get her out of here. Now.”
And you’ve never screamed so loud.
Every word rips out of your mouth before you’re promptly shushed by large fingers, icicles pinging around your heart and holding it down, “Don’t fucking do thi—!”
To your horror, Tae’s already hauling you back, voice low and firm in your ear, “Come on.”
“No! What the fuck—”
“We’re leaving.”
“Please—!”
There are so many of them. So, so many of them. Panic drowns out your words and excess leaks out of your eyes, your own storm preventing you from seeing that your best friend is just as torn apart.
“Babe, we have to go now.”
“No, let me go!”
They’re outnumbered. What if they have weapons? What if the police are called? What if something happens that you aren’t prepared for?
You’re screaming. Curses, their names, or whatever whatever you don’t even know what the fuck you’re saying because your toes are kissing the edge of madness.
Dragged a good distance away, your yells devolve into incoherency, your nose and eye sockets smashing into Taehyung’s solid forearm so hard it hurts.
Make it out, make it out, make it out. For the love of everything in the fucking universe and beyond it, make it out alive.
Some movements and backs straightening are the last things you see before getting pulled around the corner.
And when Yoongi calmly rolls one of his shoulders, you feel a wick of your soul burn out.
Panic. Worry. Panic and more panic. The car ride that Tae paid for is the blurriest muddy water you’ve ever waded through.
Truthfully, you don’t even remember blankets being pulled over your shoulder. Where even are you? Oh, you’re in a bed. Whose bed are you in because this isn’t yours. But what does it matter anyway what does anything matter anyway nothing matters there’s nothing you can do you gotta get up and go back over there get up get up go—
As soon as you yank his bedroom door open, Taehyung is there, holding you back and pushing your frantic energy back inside. “Tae, if you don’t let me—”
“Do what!”
“I’m going back!” Wrestling out of his strong hold, you bolt down his hallway, head clanging as your shoulder bumps into a wall. “We need to go back—”
“Stop!” You hear running as you burst through the living room, whizzing past the glowing television. “We have to stay here—”
No no no. There’s no way you’re staying here when you need to be back at that lot. Who the fuck would call for help if anyone needs it? When they’re gonna need it? Your vision proves so blurry you can’t even find your shoes—
Arms wrap around your waist and you fight back with a scream, “Let me go!”
“Stop and just think for a second—”
“Why aren’t you with me on this, they’re—”
“Dumb as fuck!”
Your friend’s quick comment is so sharp it cuts your breath. As you still in his firm but comforting hold, you finally stop to breathe. Breathe, breathe, breathe as you’re turned to level a look with his eyes.
Eyes that are red-rimmed and so, so raw. “They’re idiots,” Taehyung grits out. “But they will be alright.”
From the shake of his voice, you find that neither of you think that for sure.
“I need to.. To…” Your breaths are ragged, energy spent and head dizzy from your quick exit from his bed. As you come down from your volcanic high, every weight the world places on your back proves too much.
“You need to relax,” Tae advises, guiding you further back inside. And you don’t speak as he leads you past the couch, past the pictures on his hallway wall, and into the dark of his bedroom.
Maybe it’s over. Right? Maybe someone will answer if you ring them up. “Call. I need to call…”
“Shh,” he soothes again, walking you backwards away from his door. When the bends of your knees hit his bed, Taehyung lets you down slowly until you’re sitting. “I’ll do it.”
Brain fried from hyperactivity, you can only nod.
Your friend steps away to fiddle with his phone, the light illuminating his beautiful features in the night. When he holds it to his ear, this is when you hear rain and the television in the living room, noticing that it’s playing a movie he watches for comfort.
Shit. He’s going through it just like you are, and yet he’s still finding energy to calm your nerves? What have you even done to deserve him?
Guess you know how to choose your circle, too.
Going unanswered, Taehyung lowers his hand, thumb rubbing the homescreen before gripping the device hard.
Both of you are in the same boat. So steer when he can’t do it anymore. Soft but assertive, you rise to your feet, offering your embrace while calling his name, “..Tae.”
When he turns, the man wastes no time in dropping his phone to bring you in close. “It’ll be okay,” he murmurs, and you hear his words on your head but feel the trembles in his chest. “Okay?”
Feeble fingers grab at his soft shirt, and you bury into his scent while soaked and tired eyes shut.
You want to believe him. You do. You do.
But hope may be a bitch.
So you don’t.
-
-
Forever passes while you both lie still in his bed, with Taehyung holding you close and keeping you subdued with notes of honey and wood. You both try to have conversation, but it’s disjointed and manufactured, so giving up is a group effort.
You’re about to give up on a lot of things before you both jolt at Tae’s phone vibrating.
The world shifts quick as you both sit up, the call immediately being accepted and a low greeting whooshing at your side, “Hey.”
With bated breath, you hear Jimin on the line. “Hey.”
“You okay?”
“Yeah, we’re all alright, but…”
We. We, we, we, all of them thank the fucking world. As your breath is held, Taehyung’s voice is solid, “Say it.”
“My eye is pretty fucked. Yoongi’s face is cut up and he’s got some nasty bruises on his—”
You don’t even remember yanking the phone to your mouth. “Where is he.”
Jimin audibly pauses on the line before having the audacity to chuckle. Irked and feeling ire bubble back to the surface, you seethe, “This isn’t funny, Park. Where the fuck is he?”
“With us.” Us. Shit. “In the car.”
Oh.
“Your brother’s here, too.”
“Ah.” That means they’re all there. They’re all heading home. “Am I on speaker.”
“Umm.. Yeah.”
As much as you’re relieved they’re all okay, stockpiled anxiety transforms into anger, your limit striking the thundering sky. “Actually, you know what? Good. Now I can say you’re all idiots and immature as fuck.”
It’s your sibling that responds first. “Hey, wait a damn minute—”
“I waited long enough!” you scream, ignoring Taehyung’s wide eyes.
You know you need to relax. But you can’t help what’s happening right now and all you feel is pain. “I know this shit isn’t new to y’all, but really? You didn’t need to do this.”
“He was gonna—”
“All you had to do was play the game! Why’d you have to make them mad? Do you even know what could’ve happened back there?” Damn it, you weren’t supposed to cry during this part, not when you just want them to know they fucked up.
And the response is dead silence. Because of course it is. But if they won’t answer you here, they’re gonna answer another, “Just tell me one thing,” you plead. “Is this gonna happen again?”
That one your brother answers with finality. “They won’t be coming around anymore.”
Gulping, you give Taehyung a glossy-eyed look before staring at his lit screen again. Trying not to let your voice waver, you accept his response, “Okay… Are you okay?”
“Me? Yeah, the hits I took were weak as fuck. I’ll get home soon so if you wanna order in tonight we can.”
“Fuck that.”
“Huh?”
What an idiot. “Bro, you don’t even know how fucking mad I am,” you accuse through gritted teeth. There’s no way in hell you wanna deal with their bullshit. Ignoring your pleas and staring harm in the face? Forget it. “I’m going to Yuri’s.”
“What? Nah, come home tonight and we’ll talk.”
“I just—No.” Taehyung has to grip your shoulder before pulling you into a hug. And you’re still steel in his arms because you haven’t been this upset in ages. “I’m not talking to any of you for awhile.”
And you mean that.
“…Fine. But go asap then. I don’t want you out late on your own.”
So you gotta listen to what he wants but when it comes to what you say, it’s crickets? Goddamn, you’re furious. “…Of course you don’t.”
And you hang up before anyone can say anything else.
-
-
You open the front door to your brother leaning against the hallway wall.
Both of you eye each other, one of you with a perfectly fine face and the other that isn’t so lucky because he’s a fool.
And no words are exchanged as you trudge your frustration to the kitchen.
-
-
Ice. Bandages. Dinner. Anger propels you through it all.
Whipping up a quick but hearty meal, you let your brother patch himself up after demanding he showered. The smells of comfort food waft through your nose as things sizzle on the stove and, through the whole process, you don’t think about anything except how upset you are.
They’re all okay. But like Taehyung so abruptly put it, they’re all stupid.
As you turn off your burner, you transfer everything to a bowl, sighing so loud it seasons the top with fire. When you approach the bar, your actions speak pretty damn loud—the dish clank shoving out a question from your sibling,
“Is there something you wanna say to me?”
“There’s a bunch of shit I wanna say to you.”
“It’s about Yoongi,” he asks, the absence of hesitation making your insides squeeze. “Isn’t it.”
But luckily for you, your rage is so potent that it overruns your fear. As soon as your brother stands up and starts to repeat his question, your correction clangs through the room,
“It’s about all of you! You say you wanna be there for me but what the fuck will doing this shit do?”
Freezing, the man waits in shock as you keep going, “Yes, that guy deserves hell. I was so scared when he grabbed me at the club.” You stop to swallow. “But I had them both there and we left.”
Fuck, this is hard. Having to relive that shit is difficult but you need your brother—and all of them, for that matter—to know how hurt you feel right now. Mustering up enough bravery to get to the goddamn point, you finally squeak out,
“If I lose them? Lose you? Because of something as stupid as a fight?” Your eyes search his, and your heart cracks when you see glassy sheen amongst his bruises. “What would I do then?”
You expect silence. And silence is what you get. It’s drawn out, loud, and telling. “We know.”
“Do you?”
“Yes,” he whispers, eyes lifting to meet yours with sincerity. “And we’re sorry.”
Another moment passes between the two of you, the food you made left uneaten on the counter and the rest sitting still on the stove. But you know your sibling will eat it all tonight, whether you’re there or not.
And you step forward at the same time he holds his battered arms out.
Freshly showered, he still smells like rain and exertion. But his heart beats under your chest, he’s present, and back home—things you need to stop taking for granted.
But you’re still mad. And getting things off your chest has only made you tired, so you decide that it’s finally time to go before you circle back to other scary territory brought up tonight. “I’m leaving now,” you announce as you step away. “But just think about that.”
“I will.”
“I’m serious.”
“I will.”
Staring, you take note of his cuts and injuries, wondering how the others are faring even though you don’t wanna deal with anything else. Because it hurts too much, and if you see who you’re thinking about, there’s no telling what you’d do if you were like this with your brother. There’s no telling how you’d…
No. You choose to go the easy route this time. Everyone can simmer in their sore, swelling consequences while you have a night of de-stressing with your friends.
So you leave to go pack without another word.
It’s raining.
Hard.
And even though your car is heading to Yuri’s, your heart is beating backwards. Tugging you somewhere else and not letting up.
With a ping of chill, you can’t shake it. Braking at a stop sign close to your destination, you sit in silence, letting the rain pelt every side of your vehicle and wondering what the hell to do.
Truthfully? Your brother looked like shit. But your body isn’t telling you to go back to the house, which can only mean one other place. And you know for a fact you don’t wanna talk to him, either.
So fucking upsetting. They did all that for what? You can barely keep your thoughts in a row because they keep yelling at jostling each other just like everybody did on the court. If anyone had to fight the dipshit, it should've been you.
Fuck! Your head connects with the wheel, an inner monster rumbling with the thunder because you’re so fed up with everything that happened.
Your brain is the one yelling. But your heart is begging for it to listen. Go to Yuri’s? Go to Yoongi’s. Find shelter in that warm bed of hers and sink in her plushies to comfort you?
A sigh. Maybe you can at least call him to tell him off one more time. He needs to hear what you told your brother because if you ever, ever lose him—
Your eyes burn.
Yoongi: Outgoing Call
No answer.
Yoongi: Outgoing Call
Pick up. What the fuck.
Yoongi: Outgoing Call
…Turn the fuck around shit, shit, shit.
Curses flying, you whip your vehicle in a flash, heart pounding so loud it’s blocking out the storm. Which is morbidly impressive considering how horridly it’s pouring.
Thinking in leaps, you pivot and make another decision. Tell her and make it all quick.
Yuri: Outgoing Call
“Hello?”
“Hey, I’m not coming.”
“You okay?”
“I’m going to Yoongi’s.”
“Yoongi’s? Why?”
Ah, shit. Oh, fuck. She doesn’t know.
Banging the steering wheel, you smash your teeth, stressed as hell from braving the rain in the dark and now snitching on yourself to someone else.
Damn it. What do you say? What can you possibly even say when you’re so mad and stressed and conflicted and worried—
“Hello?”
“Because he’s the one,” you whoosh out, your vision quivering twice as much as it should. “And things went down after the game and now something feels wrong.”
“Oh, shit. Is that why y’all didn’t come to—”
“Yes.” When you say all this out loud, now it has weight. Horrifying weight on your chest and a block pushing down on the gas. You hear a bit of shuffling on the line, and you’re starting to get so anxious that you blurt, “Please don’t say anything. Please.”
“I won’t. Not about this.”
“Thank you.”
“Hang up, babe. Make it safe.”
“Okay.”
Go, go, go. Please, just get there.
Letting up, you change your speed, hoping to everything good in the world that this feeling you have is only a feeling and nothing more.
Yoongi: Outgoing Call
What a strange emotion, wanting his reason for not picking up solely being because he doesn’t wanna talk to you. That is an answer you can deal with.
But you still can’t fight off the jagged pulses telling you it’s something else.
After an agonizing drive, you finally see his complex, tensing harder the further and further away you have to park.
Whipping into a spot, you screech into it before hauling your bag out, popping the trunk and desperately grabbing a plastic box you always keep inside.
And the mad dash drenches you long before you seek cover, your bones shivering shivering shivering from the chill.
Yoongi has to be home. His car is here.
But he still won’t pick up the fucking phone.
Skidding at his door, your knocks are rapid, knuckles singed from the ice cold wraps.
Answer, answer, answer. For fuck’s sake, he better answer.
After a haunting moment of silence, you decide to call one more time, head wet and bones shivering as you press the phone to your damp ear.
Finally. “Hello.”
“Open the door,” you jump into commanding, hearing nothing other than a voice that sounds so crushed and low that it crumples you inside.
“You’re here?”
“Yeah, let me in.” Fuck, your teeth are clattering against each other, whether it’s from the rain, the cold, or anger, you can’t tell.
But the reply you get is the coldest thing imaginable. And it sets your whole body aflame.
“Not tonight.”
Hell no. Hell fucking no Yoongi is not going to get rid of you that easily. Not when you have a boatload of things to say and only one dock to dump them all on, “Yoongi, I swear to god—”
“Not tonight—”
“—you don’t let me in I’m—”
“Go home—”
“I’m fucking staying out here until you open the goddamn door!”
Oh, you’re pissed. You’re so fucking pissed because this all could’ve been avoided if none of them were stupid. Or prideful. Or whatever the fuck boys decide to be when they can’t let something go.
And this man still has the audacity to give you the stiff arm, silence on the line before he rasps out another short, “I’m serious.”
“No.”
“Go home.”
“No!”
He says your name. So, so softly, before a gut-wrenching,
“Please.”
Breath shaken, you rest your forehead against chilly wood, hoping it quells the fire you feel rising from your rib cage.
You can’t give up. Not when you have so much to say. Not when you have to check on him and make sure he’s fine.
Not when you give into the strongest premonition that you need to be nowhere else but with him tonight.
You will stay. Stay, stay, stay. Even if he doesn’t want to see you.
Voice trembling in rage and concern and everything in between, you feel your eyes sear through when they close, mission boiling down to one more desperate choice,
“…No.”
You’re cold. And wet. But you will stand out here for as long as it takes him to let you inside—a night, a day, no matter what.
And for a moment. Or a few. You think he’s dead set on making you prove that.
But you finally, finally, finally hear a sigh before a lock turn, and you try to prepare yourself for what you see but he opens the door and his face comes into view holy shit he looks like a wreck—
“What the fuck,” you grit out as you rush in with vision swimming, digging into your bag for the medkit you hastily stashed and swinging off your sandals because you gotta get something in the—
A hand grips you hard, tugging you back before you even register what’s happening.
As your feet stumble back onto linoleum, your gaze snaps to the ground.
And your breath cuts like it’s your last.
Shards.
Pieces.
Thousands of wood and glass chips litter the entire open area of the living room.
And realizing where they came from strikes like lightning.
Fuck. Oh, fuck, what did Yoongi do?
“I told you, doll.”
You choke on a sob.
“Go home.”
Your breaths return before you straighten, tears flowing freely as you don’t know whether to start cleaning up the chaos or finally facing the one who caused it.
No, no, no. Get rid of it.
Throw it out, all of it, all of it.
A new fire roars to life, forging your steeling commitment as you wrestle out of Yoongi’s hold.
What did he do, what did he do?
Revving with smoke out of your ears, you burn a path to the kitchen, grabbing a trash bag before marching into the wreckage. Up go the biggest pieces first, chucked into plastic before the smaller ones follow.
Throw it all. This one, this one, and this one.
Yoongi isn’t even wearing shoes. He can cut himself up even more if this all stays where it is.
Shit, this is everywhere.
When you realize you’re gonna need a broom, you storm back into his laundry closet to yank one out and keep going. When you go to sweep, the sharpest voice cuts through your fingers.
“Stop.”
Your grit grips the tool even tighter. Because you won’t. Don’t dare look into his expression, either, because you know that one glance will melt every scream on your tongue. So you stay resolute and shoot rejection to the ground, “No.”
“Just go, please.”
“No.”
This hurts.
This really, really hurts.
Yoongi has never, ever said these things to you and it feels like a knife jabbing into the same spot over, and over again. You almost prefer three new months of no contact over whatever the hell this is.
But you have to keep going. Eyes clenching, lips wobbling, you must keep going.
Because you came here for a reason other than this mess. And he’s gonna have to do better than this to kick you back out into the rain.
“I got it.”
“Let me do it.”
“Your brother needs you.”
“Yeah, well, I already tore the fuck into him and I’m gonna do the same to you.” You harden your fist on the sweeper, tugging it more towards your shoulder with finality. And you gather all the energy you need to leave no more room for arguments, because Yoongi is going to listen, “So sit down.”
It hurts.
He wants to say shit. You know he wants to.
But he only breathes hard with eyes closed, following your orders and carrying his dark clouds to the dining room.
When he finally leaves you alone, this is when you look his way.
In sweats and a shirt, he appears fine. But with a deep pang, you notice he’s slightly limping. Judging from those knuckles, you wonder if they’re red from the fight or from hitting another wall of his apartment.
Or from whatever the fuck happened around your feet.
Shit.
While he dumps himself at his table, you clean up the pieces of his rampage, mentally noting that one plan of yours has now changed.
This one. These, too. A string here. A metal piece there.
You don’t know how long it takes you. All you know is that you’re burning inside, determined to clean everything and sweep this chaotic energy away.
One more. Two more. Another one here.
As soon as you’re done, you lug the trash bag out of the front door and don’t give a shit what happens to it now.
Keep going. There’s more that you need to take care of.
The fuel inside of you rages on, anger conflicting with anxiety and past worries and sadness for something that didn’t even happen. As you spin, you vow yourself to keep pushing until you can’t anymore.
Sniffling. Shivering. But staying strong because things could’ve gone a lot worse.
Yoongi meets you by the table, messy, damp hair shielding his features. “You’ve done enough.”
“I still need to—”
“Just.” He looks away. “Go home, doll. I can’t do this tonight.”
“Do what? I’m helping you.”
That’s what you do for each other, right? You both help each other. But now you’re not so sure because Yoongi comes back with not an acknowledgement, nor a way of relenting.
But ice.
“Who said I needed it?”
And in all the time you’ve spent with this man, this is the first time you’ve felt downright cold. “Yoongi, what?” Your eyes travel across his face, chest caving in when there’s barely any hints of vitality. “Are you serious?”
“You think I’m joking?”
“You’re kicking me out? What happened to saying you’d never do that, huh?”
“I say a lot of things.”
…Oh.
That hurt. That… That physically couldn’t have hurt any harder.
Nodding, you look away, shaking your head in disbelief because you are on the verge of losing it. “You know what? You do say a lot of things.”
Walking away, you start rearranging pillows on the couch pushed askew. “Like how perfect I am.” Picking up his books from the now non-existent coffee table. “And how there’s no one else.”
As you give the volumes a new home on his intact tv stand, you turn to face him again. “Those are just words, too, huh?”
Yoongi kicks his head back with a smile, one that cuts instead of mends. “Nah… Not tonight.”
“Not tonight what.”
“We aren’t doing this tonight.”
“The fuck we aren’t.” It’s his turn to walk away, with a slow head shake that you really don’t like. “Where are you going?”
“Nowhere.” Yoongi shifts his head to the side, but not enough for you to fully see him. It’s almost as if he doesn’t want you to. “But you’re going home.”
Something’s off. There’s something completely off but all you feel is sadness and rejection in your ribcage. “So this is how it happens, huh. Now I’m just like everyone else.”
He finally faces you, miles away even though you’re just rooms apart. “You’re gonna go there?”
“I am.”
“Wow.”
That’s what he comes back with? This is gutting you from the inside out and you have no idea what’s happening but now rage is flaring into your mouth, “You think I wanted to come here? After what all of you did?”
“Do you even know?”
“No! But how the fuck would I? You don’t tell me shit!”
“That’s cus—”
Your response sears over his floors, “I can take care of myself. But none of you told me about that dude from the court. None of you.” Breath shaken, you continue dumping out all your thoughts and previous concerns, “If I had known? That whole Dalo thing could’ve been avoided and I would’ve ran.”
For a person that you’ve come to know as so warm, Yoongi’s entire aura freezes you over as you keep talking. “And today? You know how fucking scared I was? If I… I…”
All he does is stare. Why isn’t he doing anything else? Is he really flipping the switch and choosing to legitimately let you leave this time?
Fine then.
“You know what?” Giving up, you laugh—harsh, and breathy, and without any joy at all. “Forget it. You’re not even listening anyway.”
“I swear to—I just said not tonight.”
Frustration from the game, fear from the ambush after, anxiety from not hearing from them. All of it coalesces into something you can’t even control anymore. Your buffer shuts off, the monster you created seizing the reins, “No, I get it. I do! You want me gone. Sure. See you in three more months.”
Stunned, Yoongi huffs in disbelief, jaw working overtime. “Are you serious?”
“Yes, I am. Trying to help you but it looks like you don’t even want that. So good fucking bye.”
And it looks like he has a beast of his own because his next response to your last attempt has you reeling back in shock,
“Who asked you?”
Dark liquid drips onto your soul.
You can only stare, unblinking and feeling like you’re in an entirely different universe. “Who asked me? Who asked me.”
“That’s what I said.”
Forget the question of who asked you because… Who are you even talking to? Who is this person standing in front of you because it’s not the Yoongi you know. It’s so jarring and hurtful and strange that you truly feel thrust into the middle of a nightmare.
You’re gonna do it. You’re actually gonna leave this time.
“You know what? Kiss my ass, Yoongi.”
God, it hurts. It hurts. It hurts.
It hurts.
You don’t even know where this is all coming from. All you know is that you’re angry and there’s no stopping the hot magma bubbling in your center.
Silence fills the room.
And it rains. It pours.
But finally, you hold a sob back before burning a shaky path to his door, wrestling with the lock before yanking it open—
Only to have it shut back in your face, so thrown when you realize you’re getting spun. Air whooshes out of you before your shoulder blades connect with wood—
And this is the goddamn breaking point. The walls you haphazardly built to keep you upright collapse and tumble. It’s so potent and blinding that you don’t even realize your hands are connecting with his chest in the weakest, saddest ways and you are outright screaming.
“God, what the fuck! I told you to—We didn’t hear from you for hours and I—I didn’t know if you were okay—”
“Whoa, hold u—”
“I thought the worst and I—didn’t even get a chance to—I finally told you want I wanted and you—Fuck—”
“Just listen—”
“Don’t ever do that again! I don’t wanna lose you and today was so fucking scary and I’m not, fucking, leaving—”
Your lips are smashed to hell, his lips bruising so hard you feel it in the back of your skull. And it’s a whole storm as Yoongi pins you against the door, leg wedging between yours and his hands gripping you like a vice. It’s intense. It’s overwhelming.
“I swear to—”
You don’t know what to do. What to do what to do what to do, and all your madness jangles as you’re yanked and slammed against another wall, breath leaping into his open mouth before you tug at his hair, digging anger through his shoulders.
“Can’t fucking listen, can you?”
“No,” you rip from your throat, shoving him back only to gravitate right back and lock lips again.
And he rips at your clothes, tearing the front of your shirt so far your chest emerges on full display. Before you can even react to the cuts on his face, Yoongi’s hand clenches around your throat, making you gargle just how you fucking want to right now.
“Shouldn’t even fucking be here.”
“When has that ever stopped us.” You groan as you get rapidly led back into something hard, and you realize it’s the dining table digging into your ass.
“He’s still home.”
“So?”
“Shouldn’t you—”
“Then kick me out!” you taunt. “For real. Let me go. Fucking do it then.”
Yoongi works his jaw before gripping tighter, making you groan and your gut flare into something primal. Nostrils flaring, he moves to grip your head hard enough to make your stomach flip but not firm enough to scare you.
Never to scare you. “You aren’t gonna leave me alone.”
Your eyes are ice.
“Are you.”
You solely watch in determination, breath harsh from your nose and billowing out like steam. Drilling your answer into his eyes, you charge the surrounding air enough to spark like the flashing sky outside.
And Yoongi cracks like lightning.
“Goddamn it.”
Everything happens at once and in quick succession. Teeth grit to hell, Yoongi pulls you upward before fast stepping you to his bedroom, slamming you through the door before you shove him right into his desk.
Things teeter and shake and clang with each impact, your storm disrupting everything in its path and creating a tornado of desire and thoughts in your brain.
Something swirls and twists between your souls, tightening and condensing into emotions darker than midnight. And as angry as you are, it’s slipping into a dangerous mania, and you’ve never been this excited for anything in your life.
“Stubborn.”
“Coward.”
Your back stings as you’re pushed back into his door, the wood smacking into the spackle of his wall. Rough lips smother yours as you claw at his shoulders, neck, hair, and you hear him growl into your mouth,
“Want me to kiss your ass? Suck my dick then we’ll talk.”
“Fuck you. I give better head than you anyway.”
His words rival the deepest growl, “Prove it.”
“Make me.”
Whirlwind. Storm. Tempest. At this point, it’s a whole goddamn high. Your body is thrumming and the only way to feed your anger is to channel it through actions.
And truth be told, you need this. You both do. With all the high strung emotions that had nowhere to go until you collided?
This is liberation.
You’re shoved onto your knees before Yoongi dives into his pants, and you’re already hungry and impatient enough to help him shrug his sweats down before he can do it himself.
“Choke on it,” he commands, holding his dick and watching as you note how hard he already is. When you waste no time taking him in, you elicit the deepest groan you’ve ever pulled from him when you fling spit onto his length.
Maybe his reaction is to your face. Because you’re still mad as fuck and you aren’t done letting him know that.
With a passing thought, you realize that this is all new. But you’re welcoming it because it’s working. Only Yoongi can bring out this passion even in anger, or maybe the two of you were going to get to this point no matter what.
“Fuck.” He steadies the bottom of your chin while you suck him off. “Uh huh. Got anything else to say?”
You flick him off, and he hums with a rumble, his cock reacting and hitting the back of your prideful throat.
“Fuck you, too, doll.” His talks devolve into hisses, grunts, moans when you slobber all over yourself, and your cunt is already dripping with your own slick. “There you go. Gonna take it all? Or are you gonna keep running that mouth?”
And you pop off before taunting, “Find out, pussy.”
And you’re swallowing him before he shoves you all the way forward, your body arching up in a gag but filled with him him him, your nose flat against his pelvis and his dick squeezing tears from your eyes and your throat overstuffed to hell and there’s no way he’s gonna forget this moment. You’re making damn sure of it.
Another middle finger raises as you’re tensing around him, and you can barely hear him above you but you do know he’s massively pleased. Tears stream down your eyes when you’re yanked off, gasping for air and being pulled off the ground.
“Holy fuck.”
Throat hoarse, you attempt speech but it doesn’t matter anyway, because his lips steal them all. And your cunt is slapped with a whole palm, making you flinch and shoot out a whine into his kiss.
Before you know it, your body hits the bed before he joins you, arms bulging as he rips your top open completely. You can’t even think straight as he teases your earlier efforts, “I’ve had better.”
“Oh, you fucking—Shut the fuck up,” you growl, a moan leaving without permission as he palms your cunt again. Just when you think he’s gonna top you, Yoongi hauls you up, hastily leading you around the bed until your back connects with another wall.
You love that shit. And you’re starting to think Yoongi is very, very aware of this fact.
“Take those fuckin’ pants off,” he orders. “And hands on the wall before I put them there.”
“Can’t make me do shit—”
Fingers grip your chin before Yoongi gets right into your face, primal instinct making you go on full alert. As his tongue prods his cheek, your whole lower body quivers. “I can. And I will, if you don’t behave.” Tapping your jaw in a warning, he hums. “Now do what I fucking say.”
Holy shit, he’s not playing around. Which only heightens your desire to peaks previously unreached, and you’re shucking your bottoms off while he yanks his drawer open for condoms. Hurrying, you fling your clothes away before planting—
Yoongi smashes his whole front against your back—pinning your whole body against the cold, rough wall—before intertwining long fingers with yours. “Good girl.”
Hitching your hips back, he sticks your ass out as you slip, and you feel his cock tease your entrance. Groaning, you grip your hands into fists as he continues to rub your cunt but never enter. Denying, denying, denying. Smacking your pussy and still not letting you feel him inside.
And it’s maddening. “Please!”
“Please what,” he asks, giving your ass a spank that has you flinching into the wall.
And, without any shred of mercy, this goes on for longer than he’s ever held out. It’s so sickening that tears start flowing from your eyes, and you devolve into saying anything to get him to fuck your brains out. Between spanks on your ass, slaps on your tits, and aggravating kisses on your back, Yoongi doesn’t let you phase him for minutes.
It’s when you choke on a sob that he finally, finally squeezes inside of you, checking for your nod before wrecking you completely.
“Oh, fuck—” Your eyes shut tight as you try to keep yourself upright, hands pushing against the wall as your legs shift with every thrust.
“This ass. Fuck.” Yoongi’s pace is relentless, hands bruising your hips and your cheeks smacking into his pelvis over and over and over. “It’s a goddamn problem.”
You’re trying so hard. So, so hard to stay on the wall. But your hands are too sweaty; they're starting to slip with each attempt. “Bed,” you command. “Bed now.”
And he obliges immediately, pulling out and yanking you back. Mouth to your ear, he both checks in while making your legs jelly, “You tapping out?”
“Break my fucking back,” you rasp in return, hearing him growl in satisfaction before burying you facedown into his bed. As he plunges inside again, you grip at his sheets, driven to the brink and reveling in all the things he’s saying to you while feeling him in your stomach.
Suddenly, you feel your arms pulled back, and you yell into his mattress as he buries himself even deeper. Everything you’re screaming makes no sense, but the phenomenal sensation you feel as you go limp renders you speechless anyway.
Yoongi knows exactly what he’s doing as he pushes his thumb into your asshole, because you clench so hard around him that he chuckles darker than dark. Careening into space, you kiss the edge of euphoria before he inconveniently pulls out, launching a sling of insults from your mouth.
“What was that?”
“I said fuck you!”
“Thought so.”
Not done in the slightest, Yoongi hauls your thighs so flush against him that you have to use your fingertips for support. Just as you’re about to argue, he rams into you from a new and impossibly enticing angle and holy fuck it feels so good you want to weep.
“Put that fucking hand down,” he growls, smacking away the fingers you didn’t even know were on your mouth. “If you wanna talk shit.”
“Fuck—!”
“Uh huh. Let it out, baby girl.”
You’ve never felt this out of control. This wild. This out of body. Your head is yanked back, your back pressing into the front of his shirt before you feel him so far into your guts that you quiver.
Now at the mercy of his tongue in close range, you hear his gravelly tone in your ear, “What’s my fuckin’ name.”
“Asshole—”
A hard smack to your tits has you crumpling with a whine. “Say it.”
“I’ll say it if I wanna say it—”
Another spank to your inner thigh and you’re gone. Eyes roll as he tweaks your nipple, and your words are almost garbled when he grips your chin from behind. “This what we’re doing? Hmm?”
You laugh breathy before you taunt, “Uh huh.”
“Mm…” Despite your laugh, you shake. “I wouldn’t do that, doll.”
“Make me. Bet you can’t.”
Tensed and veins angry, Yoongi grips both your tits before snarling, “That’s enough.”
Swiftly, he shoves you down into the sheets, muscular frame pinning you as he strokes up into you just right. Again. Again. It’s all too slow and too effective and you’re trying to stay mad but all you can feel is perfection, your back arching at his thrusts and mewling at his low growls in your ear.
“You wanted this.” Another thrust. “Talking shit.” Your jaw goes slack. “Pissing me off.”
Your groan is downright erotic. Why why why? Just knowing you’re making him this mad flutters your cunt and, from the sinister chuckle shooting into your neck, Yoongi definitely felt that.
“Fuckin’ thought so.”
When he reaches to grab your breasts, the last thrust has you crying out in a flurry of pleasure.
Every single thought is Yoongi, from beginning to end in a biblical cycle of debauchery. Exertion leaves you slick, sweat coating the expanse of your skin only to press into his bed, your mess your mess your mess. At his hands. The smacks of his cock. The rolls of his hips. Are you gone? Are you here? If he’s bruised then you feel like you are, too, and you welcome the temporary pain as Yoongi’s fingers dig ever deeper into your waist fuck one’s now pinning your head down.
The moans you let out are unending, and your thighs shake when all you get in response is a laugh of condescension.
“Look at you. Can’t even stay mad.”
“Fuck you!” You’re close, you’re close, you’re close again. Release is at your fingertips, but Yoongi yanks himself out to rip it away from your outstretched fingers. “No!”
“What, doll.”
“Please!”
“Nah.”
Body sore, you’re flipped over with no mercy as something else presses against your cunt.
Fucking hell, he’s eating you out now? Shaking, you feel Yoongi’s tongue swirl around your thrumming clit before he sucks, edging you to the point of tears and heartbreak. And it proves too much as you grab at his head, yank at his hair, because he lets up when you’re close.
Every. Single. Time.
Your madness spirals into your curses, and he relishes in your despair, continuing to lick and suck and slap your thighs with patience. “What do you say?”
“Please!”
“Mm. Not loud enough.”
“Yoongi, please.”
“Oh, we’re saying names now?”
Fuck, fuck, fuck, it aches. It’s starting to borderline hurt. “I’ll be good,” you barter, beg, plead with a head spinning off its own axis. “I’ll do anything.”
“Do it yourself then.”
Later, when you look back on tonight, you’ll be embarrassed and shy to hell. But right now, you’re so over any shyness that you don’t hesitate, reaching down to rub at your clit and moaning when it’s so sensitive.
And Yoongi gets a front row seat.
His groan is gutteral. And it doesn’t take you long to quicken your pace, bucking your hips and whining to the ceiling. You’re so so so close it’s right there—
Your hand is smacked away. And after you try to wrestle out of his grip, you are a flat out, blubbering mess. “Yoongi… Please…”
“Nah.”
This is torture. And you’re frightened at how much you’re enjoying it. “I’m so close.”
“You’ll come when I say you can.”
“Please! …Please..”
“You done being a brat?”
“No! Fuck. Yes!” If you weren’t so far gone, you may have deciphered a tiny smile of amusement. But it won’t be for months later until you’ll realize that you were wrong.
Because the menacing flash of teeth you see is much too wide to be anything other than pride. “The fuck did I say? Use your words.”
You know you’re still upset. You know Yoongi is still upset. But for some reason, you feel closer to him than you have in awhile, and you wonder if lust and madness are two sides of the same coin. “Let me come. Please.”
Yoongi finally obliges with something he hadn’t pleasured you with yet. And your vision blanks as you yelp at the sensation, his slick fingers pistoning into your folds so fast you’re arching so taut. From between your quivering legs, you hear one final command,
“Then fucking come.”
And you burst, so hard you almost feel like something threatens to spew from your cunt. But all you can do is shake and thrash under his grip, so erratic that you feel like Yoongi’s starting to pin you down. Gone, gone, gone, you’re sure the veins of your neck threaten to break through your sweaty skin.
Then you feel his cock thrust inside of you, and you whip your head forward only to get your airway cut off. “Again,” he calmly repeats, flinging you back to the last time this happened.
Only this time, there’s even less room for you to make any other choice.
“I said again.”
Your body cannot fathom disobedience, pulsing and milking his perfect fit. Over, and over, and over. You hear rumbling from a dragon above, feel breaths of steam whooshing as it watches you come undone.
“Yoongi—”
A light slap to your cheek is your only warning before your chin is tugged, lips smushing into yours to swallow your straining sobs. Fuck, fuck, fuck, your body is still thrumming, inundating around his cock until your emotions spill from your core. Toes. Fingers. Everything is straining and locking in place.
“So fucking hot.” He rips your soul right out. “Shit.”
You fly through time and space, gathering emotions and feelings and spiraling spiraling spiraling. Crying. You’re crying. Full on crying you’re so overwhelmed with everything truly you were so mean to him you upset him holy fuck you should’ve left when he told you to—
“Baby.”
But you cannot stop crying, choke choke gasping on sobs.
“Babe.”
“I—I—”
Your name stabs you with a crisp shot, coupled with a firm grip on your chin, snapping you back to lucid. And Yoongi’s eyes are frantically searching your own. “Look at me.”
You do. Do you? You do. And his eyes…
They’re not angry at all. It’s pure concern. Steadfast concentration. And something reflecting your soul. “Breathe.”
“Oh, shit,” you whisper, coughing and reaching for oxygen you didn’t know you were denying. Air rushes back into your lungs as you inhale.
“There you go. Keep going.”
You do, gulping down air and hiccuping a breath or two. Your cheek is being caressed, you think. And with another pass, you know it is.
“Relax for me.” And you hiccup a sob. “Breathe, babe.”
You do, you do, you do. Yoongi kisses your forehead, your cheeks, your nose, and you breathe more and more through it all. “You with me?”
“Always,” you answer, filter off because you are hanging by a thread and he’s holding the top. “Please don’t kick me out ever,” you hiccup. “Please, baby, I’ll do anything for you but I—could—never handle that—”
You’re tenderly hushed before lips slide over yours, attempting to swallow your thoughts and your sobs and your oncoming tears. As you flood his bed with apologies, Yoongi keeps wiping them all.
“I’m sorry.”
“Nothing to be sorry for.”
“I’m really sorry.”
“Babe.”
“You told me so many times—”
“Breathe, angel.”
You blink at the change in name, and it makes you focus just a bit stronger. Floating down from the precipice.
“I wasn’t kicking you out,” he slowly explains, kissing sweat from your forehead. His words feel like a calm, rock-filled river over your eyes. “I felt like an idiot and hated you seeing me like this.”
“Like what?”
“Just… Like this.”
“You’re perfect like this,” you hitch out, not caring about what flows out of your mouth. “So perfect. Always to me. I just wanted to help you, baby, I’m so sorry—”
He hugs you so tight more tears squeeze out.
And so do more confessions, “I… I care about you. I think a little too much. If I lost you, I wouldn’t—be able—”
“I’m here.”
“So please don’t push me away.”
“I won’t.”
“I know you don’t make promises but—”
“I promise.” Without an ounce of doubt, Yoongi places a firm, lingering kiss on your temple. “Promise. Fuck.” As he holds you tight, you feel him shake before you hear the tiniest sniff at your ear.
Oh. He doesn’t need to be like this, too. You try to move your hand up between your bodies to comfort him, but your whole limb feels gelatinous. So you simply whisper, “It’s okay, baby.”
You can’t tell how long you lie like this, with his beautiful weight on yours. But time is irrelevant when your mind is unwinding from hours of whirring, starting to finally accept the fact that everyone is okay and you don’t have to be angry anymore.
“Come on,” Yoongi rasps, voice cracked and airy. “Let’s go.”
“Hmm?”
“Shower.”
“Oh. Okay.”
You’re so thrown and dizzy from what just happened that even getting to the bathroom is a blur. What you kinda feel is Yoongi holding you upright when your legs buckle, but you don’t remember when he leaves your side to turn the water on.
As he flips on the light, your eyes squeeze until they adjust, and you watch as he tests the water while fully clothed. Air conditioning starts to give you a chill, but the shower warms up just in time because he reaches out to guide you inside.
Wait. Is he not joining you? Bleary, you grab at his shirt when he steps away, eyes pleading. “Are you coming in, too?”
Yoongi stops before he gives a shake of his head. “I’ll take mine when you’re done,” he says through a slight smile. “We’ll take care of you first.”
That doesn’t make sense. Even in your depleting haze, you know something doesn’t add up. “You can join me now. I don’t mind.” When you try to lift his shirt, Yoongi visibly flinches when you brush over his ribs.
And all the murk around your head vanishes in a snap.
He kept his shirt on that whole time. Not once did your positions allow you to see his upper body fully. And now he’s not gonna get in the shower or take his shirt off?
Your voice lowers two octaves when you reach full clarity. “Let me see.”
Unblinking, Yoongi tries to back away, “Don’t worry—”
“Let me see it, baby,” you command, breath cut until he finally allows you to lift his shirt up holy fuck those injuries look so painful tears prick your eyes. “Oh, my god, Yoongi—”
“I’m fine.”
“You’re hurt.” You feel these wounds deep in your ribs, and you tell him to get your kit what the hell he fucked you while feeling those?
Attempting to alleviate your stress, Yoongi decides to strip fully and step into the shower, ignoring your pleas to grab your med kit and promising you can take care of him when you’re done washing up.
“Are you sure you’re okay?”
“Yes, doll.”
“Are you sure?”
“Promise.”
And when his arms wrap around you, this is when you finally let go. Huge, chest-wracking sobs echo around tile, and Yoongi stays quiet through your cathartic release.
There’s another reason you were so upset. And it has nothing to do with any of them, but with yourself. The main reason you’ve been so riled up and frustrated is because… This is technically your fault, too.
But, unsurprisingly, he won’t let you take any blame whatsoever.
“You got hurt cus I said to play.”
“Nope.”
“I wore the outfit that day.”
“Doesn’t matter.”
“And lost my friends at the club.”
“No.”
Sniffling in quick succession, you think about one other option. Some form of closure that can double as compromise. Voice soft, you suggest the last resort you have,
“How about we share it.”
Yoongi blinks twice before he clarifies, “You wanna share the blame?” When you nod, he huffs through the tiniest smile of confusion. “Mm. Then it’s our fault.”
“Okay.”
After shaking his head, he closes his eyes, molding his forehead with yours. “What are you doing to me.”
A sniffle. “Wrecking your water bill.”
His laughs join yours as you barely get your sentence out before giggling, and to feel him so close and present and here makes your worries slink down the drain.
Hands trace down your arms, walking along falling rivers before creating ponds with your fingers intertwined. “Gonna clear me out someday.”
“Duh.”
He’s himself again.
And after a whole night of chaos, you feel like yourself again, too.
That’s all you both need to feel peace.
-
-
You keep that tranquility carrying you through his room, peeking into his closet to grab the biggest shirt and sweats you can find before drying your head.
But no matter how much water you can dry, your body will keep being washed in relief. And it’s the calmest feeling, watching as Yoongi does the simplest things near his bed.
Your lips curve when he pulls up his pants; your heart beats when he grabs a tee. It’s in this moment that you admit that these outfits of his are your favorites, and you gravitate to him as he slips cotton over his damp head.
“Come on,” you softly offer as you turn. “I’ll make food and get you some ice.”
Again, Yoongi just stares with a faint smile. But his eyes are alive again, so you’re more than fine if he just follows your lead without a word.
In the kitchen, you pause amongst the appliances, the cabinets watching as you utilize your phone to find a good recipe. “What shall we eat… Stew? Or, wait—”
Looking up, you eye him in thought before choosing to focus on something else. “Actually, let’s figure you out first.”
Opening yet another tab to add to your hundreds, you type away before selecting a good starting point. “Okay, let’s see. You’re breathing fine, so no bruised ribs. Umm…”
Scroll, scroll.
“It looks really bad there, though. You sure you can move right?”
Despite asking, you go right back to your phone before Yoongi can even respond. Scrolling and clicking and reading again.
Scroll, scroll.
“Okay, so no bruised ribs, and according to this you don’t have any broken bones. And nothing fractured, either, thank god—”
“I love you.”
Time bursts.
Your chest glows.
Everything starts to beat, beat, beat in slow motion.
And you don’t even feel like you’re in the room anymore. “…What?”
You need to hear it again. You need to need to need to, because if you heard him wrong, you will check yourself and bolt right out the door.
His eyes.
Despite the battlefield on his skin, they are dripping, and sparkling, and full. The whole world suspends as he stares right into your soul, caressing it with his wounded hands and cradling it in his bruised arms.
No matter how hard the moon will try—for years, and years, and years more—it will never outshine this single, shaken, solidified admittance.
“I love you, doll.”
You don’t know what to do. You don’t know what to fucking do.
Why is Yoongi saying this now? Why is he choosing now of all times to make you the happiest person in the universe?
No.
Happiness isn’t even close to what you feel and you’re pretty sure you’re crying but nothing makes sense and your vision plunges under sunlit waters.
“And you don’t have to say anything. I know I don’t deserve to.”
What?
“I can’t be everything you want. Or need. Or whatever the fuck I’m trying to say. But I just needed you to know because I can’t fucking fight this shit anymore—”
You lunge forward before he offers his last syllable, careful to avoid his wounds and not mush his face because he would do the same for you.
And it’s all too much tonight. The lingering fear, the dying anger, the floods of relief, the joy. You can’t stop your sobs from coming out in bursts, your whole body wracking with overwhelming emotion as he grits into your skin,
“Goddamn it, I—”
“Yoongi—”
“—so fucking much.”
Yoongi loves you. He’s here. He loves you, loves you, loves you and the beats of your heart pulse orange and blue, blue, blue.
Nothing will ever compare to this moment. Nothing. You will bottle this one up in a jar to place next to all the others you have stored, and when you are lonely, or hurt, or even when you’re doing just fine, you will uncork it to surround yourself with this memory and know that everything will be okay.
He loves you.
Fuck, he loves you?
You choke out his name with a sob, and he squeezes you even harder. When you can’t reply with anything else, he buries his face in the crook of your shoulder, his tears taking root and blossoming into beautiful vibrant fruit all along your rib cage.
He loves you.
Why can’t you seem to say it back? What the fuck is wrong with your tongue?
Maybe it’s because saying it doesn’t feel like enough. Like it’s laughable that there are words for this feeling because they don’t nearly represent what you harbor in your very being for this man.
There’s no way any words are enough. Not for him. Nor for you. Because right now, Yoongi needs something more. And you’re going to give him more than everything.
“Yoongi, I—”
He captures your lips in his, and you let him push you against his counter and consume you everywhere he wants to. Between his claims, your sobs have room to breathe. Which makes for a horrible showing of your attempting to say what you want to. “I… I can’t… Yoongi—”
Fingers press into the back of your head, a forehead smushing into yours and shutting you up completely. “I’m sorry,” he says, words rolling down the tracks your tears have walked. “I won’t ever be able to say that enough.”
“Baby,” you hiccup, resting a hand over one of his. “It’s okay.”
“It’s not.”
“It is.” You squeeze his hand, feeling the lovely digs of his knuckles in your palm. His scent wafts around you like an embrace, and you know there’s nothing quite like it. At all. “You’re okay, so I’m okay.”
After he plants a warm kiss on your temple, you feel his hands ball into fists at your ears. “I just—fuck.”
There’s no telling what he’s thinking about in that brain of his. But you need him to know that there’s nothing more for him to be sorry for. All you care about is that he’s present, responding, and himself.
“Babe,” you whisper, still not believing those three words coming out of his mouth. “I’m here.”
“I know.” He sighs, smushing into your lips and holding you so tenderly, yet so tight. As he laps at your tongue, you’re more than sure he can taste your rainfall.
None of this is real. Because you can’t believe it at all. Even as Yoongi continues his journey across your neck, your shoulders, your jaw, your face, you still can’t piece together that this is truly happening.
When you feel him hard on your pelvis, you remember that he didn’t get the same release you got earlier. But you’re not gonna be the one to suggest going again, all of this will be what he decides.
And what Yoongi decides is to pull you closer, breathing you in while you do the same. His kisses are never ending, and your hands roam languidly along his shoulders, his hair, stretching across the expanse of his back. One that has held the weight of the world and then some.
His name leaves your mouth in a sigh, your back arching as softly as the kisses being planted along your breasts.
“If you only knew,” he whispers, laughing to himself as he wraps an arm around your side.
“Knew what?”
“Nothing, babe.” You gasp into his next rough press to your lips. “You’re so—fuck.”
You said you’d let him lead. But as Yoongi starts to walk you into his bedroom again, you think about his injuries and feel more concerned after knowing they’re there. So you quietly stop him as you reach his bed, “Are you sure?”
“I’ll be alright, doll,” he whispers, lowering you down and smiling so tranquilly your heart lurches. “As much as I think you enjoyed the first time, this time will be better.”
Giggling, you fight the heat from searing your cheeks as you smile. “You enjoyed it more than I did, I think.”
“I don’t think so.” Yoongi smirks, getting up. “Lemme get a cond—”
“It’s okay,” you halt him with a hand, and he freezes.
Full stop. No movement. Not even a breath. “...What?”
“We don’t…” You swallow, stomach fluttering at his expression. “We don’t have to this time.”
Because Yoongi’s eyes have not left your face. “You sure?”
Then something causes you to smile. Knowing that if there’s anyone you want to do this with, it’s this man right here and now. There’s genuinely no one else in the world with whom you would wanna share this experience, and the fact that he’s still asking makes you emotional.
Cradling his face with the most tender touch you can imagine, you confirm, “Just for a little bit.” And you add something you think he needs to keep hearing. “I trust you.”
Gulping down any extra emotions spilling from your heart’s chalice, your words come out a little wobbled. “And I want to, if you want it, too.”
“I want what you want, doll.”
“Then it’s okay.”
Clothes on or off, you still feel so shy underneath him.
But this time, you vow to shove those feelings of unworthiness to the side. Because you are fully invested in this moment above all others. And Yoongi deserves more than you can give.
When he slowly tugs his sweats from your legs, you’re already choking back tears. As he climbs on top, you await the connection you never in your dreams would’ve imagined.
And when Yoongi stares at you one more time, you know exactly what he’s asking.
“Yes, my love,” you wisp into his skin, craning up to kiss him and swallowing his last slice of doubt. Knowing you’ll say it again and again and again.
His brows pinch as he kisses you—slow, purposeful, understanding. Then he positions himself, and you can physically feel his hand brush your cunt as he does so. If he ever asks if you felt him shake, you will deny it. But only for a year or two.
As soon as you feel him—only him, solely him—you swell with a current of emotion. And it pulls you all the way under when he’s fully sheathed inside.
“Holy fucking shit.”
“Yoongi—”
“Fuck.”
Simply having him inside, with no barriers or obstacles in between? You’re already close. There’s no early explanation, but you already feel overwhelmed enough to come.
No no no. You want this to last forever, so you wait for Yoongi to gather himself because he appears to be fighting, too.
Chuckling, you ask, “You good, baby?”
And your lover snaps his gaze to your face, bangs sweeping across your cheeks and eyes unblinking. “Yeah, just...” He stares at your inquisitive expression before whooshing out a harsh breath. “Just this is about to make me bust.”
You burst into laughter before admitting you were just thinking the same thing, and his slow grin makes you want to cry. “We’re not good at this.”
“No. You’re too good at this. I can’t even move.”
“Yes, you can,” you whine. “You wreck my shit all the time.”
Feeling a twitch more prominent than ever, you giggle as Yoongi puffs out pained amusement. “Doll, if you keep talking like that, I’m pulling out.”
“Okay, okay,” you surrender, loving how out of sorts he seems. He’s fighting for his life and you’re enjoying the hell out of it.
“You’re a little too perfect right now.”
Maybe one day you will agree with him. But that day is far from reach, your head shaking in quiet disagreement.
“You are.”
“Nowhere close,” you whisper.
His nose brushes against yours. “Say that again and see what happens.”
“Is that what you tell all the others fuck!”
His shove up your cunt makes you see stars. “What did I fuckin’ say?”
“What—”
Another launch has you careening through space, lip bitten and suppressing a hearty whine. “You think there’s someone else?” Again. “Hmm?”
Again.
You’re so dazed and mind-fucked to pieces that your speech is barely audible. But your chin is grabbed as you’re snapped straight, and your eyes try their hardest to focus on slitted ones above. “You’re gonna regret saying that.”
You just laugh, whine pinging sharp into the ceiling as he shoves forward so hard your whole body shifts upward. “Oh, yeah?”
Yoongi doesn’t respond with words, thrusting up again and sending you twisting and winding towards the edge unbelievably fast. “Uh huh.”
“Make me then,” you gasp out. “Make me really sorry.”
The sound Yoongi makes comes from deep within his stomach, the rumbling hum shooting right into your veins like liquid fire.
And the full-on attack he bursts into renders you completely speechless. Everything Yoongi does pulls you deliciously in all directions—his thrusts, his chain hitting his chest, his grip on your wrists, the way he snags your chin. Everything.
“Taking me so well like this.”
“I—”
“So fucking tight.”
Fuck fuck fuck it’s habitual for you at this point, and you unhinge your jaw a split second before he smacks the side of your face. Desire lowers your lids halfway as you feel empowered, and you don’t even recognize your voice as you order him on the spot. “Do it again.”
Yoongi doesn’t stop his pace as he keeps his eyes on you.
“Do it again,” you growl, fully limp and a groaning mess when he does exactly what you want.
Fuck, the pain feels good. So good that you reach up and choke him out. But the back of your head is grabbed before you feel hungry lips smash into yours. You feel your wrists pinned again by one large palm, air chilling for a moment before a hot mouth captures one of your nipples. “Oh, fuck, Yoongi!”
“Uh uh.”
“Please—please—”
You’re still tensing as he devours your chest below his shirt, strokes now slower but just as powerful.
Your arms still haven’t been freed, but there’s something about being under his control that has you loving this position. Without question. Maybe it’s the fact that you can see him now, losing himself just as he saw you washes in the throes of passion.
And he licks, sucks, lolls his tongue all over your tits, whispered praises sinking through your bosom as he keeps a grip on your wrists.
“Baby,” you gasp. “I’m close, I’m—”
“Shit.” Air whooshes over you before you feel your arms freed and him yank himself out, and you freeze as he unloads right on your stomach, a sharp cocktail of pride and shock in your gut.
Holy fuck, Yoongi was that close? Did he hold out as long as he could? Shit, he’s breathing so hard his jewelry shakes as it dangles.
You’re still so surprised that your arms are still locked into bends, and he glances up at you from his kneeled state. “Fuck,” he laughs, and is that… Is Yoongi shy? “Thought I could hold out.”
“No, no, it’s fine,” you assure through your own tiny chuckle. “Oh my god, I promise.”
He leans down to plant a heart fluttering kiss on your lips, but you hate how he looks pained on the way down.
Those hits he took… Now you kinda understand his perspective. Because now you want to avenge him in five hundred thousand ways—almost half as many ways as you want to show him how you feel.
“Stay there, beautiful,” Yoongi orders as he moves to get off the bed, wincing in passes. “I’m not done with you.”
Damn. He looks even more exhausted than before. “Baby, are you sure?”
But Yoongi walks right to his bathroom to retrieve a towel, and your eyes may as well transform into hearts when you watch him come back to you. So handsome, even now. Even when he’s simply holding a washcloth, hair completely mussed, soul sparkling and face bruised.
As he sits to clean your face before moving to your stomach, you can only observe his eyes. So experienced. Calm. At peace. When they drift to yours, it’s instinct that has you shying away. “What, love.”
Another reason to crumble inside. “I just… nothing,” you whisper.
And Yoongi finishes with the cloth before tossing it somewhere. “Tell me,” he says, lying down on the ribs with more damage. “I wanna know.”
“Come on this side,” you tell him, and he obliges without a word. “It’s a secret.”
“A secret?”
“Mmhmm.”
Yoongi settles before lifting your chin, rubbing an affectionate thumb over any tears still persevering on your cheeks. “I can keep those, you know.”
Smiling, you fold way too easily. “Okay, I’ll tell.”
When he leans in, your nervousness and excitement to tell him almost spoils your ability to do so. Like someone gifting a present while wanting to say what it is before it’s even opened.
“I love you, too,” you whisper, tears sprinting to your ducts as Yoongi freezes. When he looks at you, you can’t help but choke on a sob seeing his eyes get as red as the marks on his cheek. “And you deserve more than I could ever give.”
His eyes hold the heavens and the seas.
You’re right. Just saying it isn’t fucking enough.
You’re already liplocked again before you can think, saltwater on your face and you don’t even know whose eyes it came from.
Determined, Yoongi starts kissing a trail from your lips to your jaw, and you start to cry as he makes his own journey down the expanse of you.
All of you.
Is this what it feels like? Is all of this actually, genuinely real?
You hope so, because you feel devotion in each press of his lips, and every touch will be remembered in its own right. Its own pocket of time.
Every single stop.
It almost feels divine when his mouth reaches your folds, lapping at your essence and swirling around your clit. When you say his name, Yoongi says nothing, instead palming your thighs and eating you out like he has all the time in the world.
Swelling, you already feel close.
But the way he gets you to fantasia is so natural that you slide into your quivers seemlessly. The transition into your heaven flows like a stream, and your waves engulf his tongue and coat his mouth without trouble.
This is what it feels like. What it feels like with Yoongi.
And you wanna keep making love until only sleep can take you from him.
Your hands jut into his hair, gasping as he keeps his pace, and no matter how you squirm he is dead set on holding you down until holy fuck you’re coming again.
How? What’s happening to you? This constant stream of release is shocking you to the point of crying out, and Yoongi groans into your orgasm and prolongs it with the whole press of his tongue.
“Holy fuck, baby—!” Another wave overcomes the next, and you outright quake in his hands, eyes rolling and vision blinking white. Muscles lock as you can’t keep up with the pleasure, and you’re mercilessly let go only for lips to descend on yours.
Your tears spill into your ears as you kiss him back, wrapping tired arms over his shoulders and raking in deep.
“Fuck.” And you feel his cock lodge against your entrance, and you’re amazed how hard he is again.
Does he want what you want? Is he ready again?
As Yoongi quietly gets up to get a condom, you’re amazed that he wants to keep going after everything that’s transpired. But, if he feels like you do, he’s ready to keep going until the sun comes up three whole times.
When he sits next to you, your better half appears shy as he bites the wrapper. “Don’t take this the wrong way.”
“Oh, I already know.”
“K. But god, I fuckin’ want to.”
You bite your lip to hold back your smile, remembering what he said a long time ago and bringing it back full circle for the next thing you both wanna try. “One day.”
Yoongi only grins.
And for the next hour, your lover, your secret, your home gives you everything he has, and you come for him more times than you ever have in your life.
Every time, he drags your pleasure out, expertly tearing you down with his movements and building your confidence up with his words. He tells you you’re perfect, and he disagrees when you disagree. When you find tears on your face, he kisses those away, too. When you feel along his silver, he simply watches you in silence.
No sadness, doubt, nor anger to be found.
After you physically can’t do any more, Yoongi lies at your side, silent as you play with his hair. You do your best to stay still, not wanting to accidentally push into any of his injuries that you’re gonna beg him to get checked in the morning.
Once he’s healed? That’s when you’ll never let go. Because you want to crush him into you completely. Mold into him, just so he can feel the brevity of your highest affection.
“I’m sorry for yelling,” you finally whisper. “But I really was so mad at you. All of you.”
“I know.”
“I don’t wanna lose you.”
“It won’t happen again.”
“That’s what you said last time.”
Yoongi stares, seeming to withhold something from you before he palms your cheek. “They were gonna follow us home if we didn’t, babe,” he reveals, snapping your heart back in two. “We all knew that.”
“Oh, fuck.” Everything hits you at once: why they stayed, why you and Taehyung had to leave. Why Tae didn’t bring you straight back to the house. And the burns at your eyes match the searing in your gut. “I didn’t… I didn’t think about that.”
When you start to cry, Yoongi sits up and hangs his head between his sweats. “You don’t need to think about shit like that,” he murmurs, sounding defeated as ever. “But we talked after you told us off. We won’t hide that from you anymore.”
Sniffling, you whisper out a thank you. But you don’t want Yoongi to feel like he has to distance himself, so you untangle him—slowly, gently–-before bringing him into your chest.
After dealing with all that and the tempest in his living room, this man still let you in. From the looks of things, there’s a lot that he had been fighting, and you’re more than appreciative that he opened his door. Not knowing how to put these feelings into words, you say the first things that come to mind. And for some reason, they feel heavier on the way out,
“Thank you for letting me in. It was raining really hard.”
Yoongi stiffens hard before holding you closer.
“Babe?”
No response. Just another batch of weighted quiet.
Worried, you tilt your head. “Hey. Look at me.”
If he stays right where he is, you’ll have to respect that decision. But he ends up pushing himself up, and as soon as you see moonlight catch on a falling tear, all your instincts reach for him, “Oh, fuck, come here.”
You surround him with everything you have, wanting every single bit of warmth birthed from his love to fill his space instead of yours. Whatever he needs, you will give. “It’s okay, baby,” you whisper, holding him so close but not nearly close enough.
Never close enough.
His face is buried in the crook of your neck, and you will let him live there whenever he needs to. “I’m not mad anymore, okay?” God, you hate how he’s still so silent. You get it, but you hate whatever made him default to this state. “I’m just glad you’re alright.”
After light rain fills the room, your soul breaks at a sniffle, and you crush your love even tighter.
“This isn’t about that, doll,” Yoongi finally whispers, burying wet eyes further into your shoulder. “It’s just…”
It’s what? What’s he thinking about? Hopefully it’s not anything—
“It’s so fucking better when you’re here.”
When you choke out a sob, his body locks, words pouring from nowhere and everywhere. “I sleep better. Eat better. Fuck, I even feel better even if nothing else changes.”
“Yoongi…”
“It’s true.” Sighing, he sniffles again before letting his weight drop onto you in resignation. Or relief. “I mean that.”
“Then… Those three months…”
“One day, I’ll tell you everything,” he offers, making you wonder what the hell he’s been through in the past. And if it has something to do with that guitar he smashed to pieces. “But from now on, you can be here whatever you want.”
Many things have shifted tonight. As if an earthquake had upturned everything between the both of you, only peace has settled in its wake. A peace you had never felt before. As you brush fingers through his hair, you joke, “So I can come to those parties you host, too?”
“Those weren’t my idea, by the way. Jimin made me.” Kissing your shoulder, Yoongi continues to admit, “He was worried. And hoping you would show.”
Oh. That’s news to you.
“I knew you wouldn’t. But.” He exhales before nestling in further. “I did hope to see you, too.”
“It’s okay.” You rub the back of his neck, your fingers feeling nothing but warmth and the softness of his clothes. “It would’ve been too obvious.”
“What would’ve.”
“That I wanted you all to myself.”
“You already have that.”
When you stiffen, your words are tiny. “You know what I mean.”
Yoongi laughs soft, taking one of your hands in his and bringing it up for a kiss as you blurt, “My brother was the one that invited me. To come to those, I mean.”
The way he blinks is comical. “Huh.”
“I know.” It’s your turn to bring his hand close, kissing along his knuckles before you stare out the window behind him. “It makes me wonder if he knows.”
“What if he does?”
You snap your eyes right to his. “Does he?”
Yoongi watches your lips linger on his fingers before he tells the truth, “No.”
“Okay. But you’re sure I can stay?”
“Who do you think you bought those groceries for?”
Oh. Wait. “What?”
Grinning so sly, Yoongi reveals the plan he had all along, “I get you for a week, right?”
Oh. Holy shit. You cannot quite possibly deal with what this man is saying. That whole time you were shopping for his list… No wonder he was already done with dinner when you got there oh you’re gonna get him back for that.
Light bursts from your center as you grit out through a grin, “You sneaky little—” Pulling his tilted mouth in for another kiss, your heart pulses little pink stars as he leans in with a laugh, and you meet lips again and again until he slowly, reluctantly stops.
“One day,” he murmurs out of nowhere, and you flick your eyes to his. “I’ll be better.”
Of course he will. You have no doubts. But, just like he always does for you, you’re gonna start offering the same reassurance out loud, even if he knows it’s there.
And you can’t contain your little laughs at your own joke, despite him just staring into your face right after you crack it, “Don’t make it just one day, silly.”
Even if you’re very serious, it’s in your nature to lighten things up. Especially after hearing such wonderful news for what’s coming. Clutching a little bit of his shirt, you whisper with complete devotion,
“We’ll make it as many as we can.”
You hate how you feel him freeze, knowing what that means, what plaguing little thoughts are embedded in that tiny shift.
Yoongi’s still hesitant to accept.
Because you are, too. In many ways. But this man has been picking you up and making you stronger day after day—in both his presence and absence—that you can’t help but fight to do the same.
Does he ever think about you? Does he know that you’ll always be with him? No matter how close or far apart you are? You hope so. Because it’s so true that your heart is searing that promise into your soul, branding it as a reminder to reciprocate all this genuine love you’ve never been given before.
He loves you?
You still can’t accept that as fact.
…Maybe one day.
You chuckle to yourself, deciding to keep talking because Yoongi is still so very quiet. “At least. Until the day I get to meet my cat,” you huff in triumph. “Then I’m running away with her.”
It’s a perfect strike of a match. “Oh, yeah?”
“Yeah.” You pretend to pout. “But I’m starting to think she ran away already and you won’t fess up.”
Yoongi laughs so suddenly you flinch. After a playful scoff, he tries to make you feel better, “She’s still here!”
“Lies.”
“How much are you betting, doll.”
“How much are you willing to lose, babe.”
“This much,” he finally says, pinching your sides and hissing laughter when you scream. “Maybe I’ll make you leave after all if you’re gonna be a problem.”
“You did threaten to kick me out before.”
“Huh? When?”
“That day I showed up,” you remind him through a chuckle. Thrown back to that first night, you start to see all the parallels between then and now. And how vastly different things have become. “Said you were gonna kick me out for hustling you.”
The glorious laughter from the depths of his belly makes you grin, and you cringe when his brows pinch in both laughter and pain. “I should’ve!”
He needs to get those hits healed. “You really should’ve.”
“Played me from the very start. You happy with yourself?” When you nod, Yoongi shakes his head. “Course you are.”
“You love it.”
“I do.” Your eyes meet, which proves dangerous for you because he bites his smirk before pulling you in for a kiss. “Thought I was gonna say it, huh.”
“No!” You lie. Because no, you certainly were not! “…Maybe.”
“Guess what.”
Suddenly paranoid, you give him a look, already expecting to be tricked again.
But Yoongi captures your lips without warning, curling your toes into sheets you’re now achingly familiar with. After a few passes, he shifts above, planting a hand at your side and letting his chain slide against your chest as he slots a leg in between yours.
Yet again, you think about that first night, that first time. The first of apparently, surprisingly, wonderfully unexpectedly many.
Who would’ve thought rain and a broken ego would bloom into something good? Who would’ve believed a person so close to your roots would be your home?
As he lets up with one last slow stroke of his tongue, you whisper, “What were you gonna say?”
At this, Yoongi spreads closed lips, taking his time planting a peck on your nose. “I just fucking love you, doll.”
Oh. He’s a menace and the most annoying tease on the planet.
When you can’t do anything but flee into his chest, Yoongi immediately laughs, forcing you back out of your little shell. “You can’t hide now, babe.”
“I can!”
Leaned forward in your struggle, you give him no choice but to swoop his head into your neck. Which backfires on you immensely because he decides it’s the perfect time to rasp deep against your ear, “I love fucking you, too.”
His name flies out of your mouth in disbelief and embarrassment, and his heightened amusement puffs into the burning column below your chin.
This is the moment something comes over you. Slams into you. Washes you in present nostalgia like lingering footsteps on a balcony.
And it hurts. It really, really hurts.
Instead of laughing along, you come down from your high, squeezing him like the pillow that couldn’t replicate his warmth for months. “I miss you.”
After a second, Yoongi questions, “How? I’m right here.”
You know that. You do. But with every hello there’s a goodbye, and you don’t want that this time. Especially now that your heart knows that his beats the same.
Breathy and shaken, you rest your head in his chest, hoping he doesn’t hear but does at the same time, “I still miss you.”
Strong fingers weakly press into your sides, and while you can’t see him, you know for a fact that his smile is gone. Because he also knows goodbye is coming again, and you can’t stay here forever as long as this is all a secret.
You feel a sigh wisp over your head before words that make no fucking sense follow it out, “I can’t do shit like this anymore.”
…What?
No. No no no he can’t be done just like that you both just confessed everything you need to fight say something anything anything—
“I wanna do this the right way.”
Oh.
Yoongi’s chest… It’s shaking.
Pushing yourself up, you search his eyes for answers. “What are you saying?”
When he looks at you, there’s a fire in his eyes that wasn’t there before. Or maybe it has been there all along, and he only needed a spark to set it ablaze. “I’m saying I’ll tell him, doll. Just me.”
Oh. Oh, shit. Didn’t he say not yet? Didn’t he say he needs more time? He said he’d figure it out what is with the sudden…
Your tears are automatic as Yoongi roams his gaze from one eye to the other, and he’s swallowing before taking a step. A step you didn’t think he’d make. One you didn’t have the courage to take yourself.
When he utters the words, your soul lets rain fall just as the storm resides.
And right as moonlight shines through his blinds.
“I’ll tell him everything.”
-
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tbc. :)
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so... how did it go! | join the server!
a/n: so. here we are, over two years and 250k+ words later. thank you for sticking with me if you're still here, and thank you for being the most amazing readers a writer could ever, ever ask for. if you can interact or let me know what you enjoyed/like, i would be eternally grateful. these two parts took all of me, and i'm gonna take a break for a little bit before starting on the next part.
a/n 2: thank you for also being here despite the highs and lows! things have really weighed on me for awhile, which prevented me from working on this part forreal. but my mental feels a lot lighter now, and i am ready to keep running with y'all. so thank you for your support and encouragement, no matter how you show it!
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Life is great. Quitting your part time was the best decision you could’ve made. To be honest, even if you could work remotely, Jeongguk fucking someone just yards away was too much of a distraction. The work you managed to do wasn’t up to your standards, and you were forced to compensate, work dragging out into the late nights. It tired you out, and you rarely had the energy to meet friends or family.
Now you do. You wake up, feeling rested, and you’re up to date with everything at work, sometimes even ahead. You see your family and you meet with friends beyond your colleagues. You’ve even started taking long daily walks around the park close to your apartment.
But something is still missing. You’re still pretty busy, but your thoughts drift when you’ve gone to bed or when your ears are filled with music as you trudge the familiar route around the park. In those moments, your heart hurts.
You miss him.
Although working there for slightly more than a year and becoming pretty close, you never exchanged numbers since you were adamant about keeping your work and private life separate. Or more like, keeping Jeongguk separate from your private life. The only message you got was an email from the company saying you forgot your laptop charger there. You have multiple, so you didn’t bother getting it. Until your other broke, and you’d promised yourself to stop wasting so much money.
So, four months after you thought you left the big, shiny building for the last time, you’re once again pushing open one of its large entrance doors. In and out, just take the elevator to the reception and they should have your charger there. It won’t even take five minutes.
Except that there’s someone you don’t know working the reception, and she seems to have trouble answering the man in front of you’s question. If there’s one thing you don’t need, it’s for Jeongguk to see you, so you bite your lip, hoping the woman finds what she’s looking for soon. It’s earlier than you know he usually arrives, but you can never be too sure.
Finally, the man thanks the receptionist for the number to someone in production, and you take his place at the desk.
“Hi, I used to work here up to around four months ago. I got an email saying that I’d forgotten my laptop charger, so I’d like to pick that up, please?”
The woman nods and smiles at you before she rolls her chair away to open some drawer. You hear the sound of things rustling around as she’s obviously searching for it. Unfortunately, she mumbles something and returns to her original position, scratching her head.
“Uh, It’s not here, but I remember Yeri said something about reorganizing the lost and found, but I–”
She’s interrupted by the phone, glancing at the number displayed and sighing. “You know Yeri?”
“Yeah,” you nod, “I do.”
“She’s in B42, why don’t you go and ask her? This is going to take a while,” she speaks, lifting the corded phone and putting it to her ear. “Hello, this is Nayeon at Adam & Eve, how may I help you?”
Confused, you mouth “I don’t have a keycard anymore,” to which she removes the phone from her mouth and covers it with her other hand. “They’ll let you in if you knock.”
Poor Nayeon looks like the person on the other line is the last one she’d want to talk to, so you figure you’ll cut her some slack.
To get to B42, you need to take the elevator up to the fourth floor and into the ‘B’ corridor, and it doesn’t take you long to do just that. Standing in front of the locked door, you place three solid knocks on it and wait a few seconds until it opens. Turns out it’s another familiar face that greets you, dressed in nothing but what looks like a firefighter’s thick, yellow pants.
“Hey? I, uh, thought you quit?”
“Hey… Taehyung. I did, yeah, but I forgot something here, so… I’m looking for Yeri?”
You’ve only spoken to Taehyung a few times, but the tall blonde has been nothing but polite, and he is now as well, smiling down at you and opening the door wider to let you through. “She’s over there,” he gestures behind him into the middle of the room.
Like he said, you spot Yeri on the set, dressed in jeans and a dark red turtleneck sweater, talking to two men who carry heavy equipment in their arms. She stands with her back toward you and therefore hasn’t spotted you, so you step into the room.
The set is another one meant to look like a regular home, and considering what Taehyung is wearing, you guess a beautiful, seductive woman is about to burn something on her stove and receive a valuable fire safety lesson from a hot firefighter.
“Yeri?”
She turns around at the sound of her name, breaking out in a smile when she recognizes you.
“Hey!” she exclaims happily, “How are you? Are you coming back?”
“Oh, uh, no, I just came to get my charger, Nayeon seemed to have her hands full at the reception, so she asked me to find you.”
“Oh, I see. Well, we had some of the new but delayed filming equipment finally delivered, so I just need to tell these guys–no, more to the left!--uh… where to place it all. I’ll be done in like… two minutes and you can follow me to the office?”
“Sure, no problem.”
“Great, so, tell me, what do you do these days?”
“I work full time as a data analyst, so it’s pretty different from… ,” you start, gesturing around you to the large set. But as you’re doing so, you happen to also peer around the big room, nearly doing a double take when you see him.
Apparently, Taehyung isn’t the only firefighter meant to teach someone a lesson because not far from the door you just entered through a few minutes ago, Jeongguk stands. Just like his coworker, he’s only dressed in those big, bulky firefighter pants, the red suspenders hanging loosely from his waist.
You look at him, and he looks at you, his brown eyes wide. But he isn’t alone. A woman stands before him, looking up at him with one hand down his unbuttoned pants and the other splayed across his chest.
You blink, turning your head away quickly, “Pretty different from this.”
Yeri chuckles, oblivious to the strange feeling in your chest. “I bet.”
A man dressed in black asks her about some cable to which she points to her desired outlet.
“Get ready everyone, ten minutes!” someone calls out, and people put in an extra gear. You spot a beautiful woman, dressed in short shorts, a tank top, and with her makeup looking flawless, leading you to believe that she’s the one about to be spitroasted for endangering her neighbors.
“Hey,” a voice you’d recognize anywhere sounds from behind you.
Turning around, you’re once again met with those brown, round eyes. A woman calls for Yeri and she rushes over to help with something, leaving you alone with Jeongguk.
Seeing him again has your heart dropping. Was he always this big? This thick and muscular? His honeyed skin looks so warm, and your own body is telling you to just please take a few steps closer so that you can wrap your arms around him and touch him like you used to.
“Uh, hi…”
“How are you?” he asks honestly, disregarding the people moving around him.
“I’m… good. How are you?” you ask politely in return. The woman he just left behind stands leaning against the wall, looking at her phone but glancing worriedly at the two of you. She’s really pretty, so while it feels like someone is strangling your heart slowly, you’re not all that surprised.
“I’m alright… Listen, I didn’t think you’d quit,” he reveals, looking sad and almost regretful.
“Yeah, I was thinking about it for a pretty long time, actually. The only thing that kept me was… well… you.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah, so I take it it went well?” you nod toward the woman behind him. “Is that… her?”
He turns his head to look behind him before returning his eyes to you. “Yeah.”
“She’s your girlfriend, like officially?”
It’s a fair assumption considering he didn’t want you touching him because he was in love with someone else. You wonder if she was in the business before getting to know Jeongguk, or if she applied for the job because she got to know him.
“Yeah.”
It’s like a stab to the heart. You never pursued him because you knew it wouldn’t work, but it still hurts to see him with someone else. You had your reasons, but you still feel like an idiot who made their life’s biggest mistake.
Just in time, Yeri returns smiling at the both of you, “So, are you ready to go?”
You nod before addressing Jeongguk, your feet already moving you back toward the door. “Look, I gotta go. It was nice seeing you again, Jeongguk. Good luck with everything.”
He nods slowly, mumbling something you don’t quite catch.
For the next two months, you don’t think a lot about Jeongguk. Or, at least you try not to, but he still manages to weasel his way into your late night thoughts and even dreams. Your biggest savior is work because without it, you would’ve probably just been moping around.
And work is… fun. After overcoming the initial bout of imposter syndrome, things are improving, and you’re well on your way of becoming pretty close with some of the coworkers your own age. They definitely make work itself more fun, but you also spend time together outside of it.
“Here you go,” Jennie says, placing the colorful drinks down on the table before taking her seat on the opposite side of the curved booth.
“Thanks,” Lisa grins, reaching for the yellow one and immediately bringing its straw to her mouth for a sip.
Already slightly tipsy, you thank Jennie as well, your hand grasping the pink one you ordered, your third for the night.
“Where are the guys?” Rosé questions from beside Jennie, “I thought they’d be here by now?”
“Doyoung said eleven, so… now, essentially,” you answer after glancing at your watch.
Lisa elbows you softly with a teasing smirk, “So, Doyoung…”
You roll your eyes, moving the straw around in the glass, “We’re friends.”
“He definitely likes you, though, and he’s really cute.”
He certainly is. And honestly, he is your type of man: sweet with big, round and dark eyes, a sense of humor, and an… incredible body. You’d be insane not to blush just a little when he’s around.
But before Doyoung and the other male coworkers show up, another group of people does. You notice them by accident as you’re leaning back, trying to see if there’s a line to the bathroom, your eyes landing on a very familiar muscular back and head of dark hair. He’s standing at the bar together with Taehyung, Jimin, and two laughing women; Wendy being one and the other being his… girlfriend.
They’re too far away–with too many dancing people between you–to see you, and so you turn your attention back to your own table. Turns out that the guys are running late, and no matter how hard you try, you can’t keep your eyes from slowly drifting away from your friend group.
Jeongguk is wearing all black; a t-shirt, baggy jeans, and a black cap, similar to the one he wore on set that last day. He looks so big, so muscular where he stands, talking to his friends and holding a beer. You swallow uncomfortably, painfully aware of how your body just absolutely still longs for him.
“You okay?”
Blinking, you turn your head back to Jennie, “Hmm? Yeah, of course.”
Jisoo observes you, so you put on a big smile that seems to convince her. Though, soon enough, you really do need to visit the ladies’ room, so you pick a moment where it seems like the entire bar is cheering for someone or something, and you slip through the crowd seamlessly.
The line takes five minutes, and when you’ve peed, you sit on the lid for an additional thirty seconds, the loud but muffled music beating in time with your heart. You don’t want to be considered rude, but you hope Jeongguk doesn’t notice your presence. If you’ve learned anything since quitting the fluffer job, it’s that Jeongguk meant a whole lot more to you than you thought. Or at least that missing him feels more intense than you could’ve guessed. It’s just salt in your wounds that those wounds could be partially self inflicted and that his girlfriend is really pretty.
Before someone knocks on the door, you gather yourself, adjust your jeans and red top, and unlock the door to step out. You hear her call your name before you see her. Wendy. She’s all dolled up tonight, wearing a short, sparkly black dress and her hair in a high ponytail.
“Oh my God!” she exclaims with her arms open, turning her head to speak to the girl after her in line, “you go ahead.”
Wendy wraps her arms around you, and you do the same, feeling a genuine smile pull on your lips. “It’s nice to see you, Wendy.”
“I’ve missed you!” she gushes, “How are you doing?”
You let go of each other and step back.
“I’m… good. Out with my coworkers. How are you?”
“I’m great, especially now! And also out with coworkers,” she grins, motioning over her shoulder before turning somewhat serious. “Can I ask what happened?’”
Surprised, and confused, you feel the lines crease on your forehead. “Uh… what?”
“I figured something must’ve… happened,” she explains, looking slightly worried. “Between you and Jeongguk? Something that made you quit?”
“Quit? I quit because he switched me out.”
Surprised herself, she meets your eyes, “What? He didn’t say that. Why?”
“He didn’t want to work with me anymore. Said he had feelings for her,” you nod toward the group still standing by the bar, Jeongguk speaking to his fluffer and girlfriend.
“What? That’s not possible; she started like a month after you quit, and they didn’t know each other before that.”
Your thoughts spin inside your mind. You just assumed that if he didn’t feel comfortable with another woman touching him like you did when he was in love with someone, he wouldn’t get another fluffer. Except if that fluffer was the girl that he was in love with. And he confirmed it, didn’t he?
You and Wendy stand in silence, watching each other in confusion. “But he… I went back for my charger a while ago and I saw them and asked if she was his girlfriend. He said ‘yes.’”
Wendy narrows her eyes, appearing deep in thought. “Like I said, they met after you quit, so… ”
You shift the weight on your feet. “Look, don’t worry about it, it doesn’t matter. If he didn’t know her at the time, he either lied to get rid of me or he had feelings for someone other than her,” you shrug, trying to play it off like both options don’t hurt. “But they’re dating now, so it doesn’t matter.”
Wendy looks between you and over her shoulder at the people in the distance behind you. “You know what I think?”
That Jeongguk truly lied to get rid of you? That you somehow did something that made him dislike you, practically from one day to another. Or… maybe it came slowly and gradually until he just couldn’t stand you anymore? It almost brings tears to your eyes to consider.
“No?” you mumble, apparently loud enough–or your body language clear enough–for Wendy to understand you.
She grabs your arm and motions for you to follow her. A look toward your friends confirms that they’re not looking for you yet. After all, the lines to the bathroom can be pretty long, so it won’t be strange if you disappear for another minute or two.
She weaves through people until you reach the entrance, where the colder outside air leaks inside. You follow her outside where she stops and turns to you.
“Okay, so… They’re not dating. I mean, Joy for sure is interested in him, but I think he’s in love with you.”
At first, your eyes widen, before they narrow and you scoff lightly. “He didn’t feel comfortable working with me, I doubt he’s somehow in love with me.”
“Yeah, I don’t understand… everything, but listen. He doesn’t care for her. Sure, he’s nice cause he’s Jeongguk; he’s always nice, but… it takes a whole lot longer to… prepare him for shoots.”
“Prepare..? You mean get him hard?”
Wendy nods earnestly, “Yes. Like, twice as long, easily. I even saw him pop a blue little pill the other day.”
Though her discoveries make you… sad?, you sigh, feeling your shoulders sink a little. “Wendy, that doesn’t mean anything, you know that. Men of all ages experience… troubles like that sometimes, especially if you’re expected to perform as often as he is.”
“Sure, but look at the whole picture; he’s not as vibrant and excited to come into work as he was when you were around.”
You bite the inside of your cheek. Of course, a part of you wants him to miss you. You want to have meant something to him, but you’re not sure you believe her. And even if it was true and she’s right, he switched you out. For whatever reason, he didn’t want you there.
“It could be… seasonal depression,” you mumble, gaze directed toward the street. “Look, Wendy, I gotta head back to my friends.”
She looks as if she wants to say something, but the sad smile you give her as you start to back toward the door again stops her, and she decides not to.
“I’ll see you around?” she tilts her head hopefully, and you nod despite knowing that you weren’t close enough to even have exchanged phone numbers to begin with.
The walk back to your friends feels weird. Some questions were somewhat answered, but new ones just popped up to take their place. If not Joy, who was he referring to when he said he’d started seeing someone? Could Wendy be right about him missing… you?
Going back to the basics, it hurt you a lot when he simply decided one day not to work with you anymore because you thought you were something, good friends at least, yet he didn’t even warn you. You had hoped, maybe stupidly, that even if he didn’t want you to touch him like that anymore, that he’d still have you as a regular assistant? After all, getting him and keeping him hard wasn’t the only thing you did.
There are more people around your booth when you arrive, tall men squeezing into it next to your female friends. You smile toward whoever notices you as they’re settling down.
“What’s wrong?” Lisa mouths, eyes worried.
You keep your voice down as much as possible, sighing before you smile sadly. “You know the guy I worked with before? He’s here.”
Lisa’s eyes widen just as you hear a voice say your name. Directing your head forward, you meet Doyoung’s brown eyes. He sits in your previous spot, at the far end of the curved booth, and he pats his thighs. You could probably squeeze in next to him, but it’d be a tight fit, and following Jennie’s lead, sitting on her boyfriend’s lap, is probably more comfortable.
“The porn star?” Lisa asks hurriedly, her gaze searching the room, “Where?”
You take a seat on Doyoung’s thick thighs. “At the bar. Tall, wearing all black. Cap.”
The moment she finds him, Lisa swats Rosé’s arm next to her, getting her attention and motioning toward Jeongguk.
“Porn star?” Doyoung asks from behind you, having heard the loud gossip. Though you’re not one to spill the details of your past job to just anyone, you don’t feel like you need to keep Jeongguk a secret in that way.
Glancing at your old colleagues where they’re throwing back shots at the bar, you also know Jeongguk isn’t embarrassed in the slightest by his profession.
“Yeah. I used to work part time as an assistant at Adam & Eve.”
“Shit. For him?” another of your male coworkers–Johnny–speaks in awe. “I’ve definitely seen him.”
With Johnny’s shameless admission, the conversation turns to revolve around porn-watching habits. You tune out the men and their curious thoughts regarding just how many women a porn star has slept with, and how they definitely don’t have trouble getting laid in their private time either.
Doyoung reaches for your hand, pulling you back into him slowly, not appearing starstruck or too curious about Jeongguk or the porn industry.
“You okay?”
You nod, “Yeah. We weren’t… I just thought we were better friends than it turned out we were.”
He hums in understanding, getting the hint that you don’t really want to go into details about it. And how would you explain it? That you dream about him–not necessarily his body but the way he can step inside a room and just warm everything up? How he made you laugh and forget about the world around you, and how he always listened to you complain about uni when you were still in it despite possessing no knowledge of computer science? How he would, intentionally or not, make you feel so beautiful and desired, even though he was the one naked and never you? How would you explain missing him so much it hurts, and when you wake up after dreaming about him, feeling empty?
Sitting on Doyoung’s lap with a drink in front of you and your elbows on the wooden table, you start feeling better as the conversation moves on. You try not to let your eyes wander from your table and company, but the one time they do, you spot Wendy on her tippy toes, speaking into Jeongguk’s ear while the rest of their company down another shot.
The second she steps back, you watch him look for something. Or someone, more precisely. You.
<previous | next>
author's note: hey, i hope you like it despite it being a bit shorter (the next part and the part after that are pretty.... long and eventful LMAO
reminder: there is no taglist
as a fluffer for a popular porn star, your focus is to keep him hard and performing on set. turns out he's not the only thing that's hard.
pairing: porn star!jk x f fluffer!reader
genre: porn star au, fluff, angst, smut
word count: 4.5k
warnings: yearning x 1000, also, due to the nature and theme of the fic: handjobs, head receiving (both m and f receiving), regular ol' sex, role playing (swat/cop), jk is a cheeky, insanely attractive man. he doesn't have the lip piercings....
Usually, you leave your apartment early enough to take the subway that leaves before the one you absolutely need to take.
Today, however, you couldn’t find your keys, and after spending ten minutes going through all the pockets of the outfit you wore yesterday only to find the keys under your shoe rack, you were left to take the later subway. And just because it’s you, and just because it’s today, that one was late.
Which is why you’re slightly out of breath when you step through the door onto the day’s set.
“Morning,” you greet Jeongguk’s stylist, Wendy, as she’s rummaging through one of her large black bags, opened up like a book on a table.
“Good morning,” she replies happily, but you’re already peering around the room. The walls are darker than you’re used to, and you quickly realize that you’ve never actually been at this specific set in this part of the building before. Are those… metal bars?
But before you can spend any longer thinking about it, you feel a large presence looming behind you.
“Put your hands behind your back. Now,” a low voice orders sternly, but there’s not enough time for you to even consider obeying before you’re grabbed and your hands forced behind your back. “Anything you say can and will be held against you in a court of law.”
You crane your neck in an attempt to see your assailant. “What the hell… Gguk?”
He laughs as he lets you go, and as you turn around, your breath catches in your throat.
He’s decked out head to toe in police uniform and gear, and not the dark blue one regular police officers wear, but the black one used by the special forces.
“What do you think? Can’t believe it’s taken me so long to do cop,” he grins, and your heart clenches when you see him smile so excitedly his dark eyes twinkle.
“How did I miss this?” you wonder, making no effort to hide your wandering eyes. He asked for your opinion after all.
It’s not uncommon for Jeon Jeongguk to look hot. After all, he’s a porn star so dressing his already handsome self in panty-dropping outfits is quite literally the point. And you’ve seen it all, well at least you think you have now.
You weren’t into thighs until you met Jeongguk. Actually, that could be said about almost all of the male body. You were attracted to guys, but as a whole. The difference is that although Jeongguk is most definitely a masterpiece in his entirety, you’re also attracted to every little part of him.
Like his thighs, currently straining the fabric of the black pants. As you take more of him in, like the black vest with ‘POLICE’ written on it, over a just as black jacket. Or the black cap on his head that instead has ‘SOU’ marked on it. The dark hair that’s usually framing his face or forehead in some way is pushed away by it, enhancing his strong, dark eyebrows.
The worst part is probably that he’s got the sleeves of the jacket pushed up, exposing his veiny forearms, one of which is inked down to his knuckles. From his belt, he’s taking a set of handcuffs to twirl casually around his finger, his other hand resting on a holster.
When you look up again, he’s waiting with a confident grin.
“You look hot,” you smirk, “I mean, you always look sexy, but they’ve definitely missed out not having you as a cop.”
“Right? And you’re my first arrest since you were late.”
“I wasn’t late, just later than usual,” you defend before lifting your arm to glance at your watch.
“Fuck,” you whisper, seeing that although you weren’t technically late, you still have a lot less time to get ready than what you’re used to.
Hurriedly, you reach for Jeongguk, your hands finding purchase on the straps of the vest and pulling him to you.
“And what’s this now?” he smirks, gazing down at you as you unbutton his pants. “Assault on police officer?”
“Ha ha, very funny, but c’mon, get your dick out, we need to get you ready.”
“Relax. We’ve got time. Director got here not even twenty minutes ago, apparently there’s been issues with the subways all morning.”
Your hands stop, and you lift your head to look around once more. And yeah, Jeongguk’s right, people are still running around, fixing things.
He’s smiling warmly when you meet his eyes. “Also, I’m always like at least half hard already when you’re around.”
You snort, rolling your eyes. Your right hand moves to toy with the velcro strap on the front of the vest. “Did you sleep well?”
Jeongguk doesn’t respond immediately, he just gives you a knowing, amused look.
“What? You said you found it hard to fall asleep on Sundays?”
“I did, didn’t I?” he sighs, still smiling as he gestures toward a couch placed next to the table with coffee and snacks. “I slept well, though. I promise. I’m well rested.”
You follow him, sitting down and turning toward him. “Good.”
For around twenty more minutes, you sit on that couch, just talking. Sometimes, despite the costumes and occasionally odd background sounds, it’s easy to forget that you’re at work. That Jeongguk is actually a porn star—a very popular one—and that you’re hired as his fluffer, essentially his assistant whose focus is mostly to keep him hard and performing.
“So, how’s today’s script? Oscar worthy?”
Jeongguk laughs. “Uh, almost. I’m bringing my victim to the cell and “punish” her by giving her the fuck of her life. You know, the usual,” he grins lazily, leaning fully against the backrest. It has you rolling your eyes. “Tried to convince them to have her cuff me to the cell instead and make a run for it, but they didn’t get my vision.”
Somewhere, you hear the director, a middle aged woman, call out that there are ten minutes left, and so you scoot closer to Jeongguk.
“Sad,” you agree, tapping his belt with your fingers, “maybe one day they’ll see you for the cinematic genius you are.”
He unbuckles the belt and unzips the black pants, revealing white Calvin Klein boxers.
“By the way, who’s your co-star?”
You crane your neck to look around the room once more, your hand dipping below the waistband of Jeongguk’s underwear and gripping him.
“Irene,” he grunts.
“Oh. I don’t know who that is,” you admit, eyes zeroing in on what you pull out of his pants. Funnily enough, he is half hard and warm in your hand already.
“You don’t know anyone in the industry except for me. You don’t even watch porn.”
“I know a lot of the women you’ve worked with, actually.”
You set a slow pace, having had a lot of time to learn how to make the process as comfortable as possible for him. The goal is to get him hard and keep him there for as long as it takes to start filming without getting him too close or tease him too much. So the result is a firm grip and slow pumps of his cock, your hand twisting over the head occasionally. And Jeongguk likes it, his entire body relaxes, and his breathing deepens.
“Name two,” he raises his eyebrow at you, and you meet his eyes.
“Uh… Irene… and, uh…”
He watches you knowingly, but you’re determined to prove him wrong. “And… Seulgi…?”
“Fine.”
“Also, I watch porn literally three times a week.”
He rolls his eyes, “You being here three times a week doesn’t count. Besides, you’re always reading something or working.”
“You know maybe I should talk to whoever comes up with all these concepts and ideas because I think you don’t do nearly enough submissive roles. I feel like someone should definitely fuck the brat out of you.”
He groans when you pinch the head of his cock slightly. “I do a lot more sub roles than the average male adult actor.”
“I know. I’m just saying I think they let you off too easy.”
Without really thinking about it, you’ve moved closer to him. It’s what always happens, wherever you are, no matter if you’re standing in a corner or sitting on the couch, you pull each other in until you’re inches and whispers away.
His eyes fall to your mouth for a second. Usually, when the position allows it better than this one, he holds your waist or your thighs or arms. But he’s not allowed to touch you more than that, isn’t supposed to kiss you either.
When you started–and before you met him–you signed a contract, and they asked for your boundaries and preferences. Better safe than sorry, you checked the box where you’re willing to touch your actor if you feel okay doing it, but you don’t want to have sex in any way or be touched in a sexual manner.
And you could’ve changed it, could’ve asked for a new contract to sign, but honestly, you’re glad you signed what you did. As Jeongguk watches you with half-lidded eyes, his big hand warming your thigh through your jeans, and his cock twitching slightly in your hold, you’re living dangerously enough as it is.
He kissed you once. It was in the heat of the moment, and he apologized profusely afterward, and sure, you could’ve admitted to him that you liked it and how it was probably your favorite kiss ever, but all you did was assure him it was okay and you weren’t mad or anything.
If you want to stay relatively sane, you need to have a line drawn. Otherwise Jeongguk will move inside your head and he won’t leave, and that’s not preferable when he isn’t yours and can’t be.
“Jeon! You ready?”
Used to the interrupting voice, you start to move away from him, his rock hard cock bouncing when you let go of it.
“Yeah. On my way,” he replies, moving his hand from your thigh to tuck himself back in his pants as well as he can. A second after he rises from the couch, Wendy swoops in and dabs something on his face and readjusts the cap on his head.
“Hey, I was thinking of running down to Subway for lunch, want me to get you something?” you call after Jeongguk who turns around, Wendy standing on her toes and moving his jaw to inspect his makeup.
“Yeah, sure. The usual? My wallet’s in the pocket of my jacket.”
“I used your card last time though, so I’ll pay this time.”
He narrows his eyes at you but there’s not much he can do as he’s being dragged away.
You’ve long since learned to somewhat tune out the sounds of people having loud sex. You usually bring your laptop, and at first, you used it to get some (quiet) schoolwork done, but now that you’ve graduated and found a full time job–which luckily enough, you can do a lot of remotely–you’re doing that instead.
At first, it was incredibly hard, and you found yourself feeling… almost flustered whenever you heard Jeongguk’s voice order his costar around or his moans or even pleas. Even worse when you couldn’t stop yourself from sneaking a glance over your laptop screen. If Jeongguk is beautiful in any costume, he’s even more irresistible naked. You try not to think too much about it or, again, you can practically say goodbye to your sanity.
At the moment, you’ve placed your laptop on your thighs, but you keep it closed while you observe the scene from behind all the lights and microphones and cameras. It’s alright while everyone’s still dressed, and you do enjoy watching Jeongguk act, even if the scripts are a little cheesy sometimes.
Currently, he’s got Irene pressed against the bars of a cell as he cuffs her hands behind her back. In reality, it’s probably at that moment he’s supposed to uncuff her if anything, but who cares, it’s porn.
“What do you think you’re doing?” he questions sternly as she starts to “innocently” feel for him with her hands, his crotch being at the perfect height.
“Nothing,” she says, looking at him seductively over her shoulder while still tracing his cock over his pants. “But officer, I think I’d prefer a different punishment…”
Both Irene and Jeongguk are exceptional actors, being able to keep straight faces at lines like that. You, sitting on the couch at the back, have to close your eyes and put a hand over your mouth just in case a laugh tries to escape.
However the comedy ends when Irene, still handcuffed, is on her knees in front of Jeongguk and pulling at the zipper of his pants with her teeth. You don’t look more than a brief glance here and there as she chokes on his cock, or when he’s got her on her back on a desk, eating her out like his life depends on it. Nor do you watch as he fucks her against the bars, or in any position, really.
“Cut!”
Immediately, you shut your laptop and place it beside you on the couch, reaching for the white robe you hung over the armrest earlier. It’s a very sweaty and even more naked Jeongguk that walks off the set and toward you. On the way, he removes the condom and discards it in a nearby trash can. It’s not because it’s full and he’s soft or because he finds them uncomfortable, because he’s definitely still at full mast, but he knows you definitely prefer touching him raw than over a used condom.
“Long or short break? I didn’t quite hear,” you ask him when he takes the robe from your hands. While he puts it on, you reach for a water bottle, handing that to him as well.
“Short, there was a problem with the mic, I think.”
“Hm, okay. Doing good?”
He grins at your question, unscrewing the top of the bottle and taking a swig. “Yeah. You? Getting anything done?”
You look back at the laptop where it lies forgotten on the couch. “A bit, actually. But it’s a little hard to focus sometimes with how loud you’re moaning,” you tease.
“Oh, really?”
“Mhm. So what’s the status, are you soft yet?” you ask, pulling him closer by the robe.
“Didn’t I say I’m always at least half hard when you’re around?”
You chuckle. Although it’s a game to keep him hard and turned on, you don’t hate it. True to his word, Jeongguk is very much still hard when you sneak your hand inside the robe. Sound guys walk through the set, and so you move toward the back corner of the room so as to not be in the way.
You continue the same kind of handjob you did earlier, but when you see people making calls and seeming a bit too irritated, you furrow your eyebrows and peer up at Jeongguk.
“This looks like it might take a while; you sure you want to continue?”
The option to just let him go soft isn’t very popular, you know that, but you’re not so sure how nice it is to essentially be edged for too long either. Orgasming is also pretty much out of the picture since you don’t know how long he’d have to recuperate, and you’re pretty sure they want a big cumshot scene.
“It’s up to you. I think I’ll hold out a bit longer, and although I do like it when you do it, I can do it myself if you prefer that?”
Every trace of the teasing Jeongguk is gone and left is just a warm smile and a gentle tilt of his head. He looks so incredibly sweet and kind.
You shake your head, smiling back, “Just let me know if you change your mind, we don’t know how long it’ll take.”
Luckily, it only takes another ten minutes before Wendy comes knocking on Jeongguk’s shoulder where he stands, his arm against the wall and trapping you against it. You’re still jerking him off slowly, but except for his breaths–every one almost like a sigh–you wouldn’t be able to tell.
“We’ll continue this later?” Jeongguk looks at you hopefully as he’s ripping open a new condom with his teeth to roll over his cock, “I wanna hear more about your project. And I also think you should tell them about this job, I think it’s pretty cool.”
You chuckle at his smirk. “No offense, but this job is weird. Not something I typically bring up among colleagues.”
It wasn’t even a job you actively applied for. Your previous neighbor was Jeongguk’s stylist, a job she quit when she moved away a year ago. You were pretty good friends, and when the entire subway system was down once, you took it upon yourself to drive her. She knew you were looking for a part time job and also that Jeongguk was looking for a new assistant, so she recommended it to you.
At first, you declined, but she was very clear that you would not have to partake in anything sexual unless you wanted to and no one would look at you weird for not doing it either. Additionally, the actor was supposed to be a real sweetheart. Which honestly is why you’re still here even after graduating and getting a full time job.
You and Jeongguk continue talking over lunch, sitting on the same couch at the back of the room as earlier. He then goes to shower, having finished the shoot, only to start planning for the next one since he’s taking two days off for a family member’s wedding out of town.
You stay as long as he does, talking to Wendy who’s been running between sets to fill in for another stylist, but the moment after Jeongguk has pulled on his leather jacket and left the room with a warm smile your way, she turns to you.
“Ask him out,” she groans quietly but dramatically, “you’re making everyone else frustrated at this point.”
You blink in surprise. Sure, she’s hinted at you liking him before, but she’s never been this straightforward.
“What?” you reach for your own jacket from the coat rack. “I don’t think he likes me like that. If he did, he would’ve asked me out, we both know him.”
“Oh come on, you can’t be that stupid. You signed a contract saying you don’t want him to touch you, and although he’s not your boss, there’s definitely a power imbalance here. He would, but he doesn’t want to put you in that kind of situation.”
You’ve never really thought about it like that before. Yeah, you know what your contract could signal, but you signed that before you even met him. The power imbalance though, you never really considered that.
“I know that you like him, and he’s obviously in love with you. I mean, you spend every free second on set together. Sure, you keep him hard and such, but as soon as he can, he goes to you, and you retreat into your own little world, just the two of you. And you care way more about him than I’ve seen any other assistant care for their actors.”
You zip up your jacket, then meet Wendy’s eyes sadly. “I do like him, I think he’s… great and really sweet, but… he’s a porn star, Wendy.”
That’s the thing. You never even really entertain the idea of the two of you together for real, because on the off chance that he’s as attracted to you as you are to him, you can’t handle his profession.
Knowing that having sex with other women day in and day out is what pays his bills doesn’t work for you. It makes you feel superficial and shallow for even thinking about it, but the worry it would put into you? Not knowing if he falls for a costar, if he prefers them over you? It would feel like cheating even if you don’t think Jeongguk is the type of man to cheat. And don’t you have the right to feel that way, isn’t it valid to not want your significant other to sleep with others?
Wendy bites her lip looking at you like she understands.
“I just… can’t. Not a porn star.”
“I get it, I just think it’s a shame,” she says, lifting her bag to reveal a small box on the floor.
“Oh, aren’t those Jeongguk’s?” you say, bending down to pick it up, “I’m pretty sure these are his earbuds.”
“They must’ve slipped his pocket,” Wendy concludes.
It’s a warm, sunny day when you step out of your apartment building and head toward the subway. Almost the entire journey, you think about Jeongguk and how you’re looking forward to seeing him again since it’s been a few days. Your hand squeezes the earbuds in the pocket of your denim jacket.
You ride the elevator to the reception, smiling when you spot Yeri behind the monitor.
“Hey, could you tell me where Jeongguk is? I can’t remember which set it is today?” you ask, coming to stand in front of the desk and leaning your hands on it.
Yeri, working mostly as the big boss’ assistant and sometimes filling in as receptionist, clicks on the computer.
“Yeah, they’re in… A20, but, uh… listen, I was told to tell you that you’ve been moved to another actor. If that’s alright with you, both Jimin and Taehyung are looking, Jimin for a fluffer and Taehyung only for an assistant, so you can choose if you want to.”
“Wait,” you say, furrowing your brows. “Moved? From Jeongguk? Why? Did I do something wrong?”
“I don’t think so, there at least isn’t any sort of report or complaint, but as you know, we let the actors decide who they want and allow them to switch, no questions asked.”
“Yeah, I know that, but… I just don’t get why he would…” you trail off, going through the last time you met him in your head.
He was happy. You were happy.
Yeri looks at you with empathy. “You can take the day off if you want to think about it. You’ll still get paid. Or you can visit the guys to see if anyone’s a fit if you’d like?”
Heartbroken, you blink as you try to regain your senses. “I… I think I’ll just head home.”
“Understandable. I wish you a nice day.”
You smile back at her before turning around and with slow steps, approach the elevator. What just happened? Jeongguk… switched you out?
Why?
You put your hands into your pockets as you step back inside the elevator, sighing when you feel the outline of Jeongguk’s earbuds. So, instead of pressing the button for ground floor, you press the 2.
You’ve been on set A20 before, but it was a while ago. It’s a set meant to look just like a regular home, and you think the last time you were there, Jeongguk was playing some sort of handyman or electrician or something.
Reaching for your keycard, you hold it to the reader until the light turns green and the door unlocks with a click. You wouldn’t have entered if it weren’t still so early, knowing they definitely haven’t started shooting yet. But since there’s a relatively low risk of you walking in on someone fucking or something, you open the door.
There’s movement inside as usual. People are fixing the set and equipment, talking to each other, and moving around. That’s when you spot him.
He’s standing in front of Wendy, in nothing but a pair of baggy jeans, as she’s trying to decide on a shirt for him, holding a white t-shirt in front of him before repeating it with a black one and seemingly settling on the latter. You can’t really tell what the script is about, and you weren’t really listening last time, but you don’t care.
Somewhat… nervously, you take a step toward them, letting a small but polite smile pull on your lips when Jeongguk happens to turn his head and spot you. His eyes widen, and you watch as he says something to Wendy, who also turns her head. Does she know why he decided to switch you out?
“Hey,” you start quietly when he’s gotten close enough, Wendy taking the hint and leaving inconspicuously. “You dropped these last time.”
He peers down at your outstretched hand with the earbuds resting in the middle.
“Oh. Thank you.”
“No problem,” you say as he takes them from you to put in the pocket of his jeans. “Jeongguk… Can I ask… Did something happen? Did I do something?”
He looks down at the floor briefly before meeting your eyes. “No, it doesn’t have anything to do with you. I just… decided that I can’t continue working with you like this because I… I have feelings for someone.”
You didn’t think your heart could break like this because of the man in front of you, but something definitely cracks inside your chest.
“Oh. I didn’t know you were… seeing someone? Why didn’t you tell me?” you ask carefully.
“I’m not. At least not yet; it’s pretty new, still. But I hope you can understand that I can’t…”
“Yeah, no, of course. I get it,” you nod.
Suddenly, he smiles gently, “But I heard both Jimin and Tae were looking for someone, and I know either one of them would be happy to have you.”
“Yeah, sure. Look, I gotta go, but good luck with… her? Him?”
“Her.”
You smile, “Good luck with her, I’m rooting for you.”
“Thank you.”
Your smile falls the second you turn away from him. It hurts to know that he’s in love with someone else, but you had your chance, at least to see if he was interested at all, and you didn’t take it. The worst thing is probably knowing that you wouldn’t have acted differently if you had the chance to rewind.
You’re not mad at him, and you truly do wish him luck. It makes sense that he doesn’t feel comfortable being so close to someone else if he’s in love. You’re not really sure what he thinks about still starring in porn, but it’s not your decision to make.
“Still here?”
“Yeah, I just had to return something to someone. But can you do me a favor, Yeri?”
“Sure what is it?” she says, peering at you curiously and resting her chin on her hand.
You breathe in, feeling sad but not very hesitant. “Since my conditions changed, essentially without my input, I can quit on the spot, right? I don’t need the two week notice?”
She smiles sadly at you, “Yeah, you’re right. Do you want to fill out the form right now?”
“Yes, please.”
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author's note: so pls let me know if you like it <3<3
EDIT: there is no taglist
