MY HEART 😭 IM SO SOFT 🥺 (cr.)

Anaïs Nin, Delta of Venus, originally published: 1977

Kim Taehyung on Jinny’s Kitchen

230121 - casabrutus on twitter

(by Boris Kirov Young.Bloods)

dextrocardia | 15

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.

Spouses.

pairing: cop!jk x f detective!reader

genre: undercover cops, fake marriage, e2l au, angst, fluff, (smut?)

word count: 6k

warnings: self-esteem issues, feelings

rating: NC-17 – Adults Only

masterlist

part 15/? 

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© dextrocardia is copyright jeonstudios. this fic can not be modified, re-posted, or translated without my permission.

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

— Heaven, Mieko Kawakami

[text ID: I knew that it was cruel to be so optimistic, but, in my solitude, I couldn't resist the urge and spent entire days basking in idiotic fantasies, sometimes verging on prayer.]

the main event

if I can never give you peace — eight || Jungkook

[Moodboard by @jeonlovescoffee]

Pairing: Jungkook x reader // Word count (chapter): 7.5k // Genre: Mafia AU, Hybrid AU, enemies to lovers

↳ It starts like quite a few stories do, in your world. Girl meets boy,  who happens to be a hybrid, girl buys him at an auction where hybrids are sold, boy falls in love with her, girl gets bored of him. Then  it’s not so typical anymore, when the boy ends up forced into illegal fighting rings, until he makes a wrong move and the girl’s father  decides he needs to be killed.

Where does that leave you? Well, you’re the one who handled Jungkook’s fights and generally organized his life, and, when the girl’s father, your boss and mafia leader, tells you he wants him ‘put down’, you’re the one who has to get it done. Except, instead, you let him escape, and everything turns out fine.

Until he comes back.

Warnings and tags (chapter): toxic parental relationship, explosion, general angst

First · Previous · Next

(there is a long author's note under the chapter, feel very free to skip it lol)

“How is everything looking, Hector?” is the first thing you say when you walk though the new building’s glass doors.

The simple action brings you a sense of satisfaction you haven’t felt in a long time, as you take in what you’ve achieved. Of course, the situation is still far from what it was before Mr. X was murdered. The Organization doesn’t own this building, and it’s merely renting one floor from it. It’s also not quite as impressive of a building as you would have liked, but it will have to do, and you know that getting your hands on this place in a couple of weeks is nothing short of a miracle.

But then, knowing which strings to pull and which palms to grease had always been your thing, hadn’t it.

God, it felt good to be back to doing things the way you used to.

“Everything seems to be in order, ma’am,” Hector replies, matching his step to yours as you walk towards the elevator. Despite the fact that it’s still early in the morning, the lobby is already bursting with life. The image you’re giving the group right now is an excellent one. There’s still a lot of work to be done on the floor you’re renting, but that is only temporary and, frankly, you cannot find it in yourself to care about that right now.

“Mr. Jeon should be coming in to check on things in about twenty minutes,” you say as the elevator doors close, his schedule clear as day in your mind. “I want everyone ready.”

Everything won’t be ready by then, even you can only manage so much, but arranging for people to greet him and for his office to be in order should be feasible. You know he won’t be all that impressed by it, can picture his expression of annoyance and vague disgust. Still, it should make it clear that you have everything under wraps and that he wasn’t wrong in giving you free reign in handling the building. As you were taking the steps to do that, you had been able to tell that he wasn’t happy about all of your choices. He’d held back saying anything on that, though.

That was ultimately a good thing, of course, but you weren't sure what to make of it. Before, at least, you knew what you were dealing with. You’d tried to fight back all the paranoid thoughts you’d been having ever since the shift in Jungkook’s demeanor, tried to just trust, for once. That had been— easier said than done. Maybe you just weren't wired that way, maybe you just didn’t have it in yourself.

Knowing, from the looks you sometimes caught him giving you, that the feeling was mutual had brought a surprising sense of comfort.

The elevator doors ding as they open, and you step out on the busy floor. People are rushing in every direction, carrying boxes, chairs, computers, papers, and the occasional plant. Behind a circular desk, directly facing you, a woman is setting up a computer and doesn’t notice you. In fact, no one so much as glances in your direction, and it takes you a few long seconds to find one of the security guards that you’ve hired.

That simply won’t do.

“Who is in charge of watching the elevator?” you ask the man without bothering to greet him.

You see him blink as he tries to figure out who you are. Finally, he seems to recognize Hector and, though he clearly still hasn’t placed you, he must decide that you’re important.

“Sorry, ma’am, we’re pretty busy here, I—”

“One person needs to have eyes on it at all times,” you order. There’s no inflection to your tone, no anger, and yet it leaves no place for discussion. “That is the only thing that is needed of you. Anything, and I mean anything that happens in here must be white noise to you. Is that clear?”

He swallows.

“Yes, ma’am. Understood.”

But you don’t think he does. No matter. You’ll fix it soon enough. Perhaps it would be smart to put one of Jungkook’s men at this spot. You doubt this man truly realizes what is happening here, what this company even is, and, frankly, what he risks, being here. You suppose you’ll find somewhere else for him, and you mentally file the task before briskly turning away from him.

“Mr. Jeon’s office is that way, Hector?”

You barely need to ask. You’ve studied the plans, you've chosen the emplacement for the office, to the point that you already know this place like the back of your hand, even if it’s your first time actually stepping foot in it.

Hector hums in affirmation, following after you as you make your way through the corridor. You don’t miss anything happening around you. You glance at the wide room where half of the desks have already been set up, and at the people who are already there. They’re here to act as the legal front of the business, which really is mostly just a way to launder money. None of them are actually of value, and you haven’t bothered remembering their names or faces, but they’ll come in handy as a group.

You do recognize, in a corner, two accountants that you managed to hire again. You’ll need some more, but these two are capable of actual magic with numbers, and it’s a relief to you that that’s one less thing you’ll have to worry about. One of them looks up, meeting your eyes, and you give her a polite nod, which she returns. The quiet respect of the interaction is one more thing that helps grounding you.

You wish everything could be this simple.

When you walk into Jungkook’s office, you know exactly what you’re going to find. Except what catches your eye isn’t the elegant wooden desk, the leather chair, or the impressive view on the city you have through the picture window. No, it’s the floral arrangement that sits proudly on the desk, and the rich perfume that’s emanating from it.

You don’t know much about the language of flowers. You’ve never had to give it much thought. You do know that you don’t like these colors. Lots of red, dark greens, some unpleasant touches of purple. It’s too intense, jarring, almost tacky. When you take the card that’s planted in the middle, you know exactly what to expect.

‘Jungkook,’ the card reads in elegant calligraphy, ‘I see you keep walking in my father’s footsteps. There are things that we need to discuss. You know where to find me. —A.’

Even though your back is turned to Hector, you only stop yourself from rolling your eyes at the last second, and you want to scold yourself in response to it. If you start letting emotions slip through, you’re not sure you’ll be able to hold them in next time it really matters. You know that. You need to— you need to stop slipping.

The card goes into your wallet. New filing. You’ll have to remember to burn that later.

“Throw these out,” you order Hector. “Take the stairs to avoid running into Mr Jeon, and go out the back. Then try to find out if anyone saw them getting delivered.”

“Are you sure, ma’am? If he finds out—”

“That’s a risk I’m willing to take.”

At the finality of your words, Hector just nods stiffly and takes the basket the flowers came in. Not long ago, you would have thought he had an excellent point, would have taken pains to ensure Jungkook wouldn’t find out. It was true that he still wouldn’t be happy about you hiding things from him, but it was— things had changed, too. You didn’t think he would mind that much. He’d probably understand.

Shit. Since when did you work on probably’s when it came to your safety? You needed— you weren’t sure what you needed. To get a grip or to trust him on this?

Anna trying to contact him was undoubtedly bad news, though. Your mind latches to the obvious distraction, all too happy to move away from the dilemma. Thinking of Jungkook's possible reaction to her is enough to make your stomach twist at the thought of what happened last time. You don’t want to have to go find him, all bruised and battered, after spending the night at the Circle. You don’t want to have to see him in that state again. And most of all, you don’t want to think about what he must have felt like, to inflict that upon himself.

You breathe in, slowly. As unreasonable as it is, that is probably your main reason for not letting Jungkook see the flowers and the note. You just, desperately, irrationally, want to protect him. It’s something you did a pretty shitty job at all those years ago, no matter how hard you tried, and it’s something you’d like to do better now, since you have the chance.

That isn’t the only reason, though. You’re also not sure Jungkook can be trusted around Anna. She’s been playing the manipulation game for a long time, possibly as long as she’s been alive, and it’s clear that she still has some form of influence on him. You don’t want to give her a chance at figuring that out — figuring him out. You’re certain that it would jeopardize the Organization, and, again, you don't think that would be good for Jungkook. Falling back into Anna’s arms is the last thing he needs.

Maybe you should put more faith in him, but you’ve been doing a lot of that already, lately. It looks like this is where you find your limits.

You straighten your shoulders, glancing around the room. You cannot stay here immobile, waiting for Jungkook to arrive. Without a doubt, the potent smell hanging in the air is one he will notice. There’s even a strong possibility that that consideration impacted Anna’s choice of flowers.

It certainly would have impacted yours.

You don’t linger on that thought.

In just a few steps, you’re at the window. It takes you a second to get it opened, and when you do, the harsh, cold wind of November comes rushing in. You suppress a shiver, dig your teeth into your cheek to keep them for chattering. To finish the job, you retrieve an air freshener from a nearby closet. You made sure there would be some on hand, considering the fact that a number of hybrids would be working there. While they are not fond of the artificial smell, it’s still better than most of the unpleasant, natural ones that humans don’t necessarily notice.

And, apparently, it can be used when your bitch of an ex-boss keeps trying to sink her teeth in your new one. Like she hasn’t done him enough damage, like she hasn’t hurt him enough, like he won’t forever bare the scars she’s inflicted on him—

You still your movements, mind racing.

You’re used to the gnawing of irritation, the bite of the desire for revenge, the cold feeling of injustice. This white-hot anger is— new. It’s unlike you, frankly, and that fills you with fear. But what you find truly terrifying is the fact that you don’t find completely unpleasant. You should know better. You usually do.

Yet, for some reason, you cling on to this specific emotion.

Why?

“Why the fuck does it smell like that in here?”

Turning around to face Jungkook, the question is yet one more thing that you file away in the complex system that is your brain, making a mental note to come back to it later.

Or not.

“You’re here early, Mr. Jeon,” you say with a polite nod of your head. He’s standing in the doorway, nose scrunched in disgust, black hair falling in soft curls to frame his face and underline that perfect jaw of his. A scowl twists his mouth, no doubt due to the smell he was mentioning. “There was a strange smell in here,” you say flatly, without batting an eye. Not lying but not quite telling the truth either. “I assumed you would rather avoid that in your office.”

He doesn’t question what you say — why would he? — and just lets out an annoyed groan. You’re starting to suspect that it’s just your voice that gets on his nerves. He walks inside the room and looks around critically.

“I suppose this doesn’t look too bad,” he admits after a few second.

“This should only be temporary,” you tell him. “If everything goes well, you should be able to have your own floor.”

‘If everything goes well’ sure carries a lot of weight here.

If he makes it through the next day.

If he’s not horrifically murdered in the next few months.

If you don’t fuck up.

“I don’t know if I like this,” Jungkook comments, and there’s something in his tone that makes you look at him. He’s not really saying this to you, expecting you to react to this information. He’s just— saying it. Sharing his thoughts with you. It throws you off more than you would like to admit. “I’m not going to be running things from behind a desk.”

You bite your tongue, force yourself to think about what you want to say.

“Then think of this as being about your image, Mr. Jeon,” you say. “Ideally, I would prefer if you worked from here, at least until things settle down but,” you keep going, expecting his anger, “I would understand if you didn’t. Still, this place should be safe.” And you add, somewhat self-consciously. “I upped the security.”

He seems puzzled, and then an amused — somewhat mocking, but mostly amused — grin forms on his face.

“As long as you have some hybrids on the team, no one should be able to do what we did.”

You nod politely. You’d thought something along those lines.

“We will ensure that we do.”

“Frankly, even we didn’t think it would be that easy to take you on,” Jungkook adds, burying his hands in his pockets and taking a step towards you. The grin’s still dancing on his lips, and you stare. Is he trying to get a rise out of you?

You realize you’re taking too long to answer, and you look away, though you can tell that he's still looking at you, still smiling. You have no idea what to make of that or what you should reply. So, instead of going down that route, you clear your throat and pull out your phone, looking at it to read the schedule you know by heart.

“There is still work to be done up here,” you say, voice coming back to you now that you’re going down a familiar script, “so most of the appointments you have for today are outside. In the future, we’ll ideally hold most meetings here or in restaurants nearby.” You don’t add that you want to make sure people come to him, in a place where you can be in control, rather than the opposite. You know he wouldn’t like that, and you know he’ll likely keep his habits or going all around town. That is just something you’ll have to compose with.

“Right,” he says, tone just a little too sharp, and you hear all that he doesn’t say loud and clear. You could take issue with it, but you know that he’s making the same kind of effort you are.

You glance up at him and your eyes meet. In that moment, you both choose not to add anything that could get your defenses back up.

“Let’s get it done,” he says, and you nod.

This is something you think you could get used to. Actually, this is— nice, almost.

Almost.

While Jungkook has given you more freedom lately, not forcing you to be on his heels at all time, you are still in his presence more often than not. You are not entirely sure of how much of that is necessary. Since he now actually listens to you, it certainly makes more sense than it used to, but you can’t help but think that there has to be a better use of your time. You did mention, once, the possibility of having someone else filling in for you — someone who would be able to explain the inner workings of the Organization shouldn’t be that hard to find — but Jungkook just let out a dismissive scoff, and you didn’t bring it up again.

You did not want to push your luck, not for something that was ultimately harmless, when it was clear that you had finally reached a fragile truce. You still managed to get things done on your phone while Jungkook did— did his thing, more or less. It involved a lot of talking to people, a lot of handshakes, and many meetings in small offices that you were not always allowed into.

You were familiar with such interactions; Mr. X made sure to meet with the higher-ups at least once a month, and had frequent dinners with them individually. The difference was that Jungkook didn’t limit himself to the higher-ups. They were on the list, certainly, but it wasn’t all that rare for you to have to spend your afternoons in a freezing warehouse while Jungkook was talking with people who were only in command of a small group — sometimes, the meeting involved the whole group.

You did not say a word about it. At this point, you suspected that he knew what your feelings on the matter were, but he didn’t comment on it either. Those were differences that you could accept, especially because you could somewhat see the use in what he was doing.

Mr. X had never done anything to ensure the loyalty of those people and, though you sometimes met with one of your informants in person, neither had you. Usually, fear was enough to keep them in line. But with someone as charismatic and as confident as Jungkook… It was no wonder that that they felt they had a shot.

And, of course, a large number of the people Jungkook met with were hybrids. Some hid their attributes underneath hoodies and gloves; others flaunted them threateningly. You spotted lots of sharp teeth and claws, split tongues, scales, and, on one occasion, additional eyes on the temples of a spider-hybrid, usually hidden behind glasses.

Jungkook fit right in. The way he spoke, the way he held himself, it was obvious that he was seen as one of their own.

The same thing could not be said about you. Your mere presence could offset the balance in the whole room. On the few occasions when you interfered to talk to Jungkook, you were met with glares and even a couple of growls.

While there was no way Jungkook wouldn’t have noticed, he didn’t say anything about it. You weren’t sure what that meant. It seemed unlikely that he was putting you in these situations to make you fear for your life, not when he’d made it clear that you were not to be harmed by his men. That, however, did not help you figure out what his true reasoning was.

You were starting to wonder whether or not there was a reasoning. That was hard to wrap your head around, so unlike anything you had experienced in the years since you had joined the Organization. But then again, Jungkook was unlike anything you had experience since then.

And maybe that was not a bad thing.

During that time, you had started to send Hector do some of your less sensitive work. He’d recoiled at first at the idea of leaving you alone but, for once, he had not seemed too upset when you had insisted. You couldn’t say for sure if that was because he was mad at you or because he believed you when you told him you would be safe. He had simply nodded, and then he’d gotten to work. As it turned out, his heightened sense of hearing was an invaluable ability when he met with people or inspected places. You were always cautious not to send him anywhere too dangerous, of course, and you suspected that he knew that.

Trust might have been growing here, too, now that you thought about it.

Huh.

“This group is in charge of weapons entering the country,” you tell Jungkook in the car. “The government pays close attention to that, so they lay low when there’s no shipment coming in. The recent change in the group’s direction seems to have been well-received, even among the human members.”

Jungkook snorts at that.

“Yeah, ‘cause you would be the first to know if that wasn’t the case.”

“I actually keep a close eye on that group, considering their importance,” you reply, not even blinking at his derisive tone. “I would have heard about it.”

That makes him glance in your direction, raising an eyebrow.

“You have eyes everywhere, don’t you?” This time, he’s not mocking you.

“There seems to have been some movement within the group,” you continue, unwilling to reveal your secrets any more than you need to, “but most of the humans who were there kept their place. If anything, the new arrangement ensures more stability within the group, because the hybrids face less danger.”

You notice a muscle in Jungkook’s jaw contracting at your words, and you know exactly what he's thinking about. While weapons are strictly regulated in the country, humans caught carrying them can essentially get away with jail time, a fine if they’re lucky — or able to corrupt the police. For hybrids, however, punishment could go up to the death penalty. It says a lot about the Organization’s views that the team charged with handling the weapons was mostly hybrids.

So disposable that their lives could be lost to avoid jail time for humans.

“Most humans within the group seem to take no issue with the new arrangements,” you conclude. You’re not sure why you add that; it is an unnecessary assessment. It could be an attempt to ensure that the meeting you’re about to enter will be productive and that Jungkook won’t be out for blood. It could be you trying to stop the situation from worsening.

Or it could be a clumsy way of trying to bring him some comfort.

If that is what you are doing — and you refuse to look into it, refuse to analyze the way you’re feeling right now over something that insignificant — God are you bad at it.

“They better not,” Jungkook just growls.

There is more that you could say. According to your informant, something akin to friendship — comradeship at the very least — has developed within the group. These people look out for each other. Considering what happened in other factions once authority changed hands, you believe this to be significant. But none of this is objective, nor does it actually matter. Factions have been run without any of that for far longer than you've been involved with the Organization.

So you don’t say anything, merely lean back into your seat, and look out the window. The car is smoothly following along the bay, dwarfed by the massive cargo ships entering and leaving the harbor. Despite yourself, you feel your shoulders tensing. You’re always careful when you’re around here — would never set foot in here unless you absolutely had to. It’s too crowded, full of too many people from different factions. The ones that don’t belong to the Organization despise the ones that do. In the best of times, you’re not welcome there.

This is far from being the best of times.

Still, when you get out of the car alongside Jungkook, no one would be able to tell that the atmosphere here makes your skin crawl. Now that you frequently work with hybrids, your control over your breathing has become constant. One less thing for others to pick up on and to use against you; one more thing for you to constantly be mindful of.

You wonder if this should have been harder for you to implement, but the truth is that it only took a few days of effort. The control you have over your body at this point is— absurd, probably.

But even that doesn’t stop your heart from dropping in your chest and your blood from turning into ice in your veins when you spot a familiar face among the small group that is already gathered in the warehouse.

It’s been a while since you’ve last seen him. He’s aged considerably since the last time, grey streaks in his hair, circles under his eyes, and you wonder if anything happened and how he got affected to this job. The last time you had been in contact with him, he was still at the quiet position you had ensured he had, supervising the bouncers in a club that was not so secretly a brothel as well.

You remember the look on Mr. X’s face when you had asked him for the favor, the pleasure he’d taken in seeing you squirm.

You were almost— you were certain that this part of the business had not been affected by Jungkook’s reorganization of things. There was no reason for him to be here.

So then why are you suddenly staring at your father’s face, standing in the middle of a shady warehouse?

Had something happened? Was there an issue with money? Why wouldn’t your family have contacted you and why, why hadn’t you kept better fucking track of his whereabouts, why hadn’t you known—

Your thoughts are interrupted by Jungkook’s voice as he greets the group’s leader, and you immediately try to correct yourself. You can tell that your jaw is clenched too tightly, know that there is probably a tension in your shoulders that looks unnatural. You can only hope that people will blame it on you being a stuck-up bitch; anything that they already believe to be true about you. Anything but the truth.

You barely lay eyes on the man who brings Jungkook in a brief embrace. Hoseok, you’d learned when checking your intel. There are doubts as to what type of hybrid he is. The unnerving smoothness with which he moves makes you suspect snake, but it could just as easily be something else. He shoots you a quick smile, which would have caught you by surprise if you weren’t hyper focused on the situation at hand, wringing your brain in an attempt at understanding it.

The brief speech Jungkook gives is completely lost on you, though, even in that state, you don’t miss how easily he manages to captivate and rile up his audience. Charisma rolls off of him in waves, and no one seems to be immune to it — well, no one but you and your father. His eyes remain bored and he keeps on staring at the ground.

He does not look at you once.

It is not until Jungkook starts talking with people individually that he steps towards you.

“Fred Lucas asked me to relay a message to you, ma’am,” he says.

It’s, objectively, a good lie. He used to work for Fred Lucas, and you’re the only one who deals with him. From the corner of your eye, you see Jungkook glancing at you, looking annoyed. You doubt he’ll look into it very much.

The word “ma’am” still feels like a slap in the face, coming from him.

You tilt your head towards a corner further away in the warehouse. There is wind blowing through the gate, and with the loud noises of the harbor, you’re hoping it will be enough to cover your voices.

“What is it?” you ask, voice quiet, when you get there. “What are you doing there?”

He clicks his tongue like he’s annoyed at your questioning.

“Don’t you think you switched sides a little too quickly?” he asks you in return. “Nothing’s done just yet, and it’s not looking good for you. Some people might think it was an inside job.”

“Then they’ll think that,” you reply without batting an eye. “The choice was between this and death. What are you doing here?”

You see disapproval flash in his eyes.

“You've only delayed things,” he hisses. “You should lie low until the storm passes. Not everyone will find you indispensable.”

You discreetly flex your hand. His chastising tone brings to the surface parts of you that should remain buried at all times.

“I know you got this opportunity handed to you on a silver platter twice now,” he keeps going, shaking his head, “but you won’t always be so lucky.”

You know this should get a rise out of you. You should get angry. You should have something to reply to his words. Instead, you just feel yourself growing emptier and emptier.

Lucky.

He built the altar on which he sacrificed you, and he’s calling you lucky for it.

He’s jealous, a distant part of you supplies. It’s probably true.

“What are you doing here?” you ask for the third time. You bite back any other question, any offer of moving him, should he need your help. You know he would find it humiliating.

You’re not sure why you feel the need to shield him from that feeling, but you still do.

“It’s an important job,” your father replies dismissively. “Might as well take the opportunity to make a good impression.”

You can’t tell if he means that he wants to preserve his life or if he wants to try to climb the ranks of the Organization. You refuse to let yourself think about it, because if it’s the second option you’ll—

You can't think about that either.

“I see,” you nod. “In that case, you know where to reach me should anything be needed.”

For a second, you consider asking him about the rest of your family.

You think better of it before you act on that. You always do.

“Lie low,” he tells you again as the two of you are parting. “It’ll be better off that way.”

It’s only when you reach Jungkook that you consider the possibility that he might have been trying to look out for you. That is a thought that you could take comfort in, and yet you can’t even do that because, no matter how much you look at it, you just cannot find yourself to believe that.

“What did he want?” Jungkook asks you in the car as you drive away from the warehouse, away from the harbor, away from your father, and back to a place where you have control.

It takes a second for things to click into place.

“An update on the Heaven’s Doors situation,” you respond, though his eyes on you feel heavy in that moment. “Or rather, a lack of update.” A vague shrug. “Fred’s usual antics.”

“Is that it?”

You look up at him, meet his gaze. He’s just staring at you and you're not— You can’t read him. You can’t let yourself think that there's something akin to concern in his eyes. Not right now.

So you just nod.

“I will make sure to let you know if there is any actual development, Mr. Jeon.”

He openly rolls his eyes and, thankfully, the moment passes.

If this keeps up, you will definitely need to find a technique to keep that heart of yours in check.

Though you don’t mind being out and about with Jungkook nearly as much as used to, and though you still regularly have to be in the field yourself, you find immense relief in knowing that you have an office to come back to. As the preparations that you’ve made for the floor you’re renting come together, it becomes more and more of a place you can work from.

Of course, that means that every now and again, you cross paths with people you would rather not see. Some mostly harmless, like Fred Lucas, who you’ve learned how to handle, others clearly trying to determine the importance of your role in the Organization. And then there's Junho, the shark hybrid who you thought was going to be your end, who gives you a bright grin that reveals all of his teeth as you walk past the front desk where he's talking with Jungkook.

There is not an ounce of kindness in it.

You walk by with a mere, polite nod towards the two of them. You’d like to think that you haven’t let anything show — you know you’ve suppressed the shiver, you're pretty sure you kept your lips tightly pressed together — but the truth is you know cracks have formed in what used to be a perfect mask. You’ve caught it a few times now, a twitch of your lips, fingers tapping on your thigh. It’s not much. Most people wouldn’t notice it or care.

Yet it worries you, bubbles in your throat sometimes. If you let yourself slip in front of the wrong people, you could reveal too much about yourself. The thought is terrifying to you; not too long ago, it would have meant certain death. The thought that things might have changed and you might not need this anymore to your survival is perhaps just as scary.

What if you crumble? What if all those things buried deep inside your soul wreck everything you've built as they come back up to the surface?

Worse, what if they don’t?

“I’m out of here,” Jungkook announces loudly, though you’re the only one with him in his office. “Are you staying caged up in here?”

You glance up at him to find him already staring at you, jacket slung over his shoulder, and you feel your breath catching in your throat. You can only pray that your poker face holds up as you do, because all of your self-control is needed not to look away immediately. Once more, while you still can, you bury everything that comes with it, and you reply with a perfectly smooth expression.

“There is much left to be done, Mr. Jeon.”

That is not untrue, but if you were honest with him or with yourself, you would admit that the main reason for your decision is that overexerting yourself and coming home to your apartment only to collapse into a dreamless sleep actually sounds like the best way of spending your time these days.

Jungkook’s lips twist in a displeased expression, but he doesn’t seem angry, just annoyed. You can’t help the curiosity that fills you as you examine him. He seems more relaxed around you than he’s ever been. There’s still tension in his whole body, but it is not vibrating with anger and distrust anymore. In his eyes, you also cannot find the hatred you used to see. There’s a lot swirling inside them, it is true, things that you think you could spend hours deciphering, but—

“Suit yourself,” Jungkook shrugs, “but you won’t be able to stay hidden in here all the time.”

You snap back into focus, in time to press your lips together and nod at him.

“If there is anything you would like me to handle outside, make sure to let me know.”

He scoffs and rolls his eyes, but seems to think better of it before snapping at you.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he says, turning around and vaguely waving a hand at you, though you cannot tell for sure if it is a salute or if he is merely dismissing you.

“Certainly, Mr. Jeon.”

The glass door closes softly behind him, and your eyes go back to the spreadsheet in front of you. You’ve stared at the numbers for far too long now, but you want to ensure that they are right before forwarding them to one of your trusted accountants. You could handle it all yourself; you’re fairly good with numbers. If there is one thing you’ve learned over the years, though, it’s that you should delegate whenever possible. The hard part, of course, was finding people that you could trust.

As a result, few people in the company, outside from the bosses, are paid as well as the accountants — and are under as much surveillance.

That is how they got Capone, after all, and you have no intention of seeing Jungkook or yourself go down the same way.

Your phone dings while you’re still staring at the numbers and you check it immediately, having effectively trained yourself to do that over years of juggling the informations given by your numerous informants.

The text is brief, three words to be exact, but it makes your blood run cold.

‘All out war’.

You’re on your feet before you can process it completely. Jungkook has left less than two minutes ago, your brain supplies while you rush to the door and then through the corridors. You should still be able to get to him — but the elevators are both taken. You feel more than you notice people throwing you surprised glances. You don’t have time to think about it, nor do you have time to listen to the voice in the back of your brain that comments on the fact that you’ll need to ensure that an elevator is available at all time for the higher-ups.

You’re running down the stairs before you know it. Hector, you realize at some point, though you can’t tell when exactly, would have been faster than you, but he’s probably getting his coffee somewhere on the floor and it’s too late to go get him. On your phone, you try to get a hold of Jungkook, but he doesn't reply, likely because he’s still in the goddamn building and has no way of knowing how swiftly the situation just changed and— Fuck, you need to get to him.

Based on the text you received, you have to assume your informant texted you in the middle of the meeting. Depending on where they are in the chain of command, the decision could have been made hours, maybe a day earlier. Which would leave ample time for them to plant—

You burst through the door of the lobby, earning yourself surprised looks from the people in there — among which you don’t find Jungkook. Normally you would worry of appearances, but you don’t have time for such considerations, and so you run through the lobby, wincing when your ankle twists unpleasantly, and then, finally, through the glass windows, you see him about to get in his car. He seems to be making small talk with the driver, thank God, and then gives you just enough time to walk through the door and call out to him.

“Mr Jeon!”

He turns around to look at you, surprised, while you wince at the way your voice just cracked.

“Changed your mind?” he asks, and you think you see the hint of a smirk on his lips.

You shake your head. All you can think about is that you have to get him away from the car. You gesture at him to approach, but he either doesn’t understand or chooses to ignore it.

“Mr Jeon,” you repeat, “there is something I need you to take a look at.”

Even from where you’re standing, you know he’s rolling his eyes at you.

“Then show it to me,” he replies. “I’m not getting back in there.”

You swallow painfully, eyes going back to the car. No. You’re not getting close to that thing with Jungkook. The two of you are probably at the very top of the kill list, and even if the blast might not kill you if you’re not inside, you know that is a risk the enemy faction would be willing to take, because it is a risk you would be willing to take.

“Mr Jeon,” you say, once more. “Please.” You try to convey everything you need to say into the intonation, but even to your ears, your voice barely varies. This is not an exercise you are used to — far from it, in fact.

You think Jungkook frowns, takes one step in your direction, before stopping himself. He turns to say something at his chauffeur, which you don’t quite manage to catch. He’s not showing sign of moving, and with each second in the open with minimal protection, you feel yourself growing more desperate. This is supposedly a safe part of town — but realistically, with an open war in the Organization, there will be no safe parts of town for the next few months.

“Jungkook!” you finally hear yourself shouting, and his head immediately whips in your direction, eyes wide. This time, finally, he walks in your direction, and the relief you feel is so overwhelming that you can feel your legs grow weak under you.

“What the fuck?” he growls in a low voice when he reaches you. Normally, you’d try to figure out exactly what is going through his mind then — if he’s angry, if he’s surprised, if you’ve made a mistake — but right now, all you can do is exhale in relief.

“It’s war,” you say simply, voice low. “You need to get inside, and we need to call reinforcements for this place.”

You shouldn’t be surprised when Jungkook doesn’t budge and simply looks at you like you've just grown a second head, but it does take you aback. This kind of information would have been enough for you to formulate a dozen instructions — it was enough for you — and you curse yourself quietly for not realizing you needed to express it differently for him. Letting your emotions get the best of you like that… There was a reason why you didn't do that.

“What do you mean, it’s war? I thought you said they were lying low since you started hunting them—”

Your eyes keep darting between him and the street, trying to figure out where the threat is going to come from — because you don't doubt there is going to be a threat. Any second now.

“I was wrong,” you interrupt him. “You need to get inside, Mr. Jeon, please, until we figure out—”

“Don’t bullshit me, if it’s war I won’t be doing it from here, I’ll be—”

You tune him out when you hear a honk. A car arrived behind Jungkook’s. You see the drivers shouting at each other, before Jungkook’s driver gets in his. Quietly, you pray that you were wrong.

The car has moved less than a meter when it blows up.

Then it's chaos. People shouting and running, a burst of flames shooting up in the sky, the smell of burning gasoline.

Jungkook turns around slowly, shouts a name that you don't recognize but that you have to assume refers to the driver. He starts moving in the car's direction, but you regain enough control over your body to catch him at the last second. Your fingers wrap around his arm, and that makes him pause. He looks lost when his eyes find yours.

“Jungkook,” you say, barely more than a whisper, and he likely wouldn’t hear you if he wasn’t a hybrid, “you need to get inside.” Then your voice gets quicker as urgency replaces fear in your veins. You start saying out loud what your brain is processing in the moment, both because you need him to understand the severity of the situation and because you likely won't have time to fill him in later. “They just blew up a car in one of the richest areas of the city. Either they don't care about repercussions by the police, or they’ve already bought the police. Even if you weren’t in there,” thank God he wasn't in there, “they've sent a clear message. They won't stop at anything now. Either they will die in this fight, or—” You swallow, throat suddenly dry. “Or we will.”

Jungkook just stares at you for a few seconds longer. His jaw tightens as he clenches his teeth, and then, slowly, his face hardens. His fingers close around yours, just a second, before he takes your hand off of him.

You hadn’t noticed you were still holding him.

You do, however, notice that the very tip of his fingers linger on your skin, and the gentleness of the gesture.

You choose to make nothing of it.

Once more, he looks at the car, before he looks at you again. He doesn’t look lost this time. He looks resolute.

“He’s dead already,” he tells you. “Let’s get inside and do— whatever it is you said to do. Call— whoever you need to call.” You nod, having to rush to follow his long strides back inside the building. “Let’s show those bastards.”

As the elevator doors close on the two of you, you find yourself staring at the burning car. It is a strong blow, to be struck in front of your headquarters. But Jungkook is alive, standing next to you, and filled with such determination that you want to believe in him against all hopes. So, instead of keeping your thoughts to yourself, you nod decisively.

“Certainly, Mr. Jeon.”

standard author's note: i'm sorry it took me so long, i hope you still enjoyed seeing oc and jungkook after all this time, i hope you'd missed them a little bit and you enjoyed their dynamic, and i hope you liked the chapter :) if you did, it would mean the world to me if you would reblog, comment, or shoot me an ask, everything is welcome! i wish you all a great day and i'll see you in the next one.

lengthy author's note: sooooo, it's been a while. if you've followed my blog you know i've been struggling with various stuff — first finishing my master's thesis, and then just. life in general and writer's block in particular. on top of that, with this story there's such a slow burn that everytime i step away from it, i'm afraid i'll pick things up 'wrong'. you know, if i make them too close/if i make them a step back, if i repeat myself too much (repetition of oc's thought-process is intended but only to a certain degree), etc. i hope this stil works. i'm also... idk, i guess i'm afraid of disappointing people after all this time. it's scary to think that people have waited for so long and might go 'oh, i waited all that time for this'.

and most people have been very sweet about the time i was taking to write the chapter and i'm not saying this to be all 'woe is me' or to get sympathy!! please know you don't have to read this and feel bad for me or comfort me lol, and vice versa if you didn't like the chapter it's all good lol. it's just... that's the kind of things that can make writing harder.

thank you for reading all that, genuinely seeing the continued interest in iicngyp on my blog and continuously getting asks about it by people who were so invested in the characters played a huge part in getting me to write and finish the chapter and i'm endlessly grateful for that. hopefully i'll see you a little sooner next time, and i wish you all the best!