✸request: my god i loved ur taxi driver oneshot so bad!! im glad someone out there is writing for him 💕 if you’re still taking requests, could you write about reader being a newer member of the revenge team and she misreads doki and go euns relationship, so she shoves down her feelings for him out of respect. Then theres doki who doesnt realize this and just thinks that he has to try harder to impress her.. ohh hes my princess. They end up getting together in the end after they both realize the misunderstanding!
✸synopsis: after joining the rainbow taxi team, you hide your feelings for do-ki, convinced he’s close with go eun. but when a simple mission turns dangerous and he’s hurt, the truth between you slips out in the rain— revealing that the feelings you buried were always mutual.
✸genre: one-shot, canon adjacent, fluff, friends to lovers
✸an: lower case intended, no use of y/n, fem!reader / sorry it's so short! i hope you enjoy, and thank you so much for being my first request! such a good idea, i had to write it immediately <3
[now playing: bad — wave to earth]
m.list
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you had recently joined the rainbow revenge taxi company, just a few months back. your first encounter with jang sung-chul, your current boss, was a memorable one; you had accidentally stumbled into one of their deluxe services, prompting them to have to clarify the situation.
although they were still hesitant to fully accept you as part of the team, you made an effort to contribute wherever possible. you assisted go eun with the mounting paperwork, changed the oil and wiper fluid on jin-eon's parked taxis, and even helped kyung-koo test out his latest gadgets.
the one individual you appeared to have limited interactions with was do-ki, the driver who managed most of the operations. he always seemed occupied, off on various tasks, yet he greeted you with warmth.
he smiled at you, warmly. and sometimes, you caught him staring. it was hard not to feel something when he did.
it’s late when the call comes in — a small-time job, the kind go eun calls “bite-sized revenge.” a swindler who takes advantage of older clients, promising quick repairs, vanishing after collecting their money. you and do-ki are sent out to handle it, partly because it’s an easy mission, partly because… well, go eun insists you two make a good field pair.
you’re still not sure if you agree.
the ride there is mostly silent, except for the hum of the engine. do-ki’s usually talkative — cracking jokes, humming under his breath, teasing go eun over the comms. but lately, he’s been quieter. or maybe it’s you.
you’ve been quieter around him. more careful.
because somewhere between the late nights at the garage, the laughter spilling out over instant noodles, and the way he’d grin when he caught you looking, you started to notice how easy it was to like him. and just as quickly, you started to notice how close he and go eun seemed to be.
the way she scolds him but still hands him his coffee. the way he listens to her like she’s the only one who can keep him in check. it looked like something settled. familiar. you couldn’t bring yourself to be the person who stood between that.
so now, you keep your head down. you stay professional. you pretend your chest doesn’t ache every time his voice softens toward her.
“almost there,” do-ki checks in, glancing at you as he turns the car down a narrow side street. his voice cuts through your thoughts, warm and effortless. “you okay? you’ve been quiet all day.”
“i’m fine,” you say, too quickly.
he raises an eyebrow. “fine like ‘i’m totally fine’ or fine like ‘don’t ask me again, or i’ll stab you with a pen’?”
you almost smile— almost. “maybe both.”
he chuckles quietly. “got it. tactical silence.”
the van stops outside the target’s building. you both step out into the cool night— autumn air biting softly at your face. the plan is simple: pose as repair techs, confirm the scammer’s identity, tag the stolen receipts for evidence. nothing that should go wrong.
but things do.
for a half-second the man behaves like the perfect mark— eyes polite, palms open to the tool case you set on the stoop, a slow, rehearsed smile that says he’s ready to be helped. you hand him the forged work order and do-ki launches into the script about a routine meter check, pointing at the cardboard badge pinned to his chest. the hallway light flickers above you; it makes everyone look a little thinner, a little hungrier. he leans forward to read the paper. that’s when something small happens that unravels everything.
he narrows his eyes at the font on the work order, and his fingers, which had been relaxed, curl around the edge of the folder like they’re holding a secret. when do-ki mentions “stolen receipts” as a throwaway line to bait him— a gentle, professional nudge— his face twitches. it isn’t shock so much as recognition: the micro-frown, the way his jaw ticks. you see him glance past do-ki to the stairwell, measuring an exit; his smile evaporates and the polite voice goes brittle, too precise.
“receipts?” he asks, voice flat. “what receipts?” it’s the question of someone trying to stall for a memory to settle or a lie to form.
then he does something even more telling: he checks his pockets. not for his phone, for he’s already clutching it, but for something smaller, a slim envelope you hadn’t seen. his hand closes around it and for one terrible instant you read the panic in the quick exhale between breaths.
he takes three steps back, eyes skimming the hallway like he’s counting possible routes. a child’s laugh from an upstairs window, the distant clack of a tv turning on, the faint drip of a radiator— little sounds that suddenly mean escape routes. he offers you a laugh that isn’t laughter, half a question, half an accusation.
“who the hell are you?” he snaps, and the syllables are a matchstick struck.
that is when he moves. the polite posture snaps into a push; he shoves past you so fast the edge of his shoulder catches Do-ki’s hand and sends the tool case skidding. metal clangs against concrete, a cheap vase on the landing tips and spills ancient dirt. he bolts for the back door, slamming a dented mail cart into you as he goes, the sound of his footsteps ricocheting down the narrow alley like drumbeats. do-ki curses and launches after him; your breath in your throat, lungs burning, as you follow.
the alley opens up into slick, trash-strewn concrete, the kind that gleams faintly under a single, flickering streetlight. the man is already a blur— hood pulled tight, collar turned up, something white and crumpled clutched against his chest. the night isn’t cool anymore; it’s burning with the heat of pursuit, your pulse thrumming in your ears as your footsteps echo through the damp air that still smells faintly of rain.
then—a shout. do-ki’s voice, sharp and close. a crash follows, metal against brick. you round the corner just in time to see the man swing a rusted rod at him. do-ki twists away, but not fast enough; it grazes his arm with a dull thud.
you don’t think. you just move. your hand finds the nearest thing— a loose pipe half-buried beside the dumpster, and you swing it down between them, the clang splitting the night. the man flinches, eyes darting from you to do-ki, calculating. then he bolts, vanishing into the dark mouth of the alley, footsteps fading into nothing.
silence rushes in after him— heavy, ringing, almost too loud against the sudden absence of motion. the adrenaline leaves you shaking, lungs burning as the world exhales around you. somewhere above, a window rattles in the wind. water drips from an overhang, slow and steady, pooling beneath your shoes.
do-ki leans against the brick wall, shoulders tight, one hand clamped over his arm. his breath hitches, quiet but uneven. you can see it now— the faint smear of blood, the way he’s holding himself too stiffly to convince anyone it’s “nothing.”
“let me see,” you murmur, stepping forward.
he shakes his head without meeting your eyes. “it’s nothing.”
but the words falter halfway out, and that tiny tremor in his voice gives him away. you reach out before he can pull back, fingers brushing his wrist. his skin is warm beneath your touch, pulse still racing. the scrape is shallow but angry, streaked with rust and dirt. you grab the small first-aid kit from your jacket— something you’ve carried since before joining the team, and start to clean the wound.
he watches you quietly, saying nothing. the dim alley light flickers over his face, catching the edge of his cheekbone, the tiny furrow between his brows.
“you’re really stubborn, you know that?” you say softly, trying for lightness.
“yeah?” his mouth tugs into a faint smirk. “i learned from the best.”
you smile, but it fades when you see the look in his eyes— something gentler there, something uncertain. worry, maybe. or confusion.
“you’ve been… weird around me lately,” he says finally, voice low. “did i do something?”
you freeze, the cotton swab pausing mid-motion. “no. you didn’t.”
“then what is it?” his tone softens, curious more than defensive. “i feel like you’re mad at me, but I don’t even know why.”
your throat tightens. “i’m not mad.”
“then why won’t you look at me like you used to?”
the question lands too squarely in your chest. for a second, you can’t breathe. you take a step back, instinctively putting space between you. the kind of distance that feels safer, even when it hurts. you can’t do this. not when he’s looking at you like that— open, searching, completely unaware of the chaos he’s stirring inside you.
you try to smile, but it barely holds. “you don’t have to worry about it, do-ki. really.”
he pushes off the wall, closing the distance with a quiet determination that’s so him it almost breaks you. “don’t do that.”
“do what?”
“that thing where you pretend everything’s fine just so you don’t have to talk about it.”
you meet his gaze, and your heart stumbles. the streetlight hums faintly overhead. The air between you feels fragile, like glass.
“it’s not my place,” you whisper.
“your place?” His frown deepens, brow creasing. “what are you talking about?”
you bite your lip, searching for the courage you wish you didn’t need. you hadn’t planned to say it, not ever, but the words are already slipping through the cracks in your resolve.
“you and go eun,” you say finally, barely above a breath.
his eyes widen, surprise flickering there before something softer takes its place. he blinks. “what about me and go eun?” he repeats, slow and careful, as though tasting the weight of the name.
“you’re close. it’s obvious. i just—” you gesture helplessly, every word heavier than the last. “i didn’t want to get in the way of something that matters.”
for a long moment, neither of you speak. the night hums quietly around you, the faint wind carrying the smell of rain and oil. then, almost imperceptibly, do-ki’s expression softens.
“you think you’re in the way?” he says, voice low, rough around the edges.
your hands tremble faintly, still hovering where they’d been tending his wound. “it doesn’t matter. i just—wanted to be respectful.”
he exhales, slow and quiet, and for a moment it feels like the world has shrunk to the space between you— the warmth of his breath, the steady beat of his heart just inches away.
“hey,” he says gently. “look at me.”
you do.
the way he’s looking back— soft, earnest, a little pained— makes it suddenly, achingly hard to breathe.
“i thought you didn’t like me,” he admits, almost shyly. “i thought i said something stupid, or maybe i wasn’t enough to keep you interested.”
you laugh weakly. “that’s ridiculous.”
“is it?” he tilts his head. “you started looking away every time i tried to talk to you. you stopped smiling. i thought… i just needed to try harder.”
something in your chest twists. “you didn’t need to try at all.”
for a heartbeat, the air between you goes still. his eyes search yours— hesitant, hopeful, and a little scared.
then, like something finally gives, he breathes out, “good. because I really, really like you, you know.”
you open your mouth, but no words come. the only sound is the rain starting to fall outside the alley, soft against metal and asphalt. He looks so uncertain, like he’s afraid you’ll turn him away.
you take a step closer. “you’re serious?”
he nods. “have been for a while.”
the confession hangs there, fragile, almost weightless. you reach up and rest your hand lightly against his cheek. his skin is warm, damp with rain and sweat. he doesn’t move, doesn’t even breathe.
“i like you too,” you whisper. “i just didn’t want to ruin anything.”
his eyes soften. “you couldn’t ruin it if you tried.”
he leans in then, slowly, like he’s giving you time to pull away. you don’t. the kiss is light, hesitant at first— the kind that feels like it might break if you breathe too hard. but when you do, it lingers just long enough to feel real.
when you pull back, the rain’s coming down harder, but neither of you moves to leave. he grins, that familiar crooked grin, and brushes a drop of water from your hair.
“so, uh,” he says, voice still a little shaky, “guess I can tell go eun she was right.”
You groan. “she knew?”
“she always knows.”
you laugh then— quiet and tired and happy. the sound seems to ease something in him, because he finally exhales and leans his forehead against yours, the two of you standing there in the dim alley with rain soaking your clothes and relief soaking your hearts.
for the first time in weeks, everything feels clear again— the air, the silence, the way he looks at you like there’s no one else in the world.
and even though the job still needs finishing, even though the night’s far from over, you know one thing for certain. you’re not running from this anymore.
Pairing: Kim Do-gi x Gn!reader
Genre: Headcanons
Tags/Warnings: Established Relationship, Post-Marriage/Married Life, PTSD symptoms, Attachment issues, Survivor’s Guilt, Nightmares, Insomnia, Emotional Repression, Emotional Vulnerability, Protective Behavior, Violence Mentioned, Hurt/Comfort
Masterlist
After marriage, Do-gi doesn’t suddenly become “peaceful,” because his life with Rainbow Taxi is still dangerous—but he does become more intentional with coming back home. No matter how late it is, he always checks in with you, even if it’s just a short message like: “I’m alive. Don’t wait up too long.” It’s his way of saying “I’m coming back to you.”
He struggles at first with the idea of marriage itself. Not because he doesn’t love you, but because he fears attachment after everything he’s lost. So when he finally calls you “wife,” it sounds almost unfamiliar on his tongue—like he’s testing whether he’s allowed to have something stable in his life.
Living with him means learning his silence. Do-gi isn’t overly expressive, but his love shows in small, constant actions: he fixes things around the house without being asked, quietly checks all the locks before bed, and instinctively stands between you and danger without thinking twice. Protection is his love language, even when the world is calm.
He still carries his trauma heavily. Some nights he wakes up disoriented, breath sharp, body ready for a fight that isn’t there. On those nights, he doesn’t always talk—but he will reach for you. Not to wake you, just to feel you there. Your presence is his grounding point.
Emotionally, he’s slow to open up about his missions. Even after marriage, there are parts of his work he keeps locked away because he doesn’t want you carrying that darkness. But over time, if you’re patient, he starts letting you in—not the violence, but the burden behind it. You become one of the only people he allows to see him tired.
Despite everything, he’s surprisingly soft in private moments. When he’s truly at ease, he leans into quiet domestic routines: sitting with you while you eat, wordlessly sharing tea, letting his guard drop just enough that his shoulders relax completely. He might not say “I love you” often, but he shows it by staying close.
Arguments are rare, but when they happen, they’re never loud. Do-gi doesn’t raise his voice easily—he goes quiet instead, withdrawing into himself. The real challenge is pulling him back out of that silence with patience instead of pressure.
And when it comes to loyalty? It’s absolute. Once he chooses you, there’s no hesitation. Even in the worst chaos of his world, you are not something he risks or negotiates with. You are the one thing he fights to return to, not for revenge, but for life.
kim dogi is everything to me. a kind polite man who drives a taxi for a living but also is an insanely good fighter but GET THIS. he can ACT!! and every time he takes on a disguise he puts 100% into it. he is having a BLAST. yeah it's for work and yeah he's dealing with some of the scummiest shittiest people out there but you could never convince me he doesn't have fun fucking with them. the little skip he does in 3.04 when he shows up at the taxi company to fight the used car scammers lives in my mind forever. he's fucking up scammers and traffickers and doing it all with a glint in his eye. taxi driver truly is the revenge fantasy show of the century.
