Not Jungkook Asking Who Wants To Help Wash Him Up Lmao BYE (trans. Cr. Btsmemeories)

he is love

summary: in which jungkook loves you, and he wants you both to eat well.

> fluff, slight angst / wc: 3.4k

> warnings: yn doesn’t have a very healthy relationship with food :( + jungkook’s spit? 😭

note: this has always been in my drafts and i guess i was lowkey scared because it gets personal, but i finally wrote it :D

—

“sometimes it feels like i’m only eating for the sake of survival, you know? so i can’t be too bothered to cook, or care if it doesn’t taste good when i do.”

once again, your casual words from a long time ago echo in jungkook’s mind this fine sunday morning, as he works hard to perfectly fold the omelette on the pan.

he smiles to himself when he succeeds. he hums a song as he places it on top of the hot kimchi rice on your plate, sitting beside his with the not-so-successful, practice round omelette. that’s when he hears the familiar sound of your fluffy slippers dragging against the floor, too sleepy and tired to make an effort to do proper steps. he carefully sets down the two plates infront of the chairs facing each other, before meeting you halfway at the entrance of the kitchen.

“morning, baby.” he chirps his greeting as he wraps his arms around you, but you hold onto his muscled biceps to stop him.

“back hurts.” you cry out quietly, turning around to clasp your hands together around your nape. he chuckles, understanding what you’re asking him to do in a heartbeat.

he wraps his arms around you again before picking you up effortlessly, making sure to support your elbows as he leans back and squeezes you. you moan in satisfaction when you feel the cracks, relief instantly rushing into your veins as you feel significantly lighter. when he brings your feet back to the ground, you turn around and embrace him properly with your arms around his waist. you bury your face in the smell of your boyfriend’s favorite fabric softener, brain so hazy you almost fall back into sleep.

“feel better?” he asks to confirm, soothingly rubbing your back, putting pressure here and there- around your shoulder blades. this is why he scolds you about your posture regularly, because you are a stubborn creature of habit.

“breakfast smells good.” you stand on your toes to take a peek of the food over his shoulder. “and that’s a lot of rice.”

“just eat what you can finish then.” he kisses your forehead before pulling away to head towards the dining table again. “where do you want to eat?”

“living room.” you reply while rubbing the sleep out of your eyes, feeling uncomfortable because of the hair framing your face being damp after you freshened up. “want to watch queer eye. so they can inspire me to clean.”

jungkook brings out a wooden tray from the shelf. he carefully places the two plates, two glasses, and a pitcher of cold water. “i can clean instead. you rest. don’t you need to study for your exam later?”

“i’d rather clean than study.” you pout, following his footsteps leading to the living room. “i hate it more than cleaning.”

“what about jungkook?”

“what about you?” you plop down on the couch, knees on your chest as you sink into the cushion. he sets down the tray on the center table, and it produces a thump sound. “i love you.”

with a radiant smile, he offers you a plate. “wait,” you mumble, putting a pillow over your lap before taking it from his hands.

“ah!” his eyes widen with late realization. “i forgot the utensils. hold on.”

he speedwalks to and from the kitchen, and you turn on the television to play the episode you’re going to watch.

this day began with you thinking that you don’t have much of an appetite, but after the first spoonful of your favorite kimchi fried rice jungkook special with a bite-sized piece of omelette on top, you became unstoppable.

he steals a glance every now and then, delighted to see your plump cheeks devouring the food that he cooked. the joy it brings him never changes, no matter how many times he has served you his food. you make him feel loved and appreciated, and most of all, happy when you’re eating well.

needless to say, he’s been worried. you have been eating less than the usual, finishing the food in no more than ten minutes so you could go back to doing school works right away.

“my busy bee.” he sighed, squatting infront of you.

you looked up from your laptop, straightening your posture when you realized you were hunching over again.

“hi,” he greeted you again, fixing your glasses before it completely slid off your nose bridge. he could see the reflection of a research article reflecting on the lens.

you scrunched your nose, the simple action making you blush. “hi, my love. need anything?”

“just came by to give you a snack.”

he inched the bowl of assorted nuts mixed with colorful m&m’s closer to you. they reminded you of the highlights decorating your notes.

“i mixed them myself.”

you could tell. you have never seen a trail mix with these many types of nuts in your life. “chopped the nuts yourself too?”

“of course.” he grinned proudly before pointing at the m&m’s. “that’s dark chocolate too.”

a look of bewilderment painted your face. “dark m&m’s exist?!”

jungkook tucks your hair behind your ear so it won’t get into your food. pretty, he thinks to himself when you give him an appreciative smile.

he finishes his food first, gulping down his glass of water as he watches a guy have a makeover in preparation for his marriage proposal to his girlfriend.

you finish yours as well, leaving your plate on the tray as you chew on the final bite. by no exaggeration, you did not leave a single grain of rice.

“oh, my baby! you finally ate well.” he beams, pinching your cheek lightly.

“i got inspired to clean my plate because the food was yummy.” you praise him, slumping against his side after drinking three gulps of water.

“i’m proud of you. you should wear the angel pajamas tonight.” his tattooed hand squeezes your thigh, covered by seokjin’s devil pajamas from the artist-made collection.

his suggestion makes you chuckle, finding the character holding a pitchfork printed on the cloth adorable. “should i?”

—

you and jungkook eat samgyupsal for dinner, because apparently, last night wasn’t enough to satisfy his craving. but you barely ate yesterday that you forgot that you even had it, which you suspect is part of the reason why he wants to have it again. and you’re grateful, because you can enjoy it with an appetite this time.

“here, baby. eat your greens.” he wraps a piece of the freshly grilled meat in lettuce, feeding it to you with a happy grin.

your jaw works extra hard to chew the leaf occupying most of your mouth. “that was too big. the ratio was totally off!” you whine while reaching for the glass of water to push it down.

“it was? sorry.” but he doesn’t look or sound guilty, especially when he opens his mouth widely to stuff it full of his favorite food. with waaay more meat than lettuce.

you scoff, putting the cooked strips of samgyupsal in his bowl before laying out more on the grill. he tries taking the tongs from you to take over, but you put your hand behind you with a pout.

“let me. this is only the time i can cook without messing it up.”

it wouldn’t be shocking to learn that you do get insecure about your lack of cooking skills. look, you’ve tried. you lived alone for years before moving in with jungkook. there was no other choice but to try. about a couple million times. you followed the recipes, followed your instincts next. you didn’t like eating your undercooked or overcooked, too salty or too bland food— but eating outside everyday wasn’t a luxury you had. over time, it came to feel like a chore. eating. and you hated yourself for it, all because you couldn’t get shit right. it was not the right way to live, but you felt stuck.

so perhaps it was natural that you gravitated towards jungkook. jungkook who has the patience for cooking. puts the perfect amount of seasonings. has incredible chopping skills. watches cooking shows religiously. jungkook who enjoys food with his entire body. makes brain food when you study. jungkook who is feeding the both of you while you grill the meat because he just learned that you enjoy holding the tongs more than you’re afraid of oil splattering.

“this is only lettuce,” it starts off as a mere statement of observation, until it fully registers in your brain. “jungkook, i swear to god- if you don’t stop feeding me grass!”

after dinner, you go straight to studying to prepare for your test on tuesday. the center table of the living room being clattered with your study materials is a very familiar sight, somehow jungkook finds himself feeling fond of it, as he sits on the carpeted floor next to you. he has earbuds on, an audiobook paused on his tablet.

“hi. this seat isn’t taken, is it?” he sends a charming smile your way, his knee brushing against yours as he makes himself comfortable.

“well, it is now.” you roll your eyes jokingly, twirling the blue highlighter using your fingers as you try to retain the terms you’re reading inside your brain.

“i’m studying, too. english.” he makes space for his device, collecting the stray sheets of paper scattered on the table before tucking them in between one of your notebooks.

“do you have a test, too?”

“kind of?” he answers, sounding enthusiastic as he grooves and bounces to no music. he’s the exact opposite of you. “i have a schedule with my teacher on tuesday too. i want to make him proud that i did advanced reading.”

jungkook makes all of the people in his life proud. he is never not eager to learn— mistakes or fallbacks only motivate him to pour more of his time and effort into getting things right. putting aside the sad pouts, frustrated whines usually consisting of no, no, this is not it or please let me do it again or i don’t know what the fuck i’m doing wrong; and the tsk sound he makes as he tilts his head to the side as if he’s trying to knock some sense to himself before he tries again. what matters most is that he tries again and again and again, and he makes you want to do the same, too. you think of him when you want to give up, when things feel unbearable. you channel the willpower he thrives on because sometimes you forget that you don’t want to be a weak person, and you just need a little push to be reminded of that.

there is a sense of contentment and peace in the atmosphere as you study in your own little bubbles. you’re still memorizing while jungkook reads the story out loud with the narrator every now and then to practice his pronunciation. he uses his phone to search for the meaning of unfamiliar words. he decided that petrichor is one of the most beautiful words he’s learned so far.

he entertains you during your ten-minute break, peeling another orange as he speaks out his mind about something that he is both curious and annoyed about. “why are there so many words with a lot of different meanings? it’s too difficult. my brain has not much space left!”

you’re not really given a chance to speak because he feeds you a slice of orange, then himself, then you again. you can only smile in amusement with your mouth full, gathering the seeds at the corner of your tongue before spitting them out on the tissue he laid out.

you go back to studying, and he finishes up twenty minutes and two more oranges later. he plays around with the peels he carefully worked hard on not breaking earlier, making you a bracelet instead of the choker he originally wanted because of the warning look you gave him when he tried putting it on you.

he crawls on the couch you’re leaning on, scrolling through his phone for a few minutes until he grows restless again. he drags his body downward, folding his knees to level with you.

“are you almost finished?” he asks hopefully, his warm breath fanning on the shell of your ear.

you flinch with a giggle, rubbing your ear against your shoulder to make the tickle go away. “yup. just need to go over them again real quick.”

“okaaay.” he replies cutely. he suddenly gets up to leave the room, and you frown sadly when you find yourself alone again. the sound of the air purifier is almost deafening- it mocks you. reminds you of all the times you wished on ceilings for someone to make this silence bearable at most. you sigh, taking off your glasses to rest your tired eyes for a moment.

you crack your eyes open again when you feel your boyfriend’s presence infront of you.

“are you done now?” he repeats his question, holding up your angel pajamas he mentioned this morning. more than that, he’s wearing his own set, too. the first two buttons of the top undone. this is the first time you’re seeing him wear it, and butterflies erupt in your stomach at the thought of him wearing it because he wants to match with you.

so even though you’re not exactly done, you say yes anyway. you change into the pajamas, and exclaim “i’m already brushing my teeth!” with a mouth full of toothpaste when jungkook peeks into the bathroom to ask if you want a sandwich for your midnight snack.

—

it’s a reflex at this point, your feet carrying you to wherever jungkook is. the bus you get on from the university to his company, the three-minute walk it takes to get there from the bus stop. the smell lingering in the air changes with every five steps as you pass by the restaurants and street vendors. your stomach grumbles pathetically.

so when jungkook opens the door with his lips attached to his bottle filled with his favorite chocolate-flavored protein shake that you (not so) secretly take a sip or two of every now and then, your hands reach for it immediately.

“what the-” he looks down at his empty hands, and then back at you taking small sips from the bottle as you spin around on his chair.

he shuts the door before catching the armrest to make the chair stop, standing infront of you with his arms crossed. “did you just steal from me?”

you smile at him innocently, his tall frame towering over you. you clutch the bottle tightly in your hand, wary of him taking it away. “what’s yours is mine, right?”

“then you get mad at me using your shaver once-”

“it’s my shaver.” you retort, in disbelief with the example he has given. and it was definitely not just once. “that’s totally different!”

he pouts so big his cupid’s bow touches the tip of his nose. “that has my saliva in it.”

you raise an eyebrow. “so? atleast it’s chocolate-flavored this time. your spit tastes like spit.”

“what does it taste like exactly?”

“water with a hint of mint?”

he sighs in defeat. nothing he says ever phase you, so why does he still try? so instead, he sits on your lap.

“yah, jungkook!” you gasp, hitting his back with your fists. femur, the strongest bone of the body- this must be the reason why god made them that way.

“you’re so- heavy! move!”

“no! give me back my protein shake!”

“i finished it! there was like three sips left, you dummy!” you groan, pushing him off with all your strength. he gets nudged off a little, and that’s your window of opportunity to make a move. you quickly part your thighs, and his butt ends up falling in the space between.

“here-” you hang your arm over his shoulder, waving the bottle infront of his face. he takes it from your hand, shaking it to check if you really finished it.

you didn’t. you just wanted to bicker.

he gulps down what is left with a satisfied hum, putting back the cover before setting it down on the left side of his table, far away from his equipment. he leans his back against you, reaching for your hands to wrap them around his waist. still heavy, but bearable.

if the protein shake wasn’t enough of an indication that he just finished working out, his damp hair touches your cheek. you shiver lightly at the coldness.

he clicks his tongue, staring at the ocean displayed as the wallpaper of his computer. “i’m hungry.”

at that, you feel your stomach grumble again. “me too.”

“did you eat the breakfast i left at the table?”

“i woke up late. i’m sorry.” you jut out your bottom lip, upset that you weren’t able to eat the food he prepared for you. “i put the berries in a lunchbox and ran out of the house.”

his lips brush against your cheek before he puckers them up to plant a kiss. “it’s okay. i picked the berries myself. went to three different farms.”

“now you’re just lying.” you flick his neck without force, and he winces dramatically. “i bought those at the supermarket.”

“but i bought the blueberries. now kiss it better.” he counters, pointing at his neck.

so needy and dramatic.

your arms wrap around his waist again to tug him closer. instead of kissing the part that you flicked, you go the other way to kiss his mole. your favorite, after the one under his lip. the light touch prompts jungkook’s heart to do somersaults inside his ribcage.

he intertwines his hand with yours over his stomach, and you end up back hugging him with your weight leaning forward. “how did your test go?”

“wasn’t sure about two questions, but i think i did pretty good.”

“hmm, that’s my baby.” he rasps, kissing the back of your hand.

you hide the overly pleased smile on your face, resting your cheek on his shoulder. “how ‘bout you?”

“oh, english is my next schedule. let’s go grab lunch first.” he checks his black wrist watch. “we have more than an hour. what do you want to eat?”

“sushi!” you blurt out, excitedly shaking his shoulders.

“okay!” he responds with the same level of enthusiasm, standing up from the chair to face you. “let’s get gimbap!”

“sushi.” you whine out, using the strength of your legs to anchor yourself to the chair when he tugs at your hand.

“but gimbap is better. let’s go.”

he laughs out loud when the chair starts rolling along with you as he tugs you towards the door. “you can’t bring the chair to the restaurant!”

you shake your head stubbornly. “love, sushi. i’ll order the ones with fish this time.”

“you? eating fish that isn’t tuna?” he raises an eyebrow skeptically. “i don’t trust you.”

“i’ll give them another chance. you can trust me this time.” you bat your eyelashes, making good use of your charms.

you will seriously try, but knowing yourself well, there is a 90% chance that your boyfriend will have to get them wrapped up for take-out and then order your usual.

and knowing him well too, he’s not difficult to persuade. “alright, sushi. let’s get it!”

“wait. my bag-” you turn back, reaching for the khaki shoulder bag you left on the couch.

“just leave it, baby. we’ll come back anyway.” he says impatiently, circling his arm around your waist to bring you outside of the studio with him.

“but i need my wallet because i’ll buy our lunch.” you scold him as you punch in the code of the locked door.

his face lights up comically at the mention of free food. “ah, really? then can i have ramen, too? oh! takoyaki!”

you roll your eyes at the cheeky smile on his lips, stepping foot inside his studio again. “okay. order anything you want.”

—

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proud of him ♡  

dextrocardia | 16

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: 6.5k

warnings: none besides.... fictional police work...

rating: NC-17 – Adults Only

masterlist

part 16/? 

<previous | next>

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

Despite everything, you fill with a sense of excitement as you drive off, Sana in the passenger seat beside you. It’s nice to feel like you have a purpose again, and even if you technically had one during the last mission with Jeongguk, it was overshadowed by the danger you believed resided under the same roof. 

It’s a comfortable journey, and soon enough the highway turns into a pristine neighborhood, bearing no trace of the traumatic events that occurred there months ago. Most of it looks the same as you remember it but other parts don’t. There’s an unfamiliar car parked outside ‘your’ house, and not only that, but glancing through the large windows as you cruise by, you spot movement inside. Children? You knew people would eventually move into the house–a house that never even belonged to you to begin with–but it feels weird.

Putting your more than illogical feelings aside, you focus on parking your car outside the Jungs’ house instead. Before stepping out, you and Sana give each other one last once-over. Despite the relatively low risk of this initial part of the mission, you’ve still made an effort to appear inconspicuous, and it’s not only for your own sake. Considering what they’ve done for you–Hoseok especially–you don’t want to be a bother if they’d rather not have law enforcement be seen knocking on their door.

It’s Eunha who opens the door, eyes going wide when they land on your face. For a second, your worry grows; what if your presence isn’t actually appreciated? At all? But then her lips pull into a smile.

“Oh, hello?”

“Hi, we were wondering if we could ask you a few questions? About another case, not… yours,” you find your greeting turning into rambling.

“Oh, uh, yeah, of course. Come on in. I’m a little busy baking at the moment, but Hobi is home, and I’m guessing he’s the one you really want to speak with?”

She wipes her hands on her light blue jeans, leaving a white, powdery residue on the fabric before opening the door wider. 

“Thank you,” you smile as you step inside, looking around to see that, as far as you can tell, everything looks the same as when you last paid the Jungs’ a visit. When you think about it, Hoseok never brought up the bugs you placed in their house, so you’re guessing they never found them. Or if they did, they haven’t brought it up for some reason or another. You’re not sure, but what you do know is that you’re not gonna be the one to do it, just in case.

“Make yourselves at home. I need to check on the cookies. Hobi!” she turns to call out into the house, “We have guests!”

With an apologetic smile, Eunha excuses herself, and then you and Sana are left alone in the entryway. You share some kind of look. Sure, you didn’t expect too much hostility, but to leave you, two detectives, unsupervised in their home? 

A second later, the sound of footsteps approaches, and you smile toward the brown-haired man as he comes into view, his confused features turning happy. He takes in the sight of you before he closes the distance to give you a warm hug.

“How are you? You look good!” he compliments, also turning to shake Sana’s hand, a very sweet smile on his lips. “Hoseok.”

“Sana,” she greets.

“I’m doing well,” you answer, “He is too; made a full recovery.”

Hoseok’s smile falls, and he takes on a rather baffled look instead. “We saw on the news. About the station and the investigation and all that. Crazy. I mean, we knew there were corrupt cops, but to that extent?”

“Yeah.”

“So what brings you here?” he asks, a glint slowly returning to his eyes. “Was it maybe something I said one time at a hospital?”

You nod, “Yeah. Can you tell us what you know? Or give us any tips at all so that we can stop Kyung Sunghyun once and for all?”

You watch him contemplate. Since he first let that comment about Ksung slip at the hospital, you’ve felt that he’s a good enough man to at least not mind Sunghyun being investigated and possibly put behind bars. But what can he say without incriminating himself for essentially planning a robbery? And can he trust you if he accidentally lets something slip? You might seem like you’ve stopped pursuing him, but can he trust you not to, ever?

“Why don’t we take a seat in the living room?” He gestures for you to follow him, and after quickly taking off your shoes and jackets, you do, with Sana in tow.

Sitting on the Jungs’ couch, you wait for Hoseok to get comfortable and for Sana to pull her pen and notebook out of her bag. 

“Hey, love?” Hoseok calls out to his wife, turning to the two of you, “You want something to drink?”

“Oh, water would be fine,” Sana accepts, and you nod, “Yeah.”

“Hm?” Eunha appears in the doorway. She seems to have more flour on her pants than last time.

“Could you bring us some water?”

“Of course. Anything else?”

Hoseok thinks about it for a second before he lights up, “Oh, do we have some of those brownies left?”

“Uh, yeah, I’ll bring a few pieces.”

“Thanks.”

As soon as Eunha leaves, Hoseok turns to you again, a look of concentration coloring his features. “So, what do you want to know?”

“Well, everything,” you say.

“Okay. I’ll warn you that I might not know as much as you think, and some things–not that I know them–I can’t say. I guess I can start by saying that, hypothetically, if I were a criminal of any kind, I would probably still stay as far away from other criminals as possible; especially if I had… valuables that might make me a target. No honor amongst thieves and all that, you know?”

Although his words deny any criminal activity, his expression reveals that he’s well aware that everyone in the room knows that he’s far from innocent. At least as far as the law is concerned. You watch him intently, waiting for whatever information he has and praying that it’ll help.

Sana drives you both home an hour or so later, you sitting quietly in the passenger seat and staring out the window as the world passes by.

“We need to tell Jihyo as soon as possible,” Sana says, “I can drive you home after if you want me to? Unless you’d rather stay with me?”

“No, it’s… fine. I’m fine.”

You are fine. Although it could’ve sent you into some sort of panic attack, it didn’t. It’s just a reminder of why you don’t trust men, and you feel yourself withdrawing instead.

Hoseok didn’t have too much info on the Ksung trafficking case. As you expected, they spent a pretty significant amount of time trailing Sunghyun and his closest men in order to map their routines. Not that Hoseok admitted it; it was very ‘hypothetical’. But from what you gathered, it was difficult to get close to the top men and almost harder to follow anyone. Then, when everything happened and Hoseok and Yoongi understood that you’d been watching them, they put the plans mostly on hold. Except for one thing.

“He, of course, doesn’t actually get his hands dirty if he can help it, and we weren’t–you’d have to be a whole team to keep track of everyone and what they’re doing. But …there might be a private plane flying mostly under the radar about once a month. Someone might’ve found… ‘receipts’ for fuel from different places, and when pieced together, they form a vague route.”

“I guess the question is, why the need to fly incognito? Is it possible it flies… cash or other valuables from the bank that they’d rather not have everyone know of?” Sana asks, and you nod in agreement. It’s a very valid concern; you wouldn’t want just anyone to know if you’re transporting valuable cargo, even legally.

“The plane is refueled more often and with less fuel than a cargo plane, according to the receipts. It seems to be a very small plane, with a correspondingly small fuel tank. And these days, flight tracking is the default; it’s definitely an extra step to opt-out. Sometimes even difficult to achieve.”

“So we’ll be looking into this plane, alright. Where are the receipts from? Is there a pattern? Somewhere we can go to see if we catch them as they’re refueling?”

“The first stop is around three hours from their headquarters, so you’d assume the plane is stationed around there somewhere, but it might have proved hard to actually find it. I’ll give you the coordinates for that and the other locations.”

“Thank you.”

It’s with genuine gratitude that you thank Hoseok. It’s truly ironic that one of the sweetest men in your story is a bank robber, while the police have taken on the role of your enemy.

“So how is your case coming along? You haven’t found them yet, I assume?”

You press your lips together briefly before sighing. You know you shouldn’t disclose anything, really, but again, with how much has been on the news, the public would’ve known if the wanted police officers had been apprehended. And they haven’t. You’ve been told not even the Jimin-lead actually led to anything.

So you shake your head. "Still looking.”

To your surprise, Hoseok looks to be thinking hard about something.

“Okay, so… this might not lead anywhere, but if you’re stuck and possibly trailing Ksung’s people anyway… rumor has it that Ksung has been paying off the cops for a while. Not sure what station, but maybe, someone–at least up until around two months ago–used to meet up with someone at seven a.m. on the fifteenth of every month. Like I said, it’s supposedly around two hours away from here, essentially smack dab in the middle between the closest stations, but given your previous colleagues’... reluctance to follow the law, it might be worth checking out.”

“But they’ve been on the run for months now,” Sana questions, “If Ksung has been paying for police protection or their deliberate ignorance, then what would be the point now? They don’t have anything left to offer.”

“Their silence, maybe?” Hoseok tries to offer an explanation. “They could be blackmailing Ksung into giving them the money they need while on the run. Pay up, or they’ll tip someone off?”

“If what we think about Ksung is true, wouldn’t he just… get rid of them if that were the case? Can’t be that much of a leap between trafficking and murder? Especially if they’re a threat to everything Sunghyun built?”

You adjust your position on the couch, sitting quite literally on the edge of your seat and looking at Sana. “Yeah, I honestly think so too. It wouldn’t make sense to let some of the most wanted people blackmail you like that. There’s a big risk that they’re caught and then they might blab and drag you down too. Better to get rid of them.”

“Maybe,” Hoseok adds, “But there were a lot of officers caught in the investigation, weren’t there?”

“Yeah. All fired,” Sana confirms.

“Again, I can’t promise it’ll help because it’s somewhat of a long shot, but what if you didn’t catch them all? What if…”

“--Someone’s still working at the station,” you continue where Hoseok trailed off. “And taking bribes?”

“And you think that person is helping Hoseong?” Sana wonders, her eyes wide.

“Don’t know, but what are the odds of two separate groups of officers being corrupt?”

You really don’t want to answer that.

Jihyo is surprised at your findings, but when you turn it around to look at it from another angle, it makes an awful lot more sense. Instead of questioning the odds of your two cases being connected, it’s not so strange to think that a criminal bank CEO might be bribing the town’s corrupt police. It’s just strange for you to have found yourself in the middle of it.

“So what do we do?” Sana whispers, glancing at Jihyo’s closed office door behind her.

“Wait. What’s today’s date?” Jihyo asks, her eyes going wide as she realizes what you’ve already had time to see.

“January fourteenth,” Sana explains.

Jihyo looks at you and Sana and the look you give each other. “No. We should wait for backup; the outsourced detectives will be here in a week.”

“We’ll miss the window,” you argue quietly.

Jihyo raises her eyebrows. “What if it’s not true? What if it’s a trap to get rid of you?”

“Set up by Hoseok? I don’t think so. He could’ve gotten rid of us today if he wanted to, and I don’t think he would; he saved us, after all.”

“Well, you more or less surprised him today, and people knew where you were, so it would’ve been stupid on his part. Getting rid of you while you’re ‘looking for someone else’ would be a better plan. And like you’ve said before, when he saved your life, he didn’t know that you were investigating him yet. Now that he does, he might’ve just been waiting for an opportunity. What are the odds of you finding all of this out on the fourteenth when the supposed meeting is taking place tomorrow?”

Well, when she’s putting it like that you have to agree that there’s a risk. Not a big one, you don’t think, but a risk nonetheless.

“I want to go,” you say before lowering the volume of your voice further, “If there is someone here still… if there’s a mole, we need to… we need to act as soon as possible. The longer we wait, even if we try to be discreet, the higher the risk of him finding out.”

Jihyo sighs, lifting her hand to rub her forehead until she seemingly decides.

“Fine. Do you want to go tomorrow? Together? Maybe you should bring someone else as well?”

“Who? We don’t know who the mole or informant is, and if you suggest bringing Jeongguk…” you trail off. Jeongguk is great, but this is not his area of expertise.

“He’ll want to go, regardless.”

“He’s not a detective.”

“He’s out on a call right now?” Sana asks.

Jihyo nods. “Yeah, I think so. Out patrolling, at least.”

“Don’t tell him,” Sana suggests.

“You don’t think it’s him, right?” Jihyo asks in disbelief.

Sana continues, “No, but… the more people who know, the bigger the risk. I think he’ll do more good here, keeping up the charades.”

A few hours later, you’re already in the car, heading toward the spot Hoseok pointed out on a map. The meeting isn’t supposed to take place until tomorrow morning, which gives you a valuable opportunity to scope the place out beforehand.

The sun has set by the time you reach a hill, the road ending in an empty cul-de-sac with a low stone wall overlooking the arches of a large, gray viaduct. There’s a road running parallel to you, only on the other side of the wall, below the hill. It doesn’t pass under the viaduct, which stands almost perpendicular to you, but instead turns to run alongside it. You lean your gloved hands against the stone wall, following the road and its sidewalk below with your eyes. 

The meeting point is supposedly a few meters from the sidewalk, up underneath the viaduct’s closest arches. From this spot, you can’t see beyond the arch, except for a few bushes and trees. It looks like it might be downhill.

Hidden by the elevation, the stone wall, and some trees, the current spot will be where you park the car tomorrow, and before checking in at a nearby hotel for the night, you decide to also check out the other side of the viaduct.

“So, how does it feel to be back for real?” Sana asks, stepping out of the bathroom and putting her toothbrush in her mouth.

Sitting on the bed, you flip through the TV channels. “Uh, good. I really missed this… feeling of having a purpose?”

She pauses the brushing, toothbrush still in her mouth as she speaks. “Mhm, I get what you’re saying. And… how does it feel, knowing that there might be someone we… missed?”

You take a moment to think about it. “I don’t know. I’m so used to walking around the hallways, paranoid of who might be waiting around the corner. Waiting for me to be alone somewhere. After a while, you just don’t have the energy to be that scared anymore.”

Sana nods in understanding, brushing her teeth thoroughly for another few seconds before she enters the bathroom again to spit the foam into the sink.

“Did you know that I basically didn’t fight them at all when they came for us during the undercover assignment?” you ask, fiddling with the remote on the white bedspread.

“Jeongguk mentioned something about feeling like you’d given up, but not a lot more. He wanted us to stay close and check up on you; said he thought the last year had taken a bigger toll on you than we’d assumed.”

“Yeah. I’ve been so scared for such a long time; felt for so long that I stand no chance whenever they actually decide to try it. I didn’t think there was any use in fighting them when they came, so I just… stood there. I closed my eyes.”

“But Jeongguk saved you.”

“He did, yeah. Let himself be stabbed by a fucking samurai sword.”

Sana’s quiet as she exits the bathroom again, a white robe in her arms. 

You let out a deep breath. “What would you do? If you were me?”

Immediately understanding, she sits down on the other bed. “I don’t know. I want to say that I’d give him a chance, but I think it might be easier said than done.”

You look down at your hands. “Yeah.”

“I do believe he’s a good guy, and I think he’s learned his lesson, but a relationship can’t depend on whether he’s good or not, if he deserves you, or whether you should forgive him, can it?”

“It shouldn’t?” you raise your eyebrow at her, smiling a little.

“No, I mean, you shouldn’t be with him if the answer to those questions is ‘no,’ but the next question is just… Do you want to be with him?”

“I don’t know.”

“Then… does being with him make you happy?”

You feel your whole body practically answer her question. Your eyes drop sadly to the bedspread again, and your shoulders lift a little anxiously. “I think he makes me feel inadequate.”

She looks at you sadly. “You know that you’re not, though, right? You get to feel that way, and he has no say over your feelings because he’s the one who caused them, but you’re more than enough. We’ll support you no matter what you decide to do.”

Nodding slowly, you take another deep breath, getting up from the bed to brush your own teeth.

Usually, you find it hard to wake up fully when the sun has yet to rise and it’s freezing cold. Even the hotel’s hard but warm bed would be tempting you to stay in. But not today. The moment the alarm blares, you’re already reaching for your phone to quiet it, sitting up and looking around. On the other bed, not far from yours, Sana is rubbing her eyes and yawning. Today’s the day you might actually find a good lead.

Due to the nature of today’s assignment, you’re armed, just in case, and you’re clipping small body cameras to your thick, black jackets. On your head, you’ve got black beanies, and your hands are gloved as well to withstand the cold.

The sun still hasn’t made it far on its journey across the sky when you park the car in the same spot as you did yesterday. 

“I’m in my position,” Sana informs through the earpiece. You dropped her off closer to the other side of the viaduct, where she’s currently hiding a little farther down a walkway and behind some parked cars. 

“Good. Me too,” you confirm, leaning your elbows against the wall. Thanks to the trees and the relative distance, you’re well hidden as you kneel behind the stone wall, focusing on the meeting point through your black binoculars.

“It’s five fifty a.m., and we’re both in position,” you repeat, more so for the recordings.

“And so we wait,” Sana concludes.

Despite the thick jackets, it doesn’t take long before you’re freezing. If you could, you’d sit in the car, at least to be protected from the biting wind, but the angle from there wouldn’t let you see over the wall. Sana complains quietly about her fingers while your cheeks hurt the most. Every glance at your watch is painful.

Six fifty arrives, and you focus further. But there’s no one. Once every few minutes, a car or two passes on the road below you, but that’s it. Seven o’clock. Still no one. You’re starting to fear that maybe you missed them? Did they change location? Or maybe they decided on another time? What if they really just stopped meeting up, altogether? Hoseok didn’t seem too sure, after all. You bite your lip, trying to keep your cold body still. If there is an informant, you need to catch him.

Then, at seven twenty, you hear something. It’s the rustling of thick fabric as Sana adjusts her position.

“Dark-clothed male, moving in. 4 o’clock.”

As slowly and inconspicuously as you can, to not draw attention, you turn your head. Sure enough, a man is walking on the sidewalk below and to your right. 

Just like you, he’s dressed in all black, a bulky jacket covering most of his body except his legs. He’s got the hood pulled over his head and his hands in his pockets.

“Can you get a visual of his face?” you ask, watching wide-eyed as he passes below you.

“No, he’s got something–a shirt or something–pulled up over his mouth and nose.”

“Okay, looks like he’s headed for the viaduct,” you say, waiting to see if he follows the sidewalk as it turns to run parallel to the viaduct, or if he steps in under the arch. “We’ll wait and see if anyone else shows.”

But the man doesn’t stop to wait for someone. He steps off the sidewalk, casually walking over to the closest of the huge pillars, graffitied in blue and green, and swiftly retrieves something from under a small bush. A bag?

“It’s a dead drop,” Sana exclaims as the man continues on his path, heading in her direction. It only took a few seconds, and anyone less observant would’ve missed the pickup. 

“Do you recognize him?” you ask, on the edge of your seat. “Can you follow?”

You’re too far away to follow him on foot, and driving down would be impractical and likely draw his attention, so you stay put.

Instead, Sana moves, the rustling loud in your ears, and you hold your breath. It’s always more nerve-wracking to watch someone else pursue and track a target than doing it yourself. If this man discovers her, you don’t know what will happen, much less what he’ll do if he recognizes her.

The man disappears from view, and for a while, all you hear is Sana’s breathing and that same occasional rustling of her jacket as she moves. Then, there’s a bout of silence before her quiet, shocked voice comes through. 

“I can’t follow him further; he’s getting into a black car. I… I think it’s JJ.”

As quickly as possible, you drive back to the station, wondering if you ever missed a clue about JJ. Considering how many men work at the station and how you’ve had to keep a very close eye on some of them, JJ has flown under your radar a bit. The tall man wasn’t anyone you’ve paid much attention to or interacted with, but he never came across as weird or suspicious; just as a regular man. He never outright harassed you, but he never stood up for you either, but then again, he wasn’t the only one using that approach. Additionally, you’ve seen him with Jeongguk a bunch of times, and you figured Jeongguk had cleared all the remaining men. Not that it’s Jeongguk’s fault, but still; you don’t think he’s easy to fool.

“How sure are you?” Jihyo asks in a hushed voice, her worried eyes flitting between you, Sana, and the closed office door. You know JJ is already at the station, you walked past him in the hallway, dressed in uniform. You weren’t able to follow the man, but considering you had to wait a bit and then drive down to collect Sana, it’s entirely plausible he made it back before you.

“Like eighty percent. It was hard to see, but… I’m pretty sure. Don’t know if I captured anything of value, but we can go through the recordings to be sure?”

“Maybe we can look through the work schedule as well?” you suggest. “If he hasn’t been clocked in at seven to eight a.m. on the fifteenth of the last few months–probably since they went on the run–then–” 

“–We still can’t rule him out,” Jihyo interrupts sadly. “Even if he’s been clocked in, he–maybe together with his partner–could’ve simply driven there while on duty, assuming they weren’t on an active call. Maybe not super likely, but not impossible. So if he’s been clocked in, we’d need to look at those exact hours and place him on specific calls.”

“Which might take a while,” Sana adds, and you nod, realizing that she’s right.

Your heart races. “So what do we do?”

“His car’s in the garage, right?”

Jihyo gives Sana a warning look. “We’ll need a warrant to search it, and this is not enough for one.” 

“But not to take a look through the window,” you say, biting your lip and meeting Sana’s eyes.

You wait for Jihyo’s objection, but it doesn’t come. “Be careful,” she whispers instead, following you toward the door. “If there’s one, there might be more.”

“Yes, boss.”

Being the first one to step out of Jihyo’s office, you glance the other way, just in case JJ happens to be watching. However, you don’t look where you’re going, and of course, you run headfirst into someone’s chest.

“Hey,” a deep voice says, its owner steadying you by your arms. Of course. 

Embarrassed, you look up, only to meet Jeongguk’s dark eyes. He’s dressed head to toe in uniform, the sleeves rolled up to expose his veiny forearms, tattoos and all, and it’s clear that he’s on his way out to patrol. You didn’t know he was really patrolling again, but then again, it doesn’t seem like they were getting anywhere on your case, and well… you don’t talk much these days. Like always when he’s near, your heart rate picks up, and your skin heats under his hands despite the fabric between you.

“Uh, sorry,” you apologize, looking away. You know you’re normally a pretty good actress, but today, you just feel too wound up and on edge. Jeongguk holds onto your arms, his observant eyes gazing over you.

“Is everything okay?”

“Uh, yeah. Everything’s fine,” you say with a nod, glancing at Sana. “But we need to go.”

But Jeongguk doesn’t give up. “There’s something’s going on, isn’t there?”

“No,” you lie again.

“You’re making me worried.”

“You don’t need to be.”

His gaze flickers between you and Sana, and even though you don’t think he’s completely buying it, he lets go. “Promise me you’ll tell me if you find out anything.”

“Yeah, okay,” you say, already moving away. Technically, you being ‘off’ can simply be explained by the fact that you’re not entirely comfortable around him.

After getting rid of Jeongguk, you and Sana enter the station’s parking garage. The personnel floor is empty, save for about twenty to thirty vehicles, Jeongguk’s motorcycle included. Still, you make sure to look around before you start.

“What did the car look like?” you ask, peering through the back window of the closest one, a small dark blue car.

“Unfortunately, I couldn’t make out much besides the color and size. It was black and a pretty small one, I think.”

You look around. Almost all cars are black. Or at least dark enough to be mistaken for black. "Do we even know what his actual car looks like?"

“Well... Let’s just check all of them. Just to be safe.”

Even though you make sure to check carefully, the process goes quickly. Until Sana calls your name quietly, the black car in front of her being her sixth or seventh.

“That could be it, right?” she points toward something barely visible, halfway under the passenger seat. But yeah, it looks like black fabric, maybe part of a small bag, but you can’t be entirely sure.

“Yeah, maybe.”

“If we could only look inside,” Sana mutters.

“Yeah,” you sigh, your shoulder dropping in disappointment. “But all he did was maybe pick up a bag of unknown contents outside. It’s not enough. Should we just check the rest of them and then head back?”

Sana nods, “I’ll finish this row.”

Jihyo is still in her office when you return, having found nothing but the maybe-bag. She’s pacing on the phone to someone, motioning for you to enter when you cautiously peek your head through the door.

“Okay… Just get back to me as soon as you can, alright?” she says, sitting down behind her desk. “Yeah, okay, bye.”

“We saw what we think could be the bag, halfway hidden under the seat of a car that looks about the one the man got into,” Sana explains quietly after you’ve closed the door behind you.

“Okay, so nothing’s ruled out and nothing’s confirmed,” Jihyo concludes.

You nod, trying to think of the next steps. “Well, what if we review the camera footage? We were probably too far away, but you never know, right? And Jihyo, you could check the schedules and work hours, start cross-checking them with the calls responded to. I’ll see if I can dig up anything else about him.”

For a few hours, you work in Jihyo’s office, all three of you focused. Jihyo sits behind her desk,  trying to see if she can match JJ to specific calls on any recent fifteenths and thus provide him with an alibi. 

Sana sits in a chair on the other side of the desk, her laptop open in front of her as she goes through every frame of your recordings, and you sit on the floor, back against the wall, scrolling through both your phone and laptop. 

“Finding anything?” Sana wonders, sighing in frustration–a sign that the recordings aren’t giving her anything useful.

“Maybe…” Jihyo replies, eyes locked on her screen. “Can you read line thirty-seven for me?” She hands Sana a sheet of paper listing the calls.

“Sure. Uh… Call about vandalism came at six twenty-seven a.m., reported closed at eight thirty-two. October fifteenth, last year.”

“Six twenty-seven to eight thirty-two,” Jihyo repeats as you scroll through JJ’s instagram, clicking on yet another tagged friend.

“Mhm,” Sana hums.

“Well, he was clocked in… But it seems like… yeah, Min and Mark were the ones who responded to it.”

The room feels… tense in a way, something Jihyo is about to put into words. Meanwhile, you focus on your phone, fingers tapping away quickly and your heartbeat rising.

“Doesn’t seem like we can rule him out. Which, you know, sucks because we all trust him–maybe trusted him–and we don’t want yet another one to have betrayed us. But if it is him, then maybe… we might finally be getting somewhere? Maybe?”

“Yeah, I agree. Don’t like the direction we’re moving in, but at least we’re moving.”

“Hey, guys,” you say, your eyes still glued to the screen in your hands. “JJ has a stepsister named Jimin.”

“What?” Sana exclaims, her voice hushed and eyes wide as she turns to you.

“Yeah. JJ’s mom seems to be dating this Jimin’s dad, but it doesn’t look like they’re married; not even like they live together.”

“So there are no ties on paper?”

“No, no ties.”

All three of you exchange silent looks, realizing what this could mean. You might have an address.

After discussing your findings–all hushed voices and big eyes as you conclude that, yeah, maybe Jimin visited her brother at the station and stumbled across Hoseong–you decide to take a break. You need to pee and Sana complained only a minute ago of her rumbling stomach. To be fair, you haven’t had time to take any real breaks, much less eat.

Determined, you leave the office, discreetly looking around before heading toward the bathroom. Sana leaves for the cafeteria.

After using the bathroom, you sit on the closed toilet lid to gather your thoughts. It almost feels like you need to catch your breath, too. Do you dare hope that you might finally get them? Still, you find yourself imagining what you’d do if that were the case. It’s not like they’ve haunted you for decades, but even a few months stretching into years feels like such a long time. A lifetime, almost. You experienced life at the station before everything went down, but is it even possible to return to that? Maybe it isn’t; you’re not the same person anymore.

Still thinking deeply about what this revelation might mean, you head back toward Jihyo’s office. Occasionally–like now–the white halls are empty, but as you approach the wooden door with the frosted window, you hear voices inside. They’re not abnormally loud per se, but louder than they should be.

You open the door, and for a moment, the voices fall silent. Already back, Sana stands with a Saran-wrapped bread bun and coffee in her hands. Jihyo sits behind her desk as usual, her laptop open and the call papers scattered across her normally tidy desk. And Jeongguk is standing in front of it, still in his uniform, wild eyes looking back at you.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“It wouldn’t have changed anything for the better,” you say, stepping in fully and closing the door behind you. “You’re with the guys more than we are. We don’t want them to find out.”

“There’s a risk anyway,” he says, turning to Jihyo, “We need to go there as soon as possible.”

Jihyo meets his gaze, her expression understanding but firm. “Jeongguk, like I said, we need to wait for backup. We’re understaffed, and there’s too much of a risk that they’ll recognize you. Besides, all of you inside this room are too emotionally involved at this point.”

His hands fly out, and though he tries to keep his voice down, frustration seeps through. “They were allowed to watch JJ accept a bribe in the first place?” he argues.

“Yes, and that was risky enough. If they recognize you, they’ll probably try to kill you. They’ve got nothing to lose, and you’re the reason they’re in this mess to begin with. Just hang in there until backup arrives.”

He shakes his head in frustration and disbelief. “This is crazy. They’ve tried to kill her so many times, and someone connected to them is still here. For all we know, he could be planning something on their behalf as we speak!”

“I don’t know what to tell you. I understand you’re frustrated; we all are, but this is the best course of action.”

He gestures toward you, “She needs to leave in that case. She can’t stay here.”

To be honest, you’re not that scared of JJ. He’s never seemed particularly interested in you, and you don’t think he’s planning to kill you or anything like that. Months have passed without you even suspecting he might be involved, and nothing has happened. Sure, you were mostly with Jeongguk until recently and not that often at the station, so while the opportunities might not have been plentiful, JJ has had his chances.

Jihyo sighs, leaning back in her chair. “It’s up to her.”

He turns to face you fully. “Come stay with me? Take a week off, stay at my place.”

You shake your head. “No, I’m staying at my place, and I’ll continue to work if I feel like it.”

“Please?”

You’ll never stop being surprised at how easily Jeongguk lets go of his pride. But by doing it so quickly, with so few reservations, it’s almost as if he grows in your eyes. You try not to think about him in that way.

You shake your head. “I don’t want you to think that you need to save me all the time. I’ll be fine on my own.”

He glances around at the three women in the room, none giving him the support he wants. He looks like he wants to say something, but suddenly, someone calls for him on his com radio.

“Go,” Jihyo instructs as Jeongguk gives you one last longing look before quickly exiting through the door.

Jeongguk can’t shake the new information, and as the day progresses, it keeps gnawing at him, his mind turning over every possible option again and again. While that last call–regarding a break-in—kept him distracted for a bit, his thoughts return as he enters the station again, Min heading off to the cafeteria.

He knows you’ve already gone home by the time he’s clocking out and heading for the locker room, still unsure of what to do. It terrifies him to know that there’s still someone who might want to hurt you, walking these halls. That he missed someone. 

He’s got three options to choose from. The first: go home. Get some sleep. Or at least try to get some sleep. And then just hope that JJ didn’t spot you this morning and is waiting to attack you outside your apartment door. Jeongguk knows that it’s what you want him to do; go home and not get involved. But he’ll never forgive himself if something happens to you.

Option two is to drive to your apartment and sit in his car outside it all night. He’ll do it if needed, but it’s not very tempting, and it’ll render him useless at work tomorrow. Additionally, if nothing happens tonight–which, yeah, it might not–then he’ll need to guard you the night after as well. Sooner or later, he’ll need to sleep.

Biting his lip, he enters the locker room, taking a lap to make sure he’s alone before pulling out his phone. Google gives him the number to the nearest car rental, and he wastes no time, pressing ‘dial.’

He’s picking option three, and he needs a car that isn’t his.

<previous | next>

author's note: i hope you liked it!! <3<3

imagine being paid to touch his hair… I would do it for free 😩 (cr.namuspromised)

dextrocardia | 12

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: 6.6k

warnings: talk about dv and sa but pretty briefly. also includes some (implied) trauma/ptsd reactions.

rating: NC-17 – Adults Only

masterlist

part 12/? 

<previous | next>

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

An hour and a half later, you’re on your way to the bathroom when you run into Jeongguk nearly head first. He mentioned at breakfast that he was going to use the gym before taking on the window once more, and judging by the sweat that’s soaked through the dark green t-shirt and also glistens on his face, that’s where he’s just come from.  

“Oh,” you step back, saying the first thing that comes to mind. “Almost didn’t recognize you. You know… with your shirt on.”

It may be stupid, but better than to admit how seeing him sweaty, his breathing still heavy and his veins more prominent than usual, makes your own body heat up. 

He dabs his forehead with his arm, “Yeah… You know, I’m sorry for being such an ass to you. I thought it was cathartic, getting my revenge by flustering you. I didn’t understand that I was probably scaring you.”

Your eyes widen. He was. You remember your heart rate increasing uncomfortably whenever he’d walk toward you, his shirt off and saying something suggestive. If he wasn’t actually intentionally scaring you by implying he could do something to you whether you wanted it or not then he was an ass but not unforgivably so. It was immature, yeah, but if he thought you shot his friend for getting rejected and then protected by the chief, it almost makes it understandable. Almost.

“It’s okay. I appreciate it. It doesn’t bother me here, though, and it’s your home.”

He tilts his head slightly, looking down at you. “It’s what I want to do, and besides, it’s not nearly as hot as it was this summer.”

For a brief moment, you stand there, looking up at him and wondering if he’s actually a real person, a real man. Somehow he wants to do the right thing, be as kind and considerate he can, even if he doesn’t have to. It’s so far from the Jeongguk you thought you knew, but also… not. In a way, it makes sense that he hated you so much because he’s loyal, wants everything to be fair and right, which makes you wonder…

“Can I ask you something?”

“Mhm?”

“Why did you hate me so much?” you question, “I know you thought I shot Hoseong, either on purpose or by being reckless with the gun, but… what were your thoughts?”

His gaze turns curious, and you assume he doesn’t understand exactly what you’re getting at–after all, he thinks he’s explained it before.

“I hated you because I thought you shot him for rejecting you, and then I hated you because I thought you got away with it. I thought that the chief protected you by not dealing with what happened. Then I hated you more because you were always complaining about men when it seemed like you got off scot-free because you were a woman. I felt like you excused your shitty behavior as being a feminist or whatever and accused anyone calling you out of being sexist.” 

You consider his words. “Thank you.”

You were right.

“You’re… welcome?” he tilts his head slightly. “I’m gonna try to finish the window quickly, but I’ll need to head to the station after that, and I wanted to ask you if you want to come? I don’t think it’ll be too crowded today, and I know who’s working; all good guys. ”

You bite your lip. Going to the station would mean getting stared at and whispered about because at the end of the day, what happened to you–and then subsequently to you and Jeongguk–was what set the ball in motion. 

Sensing your hesitancy, Jeongguk continues, “We’re going over some paperwork of the changes we’re implementing, so Jihyo will be there, and we’ve asked all female employees to tell her if there’s anyone they’ve ever felt unsafe with, and we’re investigating those. The guys there right now are people I really trust from back home and the rest have no complaints, no reports made against them.”

You don’t really want to ever set foot at the station again, but logically, you realize that you’ll probably have to. After all, you can’t keep your pay and never work again, and you don’t have any other education. While you could try to find another job, it would have to be something like a customer service job, and your nineteen old self was more than done with that. 

Jeongguk still looks at you with gentle and hopeful eyes. Sooner or later, you’ll have to. Maybe it’ll be easier to have him with you when you do? Additionally, the least you can do is point out which guys haven’t made comments about you or threatened you.

“Okay.”

The tiniest form of raindrops hit the windshield as Jeongguk drives you toward the station. You bounce your knee nervously, trying to focus on the fact that you’ll get to see Jihyo and Sana again.

It turns out that walking inside the station with Jeongguk is just more reason for people to stare. He’s wearing dark blue and somewhat baggy jeans and a big black hoodie, but even without his uniform, he gives off an aura of authority among the people present. 

You trail behind him, just knowing that he’s glaring at those who let their eyes linger on you for too long, making them turn away their heads apologetically. You thought everyone knew, you really did, but judging by how many seem to want to come up to you and show their sympathy (or pretend to?), that’s evidently not the case. They all know now, however.

Jeongguk leads you through the corridors, and you stay behind him, feeling more unsure the farther in you go.

A man walks past in front of you as you reach the open part of the station, but you hear Jeongguk order a low ‘Don’t’ when his step falters. It’s a guy you’ve seen around but don’t really know, and even his name is escaping you at the moment. 

“Sorry,” he says before smiling gently at you, “Good to see you again.”

You nod, wondering to yourself if it’ll ever get easier. You don’t recall hearing the man insult or threaten you, but how can you believe he truly didn’t know?

Jeongguk leads you into the room you once knew as the old chief’s office, but now Jihyo’s family name is stamped on the glass. It’s empty, and you relax your shoulders when he closes the door behind you.

“You okay?”

“Yeah. Some still stare but less so than I assumed.”

“I might have told them not to make a scene or make you uncomfortable.”

His words have a small, appreciative smile pulling on your mouth. Two seconds later, there’s a knock on the door, and you see the blurry shape of a man through the frosted window.

“Jimin,” Jeongguk mumbles, walking back to the door to open it. 

A smiling, dark haired man walks through, a little shorter than Jeongguk, and his eyes land on you. Immediately, he approaches, his hand outreached. You’re not sure if it’s the way he’s smiling–his eyes narrowing but almost endearingly so–or something else, but he’s got a whole different aura than the typical man who works around here. Even Jeongguk at first glance looks more mysterious and intimidating.

“Nice to meet you, I’m Jimin.”

His hand is warm when it shakes yours, and he nods when you say your own name. From behind him, you hear someone repeat it excitedly. Jimin steps aside, and you spot Sana approaching fast.

Your heart grows warm as you meet her in the middle and wrap your arms around her. She holds you close, doesn’t seem too keen on letting go, and you feel the exact same. 

“I missed you,” she mumbles into the embrace, and you hug her tighter. The truth is that you met with Jihyo a few times after the incident at the house, but you only spoke with Sana on the phone before you decided to leave town, telling them to give you space and not to visit. Being around people had felt overwhelming, but in retrospect, you’d been very lonely.

Sana steps back, “Jihyo had some pretty urgent matters to attend to, but hopefully she makes it before you leave. She said we could get started.”

“Right, there are some people already in the conference rooms, but we can just stay here,” Jimin points to a few chairs stacked in the corner, and Sana goes to get them. 

“Sure. Coffee, anyone?” Jeongguk asks, getting a chorus of affirmatives.

You watch him leave the room and the door glide shut behind him. Taking a seat, you clasp your hands on the table, looking at them inconspicuously.

“So, how do you know Jeongguk?” you ponder, even though your guess is that they used to work together before Jeongguk came to town.

Jimin pulls out the chair to your left and sits down. “We met at the academy, worked at the same station, first as highway patrol and then he switched to patrol and like… mostly DV calls before he transferred. After everything went down here, he and Jihyo asked me and a few others to help out.”

You blink in confusion, peering up at him. “Domestic violence?”

“Yeah. Of course, there’s not a specific DV unit, but if he was free and close, we usually sent him,” he explains casually.

“It’s often a complex situation as I’m sure you know; a manly man does best at talking to the offender–usually a man–but a woman or a less “harsh” man, like myself, usually does better talking to the victim and earning their trust. Jeongguk, for some reason, does well at both. So since we didn’t have a lot of female officers, he and a partner usually went. He would also talk to a lot of victims that came in to the station, taking their statements and supporting them to get the rape kits done if needed.”

You’re thrown back to the living room in your fake house, where you’re accusing Jeongguk of being one of the people leaving women to die at the hands of their husbands. You recall vividly how he stood there, just taking everything you threw at him. Why didn’t he tell you?

“Oh,” is the first thing that comes out of your mouth. “It’s never worked like that here, as far as I know?”

It really hasn’t. You couldn’t imagine the chief calculating who’s got the most fitting, empathetic personality and sending them out for calls like that. Closest guys went and then whoever was free talked to victims at the station. How well the job was done is a whole other thing, and you don’t even want to think about it or how any critique you and your female colleagues have raised has been handled.

“Yeah. Of course, it’s not always doable, and priority for all urgent cases is to send help out as quickly as possible, but if we could, then that’s what we did.”

Jimin’s words leave you with a lot to think about, and you can’t really keep your full attention on the papers Sana and Jimin pull out and start to go through. Though you hear them continuing on the subject, discussing whether to assign some officers a certain priority when a domestic violence or sexual assault victim comes in or just hold more thorough classes in how to talk to those people for everyone employed at the station.

A few minutes later, Jeongguk returns with coffee, and he wastes no time joining in from the chair beside you. You hum and nod sometimes, but it’s definitely hard to focus.

“You okay?” Jeongguk nudges you gently, observing you with big, understanding eyes. 

Logically, it wouldn’t be weird for you to feel intimidated by the current topics, and it’s most likely what he thinks is the reason for your quietness. 

“Yeah. Just… have a lot on my mind.”

He nods at the small smile you give him and surprises you by casually reaching for your hand on your lap. With his face forward and attention on the discussion, he briefly intertwines your fingers, stroking his thumb against your skin. Then before you know it, he’s pulling away.

“I have some… news,” Sana says with a lip balm in hand, watching your expression through the mirror as you exit the bathroom stall behind her.

“Okay…” you say, confused, joining her at the sinks to wash your hands.

“I’ve been in touch with a lawyer. You know how the bar owners said they didn’t save any footage from the Christmas party?”

You nod, thinking back to how you practically begged the owners of the bar where you all went for the after party to release their footage. They said no, said their cameras weren’t functional, and the chief didn’t grant the search warrant you requested. It was always so clear that the owners liked the business that the nearby station’s get-togethers brought, and you definitely know at least one of them was real buddy-buddy with some officers.

“Jimin and Jeongguk helped me get it. It was Ryung, not the one who put the drugs in the drink, but who asked the bartender to. I’ve been in touch with a lawyer, and we think we have clear enough evidence to prosecute.”

Your eyes are wide. Fuck, you hadn’t expected them to work together like that. The owners trying to protect whatever officer it was, sure, maybe even due to threats from said officer, but to have evidence of them essentially committing the crime together?

“Oh my God. Sana… That makes me so… I wanna say happy?”

She chuckles, but you can tell there are emotions bubbling under the surface. Fortunately–thank God–nothing happened to her that night since you and the rest of her friends at the station were quick to notice that something was wrong and took her to the hospital, but you can only imagine what it’s like to know that someone–most likely watching her in her day to day life–drugged her. Of course, their intentions were anything but good, and walking around, not knowing who was bold enough to try, and might just give it another shot, would terrify anyone. At least you knew who was trying to get rid of you.

“Something… needed to happen here,” she places the lip balm in her pocket, turning her full attention to you through the mirror. “We’ve been brave and fighting tooth and nail, but it was never going to be enough because we’re women and outnumbered. The men here, they either knew or didn’t–and evidently there were actually quite a few who shared Jeongguk’s belief–but the ones who knew–even if they didn’t partake–they didn’t stand up for us. I hate that you left without telling us–”

“–Would you have let me go?”

“No, of course not. In hindsight, yeah, it was the best thing you could’ve done because we needed something to happen. We needed Jeongguk. But when I found out that you were at the hospital after going on a solo mission with him? I thought he’d killed you.”

You let your gaze fall to the floor sadly. “I’m sorry for worrying you. I just… I couldn’t do it anymore.”

Sana touches her hand to your shoulder, giving you a sad but understanding smile, “How are you now? I imagine it’s scary, knowing they haven’t been caught yet.”

You sigh. “Yeah. I don’t know, in a way, I feel… numb. Sometimes I used to think I heard stuff… Footsteps, voices… Living with Jeongguk makes me feel safer in some ways.”

“But?”

You exhale, feeling your shoulders drop slightly.

Sana gives you a sad and almost defeated look. “Don’t do that. I really think he’s one of the good ones.”

“Don’t do what? Nothing is going to happen.”

“You sure? Knowing you, would you have agreed to live with him if you didn’t like him at least a little? And do you have any idea how much he cares for you? I heard from Jimin that he worked his ass off just to find out where you were, like from the moment he was discharged from the hospital and we wouldn’t tell him. He still asked about you almost everyday, even after he figured out your location and technically could go and see for himself. He works day in and day out to catch these guys for what they did to us and to him, but mostly for you.”

You tap your nails against the porcelain sink, listening to her words but not sure what to make of them. “He might be one of the good guys but I promise you, nothing like that is ever going to happen. Not between us.”

She purses her lips. “Okay, if you’re certain. But be honest with yourself if anything changes.”

“So, you and Jimin,” you change the subject, watching Sana roll her dark eyes and fail to suppress a smile.

“He’s a sweet guy. I didn’t think I needed to talk about what happened at that party, I thought I was over it. But since nothing happened and we never knew who it was? I guess I never let myself really process it and the always-present… fear I lived with. I know I talked to you, but I think I needed to talk to someone who in a way wasn’t in the same boat.”

“I get that,” you smile a smile that grows into a wide grin, “Can you believe it? We might finally get some justice.”

Two hours later, you’re rushing from the station’s front doors to the parked car, rain still falling from the gray sky. Jeongguk makes it before you, opening the passenger door.

Weird, why would you drive his car?

He looks back at you where you’ve come to a stop, “What are you waiting for? Get in,” he smiles, undoubtedly confused. There’s a raindrop running slowly from his forehead, down between his eyebrows and down the side of his nose.

Oh. He opened the door for you.

You move your legs, getting inside while Jeongguk remains standing there with his hand on the top of the door. As soon as you’re comfortably inside, he shuts it and rounds the car.

“Do you want to come with me or should I drop you off at home on the way?”

“Home, please. I think one station a day is enough for me,” you let out a stressed laugh at the mention of Jeongguk’s old workplace, gazing out through the window. 

“Of course,” he says, placing his arm on the back of your seat to look behind him, reversing the car.

You fiddle with your hands in your lap, glancing over at him while he steers the car out onto the road. “So, Sana told me she might have a case against Ryung as well.” 

“Yeah. If the bartender testifies against him, which I think he’ll do considering all the other charges we’re working on. If we can just catch them first to make him more relaxed with them in custody.”

You nod, more so to yourself. You hope the bartender testifies that he didn’t drug Sana by his own accord. Hopefully, he’d rather share the blame than take it all, even if he fears an eventual revenge act by Ryung’s cop friends.

“And you helped her?” you ask, tapping your fingers against your jean-clad thighs anxiously.

“To get the tapes, yeah. I remembered you told me what happened to her, so I asked her when I got back, and she explained everything. Owner was a real asshole and definitely tried to avoid it, so I might have threatened him a little.”

You look at the side of his face as he continues. “That if he didn’t hand all the footage over and make sure the cameras are always up and functional, I’d look into every crevice of the bar. Which, we technically can’t, because we don’t have any legal reason to at the moment. But I’m hoping it might deter them from shitty behavior in the future.”

He’s got such stunning features; the nose, the jaw, his eyes… His hair is relatively unstyled, parted to reveal his forehead. You didn’t think he could get more physically attractive, but boy, were you wrong. How much of one’s attractiveness is due to their personality? You find it so… heart-warming to know that he helped your friend and didn’t bring it up with you in order to win any brownie points. It feels like… he did it because he truly wanted to help her and left it to her to decide who should know.

“Thank you, Jeongguk,” you say earnestly, watching him turn his head to look at you for as long as he can before he has to focus his attention back to the road.

“No problem.”

You hear Jeongguk drive off only when you’re safely inside. Slowly but surely, your heart rate continues to increase, almost at the same rate as the rain that’s on a whole new level now. You faintly recall reading something about a smaller storm rolling through the city, but you didn’t remember it happening this week.

The first thing you do is lock the front door. You even pull on the handle a few times just to be sure, and then you head toward the living room before you walk back, checking it again.

It’s six p.mm when the first round of lightning hits. Holding your breath, you wait for it. One, two, three… There it is, the thunder. It shakes the entire house, and you feel restlessness fill your body. Your feet take you through the house and into your bedroom, locking both locks and sitting down on the floor with your back against the bed. 

However, Jeongguk removed the curtains for better access to the window and seems to have forgotten to put them back up. There’s a small space between the wooden planks, and you turn your head away as lightning flashes through.

Your breathing turns shallow, and you rise to your feet again. One, two… Any second now, it could happen. Any second. It rumbles again, and you feel it in your entire body.

Unlocking your bedroom door, you end up wandering the hallway in search of a calmer spot. You find a fitting room, and you pull the thicker curtains closed before slumping down with your back against the bed. The silence between the thunder fills your head with thoughts and memories and your body aches in pain. Trying to tune out the waves of thunder, you hide your face against your arms that are hugging your knees to your chest. It’s closer now, and you feel the walls rumble with it. 

You try to keep calm, but your shoulders are so tense. It feels like it’s right above you; it never moves. Moment after moment passes but it never moves. 

Footsteps stop next to you.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” someone says, and you open your eyes, peering over your arm at the familiar but worried face where he’s kneeling beside you. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”

When did he even return? Wasn’t he supposed to visit the other station? Or… has he already? You can’t tell.

“I’m… fine,” you sniffle, raising your head, and meeting his brown eyes for a second. “It’s just that… bad things tend to happen to me when it storms.”

“I see,” he says, “Do you mind if I sit with you?”

You shrug because it’s his house, after all. Jeongguk sits down next to you with his back against his bed as well, barely touching your side. 

“No one is looking for us, you know?” he informs quietly. “We’ll be perfectly fine in this house. Jimin said that according to the latest updates, he thinks they're at least four hours away, and they definitely have more important things to prioritize than looking for you. Besides, I’m here, and I’m prepared this time so no one’s getting to you, okay?”

He nudges you softly with his shoulder. You nod shakily, trying to breathe calmly. For a while, you sit there on his bedroom floor, next to each other, until the worst passes. He makes it better; the feeling of his arm gently pressed against yours, the sound of his quiet breaths, and the scent of his cologne all pull you out of a darkness.

“We should do something.”

A lot calmer, you turn your head to meet his eyes, reflecting once again over how kind they look. There’s an additional sparkle in there too.

“Do… what?”

He stands up, holding out his hand for you. “Come on.”

A bit skeptical, you still give in and take his hand, letting him help you up. He doesn’t explain whatever plan he’s got, but you follow him into the kitchen where he stops.

“Teach me how to bake?”

“Jeongguk… I’m not a baker, myself,” you look at him, confused.

“But you baked those cookies? And they were good?”

“Yeah, I followed a recipe and had a bit of luck. Wouldn’t know how to replicate that without the exact instructions. I only know how to bake, like, one thing, and the last time I tried, it turned out terrible.”

“And that is?”

“Okay, uhm, eggs? And… butter?”

You watch as Jeongguk opens the fridge, searching for the ingredients you list.

“And we’ll need flour, baking soda, sugar, and… I’m guessing you don’t have vanilla extract?”

He places a cartoon of eggs and a stick of butter on the kitchen table before looking at you with a guilty face. “...No.”

“Alright, well, I guess we can do without. But we’ll need the flour, baking soda, and sugar; you have that?”

“Coming right up.”

You roll your eyes with a smile on your lips as you place his laptop on the counter, not displaying a recipe but a Netflix documentary.

Jeongguk follows your directions flawlessly, except for ‘accidentally’ making somewhat of a flour mess and tasting just a little too much of the batter. The cupcakes go inside the preheated oven, and he starts cleaning the kitchen and doing the dishes in the meantime. Although your creations are a tad bit too dry for your liking, and you have to stop Jeongguk from popping an entire one into his mouth the second they’re out of the oven, you guess he succeeded because you don’t spare the dwindling rain any more thought.

At least not until you’ve closed the laptop and put the cupcakes in the fridge, turning the lights off in the kitchen. You’ve joked and laughed, but now that it’s quiet… You bite your lip, standing outside your room with your fingers on the handle of the half open door.

“Everything okay?”

You turn your head, meeting Jeongguk’s eyes. He’s stopped on the way to his own bedroom, and you make an effort to smile at him, “Yeah. I probably won’t be able to sleep… with the rain, but it’s okay.”

“Sleep with me in my bed?”

You can’t help the risk analysis your brain performs. It’s the concept of laying your unconscious body in an extremely vulnerable state next to a being much bigger and five times stronger than you, whose kind you know to be extremely violent and without a trace of empathy. But Jeongguk has had plenty of chances to hurt you, and in that way, he hasn’t. He quite literally could’ve murdered you when you fell asleep against him on the couch and didn’t even wake up fully when he carried you to bed.

“Okay,” you nod, taking the leap and watching him smile and continue to his room.

You change in your own room, emerging in a pair of baby blue cotton shorts and a white, loose t-shirt. Jeongguk is wearing a similar outfit, only his shorts are longer and his entire outfit is black, and he’s pulling away the bedspread as you enter his bedroom. Despite just spending hours with him, your heart rate increases.

He looks back at you over his shoulder. “You know, I’m sorry for making you sleep in bed with me back at the house. I thought you seemed uncomfortable because you were a little prudish, not because…”

“Because I was scared of you?” you continue, smiling softly at his confession.

He nods, and you see the way sadness fills his eyes.

“It’s okay. Thank you, though.”

There’s still a trace of hesitation in his eyes, so you roll your eyes playfully as you sit down on the bed. “Get in, Jeongguk.”

He follows your instructions, switching the lights off first, and though you’ve slept beside him in the past, it feels so different. There was always a tension, mostly because you were quite literally fearing for your life, but also because you did find him insanely attractive. 

In the middle of the night, you wake up to the bed moving and soon after feeling Jeongguk reach for you in a clumsy way that definitely means he’s not awake. With his arm around your waist, he pulls you back against him, nuzzling his face into your hair and sighing. He’s really, really warm and sturdy, and you find that… it doesn’t scare you that much. Not too long after, you feel him tense a little and start to pull back his arm, a sign that he’s awake and realizing what he’s done. Surely surprising him–and honestly, yourself too–you grasp his hand to keep it there, and a few beats of silence later, you feel him snuggle just a little closer.

When you wake up in Jeongguk’s warm, white sheets, you’re alone. Rolling over, you find yourself face to face with the ring, still on his bedside table. Should you ask him about that? (Or about how you basically cuddled?) Is it weird or are you overthinking stuff? You observe the shiny gold for a minute before you stretch your arms over your head and decide to get up.

After visiting the bathroom, you head toward the kitchen. Expecting Jeongguk to have left already, you’re surprised to see him at the kitchen table, still wearing the clothes he slept in.

“You’re not going to the station today? I thought you had some sort of meeting” you question, walking to the fridge to grab a cupcake and pour yourself a glass of apple juice.

Jeongguk puts his phone down, scraping the last of the cereal from the bowl in front of him onto the spoon. “Moved it to Wednesday. Thought I’d stay home today.”

You wonder if it’s because of you and the bad day you had yesterday, but you don’t voice your thoughts. It’s still raining, but luckily there hasn’t been any more thunder, and it’s supposed to last until tomorrow. Though, while you can handle ordinary rain, it feels… good to have him close by.

After breakfast, Jeongguk resumes working in his office. You’re not really sure what to occupy yourself with, and although he left the door open, you don’t want to disturb him.

You end up in the kitchen, inventorying the contents of the fridge, freezer, and cupboards. You used up the last of the butter when you made the cupcakes, and although there are a couple of eggs left, if you want to bake, you should probably get some more.

With a list in your phone, you knock on the open door to Jeongguk’s office.

“Can I borrow the car? I was thinking of going grocery shopping.”

He turns to you in the chair, leaning back. “Are we out of something? I went not too long ago and thought I got everything?”

“I want to try baking some more.”

From confused, his features turn to understanding.

“Yeah, of course. I have the bike in case I get called in,” he turns back to the computer screen, clicking around. “Hold on a minute, and I’ll get my card.”

You pull the door closer to your body. “It’s alright, I’ll pay.”

Jeongguk swirls the chair all the way to face you and stands up before you, looking down at you, “I don’t mind, though.”

“Jeongguk, you’re very kind, but it’s not like I’m without pay. I can pay for some things while living in your house.”

“I know, but you still pay rent for your own apartment that you can’t live in at the moment, you pay for your car you can’t safely use, and I know you wouldn’t be here if you didn’t really have to, so in a sense, you’re paying that price as well. And it’s partially because of me. Just let me pay.”

“You’re stubborn, you know that?” you roll your eyes but let him pass you into the hallway.

“In a good way, I hope,” he calls out. 

You follow him, taking the car key and card he just pulled out of his wallet from his hand. “And please just use it. I’ll check.”

“Fine.”

He grins happily, and then he returns to his office. But the joke’s on him because you do use his card at the grocery store, but you also take the opportunity to fill the car up with gas, and for that, you pay with your own card.

It’s just past noon when you return, locking the car in the garage and carrying the grocery bags inside. You notice the empty office on your way to the kitchen, and doesn’t it seem very… quiet? Then again, wasn’t the bike still in the garage?

You bring the groceries to the kitchen, unpacking everything before checking your phone again. If Jeongguk left he would’ve at least texted you, right? When there’s no notification from him, you conclude that he must be somewhere in the house, so you set out to find him.

You peer into his bedroom, finding it empty just like his office. Next, you open the door into your room, but he isn’t there either. That leaves, what, the bathroom?

The door to the bathroom is ajar, and as you approach, you see movement inside. Jeongguk stands with his back toward the door, sorting and throwing laundry into the washing machine. The final item he decides to wash is the shirt he’s currently wearing, and you watch him reach his hands to the back of his neck and then pull the black shirt over his head.

Which means that he’s left shirtless.

He places it in the washing machine and closes the door to it, unknowing of the way your heart has filled with an incredible weight, and you press your lips together in order to stop the bottom one from trembling.

The night that you almost died–Jeongguk more so than you–sometimes feels so distant. Like a terrible dream or something from another lifetime. But you’re now cruelly reminded by the large, very pink and ugly scar close to his shoulder blade.

He’s about to start the machine when he turns around as if he forgot something, worry filling his eyes and coloring his face when he spots you, on the brink of crying.

It doesn’t help you much, though, because there’s another huge, pink scar on his chest as well, spanning from right above where his heart should be and down a few inches.

You remember how he used to look when he couldn’t ever be bothered to wear a shirt around the fake house; how his warm, essentially flawless skin looked under the summer sun. And now, it’s going to look like that for the rest of his life. Because of you. You could’ve moved out of the way when Hoseong rushed toward you with the sword, but you didn’t. You could’ve at least tried, but you hadn’t.

“Jeongguk,” you whisper, distraught, taking a few steps toward him. He looks at you as you reach your hand out carefully, but he makes no effort to stop you, so you ghost your shaky fingers over the scar on his chest, as if it still hurts him.

“I–I…”

“Hey, it’s fine, okay?” he tries to meet your eyes, but you keep them on the scar, “It doesn’t hurt.”

He could’ve died. He was so, so close to dying. You nod, but your lip trembles as you tilt your head. 

“Listen… I’m fine… They’re just scars. I’m not bothered by them. Not at all; I don’t think about them. I can barely see them.”

Your gaze drifts, and you spot another scar on the side of his ribcage. “And this? I don’t remember this?”

He lifts his arm a little, giving you a better view of it. Luckily, it’s not close to as big as the others. “This,” he says, touching his other hand to raised, pink skin, “is from the chest tube. The others are from, well, the sword and fixing my ribs and my lung.”

In order to get your attention, Jeongguk places two fingers under your chin and lifts it to search your eyes, “I’m okay, I promise. The doctors told me not to exert myself like I used to for a while, so I’m still taking it a little easy, but I’ll definitely be able to.”

You grab his hand, holding it tightly in the air between you. “You’ll be completely fine?”

“Yes. I mostly am already. I’m like 99%.”

You think about the damage the sword did to his body, and if he hadn’t taken the blow for you, Hoseong would’ve aimed it for your heart, and it would’ve pierced your body. It hurts just thinking about it.

Closing your eyes for a second, you nod softly before gently turning him around again to look at the scar on his shoulder blade. He lets you, standing patiently with his back to you. 

“Have you tried any of those oils?” you sniffle.

“Oils?”

“That make them less noticeable.”

“I haven’t,” he answers over his shoulder. “I don’t think it’ll help since they’re so… textured. But if it’s just for appearance, I don’t mind. They don’t bother me.”

“It doesn’t hurt?” you ask to make sure, letting your fingers touch his skin still very lightly but less so than the previous ghosting touch.

He shakes his head, turning it forward again as if giving you free reign.

You trace the scar, the long vertical, raised line that thickens more to the middle. You’ve never seen scars like this before, not where you can even make out the stitches. For a moment, you stand there in silence.

“Why didn’t you tell me about your work?” you ask quietly.

He turns his head to the side, “What do you mean?”

“Back at the house, when I essentially yelled at you for being a shitty cop and about the patriarchy. Jimin said you worked a lot of domestic violence and sexual assault cases, like… voluntarily. Why didn’t you tell me that? Why did you let me go on and on about women’s rights and police violence and abuse when you were actually trying to do good?”

Jeongguk shrugs lightly, “Would it have helped? In the moment?”

You think about it, letting your hand fall from his back. He turns around and leans back against the washing machine, his hands on top of it behind him.

“I probably wouldn’t have believed you.”

It wouldn’t have helped. You were angry–furious–and upset, and it wouldn't have changed anything because you would’ve thought he was lying. Lying and somehow trying to invalidate your feelings.

“I had the feeling you needed to vent. I sorta realized then what your impression of me was, and I felt like I understood you more in that moment as well.” He tilts his head, looking down at you with those kind, brown eyes and a small smile.

“That I wasn’t a fake feminist, using the movement for my own personal and professional advantage? And that I actually thought you were the most misogynistic asshole to ever live, not just throwing blame around to victimize myself?”

Jeongguk chuckles at your colorful description, “Yeah.”

Even so, he still looks so… sweet.

<previous | next>

author's note: so i hope you like this spontaneous april fools' prank lol. i'm also really, really hoping that if you did like it that maybe you'll leave a reblog or an ask with your thoughts? makes my day to hear if you liked it (and what you liked)!!

—mothers

ijeoma umebinyuo // hyatt moore // class of 2013 by mitski // i, tonya (2017) // ? // gustav klimt // ? // lady bird (2017) // i remain in darkness by annie ernaux

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

Pairing: Jungkook x reader // Word count (chapter): 9.1k // 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): angst, guns, threats, generally dark, violence, car crash.

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Hours easily blend together when they’re left to stretch ad infinitum. That was a lesson that you had learned on the very first hectic night you had lived through under Mr. X. Back then, it had been a mere attempt at secession — one of the powerful groups of the Organization had thought they might be able to stand up on their own, without the Family’s support. They had wiped out all the people Mr. X had placed in one day, swift and efficient, and had announced their intentions mere hours after that. You remember that they had been delivered by a man bruised and bloody who could only slur his words, and you remember the thoughtful way in which Mr. X had tapped his fingers on his cane.

You didn’t think anyone in the Organization had gotten so much as a wink of sleep that night.

You had known from the second you had gotten the text that tonight would be no different. As a result, scrambled on the white board inside the conference room that you had not yet gotten the chance to inaugurate, were all the important events of the night.

6.00 pm: bomb goes off in front of HQ

6.34 pm: attack on a drug carrier exiting the harbor. cargo stolen.

6.48 pm: casino The Imperial announces its separation from the Organization. Followed by most similar establishments.

6.55 pm: raid

7.05 pm: departure from HQ

9.23 pm: attacks on two of Lucas’s clubs

10.58 pm: attacks on establishments under protection; two thwarted

2.41 am: storage warehouse burned down

5.10 am: altercation near the Circle. 8 dead, ? wounded. police intervention.

It had now been two hours since you had last received information you had deemed important enough to write it on the board, but your fingers still twitched in anticipation. People and informations had come and gone the entire time, and even now, your phone was still buzzing every few seconds, your eyes scanning the messages quickly as they appeared. Numbers, locations, defections, all things you would have to file after getting some sleep.

None of them had quite managed to shake you out of the numbness you had been feeling since the raid of 6.55 pm.

You had been the first one to get the texts, but Jungkook and Suga had not been far behind.

‘Descent on hybrid district,’ the text had read. ‘Scorched earth’.

Jungkook’s face had darkened, murderous rage filling his eyes. You hadn’t tried to hold him back after that, even the fear you felt for him not quite managing to seep through the horror you had felt at that statement.

This was a targeted attack. There were numerous innocent families, children, people who were just living their lives in the hybrid district. This was intended purely to hit where it would hurt Jungkook the most.

It had worked as intended.

You had attempted to send Hector home at eleven, since there were still men left in the building, but he had simply shaken his head. He was now sitting on a chair, by the door, in a drowse. He did not even stir when you made a phone call, but you had noticed his eyes lifting whenever there was a noise outside. You supposed you would feel guilty about it if there had been any room left for guilt within you in the last twelve hours.

The flow of information had been non-stop, and what you were putting out was almost as consequent. After that first night, Mr. X had compared you to a computer, able to treat the data in seconds and to figure out the best course of action from there. You had been the one who had been responsible for the plan that had effectively choked the opposing group to death. All exit routes methodically cut, all options taken into account.

None of them had made it out alive.

Tonight, you had done everything in your power to ensure that your side would not be put in the same situation.

“You might wanna head home, ma’am,” Hector suggests from his seat, and you look up at him. Your eyes have been open so long they burn.

“I probably won't be long,” you reply, and even you don't manage to keep the exhaustion out of your voice. “Just a few minutes more.”

You see, in the way that his eyebrows rise, that he does not find your decision to be judicious, but he doesn't say anything and you're thankful for that. If he did, you might have to confront the real reason you’re insisting on staying here, awake, and that is because you're desperate to hear from either Jungkook or Suga. Though you have gotten messages from people surrounding them — few and far between, as you don’t have that many informants around there — and they seemed to still be alive a few hours ago, it’s been a long time and you just—

God. You just want to know that Jungkook’s okay. You just want to know that he’s found somewhere safe and that he’s managed to minimize the damage. You know, realistically, that you would have heard far more about it if that wasn’t the case, and yet there’s this deep, dull throbbing in your chest that has not gone away once since Jungkook walked out the door, prepared for a fight to the death — though you doubted he had feared it would be his death.

And so, even though you should, you cannot find it in yourself to abandon your seat, to allow your eyes leave your phone for even a second.

The call comes long after you’ve stopped expecting it, and you pick up in an instant, index finger sliding on the screen.

“Hello?”

“They’re gone,” Suga’s voice comes through the phone, thick and tired. “We’ve run them out of the district. Gonna stay a bit to ensure no one comes back but—” There are some intelligible words coming from behind him. “By the time we arrived, they had barricaded themselves in a bar,” he sighs after barking an order you don't catch. “It took a while.”

“I see,” you say. “Are there many losses on either side?”

“Lots of wounded on ours, a few dead.” And then, with cold, furious satisfaction: “On their side, everyone.”

“Good,” you reply, and you surprise yourself with how sincerely you mean it. “I will call for an emergency meeting tomorrow. Will you and Mr Jeon be able to attend it, or have you been injured severely? Do you need me to call one of our doctors?”

There’s a moment of silence on the other side of the line.

“We’ll make it,” he finally answers. “But yeah, send someone to Jungkook’s place.”

Your heart jumps painfully in your chest, and you have to steel yourself to stop your voice from wavering.

“Is he alright?”

“He'll be fine,” Suga just says, and though it does nothing to calm your worry, you drop the subject. It should be enough to you, knowing that he’s alive and mostly okay.

It isn’t.

“Good. In that case, I will see you both tomorrow.”

The second the call ends, you’re getting up from your chair, Hector already on his feet.

“There’s a car waiting for you, and I’ve had men check out your apartment, ma’am.”

You nod at him thankfully. For a second, at the door, you think you’re going to falter, that your legs won’t be able to carry you any further. But they do, they always do, taking you one step further even when you feel you cannot, simply because you have to.

And they will carry you tomorrow as well, and the day after that, and the day after that. Never once allowing you to collapse.

The atmosphere is crackling with tension when you walk back into that very same room the next day. In a glance, you verify that every person who you had thought would answer the call yesterday, based on the new developments, is here. A sigh of relief bubbles in your throat, but you keep it contained as you make your way through the room, setting your computer down next to the place where Jungkook would soon be sitting.

The faces around the table are all more or less familiar, but their dark expressions are not. Fred Lucas’s signature smile has been wiped from his face, the corner of his lips pointing downwards. His usually impeccable suit is crinkled, and dark circles seem to have been dug under his eyes. He looks like he’s taken on ten years in the last night. He doesn't even bother nodding at you.

Most of the other humans here are more or less in the same state, but some of the hybrids look significantly worse for wear. They have to be the ones that joined Suga and Jungkook the night before, several of them sporting significant injuries. Your eyes land on Junho, and you instinctively dig your nails into your palm to stop yourself from flinching. You can see a compress on his neck, coming out from underneath a black shirt, but he doesn’t seem to be doing too badly.

You find some comfort in it — not because of him, but because in that sight, you find some hope that Jungkook won’t be doing too bad either.

“You got a problem?” he snarls, baring his teeth at you and you realize in horror that you’ve been staring.

This doesn’t happen to you. This never happens to you and, fuck, this is why you can’t ever let your guard down. Fear sets your veins on fire, and though your mouth opens, you have no idea what to reply.

Shit. Shit.

“I’m sorry you got injured,” your tongue miraculously answers even as your brain remains frozen, and you’re thankful for the years of training you have in this. He growls, pushing himself up on the chair. The movement seems fluid and easy, confirming your impression that he isn’t too severely injured, but this time you don’t let yourself get caught in that thought. Instead you brace for impact, straightening your back. You know that it’s your voice that set him off, that it was too flat and even, that it didn’t carry any concern. You also know that Hector is staring at you, just waiting for a nod from you to intervene, and that Fred Lucas’s hand has come to rest lightly on his belt, near the gun you’ve been informed he’s carrying by security.

The fear doesn’t quite leave you, but you’re not afraid of him anymore.

“Listen to me you—”

“Fucking drop it, Junho,” Jungkook’s tired voice orders as he walks in through the door.

“She just—”

“Welcome back, Mr. Jeon,” you interrupt him, bowing your head in his direction politely.

Your eyes meet his when you look up. Your gazes lock for a second, and your legs almost go weak from the overwhelming relief that washes over you. You only allow yourself a second to take him in fully, to see for yourself that, though he walks with a small limp, one hand over his abdomen, he’s alive, he’s alive, he’s alive.

He’s still staring at you with an undecipherable expression once you’re done with your brief check.

“If you would please take a seat,” you say, and you don't know if your ears are deceiving you or if your voice is indeed softer in that moment, “there is a lot we have to cover today. The sooner we can start, the better.”

“Sure,” he says and, despite his obvious injuries, he makes his way through the room with wide strides, letting himself fall on the chair next to you with a groan. Suga leans against the door, golden eyes watching over everything. He gives you a nod so small you think you might have imagined it. You certainly cannot think of anything you would have done to earn it, but you suppose events like what happened last night would have that kind of effect.

You press a key on your computer, and a slide appears behind you.

“For an overview of what happened last night—”

“What I’m saying is that you don't win a fucking war with fucking Powerpoints—”

“If you had two working fucking braincells, you’d see that we need to know the situation we’re in before we decide on—”

“None of you now what it’s like to actually fight your own fucking—”

“You’ve been in this position for two goddamn—”

You’re not sure why Jungkook is letting the argument unfold, insults shouted from across the room as no one listens to the answer nor seems particularly interested in reaching a productive decision. Mr. X would not have let that slide, you know that, but you also realize that no one would have dared raise their voice in his presence. Mere suggestions were uttered begrudgingly, as even some of the most powerful people in the Organization cowered in front of him. His word was law, and he didn’t hesitate to use that to pit people against each other.

You wonder for a second if that is what Jungkook is doing too, letting the tension build, dividing to conquer, but it doesn't seem to be the case. He doesn’t look amused by the situation, dark eyes attentive to everything going on in the room — for once, certainly more focused than you are. Slumped in his chair, probably to protect his injured side, you notice his fingers tapping on the table at a fast rhythm.

“Will you be taking on more security?” you ask quietly, knowing that it likely won’t be picked up on by the hybrids in the room, considering the degree of agitation.

He throws you a surprised glance, eyebrows scrunching either in confusion or from being torn away from the spectacle, you can’t tell.

“Why would I do that?”

“There will likely be more attempts against your life from now on,” you reply. “Having a couple of guards should deter some and ensure that you remain safe.”

“I can do that myself,” he says, though not quite with anger. “If anyone should take on more security, it’s you.”

You think of the gun that’s in your purse at this very moment, that you checked before leaving your apartment was filled with ammunitions, even though you’ve not once emptied it, and then you glance at Hector, who is surveilling the situation, arms folded over his large torso. You don't think anyone could keep you safer than he can, but that’s not what you tell Jungkook.

“That might be a good idea indeed,” you nod. “I will look into it as soon as we’ll have decided on a course of action here. I can also look for some men for you in the process.”

His frown deepens, a flash of anger in his eyes, and he opens his mouth, obviously ready for a sharp retort, before closing it again to study you. Under the attention, you feel your face growing warm. You have no idea what he’s looking for, but you’re all too aware of the way his eyes search yours, roaming over your expression like there is some sign in there that he cannot find. Finally, he leans back in his seat with an annoyed sigh and closes his eyes.

“You need to stop interfering in my business. I’ll have Yoongi around, and that’ll be more than enough.”

You bite the inside of your cheek. You should drop it.

“Would you consider having at least one additional man until your injuries heal?”

If it were up to you, he wouldn't leave the building without a full escort, but you’re— you’re trying, dammit.

“It’ll be fine in a couple of days, the knife didn’t go that d—”

“The knife?”

His eyes snap open at your tone, and you're not quick enough to school your features back to normal. He catches something on your face this time, though you’re not sure what — could be shock, could be fear, could be sadness or anything else — but again, there’s that spark of satisfaction in his eyes, and you feel yourself retreating immediately.

“Suga didn’t inform me of that,” you say, voice as emotionless as ever. “I suppose it’s—”

“Just— get me the dude. Or dudes. I don't care. I’ll get rid of them when I’m healed.”

It’s your turn to try to find something in his expression and to fail. You just can't seem to understand what he's doing these days, but you bite back the question you desperately want to ask. This is a positive in your book, and it’s probably better not to ask.

“I… will,” you finally say with a slow nod, unsure of what just happened there and unable to make sense of it. His eyes don’t leave yours, but his expression falters.

“Do you—”

“Listen to me you son of a bitch, you don’t get to—”

You both snap back to the room, in which two men have almost come to blows. One of them holds the other by the collar, while that one is reaching for something in his pocket that has to be either a knife or a gun. Just as you open your mouth, Suga appears between the two and they suddenly let go of each other without him having to say a word. He looks small, both in frame and in height, between the two, but you remember the day he took out some of Mr. X’s best men too well to underestimate him based on that.

“Alright,” Jungkook says, “what’ve you got, Yoongi?”

“No one’s expecting us to counter-attack this quickly, so I say we go for it,” Suga shrugs, and some in the room holler in approval while others grimace and shake their heads. “But we should only go against one district for now. After last night, it’d be suicide to do anything else. We have the city pretty well mapped out, so I say we try to eat at them slowly for the time being, then see what happens.”

Jungkook nods, then glances at you.

“What about you?”

One blink, and the surprise you feel at the question is gone.

“The casinos will be under heavy surveillance,” you say, “so they should be avoided for now. Based on the intel we got, it seems last night’s attack came from some of the Families that are mostly involved in the protection business, so it would make sense to go after them first. Some inner reorganization will also need to be done to ensure drugs are still being passed smoothly and ideally to block the supply for the other side. I can start looking into that.”

“Alright. Junho?”

The shark hybrid starts to answer, followed, one by one, by all the people present in the room. You scribble some notes down, watch Jungkook shoot down some ideas, tell people who to work with, and you certainly notice the glances exchanged by the people who, like you, were used to working with Mr. X. Though some seem skeptical, none appear to view it as a sign of weakness, which is a good sign.

The meeting is starting to fizzle out — roles have been attributed for the most part, only a few details remain to be explained — when a security guard walks in.

Immediately, a room full of some of the most dangerous people in the city, if not the country, spin around to glare at him, and he takes a cautious step back.

“Um, ma’am,” he says, looking somewhat relieved once he’s found you, “I have someone downstairs who says they have business with a Mr. Jeon?”

Jungkook sits up straight, and you hold back a curse. You’ll need to tell them to give the information to you in private next time.

“And who’s that person?”

“A lady called… Anna Xanders?”

Great. Great.

As Anna makes her way towards the conference room, the only people left inside waiting are yourself, Suga and Jungkook. You wish he hadn’t allowed her in the building, but you hadn’t made that opinion known, all too aware of the fact that it wouldn’t be well received. He was the one who had asked the two of you to stay, though, and that meant that you had to fight every fiber of your body to stop yourself from fidgeting. Above all, there was the creeping fear that he’d go back to the Circle after meeting with her, when he was in no state to do so.

Suga looked unbothered, but then again, so did you. Jungkook, on the other hand, seemed perfectly relaxed, and you supposed that had to be somewhat close to what he was really feeling.

“You shouldn’t be seeing her,” Suga says flatly. “Unless you want me to kill her.”

If that was the case, she should be taken to a remote location first. You didn't want that happening in the building. It would be a pain to get cleaned up.

“I’m not killing her,” Jungkook replies, rolling his eyes. “Just want to know what she has to say.”

You suppose in any normal situation, that would be good news, but in this case God do you wish he wanted to kill her.

Through the opaque glass, you make out her silhouette, leaving you a few seconds more to prepare yourself. One deep breath, one more attempt at getting rid of the surprisingly strong emotions swirling in your stomach, and then she opens the door.

She’s wearing all black, save for a long, elegant white scarf. She’s still carrying that look of hurt dignity, head held high, blonde hair falling down on her shoulders and behind her back. It must be so easy to fall for it, hook line and sinker, you think. Maybe if you made yourself look hurt, you would benefit from people’s sympathy as well.

Or maybe you would be dead.

“Jungkook,” she says, and then she releases a shaky little breath that makes her look weak under the strength she’s trying to present, and you refrain from rolling your eyes.

She is just as in control of herself as you are.

“Anna,” he replies, and you’re relieved that he at least doesn’t look impressed nor moved by the spectacle. He just looks somewhat— bored. “What do you want?”

There’s a look of hurt on her face at his direct approach, but she conceals it quickly.

“I— I heard about what happened last night,” she says softly. “I just wanted to check on you. I know— I know you haven’t replied to me and you probably don’t want to see me, but I— I just needed to know you were alright.”

You clench your teeth, unusual rage constricting your chest. Surely he’ll know that she didn’t once check on him when he was at the Circle, surely he’ll see through—

“Replied to you?” he asks, rising an eyebrow.

“Oh, I’ve been trying to get in touch with you, haven’t you…?”

You certainly don’t miss the tiniest spark of satisfaction in her eyes, even if she glances down to the floor to hide it. Jungkook glances in your direction with a frown.

“Anything suspect must have been thrown away,” you reply with a shrug. Not a truth, but not a lie either.

“Surely flowers aren’t suspect,” Anna says, and though her voice remains soft, you know that she’s annoyed, probably less because of your interference than because it means you have power over her. You’ve always been beneath her, at her beck and call. Now, she is the one who’s nothing.

“They’re an inconvenience to hybrids if they smell too strongly,” you say.

“But the engraved knife wasn’t,” Anna adds, sounding just a little too triumphant, and you annoyingly miss a beat to answer her, unsure what she’s talking about. A knife…?

“Oh, yeah, we assumed it was probably a threat,” Yoongi drawls from the other side of the table. “Figured there was no reason to bother the boss with it.”

Anna’s quick to mask her defeat, letting a small, soft ‘Oh’, while Jungkook rolls his eyes once more — but you’d swear you saw a grin on his lips.

“Next time, just transfer it,” he says. “I can deal with that shit. What d’you want?”

“Right, sorry, I— I just wish you and I could talk. There’s— so much I never got the chance to tell you, and I— I think I could help you with some of the issues you’ve been having. Many people are quite loyal to me, because of my father, you know. I’m sure I could have some sway over them and ensure that you and— and everyone remains safe. If that’s something you’d like, of course.”

Of course, your first thought is that this offer should be rejected. Anna should not be trusted, not in any scenario. The second one is more… puzzled. You know for a fact that she wasn’t very involved in the Organization, even if she very much enjoyed the money and status her father’s identity offered her. Could she have been approached by people? Was she trying to test the waters, to see who the highest bidder would be?

There was not much loyalty towards Mr. X, just fear — in most circles. Those who were loyal, you should be able to look into fairly easily. Maybe that was something you should get on, when you’d get a second.

“Yeah, that may be a good thing,” Jungkook says, and you jolt back to the present scene just in time to avoid throwing him a horrified look. Instead, you slowly tilt your head in his direction. Nothing. He’s not smiling, doesn’t look particularly annoyed either.

“There are other ways to gain loyalty,” Suga comments, and you know Jungkook also hears the dangerous, warning edge in his voice. Clearly, he wants this as little as you do.

“And we'll look into them as well,” Jungkook says, tone final. “What do you say? Do you want to schedule a meeting?”

A lovely blush colors Anna's cheeks, and she coyly pushes a lock of hair behind her ear.

You could rip her face off.

“How about having dinner together?”

Again, no emotions from Jungkook.

“That works too.” He glances at you. “Think you can find a time?”

“You’re going to be quite busy from now on,” you say, mostly stalling to swallow down anger, worry, and other things you don’t want to dwell on. “But I suppose I could arrange for you to have some time free next week.”

“Oh,” Anna says, softly, “this might be urgent, don’t you think you—”

“Next week it is then,” Jungkook interrupts her, giving a nod of approval in your direction. “We’ll handle the details.” Then he lifts his chin to point at the door. “You know the way.”

She presses her lips in disappointment, but that fades in favor of the victory she’s just gained — and which she knows she’s just gained over two of Jungkook’s closest advisors. Suga is obviously seething, and she knows you well enough to be able to tell. You can only watch as she exits the room.

She’s good enough of an actress not to smile until she’s out of sight.

“You two don’t get to decide that shit for me,” Jungkook’s voice resonates in the silence that follows. You expected anger, but there’s none there.

“We wouldn’t have to if you made good fucking decisions,” Suga hisses. “What the fuck are you doing? We’re not taking her in. She’d have sold her own fucking father to make it that day.”

“I know.”

“Then what—”

“My problem. Not yours.”

There’s a growl, and then Suga’s storming out, leaving you alone with Jungkook. Not a situation you want to be in right now, so you bow politely in his direction.

“If you'll excuse me, Mr. Jeon, I—”

“Why’d you hide the roses from me?”

He’s just asking, you see it in his eyes. The lie, or the half-truth, that you didn’t want him to ally himself with her, comes to you easily, fully formed. But it’s not what ends up making it past your lips.

“Last time you heard from her, you had to be picked up from a bar, where you got into a fight with a customer after hours upon hours of fighting at the Circle. I don’t believe that she is... good for you, Mr. Jeon.”

There’s more, too, but that will have to do for the moment. Even now, your entire body is screaming at you that you shouldn't have revealed that much about yourself, and there’s nothing you can do to calm your thundering heart.

Jungkook stares at you, then speaks slowly, like he’s choosing his words carefully.

“I won’t do it this time.”

“Certainly,” you nod, “I’m sorry I—”

“No, I— I won’t do it this time. Seriously.”

You don't know what to say to that. You haven’t got a clue. What you do know is that Jungkook is looking straight into your eyes, your heart is pounding in your chest, and you’re sure that you're letting things show on your face that shouldn’t be here.

So you don't say anything — don't trust your voice, really, not when the rest of your body is failing you treacherously —, nod.

And then you flee.

If you could avoid it, you don't think you would leave the office at all in the days that follow. You have considered transforming one of the offices into a small bedroom anyway, it’s always good to ensure there is place for people to rest — or to discreetly operate on someone who cannot go to a hospital because the wounds would raise too many questions — and in the current circumstances, anytime someone highly ranked in the Organization takes a step outside, they are putting their lives in danger.

Of course, everyone else is aware of that, and none of them would limit themselves in such a fashion, but the difference is that you hear about everything. Every attack is brought back to you, whether it is threats hurled at someone from across the road, a stabbing in an alleyway, or a car chase on the freeway. If someone switches allegiance, you’re the one who writes it down and updates the relevant people. If there’s a shootout, if a car burns down, if a gun goes missing—

You. It all comes back to you.

You suppose it makes sense, then, that you are the one who wants to take the most precaution to protect your life, though you know others are doing it as well. Fred, you’ve heard, doesn’t stray outside of the area he has full control over. You’ve also been told that even Junho has barely been seen outside of the hybrid district, not even showing up to the Circle. They could afford that, but you still had to leave your apartment every morning to take your car — was anywhere more dangerous than these metal boxes these days — and get to work.

Yet you kept doing it.

It wasn’t that you thought they couldn't get to you, you were nowhere near that naive. You had reinforced your security, were always followed by a second car, and you had men keep an eye on your apartment day and night, but even then you knew issues could arise. Corruption, carefully planned attacks, or even sheer bad luck, everything was possible and there was no way of accounting for it all. It had worked out for you so far, which you took as a sign that you were doing your job well, but it could all change at the drop of a hat.

It wasn’t some stupid, self-sacrificial decision either. You supposed some people in this new version of the Organization might see it that way, those who were loyal to Jungkook to the death. Thinking that there was something ‘noble’ about putting their lives on the line. The idea could almost rip a laugh out of you. There was nothing noble about your job, no matter who you were working for. You were receiving word of enough stabbings, arsons and grand larceny coming from your side not to have any illusions on the topic.

You were also fully aware of how important your role was in the Organization at the moment. You had tried to make yourself indispensable earlier, and now you were, without most of your previous efforts having played much of a role in that. It seemed that you shone through specifically in times of crisis. If something happened to you right now, you would not be replaced easily. And yet, every morning and every evening, you still stepped out of the towering glass building that was the current headquarters, and went back to your apartment.

Because, once more, it all came down to the image you were giving.

If the number three of the Organization didn’t dare to walk outside, if she didn't trust her own men to protect her, if she didn't believe that she was powerful enough to protect at least herself, then what was the rest of them to do? Lie down and await death?

You had even hesitated before taking on additional protection, only allowing yourself to do so because you thought that Jungkook’s presence and his very visible confidence in the people that surrounded him could counteract the fear that that decision would display coming from you.

‘Thought’. Ha.

The right word would be ‘felt’, but you didn’t make decisions based on feelings. You never did.

You weren’t going to start now, were you?

If you felt uneasy going to and then coming back from work, that was nothing compared to way your agitation spiked when you travelled through town with Jungkook. The two of you being together like that, that made you the easiest, most interesting preys, like pheasants’ release on the opening day of the hunting season.

You could explain the decision by pointing to the image it gave once again, but you weren’t sure if that wasn’t crossing the line between confidence and simple stupidity. Maybe you should have fought Jungkook harder on it, but the truth was you had barely brought it up. Because if you were in the car with him, even if that put the both of you at risk, it at least meant that you didn’t have to spend your days in fear of the phone call that would tell you he’d died.

What was wrong with you these days, you couldn’t have explained.

At least, as he’d told you, he had mostly healed from his injuries in less than a week, which allowed him to sit comfortably across from you, back straight, legs spread, as he looked out at the city with the eyes of a man who knew he owned most of it. His long ears were, as always, skillfully hidden underneath a discreet, black hairband. It made you wonder how much of his behavior was a façade. He was, clearly, at least as aware of the importance of the image he gave as you were.

You weren’t faring quite as well as him, though. You knew that, despite your best efforts and your years of work, there was tension vibrating through you that you couldn’t quite hide. It was in the slightly too quick cadence of your voice, in your movements that were just a touch too jerky, in the glances you were constantly throwing around the car — rear-view mirror first, then windshield, then left and right windows.

There had been two attempts against the two of you since the war had begun. Both had been easily thwarted, and none of them involved firearms, but you knew it was a question of when, not if.

“Hey,” Jungkook calls, and you're thankful that you at least don’t jump at that, but you’re still too quick at looking in his direction.

Dammit. You need to get your rhythm under control.

“Yes, Mr. Jeon?”

He rolls his eyes, you think at the name you use rather than at you. You don't know what he wants you to do with that. He’s the one that asked you to call him that.

“I know you don’t do chill, but seriously, you’re going to explode if you keep it up.”

“There’s a war going on, Mr Jeon.” You think you manage not to sound reproachful. You wouldn’t want him to be in the same state you are. You just can’t help yourself.

“I’m aware,” he replies and, where an explosion would have occurred just a couple of months ago, there’s only a frown on his face. “This still isn't helping.”

Before you realize what you’re doing, you’re allowing yourself a deep breath. When you do, when you brain starts screaming at you, asking you what the fuck is going on, you’ve already done it, and all you can do to try and save face is stop yourself from freezing like a deer in headlights.

Jungkook is just looking at you. You see something twitch in his jaw, his fists clenching, and then he’s the one who looks away, tongue pushing against the inside of his cheek.

“You might be right,” you say, dropping the usual ‘Mr. Jeon’ but unable to bring yourself to call him Jungkook, “but this has kept me alive so far. I— have no reason to believe that anything else would do the same.”

He closes his eyes shut for a second, then he looks back at you. His elbow is resting on the window, thumb hovering a few millimeters from his lips. He looks at you — really looks at you, takes you all in — and you feel a now familiar burn spreading over your body. You have no idea if he can tell.

Right now, you're not even quite sure whether you want him to or not.

He opens his mouth.

And that is you catch movement from the corner of your eye, and before you can turn your head, shock explodes through the car and then it's spent spinning.

Your hand shoots for the handle and you hold on to it desperately, eyes tightly shut, pulled back against the seat with bruising force by your seatbelt. You hear the window exploding, feel the tiny cuts the shards of glass leave on your skin, hear Jungkook curse, the smell of burning tires reaches your nose, your stomach lurches in your chest, and then it stops, but there is no time for the ringing silence to settle. By the time you manage to open your eyes, heart pounding so loud you think it might escape from your rib cage, there’s shouting outside, and then Jungkook’s pulling your head down as shots start to ring.

“Fuck,” he hisses through his teeth, hand still in your hair, as his body forms a shield between you and the direction the shots are coming from — you think, you’re too disoriented to tell at the moment, but he seems not to hesitate. What does hit you in that moment, when you inhale, trying to bring air into your frozen lungs, is the earthy smell coming from him, touches of pine, probably from his soap, and something musky that is definitely him.

If you could slap yourself for losing the precious second that thought takes to formulate, you would, but at least the rush of something that this proximity sends through your body easily blends with everything else happening at the moment, and Jungkook doesn't seem to notice.

“We’re followed by another car,” you manage to say, though the words stumble out of your mouth way too fast, “they should take action—”

“Yeah, but we still need to get out of here,” he growls. “We’re too good of a target. They’ll get brave and get closer any time now.”

You have to take his word for it. You’ve never been in that kind of situation before. Adrenaline is running through your veins almost painfully and you feel your fight or flight reaction kicking in — with one hundred percent of your energy going towards ‘flight’. One glance in the direction of the driver tells you that he’s slumped over the wheel, possibly unconscious, but likely dead.

You should probably feel more at that thought than annoyance at the fact that you’re going to have to replace him, but truth is if you felt sadness over every death that happened in this city, you would have crumpled a long time ago.

The loud screeching of tires on concrete outside tells you that the reinforcements have arrived.

“Alright,” Jungkook says. “That should buy us some time.”

For the first time, he looks down at you. Your heart flutters inappropriately — oh my God, just shut the fuck up — when you meet his eyes, but all it solidifies is the fact that he, unlike you, knows exactly what he's doing. In that moment, you don’t doubt for a second that, if you make it out alive, it will be thanks to him.

He kicks open the door behind him, the one facing away from all the turmoil. One of his hands holds a vice-like grip on your wrist, pulling with him in that direction. You stumble after him, your heels wholly unadapted for the situation, and crouch behind the car as he glances over it to surveil what’s happening.

The shots, briefly interrupted by the arrival of the second car, are picking up again, and with them your heart rate. You manage to take in the surroundings, but there isn’t much to be gained from it. It’s a quiet area by the river, long stretches of concrete and not a soul in sight.

You’ll have to do a better job at keeping to more populated areas.

“I think they only have one car,” Jungkook tells you, crouching back down next to you.

“So do we, for now,” you say with a frown. You have enough safety protocols in place to think that the men that are here must have called for help the second they saw something was wrong, but for now the forces are pretty much in equal number.

Which means that you’re stranded next to wrecked car, on a road on which nothing can move at the moment. The two of you might as well be sitting ducks.

Your phone buzzes and you fish it out of the purse that you have somehow kept in your clenched fist this whole time. As you open your hand, you grimace slightly at the traces your fingernails have left inside your palm. Shit. You didn’t even notice that.

Right next to your phone, you feel your gun. You've never used it in this kind of situation, and your fingers hesitate, hovering above the grip for a second before you decide against it. You'll still have it, should you need it, but it just feels so small and useless out here in the open, with shots and shouts ringing behind you, that you don’t want to give yourself some false comfort by holding on to it.

Your phone, on the other hand, is your life line in any situation, this one included, because on the screen, you see displayed four names and telephone numbers.

Someone is getting a raise this month.

Jungkook frowns, nose scrunching, when you type a reply, and even more when you press the dial button and bring the phone to your ear.

“There’s more important—”

“Who is this?” a voice groans on the other side. Even if it's hard to tell with all the noise, you think you're hearing the shots echoed through the speaker.

“Mr. Lee,” you say, “I recommend you stop shooting at us.”

There’s a silence, during which you glance at Jungkook, who now looks at least somewhat impressed.

“That’s— Wha— How d’you— How d’you know—”

As the man tries to find his words — and you don't doubt that he must be feeling sheer terror at the idea that you even know his name — you see Jungkook lifting up his head suddenly, one of his long ears, which slipped out of the bandana in the turmoil, twitching. You try to catch a glance of what’s happening, but you see nothing. He’s either smelling or hearing something you can’t, but it makes him nod decisively before leaning towards you.

“Keep him talking, and don't move from here,” he whispers in your ear, breath warm against your skin. You tell yourself that everything is just heightened in that moment, that every sensations are stronger, and that that is the only reason why your skin tingles where his hair brushes against it. Even then, you're thankful he leaves immediately after, quietly getting around the car, so he doesn't see the slow way you swallow after that, or the slow breath you let out.

It almost pained you, to have him so close to you, and even if you don't have time to think about it, even you are starting to realize what is happening within yourself.

“Mr. Lee,” you keep going nonetheless, compartmentalizing like it’s second nature — because it is —, pulling up the additional informations you’ve just been sent, “please think about what your sister would think about what you're doing right now.”

“Don’t you fucking dare—”

“She’s a school teacher,” you continue. “She sounds like a good person. So does Mr. Kang’s wife— a nurse, isn’t she?”

You think you should feel disgusted with yourself, right about now, but there’s only place for cold determination within you. You know that you would never go after anyone for their familial relationships, and that is enough for you. They don’t seem to know. Probably would, if they’d done their research, it’s something that’s been whispered about for quite some time in the Organization, but they’ve either been sent without any information, or foolishly saw this opportunity as a way to climb up in the ranks.

Either way, what a waste.

“And Mr. Min has two young children, isn't that sweet.”

A curse, and then he shouts a name.

“I’ll make you eat your fucking heart if you hurt them, you fucking bitch,” another voice yells in the phone, and you just stare into the dark, cold waters that stretch in front of you. None of these men will be getting back to their family alive. Even if they manage to kill you, you doubt they'll escape this place. “You’re just scared,” he adds, and you blink. You should be scared, he’s right, but you mostly feel empty. “You didn't even have to be in there. Could have just picked the right fucking side instead of being a hybrid’s whore. I swear to God, if you touch my kids, we’ll—”

“Mr. Min, I already have men on their way to your house,” you interrupt him. “The sooner you surrender, the sooner I can call off my orders.”

On the other side, a number of muffled ‘fuck’, and then a brief exchange between the group. You don't think the others will back up, and it's only a matter of time before they get desperate, but for now you get a second to try to see what’s happening — and, ideally, spot your boss.

It’s when you do that you see Suga, crouched on top of the car. Based on the way the men are talking amongst themselves, they have no clue he's here.

“I’ll get your head on a fucking spi—”

Things don’t last very long once Suga springs into action. The first kill is quick and messy, knife slicing into one of the men's throat, twice, back and forth. Blood splatters all over the floor and you wince in disgust. By the time he falls to his knees, Suga's already moved on to the next one. He gets a little more time to protect himself, but the killer’s movements are too fast. His hands wrap around his neck and he squeezes with inhuman strength.

As he struggles, the other two seem to regain their focus and start to take aim at him.

It only lasts a second before Jungkook is on them. He’s slower than Suga, but there’s also more power in his movements. His fist catches the first man’s jaw as the other hand rips the machine gun — where the fuck did they get that from — out of his hands. By the time the fourth man has spun around, he’s balancing on one leg, his foot coming up to kicking him in the chest and sending him reeling for several steps.

The gun spins in his hands, and then he's using the grip to hit the man he punched, still standing. It only takes three strikes before he falls, you think, but Jungkook lands a few more before he hits the ground. When he turns around, there’s no amusement on his face, unlike what you were used to see when he was at the Circle. There's just determination and anger, maybe, if you’re reading him correctly — an ability you’ve been doubting lately.

The only man left doesn’t stand a chance, but even then, Jungkook doesn’t drag the fight on any longer than he needs to. There are, you suspect, some unnecessary punches, done more to inflict pain than anything else — these ones get the man in the stomach, have him keeling over and spitting out blood — but really, it’s all over in a few minutes.

The guy Yoongi had been strangling is also down for the count.

Jungkook and him are the only ones left standing.

There’s a brief exchange of glances between them, then a nod, and Jungkook gestures at the men on your side, who are slowly coming out of the second car. You suspect that this was a baptism of fire for them, used to blades and fists, but much less so to the kind of guns these guys had been operating; one of them remains in the car, likely wounded and you see Suga walking over to them.

You get on your feet as well. Your brain seems to have a hard time registering the fact that the threat is gone, your muscles feel too tight to move. As you take your first step, you feel pain shooting up your leg.

Shit. You hadn’t noticed you’d hurt your ankle.

But that doesn't stop you from making your way over to the group. You’ll have it checked out later, you don’t think you’ll have a choice, but for now you’d rather people not know about it.

“Why did it take you so long to intervene?” Jungkook’s snarling by the time you arrive.

“We had to turn around,” one of the men, a tall, lean cat-hybrid replies. “They knew which car you were in.”

“And how the fuck would they—”

“We have moles on their side,” you offer as you come to stand next to him, “it’s no wonder they would too.” You don’t add that, while it could have been someone at HQ, it could just as easily be one of these men. If it is the case, you don't want the mole to do something desperate right now.

Jungkook’s eyes scan you briefly. Aside from your ankle, you think you only have minor injuries. He gives a sigh of relief, or maybe he’s just breathless from the fight.

“For now,” you continue, “we need to get out of here. The police will want to interrogate us, I’ll let you know what story we’ll be going for later, but we can't be caught—”

“Watch out!”

From the way the men rush out of the way, you have to assume the threat comes behind you, but your reflexes aren’t anywhere near as fast as the hybrid’s, and as you turn your head, catching sight of the car, the thought occurs to you, clear as day, as while it rushes towards you.

This is how it ends.

Honestly, you’d feared worst.

Much to your surprise, your body forces you to lunge forward, survival instinct kicking in where you thought you had none left. Your bad ankle just does not have the strength you need to make it completely out of the way, though, and you make yourself no illusions. At least, though, you go out trying to survive.

You hadn’t thought you would.

And then arms close around you and you’re pulled forward, barely hearing the scream of effort it takes over the roaring of the engine.

You blink at the car that goes past you, see it crashing one last time in the low concrete wall that runs alongside the river. The driver collapses on the wheel, and then Yoongi’s running past you, no doubt ensuring that he doesn’t move again. He makes it quick.

In your world, that is no small mercy.

But you don't get to think about that, not when the heat coming from Jungkook’s body is spreading through yours and when his hands grab your shoulders tightly as wide, panicked eyes search yours.

“Fuck, are you okay?”

You can’t do anything but nod.

He’s gripping you tightly, fingers digging into your skin, and he looks— he looks terrified. You don't know what to do with that.

So you lower your gaze, clear your throat. One of you has to keep their head on their shoulders.

“I’m alright.”

Still no ‘Mr. Jeon’.

“We need to leave this place.”

As you say that, you raise an arm, brush your fingers over the back of his hand. He jumps at the feeling, glances down at you even as you let your arm fall back down again, then back to your face. His gaze drops to your lips — you think — and then he takes a step back.

“Yeah. You're right, I just— fuck. I thought he was out for the count. I’m sorry.”

“You've saved my life twice today,” you say — softly, you think, but it’s hard to tell. “You don’t have to apologize to me.”

“Still, I—”

“Jungkook. Thank you.”

He looks conflicted, but then he sighs and gestures for you to get in the car.

In the crowded vehicle, you allow yourself a second to close your eyes. His arm, tense as bowstring, is brushing against you, and for a second, there’s just static in your brain, just exhaustion and his warmth that’s transferring to you.

Soon, of course, you go back to the planning, to the things you’ll need to change to ensure this doesn’t happen again, to everything that is to come and everything that needs to be done, the never ending list unfolding neatly in your mind.

But there is a second of quiet first. A second where, for once, you don’t try to fight the complicated feelings that have been going through you lately and where you almost — almost, but not quite — let yourself melt against the man who’s saved your life twice today.

So there it is. Uh. This might be the fastest chapter I've written as well as the longest. I did use a different writing method for this one so I don't know how this worked out. Because I wrote it on the heels of the last one, I was still in 'OC's voice', so it wasn't as hard to get back into it. I also wrote a lot more regularly. So... yeah, I would love it if you'd let me now how you feel about this, and hopefully getting another chapter in less than a month isn't too much of a shock for you lol. I hope you enjoyed the chapter!

240612 - bts on twitter: I'm in home!