kmpac

[kmpac]

Got so excited when I saw the notification about this chapter! I love this couple and this chapter made me so dang happy to read! I want their happily ever after so badly. I can’t imagine going through all of this and here are these two flawed but beautiful humans full of hope and tragedy and I just want them to be happy 😭😭😭😭

dextrocardia | 18

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: 4.2k

warnings: blood and violence, knife (and glass) wounds.

rating: NC-17 – Adults Only

masterlist

part 18/? 

<previous | next>

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

You run, feet pounding the floor as you flee into the living room. Determined, Hoseong follows, though not as quickly as before. A loud booming sound echoes through the apartment just as it looks like he's about to charge again—how, you don’t know. The water wasn’t quite boiling anymore, so it wasn’t hot enough to melt his skin off, but it might have left burns. You hope it has. His face did turn red almost immediately, but whether it’s from the water or rage, you’re not sure.

You don't know what the sound was either, not until you see a tall, dark figure storm into the living room with quick, furious steps. The living room is dimmer than the kitchen, and the figure is a little blurry, but you try to focus your eyes on it as it appears behind Hoseong.

“Oh, you fucking idiot,” the man spits, his voice even sharper than Hoseong’s. 

You close your eyes and let out a shaky sigh as your body relaxes almost involuntarily.

You’re not sure if Hoseong even registers what’s happening before Jeongguk yanks him back by the collar of his jacket, knocking the knife from his hand and immediately delivering a series of hard punches to his face.

Leaving the rest of the fight to Jeongguk, you stumble toward the wall and slide down with your back against it, partially protected by the L-shaped sectional sofa. You watch the fight—or rather, you watch Jeongguk beat the living shit out of Hoseong, your breaths ragged. At first, Hoseong makes a real effort to fight back, landing maybe one or two hits, but even in his prime, you doubt he’d stand a chance one on one against Jeongguk, much less now, worn out and possibly (hopefully) injured. 

Even though you assume you’re out of immediate danger, you still can’t calm down. Pain is starting to set in everywhere, and you can’t seem to take a deep breath, either from panic or the pain itself. Maybe it’s the adrenaline wearing off, or perhaps you’re going into shock? Your trembling hands press against your side, and you don’t dare look down to see the extent of your injuries. The glimpses you caught of your hands earlier were more than enough. Any more might push you into a full-blown panic.

With Hoseong now on his back, his upper half obscured from your view by the couch, the loud sound of fists meeting flesh echoes through the room.

You watch.

Punch after punch.

Losing track of time, you can't tell whether it’s been thirty seconds or three minutes when Jeongguk straightens up. There are dark circles of varying sizes scattered unevenly across your white living room wall. He pauses, glancing your way quickly with his chest heaving as he pulls something shiny from his pocket.

You hear the unmistakable sound of handcuffs clicking shut when Jeongguk bends back down. Hoseong, still mostly hidden from your view, only mumbles something when Jeongguk drags him closer to the wall, fastening the handcuffs to a radiator.

Then, Jeongguk hurries toward you, touching his jaw and unknowingly smearing blood across his skin. His wide, worried eyes meet yours as he kneels in front of you, trying to look you over and deem your condition.

“Are you alright?” he asks, voice low but tense.

“I haven’t—haven’t looked, but it feels like I’m dying," you whisper, voice shaky.

You force your trembling hands to lift the hoodie for him, seeing his eyes go even wider.

“Fuck,” he curses under his breath, panic filling his voice as he reaches for you. “Put pressure on it.”

He pulls you closer by your wrist, effortlessly scooping you up into his arms. You slump against his chest, trying to stay awake. Unsure of how deep the wound to your side is, you at least know you’ve lost a lot of blood; your black clothes are damp with it, and there's a worrying puddle on the floor.

Jeongguk carries you through the apartment, past the door he evidently kicked in, and rushes down the stairs to his waiting car that stands abandoned, practically in the middle of the street. His bad parking job has gathered attention from a couple of pedestrians and a middle aged woman, loudly complaining about how her car's blocked in. It feels like you’re seconds away from passing out, maybe even dying, but you manage to stand (with his support) for the second it takes him to open the passenger door, his strong arms quickly helping you inside.

Without a word to the curious—now silent—bystanders, Jeongguk darts around to the driver’s side, jumping into the seat and starting the car in one fluid motion. A second later, he's speeding out of there, and besides the fact that he’s driving like a Formula 1 driver, you don’t pay much attention, already knowing you’re headed to the hospital. Jeongguk calls ahead, rushed but clear words warning them that you’re coming in with a 'deep stab wound and significant blood loss.'

“Keep putting pressure,” Jeongguk instructs after hanging up and tossing his phone somewhere to the side, his voice desperate, and his strong hand right hand pressing over yours. 

But you can’t, feeling your own hand lose the last of its strength. Your eyes are already closing.

You feel absolutely terrible the next time you open them. There’s no sharp pain, but your whole body feels sore, beaten, and heavy. A tired groan slips from your dry throat as you try to orient yourself. It’s bright, way too bright, but the rhythmic beeping to your left is what helps you place where you are.

You’re not alone. Your slight movement has alerted your visitor that you’re awake, and he immediately looks your way.

Jimin.

His eyes are soft as he meets your tired gaze, sitting slightly hunched over in a chair by your bedside, his hair a little messy. Although it’s good to see him, he’s not the one you want.

“Jeongguk?” you ask, your voice a weak whisper as your memories return to wash over you.

Just then, the door to your room opens as a nurse steps in. Before it swings shut behind her, you spot two figures in the hallway, their hushed, emotional voices drifting faintly into the room.

“...Right in front of her,” a familiar voice complains quietly, laced with anger and frustration.

“He wasn’t sure you wanted to see him,” Jimin explains, looking cautious. 

“I want him,” you plead, still groggy, hurting, and starting to get teary-eyed.

Jimin nods and stands up. “I’ll get him. Want me to dim the light?”

You nod gratefully as Jimin flicks off a switch near the door, dimming one of the ceiling lights. The nurse, smiling gently, copies some numbers from the monitor onto her clipboard. 

She introduces herself, but you’re on the brink of breaking down, your eyes watering more with each second, and so you can’t find it in you to care. She seems to understand and leaves quietly just as the door opens again, and Jeongguk steps inside. Your heart feels incredibly heavy as your eyes land on him. Heavy with both need and relief, weirdly enough. He approaches you carefully, his wide eyes hesitant, and he looks exhausted, still wearing the same black hoodie and dark gray jeans as before. 

Like a child on the verge of an inconsolable breakdown, you hold your arms out for him, your hands thickly bandaged. Maybe you’re still high on pain meds, or maybe it’s just how you are now, but you don’t care. After all, you nearly died again, and all you wanted was him. You survived, and here he is. What else matters?

Jeongguk is careful in the way he bends down, letting you place your weak, injured hands around his neck. There’s nothing holding your tears back anymore, and you hug him as tightly as you can, so thankful and relieved. 

In turn, he wraps his arms around you, holding you close but carefully, as if afraid he might hurt you.

You still haven’t said anything, and you don’t for a while; the only sounds in the room being your quiet sobs and the steady beeping of the machine. After a few minutes, you manage to calm down a little, but you don’t let go of him; instead you try to pull him into the bed with you. He gets the hint, mumbling “It’s bloody,” as he straightens up to shrug off his hoodie, dropping it carelessly on the floor. Left in just a black t-shirt, he bends down again and, this time, lets you pull him into the small hospital bed. 

Still breathing shakily, you rest your head against his collarbone, breathing him in. It soothes you. He’s very warm, very safe, and he smells like the best thing in the world to you. His arms hold you tightly, and the slow and gentle motion of his hands rubbing across your back lulls you back to sleep.

The next time you come to, it’s to hushed voices. 

“Oh? I’m sorry, sir, you cannot be in here. Visitation hours are between ten and six.”

Fluttering your tired eyes open, you see that the blurry room is dark, and so you simply close them again.

“She needs police protection,” Jeongguk answers tiredly and absentmindedly from beside, almost underneath you, and you feel his slow, warm breath in your hair at the top of your head.

“Police usually stay outside the patient’s room,” the nurse counters. Her voice is unfamiliar and although you’re not sure what time it is, you assume she must be part of the morning shift. “And I’ve certainly never seen them in bed with the patient.”

“Look, lady, respectfully, I don’t care.”

She doesn’t seem to buy it, and you’re a little surprised at Jeongguk’s choice of words. But then again, he’s probably exhausted and worried too, and he didn’t sound mean—just… tired and maybe a little annoyed. When the nurse doesn’t respond right away, Jeongguk sighs.

“I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be rude, but I’m not leaving. If you want to call security, go ahead. As long as she wants me here, I’ll find a legal reason to stay.”

There’s a brief pause as the nurse considers before finally relenting. “Fine.”

She leaves. If you weren’t still mostly asleep and pretty out of it, you might’ve laughed. You still think it warms something in you, though.

“You awake?” Jeongguk asks quietly, softly brushing your hair away from your face with his fingers.

You shift, trying to pull him closer as you hold onto his shirt, breathing him in. 

“Yeah,” you mumble tiredly, eyes still adjusting to the light. As they do, they land on his hand as it comes into view.

The damage to your hands was mostly to the palms, one worse than the other, so the thick bandages leave your fingers free to reach for Jeongguk’s hand. His knuckles are red, swollen, and there are a few cuts on his skin. He lets you hold his hand to your face and gently run your fingers over his knuckles. Worry grows in you—don’t they look swollen? Could they maybe even be broken?

“You know I’d never… hurt you, right?” he asks quietly, and it takes you a second to realize what he means. It certainly wasn’t what you were thinking about.

You nod. “I know.”

“Good. So, how are you feeling?”

“I… don’t know. I feel… heavy. I take it I had surgery on my hands and… my stomach?”

“Yeah. Let’s call the doctor back here to explain everything. Also, Jihyo called your mom. She’s on a plane back.”

“Oh, no,” you groan.

“Yeah, sorry. But you were pretty bad.”

“It’s okay,” you say, knowing they did what they thought was best. It just means that you’ll have to actually tell her everything when she arrives. Which reminds you.

“What about... Hoseong?”

“In custody. He’s being treated at another hospital.”

“Okay. Good.”

Half an hour later, a female doctor stands at the foot of the hospital bed—while Jeongguk sits in the chair for once—going over everything. She has a kind face, looks to be in her forties, and she’s dressed in blue scrubs with one of those long white coats draped over them.

“So, while the wound to your abdomen was relatively deep and there were pretty significant lacerations to some of your intestines, we managed to stop the bleeding and repair everything. You’ll need to take it easy for a while, but if everything goes according to plan, there shouldn’t be any long-lasting damage.”

Well, it’s safe to say you’re relieved you didn’t look at your stomach; it seems like Hoseong essentially sliced it right open. 

“As for your hands, there will be some scarring as well unfortunately, and we can’t tell just yet if there’s been any nerve damage. Fortunately, the injuries were to your palms and not the fingers or back of your hands, where there are more ligaments and delicate structures. So we'll remain hopeful that the your recovery is smooth and that there's been no damage to your nerves.”

Nodding, you follow along as she explains. It sounds reasonable enough, and you’re just happy that you’ll hopefully still have two functioning hands.

The doctor continues, gesturing to the foot of the bed. “We also treated the cuts on your feet. They weren’t as severe as your hands, but we did put in a few stitches, so I’d suggest staying off your feet for a while. Both for your own comfort but also to not risk reopening the wounds.“

You must’ve really been out of it because you didn’t even really notice until now that, yeah, there’s something wrapped around your feet that’s not socks. 

“So there’s a chance I could make a full recovery, except for some scars?”

“Yes,” she smiles. “You were very lucky.”

“Okay, thank you.”

“No problem. We’d like to keep you for a few more days to make sure everything’s healing properly and to assess your hands as the swelling goes down.”

“Okay, I can do that.”

“Good. Just let us know if you have any more questions. The hand surgeon will be by later to talk more in depth about your hands as well.”

A few hours later, there’s another knock on the door. Expecting it to be a nurse or the hand surgeon, Jeongguk calls ‘Come in’ from beside you in the hospital bed, where he lies with your head on his chest. He went home for a bit to shower and change, Jimin staying by your side in the meantime, and when he came back, all you wanted to do was rest. And you wanted him close.

But it’s not a nurse. The person entering takes one look at you and bursts out in tears.

“Mom?” you say, and the bed shifts as Jeongguk rushes to stand, straightening his clothes—a black t-shirt and some gray sweatpants—as if he needs to look presentable for your mother. 

You’re sure she would’ve asked about the man in your hospital bed if she wasn’t so distraught, but she barely glances between you and him before she approaches the bed with teary eyes.

“I got the call, and I–I was so scared,” she sniffles, her gaze trailing over your body and bandaged hands like she wants to hold you but isn’t sure how to.

“I know,” you say, trying to comfort her. “But I’m going to be okay, I promise.”

“So… what… what happened?”

You bite your lip, looking to Jeongguk.

“I’ll head to the cafeteria for a while,” he says, and you nod, grateful.

It’s time to tell your mother everything.

The next hour is a hard and very emotional one. The pain on your mother's face as you recount everything, starting with what Hoseong first did to you and what the consequences were, cuts through your heart as well.

Of course, you spare her the details of the rape and most of the following abuse, not wanting to hurt her more than necessary or put yourself through the shame you know you shouldn’t feel but can’t help experiencing.

You decide to leave Jeongguk’s involvement out of it, certainly not telling her that you spent months wholeheartedly believing he would kill you if only given the chance. For reasons you don’t want to untangle at the moment, you realize that you don’t want your mother to doubt him.

Jeongguk returns at the hour mark, a brown bag in one hand and a takeaway tray with three coffees in the other. Although you didn’t tell your mother about the time you spent deathly afraid of him, you did tell her that you’re essentially only alive right now because of this one very kind policeman. Maybe you also admitted, a little shyly, when she asked that you really like him. And you do; it’s just a summary of your feelings if they were simple.

His hair looks windswept, and you’re briefly taken aback by how handsome he truly is. You’re well aware of the fact—and you’d definitely never forget—but sometimes it just hits you. His dark eyes scan the room, widening in surprise when your mother approaches him so quickly he barely has time to set the coffees down on the small table by the bed before she grasps his hand. 

“Thank you,” she says, trying hard not to cry as she clasps his one hand between her smaller ones. “I can’t tell you how grateful I am that you—that you saved my daughter. I wish there was anything I could do to repay you.”

“Mom,” you warn, embarrassed and wishing she wouldn’t ambush him like that.

However, Jeongguk’s surprised expression softens, and he pulls her into a very gentle one-armed hug, the brown bag still occupying his other hand.

“No need,” is all he says, and you meet his soft gaze over your mother’s head.

Your mother doesn’t stay long. By the time another thirty minutes have passed, she’s struggling to keep her eyes open. When you ask her about it, she admits to not sleeping at all, too worried ever since Jihyo called her with the news. She even forgot to retrieve her luggage at the airport in her haste to grab a cab to the hospital. Unfortunately, knowing that Hoseong is in custody but his friends are not still has her worried. It takes some time, but after convincing her that you’re safe now—not only do you have Jeongguk, but Jimin and Jin are always close by—she reluctantly agrees to go home and rest.

“So… how was it?” Jeongguk asks quietly a few seconds after the door shuts behind her.

You lean back in bed, letting your shoulders relax. You’re sure he knows how hard that conversation was; can tell from your puffy eyes and tired posture.

“Emotional,” you admit. “I never told her anything.”

His eyes widen slightly. “Nothing at all?”

You shake your head. “No. At first, I just didn’t want to worry her, and as things escalated… I was scared that involving her would make her more of a target. She couldn’t have done anything to help either way.”

He seems to be thinking about something, his gaze stuck on the hospital bed, maybe even on your hand where it lies by your side. 

“What does she know now?”

“Basically everything, except the… gory details. Or are you asking what she knows about you?”

“Both, I guess. I mean, I take it you didn’t tell her what an ass I’ve been?” 

If you had, she would’ve tried to tell him off, her shaky voice cursing him to hell. Evidently, she didn't do that.

“I didn’t, no. I left some details out; figured there was no use.”

Jeongguk leans back in the chair, clearly still bothered by something.

You raise your eyebrows in curiosity. “Why, did you want me to tell her?”

“No, but I also don’t want you to lie to her about me.”

You don't really know what to say to that, so you just look at him, understanding his mixed feelings. Unable to stop it, you yawn. These meds are making you so incredibly sleepy, and you feel like you’ll fall asleep within the next ten minutes whether you like it or not. Noticing how you lie back down, snuggling up with the blanket pulled to your chin, Jeongguk pulls out his phone. You keep your tired eyes on him while he focuses on the small screen, scrolling lazily. 

So effortlessly handsome. You can’t even tell if you prefer him with his hair styled—which he doesn’t do very often—and wearing something clean and ironed, or like this: in a hoodie and sweatpants, his black hair a little wild and messy. He looks so warm and so cozy, leaning back in the chair and manspreading casually.

Manspreading is not something you typically like, but when he does it, it just looks… attractive. Probably because you know he’s not one to subject some poor woman to it on the morning commute. He doesn’t invade someone else’s personal space, doesn’t take up room that isn’t his.

“I spoke to Jihyo while I was getting the coffee earlier,” he says, eyes still casually glued to the phone. “She’s really busy, but she wanted me to tell you that she wishes she could be here.”

“It’s fine. She’s already been here,” you mumble into the blanket. He looks so warm.

“Yeah, but you were still unconscious.”

The blanket smells like a washed hospital blanket, not like you know he does. He smells like comfort.

“Mhm,” you agree tiredly, fighting to keep your eyes open. A second later, Jeongguk looks up to see you still watching him—tiredly but with a hint of longing. 

He smiles. “Are you waiting for me to join you?”

You nod, certain that it comes off a little shyly. You weren’t very discreet, were you? The bed is pretty small, but you definitely prefer sleeping cuddled up to him rather than alone. It’s the scent of him, the feeling of his warm body against yours that makes you feel… You’re not sure if you can put it into words or if you just don’t want to, choosing to ignore aspects that will inevitably force you to make a decision. Not now.

Still smiling, he locks the phone and rises from the chair, making sure to flick the lights off before he comes to stand at your side. Scooting back to give him room, you watch as he lies down in front of you and slips his arm underneath your head. Then he’s pulling you close. So close that your face is practically in his chest. It becomes clear what he’s doing when a faint glow and quiet taps appear, originating from somewhere behind and above your head. Of course, he doesn’t have the same sleep requirements as you do at the moment, and if you were to guess, he’s probably working on something.

You’ve been left in a bit of a conundrum, though. What do you do with the arm that’s ended up in a bit of an awkward position at your side? The most natural thing would be to rest it against his waist, but it also feels… awkward to do that? Just because you, high on painkillers and almost murdered, like to cuddle with him doesn't mean everything's fine and dandy.

“You don’t have to do all of this,” you say quietly. Even in your slightly drowsy state of denial, you know that you’re confusing. You haven’t brought up the reason for your previous ‘split,’ and you haven’t really solved anything. After you almost died, you’re just relieved to be alive and that he’s okay too, and you hope he realizes that.

The near-silent tapping stops.

“I don’t mind,” he assures calmly, and his voice is quieter too. You like that he’s never seemed like much of an overthinker—at least not when it comes to what he wants. You lift your arm to put it around him, letting it hang off his waist.

He’s so warm, smells so good, and his slow and steady breaths lull you to sleep. As you drift off, you tell yourself not to think so much.

For the next few days, you remain on a fairly high dose of painkillers that keep you drowsy. You’re almost never alone; most of the time, Jeongguk is with you, but when he reluctantly leaves—either for the station or to go home and shower and change—Jin and Jimin take turns watching over you. Occasionally, they pop in to see if you’d like company, quickly taking the hint if you don’t and staying outside. 

Your mother sits with you a few times as well, but you can’t relax when she looks at you like she does; as if she’s heartbroken, which you realize she might very well be. You’ve had years to process most of what’s happened to you, and you guess you’d feel the same if the roles were reversed, but you can’t take it, so you send her home with the promise that you’ll be fine. You’re just resting, anyway. After a bit of convincing, she leaves, but not before making a knowing comment about how cute the kind policeman is. You dismiss her with an embarrassed smile and a wave of your bandaged hand.

As the hours turn to days in that hospital room, think is unfortunately all you do. You think about what you’ve experienced and what you’ve seen. The feelings you feel are complicated, woven together in an intricate pattern with threads of varying thickness. Pull on one and it tugs at another; pull too hard on a strong thread and thinner might snap. The closer Jeongguk is, the more tangled the mess seems to be.

<previous | next>

author's note: here's this!! posted in celebration of jeonstudios reaching a follower milestone and more importantly: the boys returning!!! i hope you liked it, please tell me if you did!! <3<3

[kmpac]

Oof. This is good. Like yummy in my tummy satisfying and delicious good. I really like their dynamic. It actually feels really true to size. Like he feels thousands of years old somehow. And she feels like she would intrigue him. Like it’s believable and sweet and just feels right. I lovvvveeeee it! So good!

fontana di trevi | 02

you seek out a vampire to help you with something.

pairing: vampire!jk x sadgirl, blood donor!reader

genre: vampire au, angst, fluff (really a sadgirl fic lol)

word count: 9k

warnings: same as last time basically: blood, needles, suicidal thoughts and intentions

rating: NC-17 – Adults Only

masterlist

part 2/2

<previous | next>

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

“Thanks,” you smile politely as you close the car door, hearing the Uber drive off behind you. The walk up to the house is no different than last time, yet it definitely feels different. Both because of what happened almost a week ago, but also since you’re hoping this will be the last time.

What certainly is different is the surprised look on the vampire’s face as he opens the door to see you standing there with your hands in the pockets of your winter coat.

He himself is wearing a black hoodie, and once again, black shorts. His hair looks a little messier than how you’re used to seeing it. Almost like he’s been sleeping. Vampires don’t sleep, though, do they?

“I… didn’t think you’d show,” he admits honestly, nonetheless opening the door wider for you, and as you enter, you can’t help but think that he looks… almost cuddly.

Of course, he still gives off the usual intimidating aura, and he should probably be even scarier to you considering what happened last time you met him, but… you don’t know. Perhaps you’re just so deprived of human touch that a bloodthirsty vampire’s cold embrace seems inviting.

This time, he waits in the hallway while you step out of your shoes and remove your coat. 

“Yeah, I still want this. I just… wasn’t prepared,” you explain rather vaguely, knowing that he understands exactly what you’re getting at anyway. You want to die but on your terms.

“It wasn’t my intention. To do what I did.”

You meet his eyes. It’s not an outright apology, but it feels eerily close to one.

“You were there to… feed, weren’t you?”

He nods. “Didn’t get the chance to on Thursday or Friday.”

It’s your turn to nod in understanding. For a short moment, you stand there, looking at each other. 

Until you break the silence. “So, can we start?”

“Sure,” he agrees, turning around to head toward the kitchen.

Like the first time you showed up to his house when he didn’t think you were going to, he has to bring the supplies from wherever he keeps them. You take your spot at the table, slip off your cardigan, and wait.

The vampire returns with his hands full, placing the stuff down on the table before he pulls out another chair and positions it the same way as always. But his focus lies on your skin.

“These are new bruises?” he asks, carefully grasping your hand and very gently lifting it to better inspect the yellowing marks covering your skin. “You always bruise like this after?”

You follow his gaze. There are currently three bruises on your right arm, none the same as the night he almost killed you. Two are yellow and from when you bumped into a dresser at home a few days ago. The third is purple but smaller and its origin a mystery. If he wanted to see bruises, he should’ve seen the ones on your legs after you fell when he attacked you.

“Not the first time, but yeah. Usually just from the needle site, but lately, it’s all over. I guess I’m a little deficient in something,” you joke quietly, but the vampire doesn't laugh. 

“Why does it interest you so much? Do you have some kind of medical degree?” you ask, thinking back to when he first asked you why you didn’t wonder about his apparent knowledge.

“Not officially, but being dependent on humans like we are to some extent, you tend to pick up on stuff, and having been around as long as I have, it’s even more unavoidable. But I’ve never seen bruising this severe from blood loss.”

Fair enough. Your body should definitely try to keep the little blood remaining inside your veins, where it belongs. 

He starts prepping your arm, but instead of looking away, you close your eyes. Are you imagining things or has he been… softer lately? Making sure you got home safely instead of leaving you to your fate, almost worrying about your bruises, and being gentler in the way he attaches the needle? Then again, he’s only making sure you can give him as much blood as possible, and he also would’ve probably killed you if he’d gotten ahold of you last week.

“I take it you’ve killed before?” 

There’s a few seconds of silence, but then he answers, and there’s nothing hidden in his words or voice that reveals something more.

“I have.”

“How do you…,” you start, unsure of how to phrase your question. “I mean, what do you do… after?”

“Are you asking…?”

“How do you… dispose of them? And… I guess, how will you dispose of… me?”

It’s not really a sensitive question for you, so you’re not sure for whose sake you’re so careful. You doubt the vampire really cares.

You hear him exhale. “I guess it depends on the circumstances. I haven’t planned anything.”

You wince when he sticks you, more painful this time for some reason. The ball is placed in your hand like always, and you start to squeeze it.

Your curiosity isn’t that dire, so you’re not disappointed by his answer. Maybe he’s not even being honest, and it’s for your sake? Which brings you back to why he’s being extra gentle. The only other explanation you can think of is that he feels sorry for you. Maybe he just truly wants to spare you unnecessary pain and worry in the last moments of your pathetic life? Because this is it. With how shitty you’ve been feeling these last couple of weeks and especially since last time, you know it won’t be long. Today’s the day.

One bag. He can take one bag and after that he’ll have to end it. That way, you don’t have to bleed out, and he’ll get as much blood as possible. If he takes your advice about how to drain the rest, well, that’s up to him.

You’re startled by the sound of knocking, opening your eyes to see the vampire rise from his chair, seemingly sharing your surprise. “I’ll be back in a minute.”

Nodding, you close your eyes again, getting as comfortable as you can in the chair while wondering who’s at the door. A vampire friend? A vampire partner? Surely, he doesn’t hang out with humans on the regular? You always got the impression, both from him and vampires in pop culture, that they don’t really care for humans. In fact, a dirty human only pesters a vampire’s environment unless they’re actively dying.

Your heart hurts. It’s beating heavily inside your chest, a feeling you’ve grown somewhat used to over the weeks, but it feels undeniably worse. Like every beat is a painful and exhausting accomplishment. Your breaths grow heavier too. 

Surely, it’s been more than a minute. Is he on his way back? If he were a human, chatting with another human at the front door, maybe you would’ve heard them, but you can’t discern anything. 

It feels a little like your head’s in the clouds, and you’re not sure if your eyes are still closed or if they’re open and you just can’t see anything. You have a feeling that not only can’t you hear the vampire, you can’t hear anything anymore.

Realizing that this is it, you try to call for him quietly to tell him so, but although you’re pretty certain you’re dying, for some reason, you don’t want to interrupt whatever he’s doing with his visitor.

“Fine, alright, I’ll talk to him, but please, this is not a good time.”

“But he’s being an ass, and you were the last person he spoke to before he left for fucking Iceland.”

Jeongguk rolls his eyes at his friend, Yuqi. With how much she and Taehyung love each other, there’s a surprising amount of drama. 

“I don’t wanna get involved. I’ll call him later.”

“Fine, get back to me after. If he doesn’t answer, I’m taking the first flight.”

“Vampire?”

Yuqi, who was just about to turn around to leave, stops in her tracks.

“What… was that?” she asks, standing still before discreetly scenting the air. “Is that… blood?”

Jeongguk’s eyes widen. He’s used to smelling blood whenever you’re there to leave it, but not this much. Quickly, and without regard to Yuqi, he turns to rush back into his kitchen, eyes going even wider at the vision in front of him.

“Vampire?” you call out quietly again from the chair, eyes closed and unknowing of his return. You seem out of it, bordering on unconscious, and it’s not without reason. Jeongguk curses himself for not double checking the blood bag when he knows that brand is prone to ripping because the bag isn’t full; it’s broken, and your blood is dripping into a big puddle of red on the floor.

You think… you’re being… carried? By someone firm and… warm. You like that.

“I’m not warm," a low voice comments. "At least I’m not supposed to be.”

“I’m dying… right?” you mumble, feeling how the vampire puts you down on something soft.

“Probably, yeah.”

He does something to your arms, and you can’t figure out what, but you realize it has something to do with collecting the remaining blood when you’re gone.

There’s another voice.

Next time you open your eyes, you feel… different. And upset. You’re not as dizzy as you’ve become accustomed to, and the room doesn’t spin when you sit up on the bed. Your body hurts, but it feels more like you’re simply tired and beat than extremely weak. Most importantly, you feel, which means you’re not dead.

As if he could sense your awakening—or just possesses superhuman hearing—a door opens to reveal the vampire. He's wearing other clothes, grey sweatpants and a black t-shirt, and his face doesn't give you anything.

“What happened?” you question, looking around the room that’s clearly a bedroom. “And where am I?”

“You passed out. There was a hole in the bag, so the blood was just leaking onto the floor. I had my friend steal some from the hospital, and I gave you a transfusion. Yuqi also brought some clothes and stuff for you, so you’re staying here at least until tomorrow. Then you’re free to leave whenever you want.”

“I… don’t understand. Why would you—why not just let me go then?”

“I changed my mind.”

You look at him, bewildered and trying to find the words. “What do you mean you changed your mind? We had an agreement?”

“I know, but I changed my mind. I’m not doing it. If the blood matters to you, the bags are in the freezer.”

“Why–what would I do with blood?” you question in frustration. Is he offering it back in case you want to drink it? Try to put it back inside your veins? Apparently, you’ve already had transfusions, so you have exactly zero use for frozen bags of blood. “Why can’t you just get on with it? Why not let me die?”

“I do not. Want. To,” he hisses.

You stare at him in silence, feeling confused and betrayed. He looks away but doesn't seem affected. No shame, no regret, no anything but a moment of frustration to breach otherwise calm determination.

“Here’s the stuff,” he gestures toward a duffel bag by the foot of the bed. “You have a bathroom right outside, and I’m gonna order some food for you. You should take it easy; I wasn’t able to give you as much blood as you really need, and unfortunately, what I’ve previously collected isn’t fit to give back. Since it’s been frozen and stored improperly for that kind of purpose, there would be a risk of clotting.”

You look at him from where you’re sitting on his bed, and he looks back at you. The irritation you feel grows beyond what you’re capable of conveying, and so it turns into defeat. It makes you angry, how he managed to back out of giving you what you wanted at the very last second. You spent months upholding your end of the deal, and when it finally came time for him to do the same, he didn’t. 

“Don’t bother,” you lie down slowly, your back facing him where he stands at the door. Silently, you curse your body for feeling so tired; ideally, you’d stomp out of there, slamming the door behind you. “I’ll leave tomorrow morning.”

Your own clothes are still wearable. The few stains of blood are relatively small and dried, and the vampire already placed you on his bed, so you don’t feel like you’ll do any more damage by sleeping in them. The house is quiet, but you don’t think he’s left it, which begs the question of where he is. And also if he sleeps and if he does, then… where? He never gave you a tour or anything, so you have no idea what the rest of his house looks like. Whatever; you don’t care, anyway.

His sheets smell clean, though, and it doesn’t take you long to pass out, truly exhausted.

When you wake up, you can’t find your phone, and without any other time measuring device, you don’t know what time it is. It appears like the sun rose not too long ago so that narrows your guess a little bit at least.

Sitting up slowly, you take a deep breath. You feel… okay. A bit sore almost, but more energetic than you have in a while. Unfortunately, it’s not necessarily a good thing in your book.

Sighing, you put your feet to the hardwood floor. They carry you with only a little dizziness, and you set your sight on the bedroom door. It opens smoothly, and you peer out, looking for the bathroom the vampire mentioned. There’s a door immediately to your left which you guess must be it, and so you head toward it. 

After successfully finding the bathroom and using it, you decide to continue the search for your phone. Since you thought last night would be your last and therefore arrived by Uber rather than driving, it means that without your phone, you have no way home.

You make your way down some stairs, recognizing the hallway as the one the vampire has led you through what feels like countless times. Last time you remember having your phone was in the kitchen, so that’s where you steer your steps.

As luck would have it, the kitchen is also where the vampire happens to be. Upon your entrance, your eyes immediately fall on the tall man where he stands, leaning back against the counter. Although he surely heard you approaching a long time ago, he only turns his head slowly toward you when you’re well into the room. He’s hard to read; doesn’t offer much.

“Do you know where my phone is?”

The vampire twists his body to look at the counter behind him, sliding something toward you. You take a step closer, inspecting the device when it’s in your hands. Three percent.

“Do you have a charger I can borrow?”

“Yeah,” he answers with a nod and pushes off the counter, leaving the kitchen. You wait, quietly wondering what exactly goes on inside his head. He seems unfazed by the whole ordeal, which doesn’t necessarily surprise you. But what you still don’t quite understand is why he claimed to have changed his mind. Could it be that he just didn’t want to deal with your body? 

The vampire returns with a white charger in his hand, his skin cold against yours when you accept it from him. Finding a fitting outlet near the table, you plug the charger in and sit down, gazing out through the window while you wait for the phone to charge enough for the trip home. The vampire has gone back to leaning wordlessly against the counter, and you ignore him.

Opening your phone, you find that the only unread notification you have is a spam email. Why are you surprised? With a small sigh, you lock the device again, hoping it’ll charge faster if you don’t use it. Forty percent should be enough.

It’s snowing outside, and you watch the big snowflakes fall slowly and silently to the already white ground. Waiting like this gives you time to go over all the things you’ve done wrong in your life.

Next time you unlock your phone, the battery has reached thirty-seven percent. You open the Uber app to see that a car can arrive in ten minutes. You confirm it, noting the time as eleven twenty-three. You’ll wait five more minutes before you start getting ready, which honestly is just putting your shoes and coat on. 

The seconds pass slowly one after the other. You wonder briefly how long it took the vampire to clean because, although you didn’t notice the blood dripping to the floor while it was happening, you understood that there was a lot of it. Must suck for him to have it wasted like that. The question is also why he would waste even more blood by giving you a transfusion? If he went through the pain of acquiring bagged blood, why not just drink that?

At eleven twenty-nine, your phone’s battery is at fifty-two percent. You unplug the charger from the wall, and as you stand, you place it on the table with a quiet ‘thanks.’

“Going home?” the vampire wonders, black eyes watching you. He looks casual, but there’s that hint of softness shining through again. 

You pass him on your way to the front door. “Yeah.”

“Reconsider,” he encourages, and you know he’s not talking about your journey home. 

You roll your eyes. “No.”

“Yes,” he follows. “Whatever’s troubling you doesn’t matter. There’s so much for you to see and do, so many places to visit and people to meet. Your life is so incredibly short, and you won’t have time to see even a fraction of the world as is.”

“Thanks for the pep talk,” you say, bending down to put your boots on.

“Have you even been outside of this town?”

Why is he trying to control you? He doesn’t know you; he doesn’t care. It’s not like you’ll magically be fine after his ‘cheer up, pal,’ and ending your life is not a decision you have taken hastily or easily.

“No.”

“Don’t you want to see what’s out there?”

“Of course. But it’s not…” you straighten up to look at him, frustration dripping from your words. “Don’t you see that I’m all alone? I don’t have anybody, no one to experience things with, and much less the money to just up and leave. Sure, maybe I could get a loan and travel through Italy for two weeks, but then what? I’ll be miserable and in debt.”

The vampire tilts his head, looking at you with his black eyes but not saying anything. He just doesn't understand. You put your other foot into your boot and reach for your coat before he can try to persuade you again for whatever reason.

“Whatever,” you sigh, “I’ll be going.”

He doesn’t stop you from opening the door, and he doesn’t follow you when you leave, one boot undone and with your coat held to your chest. Irritation turns to sadness and defeat as you wait for the Uber to arrive, taking the opportunity to actually put your coat on and tie your laces properly. Snow falls around you, and when you're done, you stand there, waiting pathetically by the side of the road in the cold. You’re back at square one.

Despite having slept for countless hours at the vampire’s house, you head straight for your bed the moment you return home. For another few hours, you sleep, and then you spend a few more lying there in the dark, thinking. 

It’s seven p.m. on a Saturday. You’ve wasted a lot of time, months even, waiting for the vampire to get what he wanted and follow through on his part. But that’s over now, so what are you waiting for right now? 

Two and a half hours later, you put your boots back on and throw a lighter jacket over your shoulders, one that allows easier access to your neck.

Still not feeling your best, it takes you fifteen minutes to walk what the vampire did in six, carrying you on his back. You don’t understand him. He acted like he didn’t want you to die, but if he cared about you at all, he would’ve backed out earlier and not waited until his actions brought you within an inch of your life for what, the third time? Was he hoping you’d stay alive so that you’d hopefully continue donating your blood, even if less frequently? 

Although nearing his feeding grounds, you’re hoping not to run into him. He did state that he changed his feeding days to Thursdays, and last week, when you did run into him, it seemed like a coincidence. Besides, this place is your best bet tonight; even the vampire admitted that there were others there last time. Surely, they’re around here somewhere tonight as well. 

Since you assume vampires don’t want unnecessary attention, you stake out near the same club as last week, but this time, you hide in the shadows around a corner. Then, you wait for a victim.

Thirty minutes to midnight, a woman stumbles out through the door, a bouncer holding it open for her. She’s obviously had a bit to drink, and as she clumsily fixes her little cross body bag and sets off along the street, you look around from your hiding spot.

But you don’t see or hear anything; not a dark figure moving nor the sound of footsteps. Still, you follow her, hoping for the best. Wanting to keep your distance, you instead find it hard to keep up with her, which is saying something about your current health.

About two hundred meters from the club, she suddenly slows down, her attention seemingly drawn to something in an alleyway. You weren’t sure exactly how the vampires hunt, but by how the woman begins to slowly drift inside the dark alleyway of her own accord, you guess they do have some kind of pull. Most women, even when slightly drunk, typically try not to do… that.

You quicken your steps as much as possible without breaking into a sprint. Not only do you want to speak to a vampire; if you can take that woman’s place and leave her unscathed, it’s an added bonus. Before you’ve caught up, the woman slowly and quietly disappears, and when you turn the corner with your phone in hand and flashlight turned on, you spot a man holding her to his body. 

Evidently hearing you approaching, the man has placed them against the wall, halfway obscured by a dumpster and hoping you’d walk past them, which you would have if you weren’t so focused on the woman and your mission.

The man squints in the light, and you very clearly discern long fangs. You take another step into the alleyway, but what you didn’t expect was to be grabbed from another direction. 

Gasping, you feel strong arms hold your back against someone’s chest, effortlessly keeping you immobile. 

“What can we offer? Though you smell like vampire already?” The man who holds you says, sounding surprised, and your phone is taken from your hand and the flashlight turned off. 

Obviously, they assume you’re one of the freaky ones looking for vampires because any normal person would run. Your reason for wanting to find one is different, though. 

“I have a proposition,” you stutter, not too scared but uncomfortable with how the man noses at your neck. Despite knowing that if the vampire bites, it’ll most likely be your neck, you can’t help trying to pull away. It’s just another bodily reaction. 

Your words intrigue him, and he moves, creating just a tad bit more space between your bodies and looking down at you with a curious smirk.

“A proposition, you say?”

“You can have my blood—all of it—if you take it right here and now.”

“What’s the catch?” he asks, raising an eyebrow much like a certain vampire you know. “What’s in it for you?”

“There is no catch. I want to die.”

The other vampire, curiously listening to your conversation, whispers something in the other woman’s ear, and lets her go. She stumbles away from him and then casually leaves the alleyway, turning the corner calmly as if nothing happened. 

You meet the vampire’s puzzled yet curious eyes. “There’s nothing wrong with my blood if you think I’m trying to trick you into something. Except that it’s apparently B positive which I understand is not that desirable, but—”

“You’re Jeon’s human?”

“Uh—what? Who?” you ask, confused but slowly putting two and two together.

“Fuck, should we?” the other vampire questions quietly.

“Jeon,” the closest one to you starts, “is the vampire you smell of. He’s been very persistent no one touches his human.”

“Yeah. Can’t blame him. If I was lucky enough to have someone offer to be a walking blood bag, I wouldn’t let them outside at all.”

“I’m not… I’m not anyone’s, and I’m not a walking blood bag,” you explain, feeling belittled. “He made me a promise that he broke. He was going to help me die in exchange for my blood, but he just used me to collect blood, and then he didn’t deliver.”

The two vampires look at each other, and you feel like they didn’t really pay attention to anything you just said.

“I don’t know, man. I’m not sure I wanna get on his bad side.”

“But he’s too arrogant,” the first one complains. “If I want something, why should he prevent me from getting it? He doesn’t own the supply here. I’m a thousand years old; I shouldn’t need to ask for permission.”

“Dude’s like three thousand years old, though? You don’t need to ask permission; you can literally choose anyone. Except this one, for some reason. I don’t think I would if I were you.”

“Our agreement is over,” you try to enter the conversation the two vampires are holding over your head.

“Well,” the one holding your arms peers down at you, “He said that under no circumstances is anyone allowed to touch you.”

You scoff, growing irritated again, “Okay, well, are there any vampires around that aren’t such wimps? If I can’t find anyone to just snap my neck, I’m going to the train tracks and then my blood will be wasted.”

That’s a lie, of course. There’s a reason you picked death by vampire; you’re too scared to do it any other way, and no matter how much you want to die, you can’t subject anyone else—like a poor train driver—to it. Vampires are cold and heartless. They don’t care.

“Hold on. Wait,” the vampire holds you tighter when you haphazardly try to wiggle out of his grasp.

“Look,” he says to the other, “He can’t tell us what to do. Besides, if he gets angry, we can just say that she said their agreement was over, and we did her a favor out of the goodness of our hearts.”

“You don’t have a heart; you just want to annoy him.”

The vampire grins. At first, it’s a boyish smile directed at his friend, but when he slowly tilts his head down to look at you, it turns almost sinister. “I think I’m gonna do it.”

You gulp. No matter how much this is what you want, it does scare you. Mostly because you’re afraid it will be painful.

“Is there a way you can kill me first? I don’t want it to hurt.”

The smiling vampire shakes his head. 

“No.”

You thought death was supposed to be a void. A void of darkness, devoid of physical matter, emotions, and thoughts. But it hurts. It hurts so much. 

Then, a void does take over.

Jeongguk knew you’d try again. If he wouldn’t kill you, you were going to find someone who would. And despite hoping that you would’ve changed your mind, he was unfortunately right. He spent an hour roaming the dark streets around the town’s attempt at a nightlife, but he didn’t come across you. Not until he visits the same place where you first found him, a place he wouldn’t take as your first choice since you ran into him there a week earlier. 

He’s spent hours and hours these last weeks with you on his mind; the little human who wants to die so badly. It’s just something about you and your willingness to die that doesn’t sit right with him, and you won’t leave his thoughts. It’s not his business, he told himself as he saw you curled up and unconscious in your car. Who is he to tell someone what they should do with their life? If anything, respecting your wishes and consuming freely donated blood is easier and more ethical than taking it from plastered people who aren’t really sure what’s going on, right?

The scenes replaying the most in his head are more recent. It’s the way you suggested he kill and butcher your body, saying no one would look for you anyway, and how you called for him, unknowing that your blood was dripping to the floor but still trying your hardest to squeeze that ball for him. Your fingers were barely moving, but you tried since he wanted that blood. 

He’s not entirely sure what he’s doing, trying to convince you to live, but he guesses that he simply needs to know that you experienced some good things in life too. He can’t let you end it this way, as a lifeless body, discarded somewhere where no one will find you.

Anger, frustration, and an odd feeling of helplessness flood him as he takes in the sight of the vampire in the process of draining you dry. He rushes into the dark alleyway, the vampire looking up from your neck just as Jeongguk strikes. There’s not much of a fight after that. The first vampire stumbles backward, and Jeongguk grabs your lifeless body from him as the second vampire approaches, eyes wide and with his hands raised shoulder height.

“Easy, man.”

“I fucking told you to leave her alone.”

The dazed vampire grumbles something, but Jeongguk doesn’t pay him any attention. He places your body down on the snow-covered ground and looks at your pale face while searching for a pulse right under your jaw. 

“She wanted to die.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Jeongguk growls. “How much did you take?”

There is no pulse.

“At least three fourths. Possibly more.”

Jeongguk shuts his eyes. There’s no coming back from that.

You’ve lost and regained consciousness due to blood loss one too many times by now, but this time, it really feels different. Opening your eyes, the sunlight filling the room irritates your eyes, forcing you to squint for a few seconds. 

Without moving, you focus on something. The vampire. Jeon, was it? You watch as he rummages through his closet, practically soundlessly, taking out a few items and looking them over before settling on what looks like two black shirts, one long-sleeve and one short-sleeve. Then he digs out a pair of shorts and another pair of sweatpants. 

You’re not used to seeing him in direct sunlight, but now, the rays filtering through the half-opened blinds paint him in a new light, and you let your eyes linger on his arms as he folds the clothes. The green t-shirt he wears is doing a great job at highlighting his veiny, muscular forearms as they work. Light and shadows play along those very defined muscles, accentuating them further.

Your first impression of him was a cold one, one that slowly warmed a little over time both physically and mentally. But in this light? Without even touching him, he looks… warmer to you. Inviting, almost like when he wore that black hoodie. 

You sigh quietly and pull the blanket that’s thrown over you closer. The vampire hears and turns around, placing the clothes at the foot of his large bed.

“Hey. How are you feeling?”

You take a moment to consider his question. Though you’ve certainly felt better in a lot of ways, you don’t feel the way you’ve come to associate with severe blood loss. 

“Cold. And tired, but in a weird way.”

Weird is probably the best way to describe how you’re feeling in general. You feel light, but not weak. Tired, but not sleepy. 

He nods understandingly, “It’ll pass.”

You catch his gaze, holding it for a quiet moment. “You changed me, didn’t you?”

It’s the only explanation you can come up with. That vampire was hungry, and you remember slowly losing control in his grasp, both over your body and consciousness. With how many near-death experiences your body has endured in the last weeks—all blood loss related—there just wasn’t any chance you’d survive another draining.

“Yeah.” He looks away, sitting down on the edge of the bed. “I couldn’t…”

You think you understand well enough what he’s trying to say, although you’re not too sure of his reasons or how to feel about it. He couldn’t let you die. In a way, you’re disappointed because you were finally getting what you wanted, and dying has proved itself to be surprisingly difficult for you. 

But you’re not angry; not like you were after the vampire saved you the first time. He mentioned once that not even vampires are immortal, so at least you know that you’re not doomed to an eternal life in suffering; you can always try again if you want. However, you’d be back at square one when it comes to options, but you don’t really feel the urgency anymore. At least not at the moment.

He turns his head toward you, meeting your eyes with his deep, dark ones. “Let me show the world to you.”

Surprised to say the least, you mumble a quiet “What?”

He angles his body further toward you, and you see that despite the softer look on his face, he’s certain. “I want to show you everything the world has to offer. All the good things; the magical places and people.”

Not sure what to say, you just stare at him.

“Vampires are not immortal,” he continues. “If you really don’t want this, I’ll help you die. I promised. But please, think about it. No catch, no expectations.”

“But why… Why would you want that?” 

You’ve been alone for so long, unable to keep people around and interested, so why would this being be?

“Because I found that I really didn’t enjoy draining you of your life, especially when you were already so low to begin with. I want you to get the chance to experience the good things life has to offer, and I can’t help but want to be around when you do.”

“You don’t know me though.”

“I kinda want to,” he says, standing up with the cheekiest smile you’ve ever seen on him. “Think about it, okay? I’m not expecting anything from you other than that you consider.”

Still very much processing his words, you feel a cold shiver wreck your body, something the vampire notices.

“I’ll get you another blanket. Your body is still in the process of changing, and with that comes a decrease in temperature. It’s normal to feel cold.”

He’s about to leave when you call for him.

“Wait. What… What's your name? Your given name?”

He stops, and he smiles again. “Jeongguk. And I know yours already; it was on your door.”

You sleep for a little while longer, but when you start to feel better, you also start to think. You’ve been so certain for so long, and you still are—you think—but… either way, you’d like some answers; a clearer view of the whole picture.

“Jeongguk?” you call, unsure how loud you need to be. It feels strange to use a name for the vampire.

It doesn’t take long before the door opens. “Yeah?”

“I have some… questions.”

He nods, stepping into the darkness that is his bedroom and closing the door behind him. 

“Light sensitive?” he nods toward the window, where you’ve pulled the curtains closed over the blinds.

“Yeah… Is that normal?”

“It is. So is feeling sensitive to sound, touch, smell; basically all the senses. But it will pass pretty quickly.”

“Okay. Well, can you… tell me everything about being a vampire? I didn’t think you slept, but you do? Or why do I still sleep?”

He rounds the bed to sit next to you, and you feel it sink as he gets comfortable. Slowly, you turn to face him, watching him lean back against the headboard.

“So, basically, we can do all the things humans do. For instance, you’re still programmed to breathe, but it’s more of a habit and a way to smell than a means of survival.”

While he speaks, you try it. It’s strange, holding your breath and not feeling that strong, strong urge to take in air after a while.

“You can eat human food, but it’s not what sustains you, so most vampires don’t. It gets kinda boring after a while; you’ll see what I mean. Most also don’t sleep as they consider it a waste of time, but you can if you want to. I do pretty regularly. I find it… peaceful, and when you get older, it can be nice, getting a break between days.”

Hearing him talk so casually and almost… softly has you smiling slightly, unable to help it. So he had been sleeping when you knocked on the door, and his hair was all messy, and he looked so cuddly? You don’t know why, but you like that thought.

“You can exist in sunlight, you can consume garlic. Mirrors work for us as well. We don’t age like humans, but we can die if we’re pierced through the heart by something wooden—”

“—You mean staked?”

He looks at your wide, amused eyes and rolls his. “Yeah. Staked. Anyway, you’ll notice that your senses are heightened, and you’ll become stronger too. Not stronger than me, though,” he grins. “As for the blood, you can survive on any.”

“Any?”

What does he mean by that? Human and animal?

“Human, animal, vampire,” he says, the last one surprising you.

You blink, taken aback. “Vampires drink from other vampires?”

“We can. It’s not as common as feeding on humans as it’s mostly… a pretty intimate thing to do.”

“Oh, okay.” 

Thinking about it, you guess you can see why. Having someone so close, feeding on you without the power imbalance of prey versus predator that feeding on humans entails, must feel… intimate. More of a give and take. 

“You’ll need to feed in about a day or two, so you can choose. I have more human blood than just yours as it might be weird to drink your own blood, and I can get animal blood if that feels easier. Or… if you want to, you can drink from me.”

You look at him questioningly. “Didn’t you just say that it’s an intimate thing?”

He shrugs. “Yeah, but if it would make for an easier transition for you, I don’t mind. I’ve taken a lot of blood from you, after all.”

“Okay,” you nod, briefly biting your lip. “I’ll think about it. About all of… this.”

Is death the thing you wanted above all else, or was it to get out of the life you were living? Now that your old life is, in a way, over, you’re not sure. Regardless, there are other worries still plaguing you. You look—almost stare—at his pretty face. 

“What?”

You bite your lip nervously again. “What if you change your mind? I’m assuming this was quite a rushed decision on your part. What if I don’t live up to your expectations? I barely knew how to navigate this world as a human, there’s no way I could… manage on my own as… as a vampire.”

Say you decide to give it a shot; what do you do if he grows tired of you?

“Changing someone is not something we take lightly. We don’t…” he looks around, seemingly searching for the right words. “We don’t change anyone if we’re not prepared to guide them, at least through the first years. Usually, vampires only end up turning their romantic partners, so for most, it means staying together for life. Regardless, it’s a big decision.”

Noticing your wide eyes, Jeongguk smiles and chuckles. “I’m not saying you have to hang around me for the rest of your life, and I won’t ask you to play my wife or anything, but I won’t abandon you.”

It’s surprising enough to hear that vampires not only regularly fall in love with humans but take changing someone so seriously. But you’re even more surprised to hear him use the word ‘wife.’

“Your wife?” you ask, truly bewildered that word was even in his thoughts. “You said vampirism doesn't make you much prettier?”

He looks at you like you’ve grown another head. “It doesn’t. But you didn’t need to become prettier anyway.”

“Oh, come on.”

“I’m telling the truth? Don’t you remember what I told you when I carried you home that night?”

‘You’re a pretty girl, you know?’

Of course you remember, but it doesn’t mean it was true.

You roll your eyes. “You were feeling bad for me.”

“Hm,” Jeongguk looks away, thinking. “Okay, do you remember the very first thing I said to you?”

“That you weren’t going to turn me?”

“For sex, yeah. But I said I’d still fuck you.”

The smile he gives you reminds you more of the vampire that took your blood once every fortnight than the one who saved you. You don’t know what to say, and he seems to realize that, his smile turning softer.

“Like I said, I would’ve fucked you because you were pretty even as a human. Also, about luring said humans in? You will not have a problem with that if that’s something you’re interested in. I kinda want to see you do that, actually,” he grins, sending a shiver down your spine. “Hot.”

Jeongguk is sitting spread out on the rented apartment’s low couch, reading the back of a bottle of red wine when you pass him. It’s hot—a lot warmer than what you’re used to from your little hometown—and you sigh as you open the door to the balconet wider and fresh air starts to play with your dress. The weather doesn’t affect you like it used to, but some aspects are still more enjoyable than others. 

“I think I like Rome,” you place your hands on the railing, looking down at the scene two stories below you. It’s just after ten p.m., and people are dining outside the restaurant below you, their happy chatter accompanied by the romantic sound of street musicians. The air is humid, and besides the moonlight, the street is mainly illuminated by lights from the restaurant and surrounding shops.

You hear Jeongguk put the bottle down on the glass coffee table and stand up, something your human ears wouldn’t have picked up.

“We can stay longer if you want,” he offers quietly from right behind you.

Turning around, you let your gaze travel over his white dress shirt, held together by two single buttons—the rest lazily unbuttoned—and exposing most of his drool-worthy chest. He smirks, looking down at you, and you’re hit by how he hasn’t changed that much since you first met him in that alley. You’ve just gotten to see more sides of him.

You hold your breath, carefully reaching your hand out to pinch the fabric of his shirt between your thumb and index finger, pulling a little on it and nodding.

“Then we’ll stay,” he smiles, slowly stepping back and taking your hand softly in his. His skin feels warm against yours, and it’s almost like some sort of electric current courses through you. You grin as he pulls you toward him, moving to the slow and sensual music drifting up from outside.

Jeongguk lifts your hand above your head and twirls you. It makes you smile even wider, and you decide to place your arms loosely around his neck. He doesn’t object, just looks down at you, still smiling. 

One thing you'll never get used to is how handsome he is. Soft, black hair parted across his forehead, dark eyebrows and eyes, and a dimple that pops out when he smiles. One day, you’ll kiss his nose, you promise yourself. He looks so carefree, peering down at you like nothing else really matters; a mindset not too difficult to follow with him.

“How come everything is so… easy?”

He tilts his head, trying to make sense of your words as he places his hands on your waist. “Well… do you feel cared for?”

You think about it. All the new people—vampires—you’ve met so far are very funny and kind. They see you, and they listen to you. Especially Jeongguk’s friends, and even more so, Jeongguk. He’s easy to be around, and he’s been incredibly sweet to you, understanding that you’re going through a big change and that your previous life wasn’t all that great.

So you nod.

“Do you have anything that worries you?” He continues. “A looming anxiety regarding something?”

“No.” Turns out that Jeongguk and all his friends are filthy rich and also very generous, which means that you have no rent to pay, no stuff to buy, or bills to pay. Nor do you have people to impress or time-sensitive achievements to stress over.

Jeongguk’s smile turns extra cheeky. “Do you perhaps… also care a little bit for someone?”

You’d blush if that was something you could do. “You’d like to know, wouldn’t you?”

He chuckles before he turns a little more serious. “Jokes aside, there could be many reasons. Like I said, not feeling lonely or overly anxious surely helps a lot, but also stuff like… the change of scenery and seasons. But also…”

“Also…?”

He looks at you with a searching gaze, as if he’s trying to figure something out. “Tell me, did you ever see someone about how you felt?”

You shake your head.

“So you never got a diagnosis or medication?”

“No.”

“Then, maybe… you weren’t ‘only’ sad, and vampirism corrected some chemical imbalance in your brain. It could also explain why things are easier.”

Maybe. You thought that your mother dying was the catalyst for your sadness, and without seeing the point of the world, you got “weirder,” and the few people in your life withdrew. Then it was just you, and no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t connect with people anymore. But maybe, like he said, it wasn’t ‘only’ feelings. A small part of you wishes you would’ve tried to get help, but a bigger part—although sad for the years you spent suffering—thinks this ending might be better.

He continues to sway your bodies, and you rest your head against his chest. When you left with him three months ago, one month after he changed you, you weren’t entirely certain where things would lead, because despite definitely feeling attracted to him, you didn’t really know him. But as the days pass, you don’t regret it, and you’re pretty sure you’re more than halfway to head over heels. You can’t deny that he gives you butterflies.

Sighing, you catch the scent of his naked skin against your cheek, reminded of something.

“You smell good. I remember thinking that you didn’t smell like anything?”

He laughs as you move your face slowly over his chest and up to his neck, smelling him.

“Do I?”

“Yeah,” you say, breathing him in and closing your eyes. There’s the same notes of laundry detergent, soap, and cologne, but also something unique to him. He doesn’t smell like a human, but… almost. It draws you in, that’s for certain.

“Are you hungry?” he wonders quietly. 

“Not sure,” you answer honestly. It’s turned out to be harder to tell than you imagined.

“Well, if you want it… go for it.”

“Like this?” you ask, pushing on his chest with a smile. He lets you walk him slowly back toward the couch, and when the back of his knees hit the edge, he sinks down onto it. 

“Mhm,” he hums happily.

High on the vampire equivalent of adrenaline, you straddle his lap, only to be caught off guard by his scent again. “No, but really, you smell so good.”

He chuckles. “Vampires who are more… compatible tend to smell good to each other.”

His revelation has you sitting back, curious but almost a little worried. Despite the details of your relationship being... a bit unclear—mostly due to his unwillingness to pressure you, you think—you can't help but want him to like you. “Does that mean that I smell good to you as well then? I mean, I remember that you didn’t like my blood?”

“You smell incredible to me. Almost addictive,” he reveals quietly, softly, resting his hands on your thighs, and you think your human heart would’ve raced. “And about your blood… I lied.”

Though grinning happily, there’s at least a trace of regret in his eyes.

“You lied? About not liking my blood?”

“Yeah. B is actually one of the more highly regarded blood types. I’m also B, but negative.”

You shake your head at him before carefully leaning in. With a soft touch of your lips, you locate the pulsating artery in his neck, gently angling his head away with your hands. Then, as you’ve done regularly for the last months, you pierce his skin with your fangs.

“I’m kinda surprised you still believed I didn’t like your blood,” he continues, though it sounds a little strained, like he’s trying to keep still. “If I didn’t like your blood, I wouldn’t have needed to change my feeding days to the day before you came. Nor would I have tried to attack you.”

You listen to his words, but you’ll have to process them better later because his blood is pretty much the only thing on your mind. His blood and his body. It took you a few times to get over the mental association with blood and drinking it, but now, it’s not something bad. It tastes and feels good, energizing you in a way food just doesn’t anymore. And it’s a chance to bond, making you feel closer to him. 

He likes it too, if his body language is anything to go by. You know he tries to stay still to give you the best chance to get what you need without distractions, but the little… almost purring sound that reverberates from somewhere deep in his chest is hard to miss. As is the way his hips shift almost unnoticeably, but you haven’t spoken about that.

Being smaller and recently changed, you don’t require nearly as much blood as he does, and as soon as you feel the urge filled, you run your tongue over the wound to close it, just like he’s taught you to.

“Good?” he asks when you pull back, and you nod, licking your lips. 

You keep your eyes on his skin, knowing that it only takes a second for the wound to heal but up to two weeks for the scar from another vampire's teeth to fade to nothing. 

“All of the vampires we’ve met, they’ve looked so… amused when they understand I drink from you. Why is that? I get that it’s ‘intimate’ but they were pretty much all couples, weren’t they? Not that we’re… you know…”

You haven’t spoken about that, either, really.

It confused you, more so since you last week stumbled across a local couple smiling very cheekily when they saw the scar on Jeongguk’s neck that he’d made absolutely no effort to conceal.

He laughs. “It’s because only I have marks.”

You look puzzled. Yeah, sure, but you don’t understand why that would be amusing.

He looks at your confused face and continues. “The fact that you drink from me but not I from you usually means that I’ve submitted to you. That I belong to you. Which is not very common when I’m so much older than you. It’s usually the other way around if anything.”

“Oh,” you exclaim quietly, lifting your hand to your neck. “Should I…? Do you… want to feed from me? Cause I’m not sure that I…”

You don’t like the idea of losing blood. You know that Jeongguk has said that as a vampire, you quite literally can’t run out, but you don’t like it. Thinking about someone biting your neck has images from the night you died flashing before your eyes. You don’t remember much,  but you remember being scared and how much it hurt. Surely, it would be different to let him bite you, but… you don’t know. You can’t help but feel like maybe you should? Don’t you kind of owe it to him?

“I want to, of course I do, but not that badly. I get that it’s an uncomfortable concept for you, so that’s why I haven’t brought it up. If you ever feel comfortable enough, we can try, because it’s very hot, but otherwise, it doesn’t matter.”

You lower your hand, smiling carefully down at him. He runs his hands over your thighs softly.

“So, you’re really just… ancient?”

“Excuse me?” 

“Yeah? You’re literally older than Jesus?”

He rolls his eyes, still smiling.

“Jokes aside, doesn’t it get boring? You were kinda grumpy when I first met you.”

“Truth be told, it does. I’ve seen everything, mostly even many times over. But getting to see everything with you is like getting to experience it for the first time all over again.”

“That’s kinda… cheesy,” you chuckle, but you can’t deny that it makes you feel warm inside. “Yuqi said you probably needed a change of scenery as well.”

“So what if it’s cheesy? It’s true," he grins, and it's your turn to roll your eyes. "And, yeah, she might’ve been right. I guess vampires get lonely too sometimes.”

Although he's still smiling, you can't help but hurt a little, thinking about him feeling lonely too.

“So then, what’s next?" you ask. "When do we leave for Portugal?”

“Depends on when you want to. I’ll just tell Taehyung we’ll meet them later. As for now, you know Fontana di Trevi?”

“Yeah?”

“Wanna take a dip?”

“What? Isn’t it pretty shallow? And probably… illegal?”

“What are they gonna do? Stop us?” He smiles a wide, happy smile, his white fangs almost glimmering in the romantically dimmed light.

<previous | next> author's note: i hope you liked it!! please reblog if you did <3<3<3

[kmpac]

I’m literally like foaming at the mouth for more of this story. (Not literally obviously, could you imagine? But this is so freaking good!) I have read this no less than 10 times since it came out, so god only knows how many it will be by the 15th when the second part comes out.

fontana di trevi | 01

you seek out a vampire to help you with something.

pairing: vampire!jk x sadgirl, blood donor!reader

genre: vampire au, angst, fluff (really a sadgirl fic lol)

word count: 7.6k

warnings: blood, needles, talking about how you euthanize cows and such? suicidal thoughts (not graphic or elaborated? very straightforward?)

rating: NC-17 – Adults Only

masterlist

part 1/2

<previous | next>

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

It’s a freezing cold December night when you step into the dark alleyway, your thighs having gone numb under your jeans a while ago. The sun set hours ago, and the only light present is that of a few scattered streetlights. 

Your pulse quickens as you take another cautious step. Something moves further in, where the light barely reaches, and since there’s no snow yet, you hear the slight crunch of frozen fall leaves under… footsteps. From the dark, a tall figure approaches slowly in a way that would have anyone’s blood chilling.

“I have a proposition,” you state, trying to stand somewhat tall.

"A proposition?” a low voice inquires, and you have to tilt your head up to look at the face that emerges from the shadows. “I’ll fuck you, but I’m not turning you for sex.”

“That’s not what—I don’t want sex or to be turned.”

He directs his full attention to you, and in turn, you get a better glimpse of his features. He looks like a man; incredibly handsome with jet black hair, eyebrows, and eyes, but his skin is paler than anything you’ve seen, and there’s the tiniest smudge of something red tinting the corner of his mouth. Though his eyebrow is raised, he doesn’t look very entertained.

“You can have my blood. All of it, if you just take it quickly.”

He lifts his hand to slowly wipe the red from his face. The outfit he wears—a black leather jacket and black pants—looks human but is definitely too cold to wear this time of year.

“What makes you think I wouldn’t simply take it if I wanted to? Why would I need your permission?”

“I’m just saying. Take it if you want it?”

He looks at you, seemingly at least a little intrigued by the odd human in front of him. You definitely understand that most people run the other way at the sight of this big, intimidating being. 

“You realize ‘all of it’ means you’ll be dead, right?”

You nod. “Do we have a deal?”

“Regardless of if I wanted to or not, I literally just… ate, so I physically can’t. Not for another week or so.”

You feel your shoulders drop slightly, and you blink, trying to improvise a plan.

“Okay, well… Do you want to meet here in a week, then?”

At that, he tilts his head. “You want to die here, in a dirty alleyway?”

“I don’t care. So yes or no?”

“If you want me to do this, give me something in return first, okay?”

You look at him in confusion. “You’re getting my blood?”

“Who's to say your blood is even good?”

Trying not to let his words discourage you, you look around, thinking. Maybe you should’ve played harder to get? At least in the sense of giving him a hunt? You don’t want to waste any time, but he might not be your best option. 

“Fine, do you know if there are other vampires around here? How do I find them?”

It took you three weeks to even find this one, and maybe it was more luck than anything, so setting off on another search doesn’t sound too exciting. These creatures really do live in the shadows.

“No, listen. Whether your blood is delicious or not, it would certainly be helpful to have it. But…”

“But?”

“Let me stock up on it first. Meet me at my place and let me take some every week for two months and then I’ll take the rest.”

You look around again, unsure if you should just try to find someone else. Two months is not ideal; it’s too long, and you’re sure you could manage to find someone else in the meantime. 

The vampire senses your hesitation and takes a step closer.

“You want it to be quick, which means you’re scared of pain. People around here, my kind, tend to drag it out. Pain and fear equal adrenalin, which gives the blood a certain… flavor that some enjoy. Agree to my compromise, and I’ll make it quick and practically painless.”

He gives you the smallest of smiles, barely a hint of one, but it feels wicked and makes a cold shiver run down your spine. You know he’s not trustworthy, but he’s getting a lot out of the deal, and you have nothing to lose, really.

“Okay. What’s the address?”

In the middle of the day a week later, you find yourself in front of a big two-story house. It’s nice, looks pretty expensive but… like a regular house? It’s painted white and definitely not blood-red or even black. Aligning more with your expectations is how the house is partially obscured from the road by huge, towering spruces and how it seems to lie just a little bit further from the neighboring houses. There’s a thin layer of snow on the ground now, but you’re not sure whether it’ll stick.

After confirming that no, there is no door bell, you lift your fist to knock on the door. Vampires have crazy good hearing anyway, right? You’d assume so, given the fact that they’re always portrayed as super fast, super strong, super… attractive, and with super hearing, super vision, just… super all around. The mythical creatures don’t officially exist to the world, but in your little town, everyone knows they do. And they do. You found one. So if they drink blood and are super attractive—at least this one—it’s not too weird to assume there’s more truth to their pop-culture portrayal. 

You can see how the town’s vampire believers and enthusiasts shake their heads in disappointment at your relative indifference, but truth be told, you’d probably be more curious about the vampire whose home you’re about to step into if the situation was different. Or maybe you’d have some self-preservation and run the other way?

The door opens almost soundlessly, and when you look up, you meet those black, bottomless eyes. It really is his color, you think, your gaze drawn to the short-sleeve, black button-down he’s wearing, the top three buttons or so left undone. With it, he’s wearing black pants on the looser side. He looks incredibly handsome, and very effortlessly so. His hair is shiny and looks soft, and like it naturally falls into that slight side-part.

“Are you gonna come in or just stand there and ogle me?” He isn’t smiling teasingly; he just looks at you, unimpressed.

“Sorry.” 

He turns to retreat back into the house, and you’re left to enter through the open door. There are no lights on inside, and when you close the door behind you, cutting off a majority of the daylight, you start to feel like you’re truly inside a vampire’s home. Still, it’s light enough for you to follow said vampire’s back after hastily removing your coat and folding it to leave over the boots you step out of. Since you assumed he needs access to the veins in your arms, you picked out a gray t-shirt and a black zip-up hoodie that’s a little too big on you, paired with jeans. Nothing fancy—you’re not there to impress him.

With quickened steps, you catch up to him as he wordlessly leads the way into his kitchen, a place you doubt he uses much. Vampires don’t actually eat, do they? Either way, the room is clean and feels almost... sterile, despite the walnut cupboards and dark gray countertops.

On the short end of a wide, matching walnut dining table, a bunch of supplies are laid out. He gestures to one of the two chairs positioned around the corner of the table, but as you sit down, he turns to leave.

“Uhm, I don’t know how to do this,” you admit, pulling the zipper of your hoodie down and slipping one arm out. “I mean, I’m sure it can’t be that complicated in… theory, but I don’t think I can do it on myself.”

“I’m just gonna wash my hands,” he explains, and there seems to be a very slight trace of emotion in his voice and on his face that you interpret as amusement. He thinks you're dumb.

Oh. Well… does it really matter if his hands are squeaky clean or not?

Water hits the sink with a familiar sound as you focus on the table, inspecting the supplies. There’s a needle with a tube attached to it, a tourniquet, some syringes, antiseptic wipes, and a few empty blood bags. A voice in your head wonders if maybe he changed his mind and will simply take everything at this moment because those bags look pretty big, and you’re not sure you can fill them and still walk out of this place. 

The water stops, and you sit pretty and wait until he positions the other chair in front of you, a little to the side. You’ve never been a fan of needles or having your blood drawn, so you focus your eyes the other way, to a specific part of his kitchen window and the overcast outside. You hear the sound of paper and plastic ripping, and you feel his cold fingers place and tighten the tourniquet around your upper arm and feel for your veins before he wipes the area clean.

“Scared of needles?” he teases arrogantly, and you see how he reaches for the sharp object on the table.

“Bodily reaction. I can’t help it,” you explain before holding your breath and waiting for the poke.

It comes soon after; an uncomfortable but not too painful prick. With one hand, he moves some things around on the table, and you try to keep as still as possible, loathing the feeling of a needle jolting around in your vein.

“You’re not curious as to why I know how to do this stuff? Or worried that I don’t?” he wonders, releasing the tourniquet and seemingly fastening the needle to your skin with some tape.

“No. I guess it doesn’t surprise me; blood and vampires seem to go hand in hand.”

He surprises you by letting out a quiet chuckle before placing a red stress ball in your hand. “Squeeze this. I’ll be back to change the bag in a few minutes.”

Nodding, you watch him rise from his chair and leave the room.

Left to your own devices and with the filling blood bag taped to the chair’s armrest by its thin tube, you close your eyes. 

The house is entirely silent, and you have no idea where the vampire went. After he moved the stuff around on the table, you were able to count exactly three blood bags with a printed 450 ml on them. That adds up to somewhere between one and one and half liters and around 30% of your blood volume if you’ve calculated correctly. According to your brief research, a human doesn’t typically survive losing more than 40% of their blood unless given emergency medical attention. You probably won’t feel too great after today, but you most likely won’t die. You think.

Slowly, the minutes start to tick by, but you feel okay so far. You’ve got a good rhythm going for the stress ball, squeezing, holding, releasing. Squeezing, holding, releasing. The silence has your mind wandering.

“You can stop for a bit.”

The vampire’s sudden voice has your eyes flying open. He hadn’t made a single sound, returning to the kitchen. Catching your breath, you nod, keeping the ball still in your hand. You don’t look at the needle in your arm, but you see the bag full of dark red that the vampire sits down and trades for an empty one, attaching the tubes before he fastens them in the same way to the armrest. 

When he’s done, he lifts his hand, and you spot one of his fingertips covered in red. For a split second, he observes it, and then he puts the finger to his tongue. At first, it’s weird to see, and you almost want to tell him that it’s not hygienic to taste other people’s blood. That is before you remember that other people’s blood is what sustains him.

He looks to be assessing something, and suddenly, you’re worried he might not like it.

“B positive," he focuses on you, but you give him a slight, confused shrug because you have no idea what blood type you are or what it means in this context. 

“Is that… okay?”

“It’s… meh. Not the most common but also not the rarest. Most of my kind prefer A or even AB, though.”

“Oh."

Of course, your blood is substandard. You nod toward the filled bag on the table. “Will you have any use for this then?”

Truly, it would be just your luck to not even have the scary creatures, who roam the night in search of victims to drain, want your blood.

“Yeah. Doesn’t matter. I can always use it as a backup if I don’t get the chance to feed in time. Squeeze.”

Per his order, you resume squeezing. The rest of the process goes relatively smoothly, although you’ve started feeling a lot… weaker by the time the second bag is full and the vampire is about to switch it for the third. 

There’s a lot about blood and the human body that you don’t know, and you’re silently wondering what the recovery rate is and if you can really give him this much every week. Does he plan on taking less next time or has he not taken it into consideration?

“Why do you want to die?”

You blink at his bluntness, looking at his uncaring face. He obviously doesn’t care to hear the longer story, and you don’t care to tell it, so you settle for a shorter, more condensed version.

“There’s something wrong with me. I don’t belong here.”

“Didn’t taste like it.”

“Maybe not physically.”

He doesn’t dig further, but when your blood starts trickling into the third bag, the vampire stays seated. You still close your eyes, afraid that you’ll stare at his face otherwise, and he didn’t particularly seem to like that. 

You’re not sure if it’s just the blood loss or a combination of having slept poorly for the last few weeks and being in a calm, silent environment, but you’re feeling tired. Really tired. And cold. 

“Squeeze harder,” his voice instructs, void of emotion. You do your best to follow his instructions, squeezing the ball tighter even though it’s getting difficult.

“We’re done.”

You open your eyes, finding the vampire much closer than before and his fingers swiftly removing the needle from your arm.

“Okay, so… uh…” you start, finding it hard to choose words or even think of what you want to convey in the first place. “Do I come back… same time… next week?” 

“No. Make it two weeks.”

You look at him, confusion written across your features, but it’s hard to focus your eyes on his face. It’s blurry, and there are dark spots infiltrating your vision.

“I took as much as I could, and while you won’t have time to replenish everything in two weeks either, I’ll at least get more out of you than in just one week.”

He smiles, and if you had the energy and maybe (mostly) the common sense, you’d be scared by the way he truly looks so wicked. 

“Okay. I’ll see you then.”

The vampire takes the stress ball from you and rises from the chair with the used supplies in his hands. You grip the armrests best you can, but your right hand slips, and you stumble a little, trying to stand. It’s so incredibly cold, and you feel dizzy, nauseous, and weak, putting your hoodie back on properly.

Very quietly, you hear him move around the kitchen, and while he hasn’t explicitly told you to leave, you’re very much assuming he wants nothing else. So on unsteady legs, you make your way back to the front door, where you grab your coat to haphazardly put it on, and you step into your boots, unable to bend down to tie them properly.

You’re able to make it to your old but trustworthy car that you parked on the street, but when you sit down in the driver’s seat and close the door behind you, you realize that you definitely can’t drive as it’s proving more and more difficult to even keep your eyes open. You can’t walk home, you have no one to come pick you up, and even if there probably is a bus stop somewhere around here, you don’t think you’d make it there. 

So with your last burst of energy, you pull the lever under the seat to push it back a little, leaving your boots on the floor as you bring your feet and knees up. Your coat finds a new purpose as a makeshift blanket, and you cover as much of your body as you can with it. Fully knowing that as you close your eyes, you might never open them again, you don’t care that much. Dying is what you want, anyway.

Surprisingly, you do open your eyes again. It’s dark when you do, and it’s so, so cold. Your heart is beating hard as it tries to circulate blood that just isn’t there anymore, and it’s with a low groan that you move, trying to reach for the phone in the pocket of your coat.

It’s seven p.m.. You met with the vampire at two p.m., and the visit took less than an hour, which means that you got into your car at maybe a bit before three, and so you’ve been passed out for four hours. It takes you a while to come to properly, and even when you do, you feel weak, groggy, and stiff. Ideally, you shouldn’t drive, but you have no other means of getting home, so you decide on a route consisting of smaller roads with lower speed limits and less traffic.

It’s no wonder you feel like you’re on death’s doorstep because when you do some further Googling on blood donation and blood volumes at home, you calculate exactly how much someone of your size would have. And you find that the vampire took 38% of that.

Three weeks later, you’re knocking on his door again. He opens it, an eyebrow raised and looking even more unimpressed than last time. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t show last week, but I was sick,” you inform, hoping he’ll accept your apology. “Didn’t think you would’ve wanted to see… that.”

“You’re right.”

That’s all he says before he turns, leaving the door open for you just like last time. Well, you take that as a sign that you’re forgiven, and so you follow him inside. 

Trying to keep up with him, you’re feeling even smaller and weaker around the tall vampire than before, and truth be told, you are. Because according to those Google searches, while it takes the body only approximately 24-48 hours to replace the blood plasma, it takes four to six weeks to replenish the red blood cells and recover fully. And that’s from having one bag of 450ml donated; you left three and it’s only been three weeks since. Essentially, the vampire is taking your blood a lot faster than you can produce it.

Like last time, you sit down on the same chair in his kitchen, but since he wasn’t expecting you, he has to retrieve the supplies from elsewhere. You remain quiet while he organizes everything, stealing a few glances at him in the meantime. This time, he’s wearing a black t-shirt and black shorts, and you’re amazed at just how… ordinary he looks. In the best way possible, of course. 

Without being too tight, the shirt does a very good job at showing off his physique: it hangs wonderfully off his shoulders and dips slightly between his pecs. It exposes the prominent veins stretching across both his arms and hands, and you wonder if vampires also ‘live’ in the way that he has a heart that pumps blood around his body. Or if he’s really ‘dead’ or ‘undead’ like some media describe them?

“What?” he questions, having caught you staring.

“You look very human,” you say quietly. “Like a college guy.”

An athletic college guy. The one who’s just a little too handsome to be exact.

The trace of amusement that flashes across his face is so faint that you’re not sure you didn’t simply imagine it. He doesn’t respond to your observation, only sitting down and reaching for your arm. His large hands feel a little warmer against your skin than you remember them doing last time, and you turn your head when he prepares the needle. There’s a pinch and then the immediate relief when he loosens the tourniquet.

“Here,” the red stress ball is placed into your hand again. Looking down briefly, you watch your own hand squeeze it, but the red fluid flowing through the transparent tube is too off-putting, and so you close your eyes again.

A minute or so passes while you keep squeezing the ball to some sort of rhythm tied to your breaths. It won’t be long. Soon, everything will be over. 

Somewhere, you lose track of time, and to regain some sense of reality, you flutter your eyelids open. Only to see the vampire stare coldly at you. You freeze.

“I thought you left,” you admit, the surprise clear in your voice.

“I’m keeping an eye on you,” he explains, face still stoic.

You look at him dumbly. “No offense, but why? The point is to kill me, anyway?”

“No, it’s to take as much as possible,” he corrects you. “To a reasonable extent. And then kill you. Here, let me change the bag.”

You close your eyes once more as he switches the full bag to a new, empty one. The dizziness comes a lot quicker than it did three weeks ago, but then again, you’ve been feeling more or less weak and faint ever since that first donation.

“Okay, we’re done.”

You look at him, surprised. “Already? But you didn’t even fill the second bag fully?”

“I took too much last time, and like I said, I want to get as much out of you as possible.”

For the first time, you think you see a hint of a discreet fang when he gives you a blood-chilling smile.

The process of removing everything is quick, and before you know it, you’re putting your feet into your boots again. You feel faint, like your knees might buckle under you any second, but you don’t feel weak to the point of passing out for hours in your car; you do that when you’re home in bed instead.

Suffering from what you gather is immense anemia, you don’t have the energy to really do anything between your visits to the vampire besides lie on the couch and watch TV. You quit your retail job the Monday after finding him in that alleyway, confident (and correctly so) that you wouldn’t be able to handle really any job at all. 

Even rotting away on the couch with your eyes glued to the screen, you can barely understand what the shows are about. Your brain struggles to place the people and remember the plot lines, and you find yourself almost daydreaming instead. Though it’s mostly just flashing images of the vampire whose name you still don’t know.

If your heart wasn’t already so strained, it would beat harder for him in some kind of fear-filled attraction. He’s absolutely gorgeous—and there’s definitely something almost drawing you to him—but he’s also so, so intimidating. If the end goal wasn’t to die, you’d for sure be running for the hills and looking over your shoulder late at night.

Next time, there’s a slight smile pulling on the vampire’s lips when he opens the door.

“Still alive?”

You chuckle quietly, looking down at your boots. “Unfortunately.”

Taking off your coat reveals another simple outfit with no other purpose than granting the vampire access to your arms while keeping your freezing body warm. This time, it’s a thick, brown cardigan over a t-shirt, paired with somewhat baggy jeans.

The contrast between your clothes is almost funny. Even indoors, you’d be freezing in the half-open thin, white dress shirt he wears messily tucked into black, also thin-looking slacks. The gap in his shirt makes you want to reach out and touch his pale chest, but of course, you keep your hands to yourself.

Once again, you follow him inside, and while you don’t need him to, he guides you to the same spot in his kitchen where the stuff is all laid out. 

Sitting down, you slip your arm out of the cardigan and place it on the armrest. The vampire washes his hands and then comes to sit down in front of you, reaching for the tourniquet to position it around your bicep. With the elastic band tightened, he rips open an antiseptic wipe to clean the inside of your elbow, and then, he prepares the needle like always. 

You look away, holding your breath until the pinch comes and for a few seconds after. 

“The whole thing about vampires losing control around blood… I take it that’s just storytelling?”

“Depends,” he answers, and despite not looking at him, you just know he’s got one eyebrow raised and a hint of a cocky smile on his lips. “If we’re hungry and someone happens to bleed around us, yeah, it can be more… tempting. Also depends on what sort of blood we prefer.”

“And you don’t like mine,” you state, your foggy brain concluding it the reason he seems to not care about the vulnerable blood right in front of him.

He laughs this time, a really nice sound that has your strained heart almost skipping an important beat. “I changed my weekly feeding to Thursdays, so I’m still quite full. And your blood isn’t vile, it’s just not what I personally go crazy for.”

“Oh,” you let out, looking at him before something dawns on you. “Wait. You eat once a week only? How much do you eat then? Or… drink?”

He nods toward the bag he just secured to your arm. “Someone of my size typically only needs about two of these a week to survive and not maniacally hunt and kill, but to really thrive? Between two and three liters, so four to six bags. I usually go hunting Friday or Saturday night when most bars and pubs are full. It’s surprisingly easy to find a few drunks stumbling around who won’t even realize what happened the day after.”

“So you don’t… kill?”

“Not if we can help it. There’s been… an increase in vampires around here, and if people drop dead? No, it’s less suspicious and only a little more work to find a few victims instead of draining one dry.”

“Makes sense.”

“Mhm. I typically don’t have to beg women to come with me, either.”

Something ice cold travels through your body at that last sentence. You wonder whose blood was on his lips that night when you found him.

“I can’t believe you’re telling me this, though? You seem like you’d tell me to mind my own business.”

Even more, you can’t believe you asked.

He smiles. “I don’t know. Like I said, people will occasionally find out what I am, find me fascinating, and ask a thousand questions. I’ve always thought it to be incredibly annoying, and I’m not really supposed to tell them anything even if I wanted to—which I don’t—but it’s been… odd, not being questioned by you. At all. Almost boring, like I’m not interesting to you.”

His answer surprises you, and for a moment, you imagine teenage you, not bubbly per se but at least a bit more naive than the current version. Would she be the type to annoy him? You don’t think so. 

“Objectively, you are interesting, but I can’t believe how brave people are? If things were different, I wouldn’t have gone out looking for a vampire in the first place. And if I somehow stumbled upon you, I would’ve run the other way because you’d terrify me.”

Slowly, he smirks at your honesty. 

“I scare you?” 

You’d be lying if you claimed the cold, calculating aura around him didn’t.

You’re not sure if he has any super powers like in the movies, but honestly, he wouldn’t need to be able to lift a bus to kill you. The scariest thing about him isn’t how he could end your life in a hundred different ways either way, it’s how he could drag it out and extend your suffering before doing so. Of course, your body and instincts find him scary, but in a way, your mind… doesn’t? Then again, you’re here because your mind wants him to kill you.

“I don’t know.”

“Hm,” is all he says, his eyes falling to the blood bag. “I have to change it. Hold on.”

“Okay,” you mumble, finding it hard to concentrate. Your heart beats so hard it hurts, but at the same time, your breathing is slowing down. Closing your eyes, you feel him move stuff around.

“How are you feeling?” he suddenly asks, but it doesn’t sound like he cares too much.

“Honestly? Terrible,” you admit, keeping your eyes closed. 

You keep still when you feel his hands on your arm, but then you hear a little… rip.

“Fuck.”

Curiously, you open your tired eyes, seeing the vampire hold the empty bag up to inspect it. 

“This was the last one I had. This brand is fucking terrible quality; how do you make blood bags so weak they rip?”

“You don’t have anything else to collect it in?”

He sighs defeatedly, “No, it needs to be in these kinds of bags so I can store and freeze it properly.”

“Oh. Okay.”

“I’ll have to stock up on them and maybe take more next time.”

You nod slowly and understandingly. That will probably be the last time, then.

About a week and a half later, you find yourself on a bench downtown, your hands in the pockets of your coat to keep them warm. It’s Saturday, and on the other side of the street, a few people are standing in line to be let inside your town’s best version of a nightclub. You’re not certain what exactly brought you here, and you’re sure that if the happy, club-dressed people took the time to observe their surroundings, they’d notice you staring and look at you weirdly in turn.

“Hello?”

Registering the almost rude-sounding voice, you blink as you turn your head. It’s a guy. 

“Huh?”

His face looks skeptic, and he’s got his hands in the front pockets of his jeans. He’s not wearing a jacket or coat of any kind over his white t-shirt, so you gather he’s in the middle of a night out. Probably left a bar for a smoke and spotted you.

“I asked you what your name is? Like three times?”

He’s good looking with black hair and dark eyes, but the tone of his voice is very unattractive, and you have no interest in him whatsoever, knowing he isn’t just looking to be your friend.

“Oh. Uh…”

You don’t say it. It’s not that you don’t remember your name or that you’re making a conscious effort to deny him the information, but it’s like your thoughts are at a standstill. 

“Beat it.”

You furrow your eyebrows in confusion. His lips didn’t move.

“And who are you?” he asks, irritation dripping from his words, and this time, his lips are moving. However, his eyes are not on you but on something behind you.

Just as you’re about to turn around, the man in front of you leaves. His steps are quick, his mission abandoned.

“What are you doing here?”

Of course. It clicks the moment the vampire comes into view, and you’re surprised you didn’t immediately recognize his deep voice. He’s wearing that same leather jacket and some black pants, an outfit still very much inappropriate for winter. Though, something about him feels… wilder, almost a little uncontained? You can’t put your finger on what exactly.

“Uh, people-watching,” you inform as he rounds the bench, sitting down next to you.

Because he’s beautiful like no other, you glance discreetly at his face. He’s so masculine, but in certain lights, you glimpse something softer. You particularly like his nose and its rounded tip. It gives him such an attractive profile, you think, gaze traveling over his features and lingering on his dark eyelashes.

“Why? Isn’t it cold as hell for you?”

“Uhm, I don’t know? And I guess?”

From looking straight ahead, he turns his head, redirecting his full attention to you. The light from the closest street lamp reflects in his dark eyes.

“Is there any truth to that whole ‘vampires are designed to lure humans in’ thing?”

He grins. “I lure you in?”

“You’re more intimidating than you are attractive, actually,” you admit earnestly, wincing a little on the inside at how it came out a bit like an insult. He’s definitely attractive, and maybe the fact that he is so attractive is part of why he’s also so intimidating. “I’m just wondering what you looked like before.”

“I’ve always looked like this,” he explains casually, once again peering out over the cold, dark street. “Vampirism doesn’t change anything besides, like, skin impurities and conditions. I would’ve shown you a picture, but there were no cameras around when I was human,” he smiles cheekily.

“Anyway, you should go home. It’s really cold and not really safe at this time either,” he encourages.

You nod, realizing that he wants to protect his backup supply. “Yeah.”

“Good. I’ll see you next week.”

“Mhm.”

You expect him to get up and leave, confused when five seconds pass and he hasn’t moved. The feeling seems to be mutual because he turns his head to look at you again.

“So, are you leaving or not?”

“I am.”

“Then what are you waiting for?”

You look away, clearing your throat a bit awkwardly and realizing that you might just have to tell him, since he doesn’t seem to be leaving before you. “I don’t think I… can. I walked here, but I think I overestimated myself.”

The vampire looks you over briefly, probably just to be sure, but you both know that your main health concerns aren’t visible. 

“Where do you live?”

“Oh, not that far. Like less than a ten minute walk, but I…”

“What’s your address?”

“124 Conch Street.”

“Stand up.”

“What?”

“Stand up.”

Puzzled, you follow his instructions and slowly rise to your feet. Though you’ve been sitting stranded on the bench for almost two hours, the dizziness returns the moment you stand.

But the vampire isn’t satisfied. “Get up on the bench and undo your coat up to your waist.”

This time, you give him a skeptic look.

“Just do as I say,” he holds his hand out for you.

Slowly and still confused, you take it, and with his aid, you step up onto the bench.

To your surprise, he lets go, and before you know it, he’s unzipped your coat from the bottom up to your waist, positioned himself in front of you, and grabbed your thighs. Instinctively, you place your arms around his neck as he hoists you onto his back and starts walking.

“What are you doing?” you breathe quietly.

“Taking you home in an inconspicuous way. It looks like we’re a couple, does it not?”

“Definitely an odd and unexpected couple if so, but I guess?”

“You’re a pretty girl, you know?”

Your lungs hold your breath for an extra second before slowly releasing it, and then you hum, but it’s only to actually provide him with an answer. You definitely don’t think you’re anywhere near pretty enough for someone like him. He doesn’t call you out on your vague answer.

You’re not the most common sight, couple or not, and people still watch you as you pass them. Unsure as to how to meet their curious gazes, you don’t; turning your head forward instead. When you’re so close, you inevitably catch his scent, only to find that he doesn’t smell like a whole lot. There are traces of soap, laundry detergent, and maybe a hint of cologne, but not much else. No lingering smell of sweat or anything like that.

He walks you through the city and past the alleyway where you first found him. It’s quiet, except for the muted sound of his footsteps as well as those of a man a bit ahead, evidently hurrying to get home and away from the cold.

“Are there more vampires here?” you wonder, looking around the silent street and thinking it might not be as empty as it seems. 

“Yes,” he confirms casually.

It has your brain working, and the surroundings reminding you of why you’re with him in the first place.

“How are you going to kill me?”

If he’s caught off guard by your straightforward question, he does a good job of not showing it. 

“I don’t know.”

“Okay. But I’d rather not bleed out,” you say, body aching at the mere thought. Although you’re certain there are much worse ways to go, you really don’t like the feeling of severe blood loss.

“It’s the easiest way though,” he explains. “It’s not as easy to drain a body without a heartbeat to move the blood around.”

“Are you familiar with livestock?” you ask, thinking back to what your three-year-older cousin once told you as you biked past a field of cows one summer when you were ten. “You can kill the animal and then ‘deblood’ them by hanging the body upside down and cutting their throat. The blood will drain easily. Do you have a bathtub?”

“You’re… a person though, still,” he says, and though he doesn’t falter in his steps, you can tell your words don’t sit quite right with him. “There’s no dignity in an ending like that. And don’t you care what happens to your body?”

To say you’re surprised is an understatement. You thought vampires were all bloodthirsty monsters, only biding their time until they can rip someone new apart. The messier, the better. The vampire, who’s carrying you on his back, made no effort to appear nice either. At least not at first. Now, you don’t even know.

You shrug slightly. You’re not a spiritual person, and you’ve never believed in something like an afterlife. “It’s just meat and bones. I won’t be here anymore, and no one’s going to be looking for me, anyway. There’s no use in keeping things ‘pretty.’”

He doesn’t say anything in turn, and you wonder how much about you he knows. How much about your life he realizes.

The vampire’s smooth movement lulls you further into relaxation, and you lean your head partly against your own arm, partly against him. He doesn’t say anything.

Way sooner than if you would’ve walked with your own two legs—if you would’ve made it home at all—he puts you down in front of your apartment complex. You search your pockets, locating your keys in the left one. 

“Going home now? Since you can’t enter without permission,” you joke tiredly, unlocking the front entrance with the key fob. 

The vampire raises his eyebrows. “I might as well make sure you don’t somehow trip and spill all my blood on the way to your apartment,” he smirks, grabbing the door and opening it wide without breaking eye contact. “And you shouldn’t believe everything you see or read.”

The smile he’s wearing as he makes a show out of stepping inside the building is another chilling one. You can’t say that you expected him to hit an invisible wall or anything, but for some reason, it would’ve almost felt… nice if that were the case. Considering your situation, you’re not sure why. 

The elevator is empty and waiting for you, and after getting inside, you press the button for floor two, the vampire coming to stand beside you.

“Is there anything that is true regarding vampires?” you ask quietly as if someone would hear you inside the elevator.

“Besides the fact that we drink blood?”

“Yeah. Are you like, immortal and stuff? Super old?”

He chuckles. “Kinda. I don’t think anything’s truly immortal, but we do have a longer life span, yes.”

“What about senses? Can you hear my heart beat right now?”

“Yes. It sounds like it’s about to burst through your chest.”

Yeah, because it’s strained to hell and back, trying to keep you alive even in the condition you’re in.

“And super speed, super strength and all that?”

“Mhm, although we’re not so fast we go blurry. Are you impressed?”

“I don’t know? What do you use it for? I can’t think of even one thing having those powers would improve in my life.”

“Tough crowd,” he chuckles, avoiding your question as he follows you out of the elevator. 

You understand that being physically superior is helpful when you’re a literal predator, and yeah, maybe being able to walk a tiny bit faster to work every morning would’ve saved you some time, but what else? Oh, yeah, one time, you had to throw away a jar of pickles because you simply could not get it open. Being stronger would’ve definitely helped you then. 

Reaching your door, you’re quick to unlock it and pull it open to head inside, ignoring the two envelopes lying on the floor in your hallway. The vampire stays at the door, watching as you start to remove your coat two or so steps away from him.

“Are those… bruises?”

Turning your head as you make your way to the wardrobe to put the coat away, you see the vampire looking almost worried. You look down at the skin on your arms. 

“Yeah.”

“Let me look at them,” he urges, holding his hand out.

“Why? They come with anemia; why does it matter?”

“Still, I want to see. Come over here.”

Despite looking oddly insistent, he makes no effort to actually enter your apartment.

Your eyes widen as you look at him. “You really can’t come inside without an invitation, can you?”

He sighs exasperatedly. “Technically, no, I can’t step inside unless you give me permission.”

It makes you laugh a little in wonder. “Wow.”

He rolls his eyes, but you can tell it amuses him a little too.

“Listen, I’ll be fine until we meet again and if the bruises are still there, you can look at them then. I kinda don’t actually want to invite you in, is that rude of me?”

“No, it’s not. Very reasonable, actually.”

“Okay, then I’ll see you Friday?”

He nods politely and steps back. “See you.”

You watch him leave, his footsteps sounding through the hall as you bend down to pick up the envelopes you’ve been ignoring for days. They’re probably bills, and you’ll be dead soon, so who really cares if you pay them or not?

Mindlessly, you approach the door to close it, your focus on the white paper in your hands. You put your finger under the fold to rip the first envelope open, wincing when the paper cuts through your skin instead.

Holding your finger up, you inspect the damage and the little bead of red that’s forming next to the invisible cut. You look at it, furrowing your eyebrows at how you feel like something’s… missing? A moment later, you realize what it is, and your body freezes. 

The footsteps have stopped.

It dawns on you, as you look at the blood, what the vampire was actually doing tonight and why he looked wilder than usual. Early Saturday night, lurking around the clubs until he found you and had to abandon his plans. 

He was hunting.

Your eyes widen and your heart stops as you hear it. One footstep. Then another. And another. They’re speeding up, and soon enough running toward you.

Before you’ve had a chance to shut the door, it flies wide open. Panicked, you move farther into the apartment, but you fall backward and by pure instinct, crawl back as quickly as you can.

Despite claiming that he couldn’t enter without your permission, the vampire falls to his knees, then all fours, to reach you. You’ve never seen anything as scary as the bloodthirsty creature grasping the air, trying to get you. He moves so quickly, and his hand is just about to grab your foot when it’s like… he’s held back by something. 

You're breathing heavily, trying to understand what’s happening. Why doesn’t he just move another three centimeters? He licks his lips in frustration, exposing fangs that are definitely longer than you remember. Meeting his eyes, they’re cold like never before, and he exhales angrily. He’s still reaching for you, and frozen in your spot, you look over at him, briefly wondering if his feet got stuck or something when it hits you.

He can’t step inside.

You sit there, your feet mere centimeters from his grasping hand when there’s a sound down the hall, and in a split second, the vampire seems to snap out of it. He looks at you, appearing to realize what he’s doing and somehow gaining control over himself. Looking around, he gets up, and he leaves. Quickly and without a word.

Wide-eyed and with your heart beating painfully, you remain on the floor, wondering what the hell just happened. Even when his footsteps are long gone, you’re too afraid to get up and close the door, worried that he’ll return and be able to reach you. 

You’d like a very serious word with whoever established the ‘no entering without permission’ rule but also decided that the vampires could cheat it by keeping their feet outside and crawling inside.

You sleep a little uneasy the following nights, thinking a lot. Of course, your thoughts are mostly occupied by those cold, black eyes, thirsty for your blood.

<previous | next> happy halloween <3<3

[kmpac]

Now - THAT - is a confession. Oof. I’m drowning in feels after reading this. These poor babies. Separated by misunderstanding and misplaced anger. I can’t wait for them to find healing together.

dextrocardia | 15

Dextrocardia. Originally a medical term, but also a way to describe someone who's got their heart in the right place.

"She's been moved to another operation to help out. This pairing is necessary because you'll be undercover as spouses. I know you two can be professional about this."

"What?!" It's Jeongguk's upset voice that sounds, and for once, you share his displeased opinion.

Spouses.

pairing: cop!jk x f detective!reader

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

word count: 6k

warnings: self-esteem issues, feelings

rating: NC-17 – Adults Only

masterlist

part 15/? 

<previous | next>

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

The ride home lasts ten minutes, during which you’re holding back tears the entire time. It’s only when you’re finally inside your own apartment that you let them fall. It doesn’t help to see Fenrir’s collar and leash hanging next to your jackets, or his bowls still on the floor. In a way, it feels like you’re back at square one. 

You know you promised Jeongguk you’d call Jihyo, but you don’t, knowing she’d disapprove of you being on your own probably just as much as he does. Still, realizing that sooner or later you’ll need to either get back to work or find another job, you send her a text, asking if there’s any case for you to work on remotely until you’re ready to return fully.

The first night back is emotional, but you’re relieved to finally be home.

“I don’t think it matters how hard you throw it,” a worried Jimin watches Jeongguk hurl a dart at the dartboard. “Actually, I’m pretty sure you’d see better results if you didn’t throw it like an Olympic javelin thrower.”

Jeongguk doesn’t reply, just rolls his eyes and grabs another dart. The music around them is surprisingly quiet, drowned out by the chatter of the bustling bar.

“So, care to tell me what’s up with him?” Jin asks, nodding toward Jeongguk as he sets the three pints of beer on the table and takes a seat. 

“His little lady left him,” Jimin explains sadly, sliding one of the pints closer to Jeongguk.

“Oh. Why? You weren’t a couple, were you?” Jin asks.

“No,” is all Jeongguk mutters before he heads over to the dartboard to retrieve the darts. He has three of them, but only one actually hit the board; the other two embarrassingly stuck to the wood-paneled wall. From the marks already there, he’s at least not the first terrible dart-thrower. When he returns to the table with all the darts in hand, he pushes his designated pint back toward Jimin. “Can’t drink.”

Jimin meets his eyes, looking defeated. Jeongguk already explained that when you’re not with him, he can’t risk being drunk in case you need him. If you called, saying Hoseong had found you, Jeongguk would not hesitate to get on his bike or in his car, no matter how much he’s had to drink, and driving under the influence is something he’d rather avoid.

“She’s scared of me,” he repeats what you told him a few nights ago. Hearing the words from his own mouth stings less, but his heart still aches and his blood boils. He throws another dart but misses the board, and it sticks to the wall a few inches left of it. 

“Wait. What do you mean?” Jin asks, confusion written all over his face.

“Yeah. Although I’m pretty sure she hasn’t ruled out that I’ll just snap one day and kill her, she’s mostly scared that I’ll want to hurt her emotionally.”

“But why would you? I thought you two were doing alright? I mean, she’s been living with you for, what, the last month?”

“We were. Or at least, I thought so. She kissed me, and we were�� getting closer, but I guess it freaked her out.”

“Why?”

“Remember how I told you I was horrible to her before I found out what Hoseong had done? Yeah, the things I said… they were inhumane.”

“What did you say?”

Jeongguk throws another dart, swinging his arm and using way too much force. “What haven’t I said? I’ve told her that she’s too ugly for me to look at, that she needs to stop eating, that she’s incompetent, and that she basically deserved being trafficked if only the traffickers would take her. That’s the short version.”

“Fuck, man,” Jimin breathes in disbelief. Jeongguk told him what happened ages ago but not explicitly what he’d said to you.

“Yeah. I just… I wanted her to hurt, to pay for what I thought she’d done, but she never seemed affected. I’d call her something, and she’d flip me off or glare at me or call me an idiot or whatever, but she never… I thought she didn’t care, so the next time I saw her, I said something worse. But I wouldn’t have, obviously, if I… If I… knew.”

Jin puts his glass down, wiping the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand. “I mean, I haven’t met her, but isn’t she, like, objectively very pretty? From what I’ve heard?”

“Yeah, she is,” Jeongguk sighs. “Which is also why I didn’t think she’d take it to heart, ‘cause what I said isn’t true in the slightest.” 

“But can’t she see how pathetically in love you are? No offense,” Jimin asks. “I mean, I take it you’ve apologized and probably told her what you really think? She doesn’t trust that?”

Jeongguk falls silent as he retrieves the darts again, shamefully avoiding eye contact with his friends on his way back.

“Wait, you haven’t apologized?”

“Of course I have,” he argues before lowering his voice. “I just kinda… fucked it up.”

He feels the confused stares of his friends. “I’ve apologized many, many times for how I treated her, and she seemed to kinda accept that? But I never explicitly apologized for the things I said. Nor have I told her how I actually feel about her.”

He sees how Jimin is about to tell him exactly what he thinks about that, but Jeongguk cuts him off before he's able to.

“After I somehow convinced her to stay with me, I thought carefully about how to act around her. I thought that it would be better to apologize for… everything. I thought ‘I’m sorry for how I treated you’ would cover it. And I didn’t want her to second-guess my intentions, so I didn’t actually tell her what I really think.”

“You mean ‘second-guess your intentions’ as in…” Jin trails off.

“As in think that I chose to help her because I was interested in her. I didn’t want her to think I had an agenda or to feel like she’d owe me in any way. She hasn’t had the best experience with men—men in law enforcement, especially—so I wanted to be as… safe, I guess, as possible for her. I didn’t realize she was still thinking about it, taking what I said as the truth.”

Jimin sighs. “So she thinks you might still consider her the ugliest creature to walk the earth is what you’re saying?”

“Apparently. I tried to convince her before she left, but of course, it didn’t seem genuine. I don’t blame her.”

A bit more optimistic, Jin tilts his head. “You don’t think she’ll believe you if you just tell her exactly what you just told us?”

But Jeongguk lets his shoulders slump. “I don’t think so. She told me I scare her because I have a desire to hurt anyone who wrongs me, and she doesn’t feel like she can read me. And I believe her. I wanted to hurt her, and during the mission, I had to pretend to love her when I really didn’t, so I kept switching up on her.”

The atmosphere shifts from frustrated and sad to just sad as Jeongguk runs his thumb over the dart in his hand.

“I lose either way. If I tell her that what I said back then was true, then I think she’s ugly, and I wanted to hurt her by saying so. But if I say that I lied and that she’s really the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, then I still wanted to hurt her. And after everything she’s been through, she doesn’t want a man with a desire to hurt.”

“But like you said, you didn’t mean to hurt her to that point, more so to be taken down a notch? And it got out of hand?”

“Is there a difference? I’ve hurt her, probably beyond what is salvageable, and she thinks I’m still capable of that; that if we disagree on something, I might turn on her.”

With a deep breath, you pull open the doors to the police station one chilly Monday morning, the sky outside gray and heavy with the threat of snow. It’s been three weeks since you came home, and though Jihyo put up a fight, she eventually agreed to let you stay.

Since months have passed, and you still haven’t caught Hoseong and his crew, you figure you might as well try to get back to normal. So you started planning your return to work, but then Christmas came, which you spent at your mother’s, two hours away.

Jihyo also agreed not to tell Jeongguk about your living arrangements, per your desperate request. You’d rather not deal with his savior complex, and you know he’d park outside your building if he thought you were in danger. You scoff to yourself, but almost immediately, guilt settles in. A savior complex isn’t why he’s worried about you; he’s just a good guy. You know that. Still, you don’t want him to know.

Walking through the station at nine a.m.—on your way to Jihyo’s office to discuss your new assignment—you almost hold your breath. Some officers glance your way, still not used to seeing you back, and maybe even less used to seeing you without Jeongguk. Or maybe they know you had a “falling out?” Would he tell anyone here? Jihyo, maybe, if she didn’t already know, but you’re not sure if he’d tell anyone else; his closest friends besides Jimin don’t work at this station anyway. And Jimin probably wouldn’t gossip about you either.

Jihyo is waiting for you when you reach the door to her office, calling out for you to come in as soon as you knock.

“Hey,” you say, closing the door behind you.

“Hey. Want a donut?” she asks from behind her desk, happily pointing to the open box, a half-eaten donut in hand and what you assume is part of the other half in her mouth.

“Nah, I’m good,” you grin, sitting down in front of her.

“Alright,” she says, swallowing and wiping some crumbs from her lap. “So, I’ve been looking over your request and proposed methods.”

You watch as she pulls her laptop in front of her, setting the donut down on the table, and starts scrolling.

“And I’d say it’s very reasonable if we’re okay with the risks.”

“I don’t think there are any risks at all, actually,” you argue softly. “We parted on good terms.”

“Yeah, I know. And they played a part in your survival. But I’m still gonna need to have a risk analysis performed. Who would you want to go with you? I could assign Sana, I think, if you want her? She’s on an assignment right now, but we’re hoping they’ll be done by Wednesday, give or take.”

“Yeah, that would be great. Thanks.”

“No problem. I’m glad to see you back and wanting to work on what matters to you. I know the chief—ex-chief—did his best to be a pain in the ass for you.”

“Yeah. I can’t wait until the investigation’s finished, honestly. He deserves to rot in jail.”

“Agreed. I haven’t heard anything else from the higher-ups, so they’re probably still elbow-deep in it. Anyway, if you have any details you’d like to show me, I’m all ears.”

Your smile grows, and you reach into your bag for your laptop and notebook.

“Thanks,” you smile, standing up an hour later with your bag in hand. But before you exit her office and close the door behind you, you glance back at Jihyo. “By the way, I’m so glad you got the job. You deserve it more than anyone.”

“Thank you. It’s been… rough, these last couple of months. A lot to do and a lot of stress and pressure, but I think it’s worth it. And I’ve had help, making it easier for me to adjust.”

You know who she’s talking about; you don’t need to hear a name.

“He asks about you, you know.”

Holding onto the door, you look away. You’re well aware of what Jeongguk has done for not only you but also Jihyo, Sana, and the entire police station. 

“Let me avoid him for at least another month. Then you can tell him whatever you want, and I can try to be a better colleague. But now? I can’t… I don’t…”

Jihyo looks at you, seeing the pain well up in your eyes when you think about the reason you left his house that night. If you can just have another month to force the warm, yet invalid and hurt feelings you have for him back into the box they broke out of when you first kissed him, you can try to be more civil with him. Hell, you’ll even work with him if he can keep it professional as well.

Jihyo nods, sad but understanding. After all, she had a front-row seat when he used to tear you bloody.

For another hour, you sit at an empty desk, excitedly looking over the preliminary plan that starts on Thursday. You can’t believe it’s about to actually become reality.  

Step one:

Preliminary timeframe: Thursday. 

Possible obstacles and risks: Low risk of hostility or danger. 

Safety measures: Two detectives, civilian clothes, civilian car, concealed firearms.

Step two: Plan A or B, depending on what you find, if anything.

With your notes full of prepared questions, you rise from the chair, deeming it time to leave the station for the day. As you stand there, organizing your papers, movement catches your eye, and you look up just in time to see Jimin enter the big room. And of course, who does he have in tow if not Jeon Jeongguk, dressed, like so often, in the academy's navy crewneck and uniform pants?

Meeting both of their eyes, you’re saved by your phone’s ringtone, a sound that seems to stop even Jeongguk from taking an impulsive step toward you.

Fishing the phone out from the pocket of your black pants, you swipe your finger across the screen to answer. It’s Sana.

“Hello?”

“Hey! So I talked to Jihyo, and she said that your request got pre-approved? I’m a little busy at the moment and for the next few days, but send me anything you’d like me to look over in preparation.”

“So you’re up for it?” you ask, a wide smile forming. Out of the corner of your eye, you watch Jeongguk reluctantly follow Jimin further into the room, where they start talking to two other officers with their backs turned. If you were more of a hopeless romantic instead of a realistic one, you’d describe the glances he sends your way as… yearning. To avoid his gaze, you focus on the notebook lying on the desk.

“Of course! You and me, just like old times.”

“Old times? It’s only been like a year since we worked on a case together.”

“You know what I mean. Anyway, I gotta go. See you.”

“I’ll send the info tonight. See you.”

Discreetly, you end the call and gather your things, quickly but quietly heading for the exit. But in the corridor, you hear a call of your name. You shut your eyes for a second before turning around. It hurts to see him, to walk these halls, avoiding him just like you used to. Only this time, it’s a different kind of pain.

The shame creeps in at the same rate Jeongguk approaches. It’s the same shame for how he sees you, but also for how you’ve reacted. You can barely look at him, yet you’re ashamed for not giving him a chance, even though he’s the one who made the bed he’s now tossing and turning in. He's so handsome, looking so warm and strong as he approaches, his black hair looking soft, shiny and just a little longer than last time. A part of you wishes he’d close his eyes so that you could throw your arms around his neck and breathe him in.

“Can you please leave me alone for a while?” is what you ask instead, clutching your notebook to your chest.

Now standing right before you, he looks down at you with sad, desperate eyes. “I’ll be quick, I promise. Two minutes is all I need.” 

You’re not sure why, because you’re not an immature person, but you press your lips together, trying to suppress a smile. Noticing the shift in your expression, Jeongguk thinks back to what he said, smiling as well. “I set that one up pretty well, didn’t I?”

You turn your head, trying to stifle the smile, but you find that it fades easier than expected. 

“And you think I’d wanna fuck that?” he snaps, eyeing your body with disgust. 

Your gaze locks on the lower part of the wall. You wish someone would lend you the cloak of invisibility so that you could hide yourself from him and the world.

“Look at me,” he instructs, but you don’t. The more you think about his eyes on your body, the more you want to leave. 

“Look. At me,” he repeats, firmer this time but still without sounding angry. 

So you do.

“I get it if you don’t want anything else to do with me, but I can’t have you walking around, believing what I said is true.”

Although you don’t cry, you reluctantly let him see just how hurt you are.

“You were right. I wanted to hurt you. I said those things because I was angry, and I wanted just… some kind of justice. When you instead seemed so… unfazed, I let it get the best of me, and somewhere along the way, I lost myself. But I was wrong and although I wanted payback, I didn’t mean to hurt you to this degree. I was only looking for a reaction, anything that showed me that you were paying for what I thought you’d done. If I’d known how I really made you feel, regardless of if you were innocent or not, I would’ve stopped.“

“So you’re just a man, after all?” you ask, and maybe it’s uncalled for, maybe it’s not.

Jeongguk takes half a step back, appearing lost for words, and with enough pain in his surprised eyes for you to think he looks hurt.

He blinks and lowers his voice. “Yeah. Just a man. But listen to me—the things I said were. Not. True. Okay? You hear me? I cannot let you go around thinking you’re anything like what I told you.”

“I find that hard to believe. How else would you know exactly where to hit? What to say to cause maximum damage? Talking about my cellulite and my… weight and…”

“I said what I figured any woman would be scared to hear.”

“Yeah, sure,” you dismiss. 

It doesn’t matter what he says now—he did know exactly what to say, which means he must have looked at you, inspected your body and found every single one of your flaws. It makes you nauseous, as if some of those flaws didn’t exist to the world simply because no one other than you had noticed or mentioned them. Then Jeongguk and his friends scrutinized every inch of you, uncovering them all and putting them on display.

“I think you’re gorgeous.”

“You would’ve told me.”

You really think he would have. The Jeongguk who wants you to sleep in his bed, holding you from behind, who asks to hold your hand, and who puts frosting on your lips as an excuse to kiss them—he would have told you if he liked you. If he thought you were beautiful.

“I didn’t. I thought–incredibly dumbly–that if I told you what I really think of you, you’d think I was hitting on you. If things were different, if we ran into each other somewhere without all this… baggage, I would’ve hit on you, but all I wanted at the time was for you to trust me as a friend and to trust that I just wanted you to be safe. I didn’t want you to think I was looking to get laid or that I would… that I was anything like Hoseong. I didn’t know that you took my bullshit to heart—because again, it’s just not true—and so I chose not to say anything.”

“But we’ve been past that point for a while, haven’t we?” you ask, finding his explanation a little too weak to believe. “I trusted you enough to tell you about the worst moment of my life, I kissed you, and I told you how pretty I think you are, yet you couldn’t even…”

Frustration boils in your veins, mixing with the raw disappointment and hurt which cools you back down. You feel so… small, so defeated. “I don’t need compliments. Just… something. Something that would’ve shown me you weren’t being sweet only because you felt guilty.”

Jeongguk doesn’t know what to say to that. In retrospect, yeah, he should’ve told you, and thinking back to his joke about pretty being for girls makes him cringe with both shame and regret. Especially since he’d used multiple occasions to taunt you with the fact that you’re not a pretty girl. But it had been hard, finding a balance in showing his affection without scaring you off. When you reacted the way you did that night during the power outage, he... didn’t want to risk making you more uncomfortable or afraid. He’d decided to take a step back, let you lead, and he would follow. Of course, that backfired horribly.

You look at him, hurt still brimming in your eyes.

He searches for words, trying to explain himself better. “I should’ve told you, but I… I didn’t want to risk making you uncomfortable. I wanted to follow your lead and let you decide everything. You wanted me handcuffed and blindfolded—of course I realized you were nervous. But I thought you were more worried I’d do something to you, rather than what I would think of you. I didn’t want to influence you to do anything you would’ve regretted.”

You’re clearly not convinced, and you shake your head slowly.

“You could’ve just given me a ‘you too.’ That’s all I would’ve needed.”

Jeongguk can only watch as you leave, obviously still very much hurt by him. Ten seconds after your footsteps have disappeared, he heads back to the desk area, his head hung low.

Jimin looks at him, JJ and Min gone. The unasked question hangs in the air, and Jeongguk can see Jimin realize that no, it didn’t go very well.

“You gotta remember that she’s had a hectic few months and maybe wasn’t really able to process everything. You being an ass was probably the least of her worries for a while—until it wasn’t anymore. And healing isn’t always linear. I’m sure she’ll come around one day.”

Jeongguk sighs. “I don’t think she will, and I can’t expect that of her. I just… hate myself for what I did to her. I never even realized she was just walking around, bleeding from my words.”

You haven’t fixed your car since the last tampering, but fortunately, Jihyo agreed to lend you one of the station’s unmarked cars. A discreet black thing that you park outside the station at ten a.m. on Thursday to pick up Sana, who needed to retrieve some things and told you to meet her there.

Getting no reply, you lock your phone and step out of the car with a sigh. The ground is powdered white, your shoes leaving tracks as you walk up to the station’s main entrance.

Warm air envelops you as you step inside, the doors falling shut behind you.

“Good morning!” Sana rushes over, a coffee in hand. “Sorry, I’ll be done in a minute, I just gotta ask Mark something.”

She gestures for you to follow, and you do, trailing behind her into the sea of desks. The place is unusually crowded with officers, so you decide to wait near the wall, leaving her to weasel her way into the middle on her own.

There usually aren’t this many people here when you’re around, but in your case, the problem isn’t necessarily people; it’s big, strong, law enforcement men. Though they’re not paying you much attention—they must be preparing for something big—you still can’t will your body to fully relax.

By instinct, you tug at your clothes, wishing you hadn’t left your jacket in the car. Since you decided to wear civilian clothes today, you thought you might as well dress somewhat according to your original mission’s dress code. Except adjusted for winter, of course. 

You’re wearing winter boots that reach your upper calves, a pair of those invisibly fleece-lined pantyhose you’ve seen all over social media the last few months, and a cream-colored knitted turtleneck dress. It’s been in your closet forever, but unfortunately, you didn’t try it on before you had to leave.

It feels too tight on your body. Not to wear into a ‘strangely religious neighborhood,’ but too tight to wear here. You pull at the hem where it ends at your mid-thigh, keeping your eyes down when people pass you and hoping no one is looking at you and taking note of how awkwardly shaped your body is.

You stand there for a while, avoiding people’s eyes while you wait for Sana.

However, when you—out of the corner of your eye—notice a uniformed man walking toward you, you look up. Jeongguk’s eyes flicker between you and the people walking past you, as if he’s seen exactly the shameful way you carry yourself around men—these men—nowadays. It’s gotten worse since you left his house; you know that, but when all of your confidence was fueled by anger and then denial, removing those leaves… not much left.

He comes to stand in front of you, looking down at you with frustrated eyes. He’s so broad, so imposing, and it’s very evident when he wears his navy uniform, the sleeves rolled up his veiny forearms.

“Listen to me—”

You look away, about to step back, but he grasps your hand—not just to stop you but to guide the two of you a few steps away from the path of officers and behind the tall panels of a cubicle.

“No. Listen to me. I’ll leave you alone after this if that’s what you want, but I need you to know that you are so incredibly beautiful.”

You sigh, looking at him and wordlessly begging him to just give up already. He’s quiet for a few long seconds, his frustration seemingly growing.

When he speaks again, his voice is calm, more earnest. “Do you remember the first time we met?”

“No,” you shake your head. You can’t recall the very first time you met him.

“I do. It was a rainy day—my fourth at the station—and I ran into you at the main entrance. The rain had wet your hair, and I held the door open for you. You thanked me, but you didn’t really smile much, just politely. I think you also bowed your head slightly. I remember thinking that you must’ve been cold from the rain, but I realize you were wary around the men here, even if you and I didn’t know each other.”

Sounds about right.

“And I thought that you were just so beautiful.”

You look down. It’s humiliating, and you feel like shit, hearing him throw compliments your way just to make you feel better. You can’t tell if he’s lying or not, but what else would he say? You can’t exactly say you expected him to approach you today to call you ugly.

Noticing your hesitation, he appears to be searching his mind for something, and you glance at him. 

Suddenly, his eyes widen slightly, and he reaches into the pocket of his navy uniform pants. It’s his phone that he pulls out, and he starts to scroll. He scrolls, and he scrolls, until he finally finds what he’s looking for.

“Look,” he says, handing you the phone.

Although you’re not too keen on entertaining whatever this is, you can’t help but be a little curious. What could he have on his phone that would convince you?

Accepting the device, you start reading the words on the screen. They’re text messages from an old group chat, dated years back, and though you can’t remember the exact date Jeongguk first showed up at the station, you assume it was right around then. The chat seems to have consisted mostly of him, Ryung, Hoseong, Seunghwan, and Junseo.

Seunghwan: Yeah, we’re excited to have you, just let us know if you need anything.

The next few texts are from the following day.

Jeongguk: So I just met the most gorgeous woman I think I’ve ever seen??

Jeongguk: Quick question, is there a work dating policy here? I can’t remember. 

Jeongguk: And if not, where do I find this woman again? Is she an officer? I’m not even kidding when I say that I’m absolutely head over heels from a three-second interaction, and she didn’t even really say anything. 

Jeongguk: I’d love to ask her out.

Ryung: If it’s who I think it is then you better stay away, man.

You read on, seeing how Ryung goes on to describe a woman’s features, which happen to align with yours. The length, color, and style of your hair, the color of your eyes, and your height. But also a very generous way of describing your face and the shape of your body.

Jeongguk: Yeah! Is she with one of you already? In that case, I apologize!

Ryung: No, but Hoseong did her briefly, and she’s absolutely mental. Pretty, but crazy

The next words are not very nice, the men urging Jeongguk to stay away from the woman who could only ever be you, promising to tell him what happened the day after.

“See,” Jeongguk says, “Even Ryung knew exactly who I meant; I didn’t even have to describe you, just say that you were the most gorgeous woman I’d ever seen.”

You’re not sure. Yeah, the evidence points to that, and you can’t deny that you’re definitely feeling some form of relief, but… you can still hear his voice in your ears, see the anger and hatred in his dark eyes.

You hand the phone back, and Jeongguk looks around, sighing before turning his attention back to you. “You want me to be completely honest? Tell you exactly what I think of you?”

Your eyebrows knit together in confusion. “No? That’s the point? I know that I’m not your type. I’m full of flaws. I don’t have a body fat percentage in the negatives like you, I don’t always have the energy to shave every inch of my body, and I’ve never gotten flowers. No matter what you say now, I’m not someone you want.”

“You think I’m someone who would care about any of that?” he asks, his voice tinged with hurt.

“You look like someone who would.”

Jeongguk looks away, taking a second to gather his thoughts.

“I… wanted to ask you out that day, after I first met you. You looked so pretty out there in the rain, and I think my heart stopped for a while. I think that you’re cute—really fucking adorable—and charming, and you’re smart and kind, and you’re absolutely breath-taking and sexy as hell.

"Which was another reason I was so angry at you; I saw this… stunning woman, who appeared to live a very privileged life, yelling ‘sexism’ whenever something didn’t go your way to… I don’t know, avoid consequences and get ahead, not realizing what sexism truly meant for other women. I didn’t think there was that much harm in what I said because I thought you knew very well how goddamn pretty you are, so I gripped at every straw, trying to get a reaction.”

You listen to every word he says, still unable to decide. You want to believe him, but the deep wounds he carved into your skin are still bleeding.

“I was so conflicted during our mission. On one hand, I had to pretend to like the person who had shot one of my best friends, who got away with it and refused to be held accountable for it. On the other hand… I liked seeing you pretend to like me too. First, out of spite, but then I realized that I liked seeing you smile, and how nice you were to the people around you, except for me, of course, but I guess I always started it. Then you fell asleep in my arms at the barbeque, and I knew I was fucked. I felt like I betrayed my friends for… feeling something other than hatred for you. 

“But this little thing, that hated me so much, let herself be so vulnerable as to sleep in my arms. And I guess I looked at you differently after that. The more I realized that you might actually be a pretty decent detective; a decent person, the harder it was for me to be mean to you. After everything, and after I’d found out what had happened, I wanted to tell you how much I liked you and how pretty I thought you were, but I was scared you wouldn’t come with me if I did. I was scared they’d look for you at your apartment, so I kept quiet.

“Even after you came to stay with me, and it seemed like you started to trust me, even just a little bit, I had to convince myself to wait. And the more I got to know you, the harder it became. Do you have any idea how much I wanted to bury you in flowers? Hold you and kiss you silly? And you know why I was always up before you—or at least I tried to be—when you slept in my bed with me?”

You shake your head because you don’t know.

There's something else in his eyes when he holds your gaze, “Because I dream about you, and I wake up hard. But I remembered how I freaked you out when we made out back at the house, when you were on my lap and I got hard. I didn’t want to scare you or make you uncomfortable, so I made sure to wake up before you, just in case.

“I wanted to kiss you and hold you and really, it would’ve been my pleasure if you’d wanted to sleep with me. But more than that, I wanted you to be safe and feel safe, never doubting why I was doing what I was.”

He shuts his eyes for a short moment. “I guess that’s all I can say. I don’t need you to forgive me, I just need you to know that all I wanted was revenge; nothing of what I said was true.”

He opens his eyes again, looking into yours with his soft, brown ones and a gentle sincerity. Though it’s overshadowed by something else. “I have many regrets, but you are my biggest. What I did to you.”

Regret.

As if she’s been waiting for the right moment to make her return, you hear Sana call your name. When you turn around, you spot her approaching.

“I gotta go,” you excuse yourself.

Sana looks between you and Jeongguk, but when no one says anything, she shrugs and turns her attention to you. “So, Jihyo said you had a problem with your apartment? The door, was it? Cause I can call my brother, and he’ll fix it for free next week if you want?”

“You’re living in your apartment? On your own?” Jeongguk questions, his voice upset.

You turn back at him, “Yeah. Have been since I left your house. It’s fine.”

Despite the clear worry his eyes display, he makes no effort to follow you and talk you straight, probably realizing that there’s nothing else he can do; that was his last chance.

<previous | next> author's note: so there's that! thanks for waiting for it <3 this was the last puzzle piece of their past, i think, and i'd love to hear your thoughts on everything, but especially him lol <3<3

[kmpac]

Man, I love this story. The evolution of understanding and empathizing that is going on between these two is insanely cathartic and beautiful. The clarification of misunderstandings and truly working through it and coming to truly see each other.

I absolutely love how justice is coming for all the assholes too. I just hope justice is fully served with all those guys involved in the stabbing!

Ps. The way I couldn’t help repeating in my head over and over “kiss, kiss, kiss!” At the end. Oh my god!!! Feeling his scars?!?! Shut up! I love this story sooooo much!!

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)!!

[kmpac]

HOLY.

HELL.

I was not prepared. That was …

between takes | 03

as a fluffer for a popular porn star, your focus is to keep him hard and performing on set. turns out he's not the only thing that's hard.

pairing: porn star!jk x f fluffer!reader

genre: porn star au, fluff, angst, smut

word count: 6k

warnings: smut in the form of head (f receiving), slight handjob, games

rating: NC-17 – Adults Only

masterlist

part 3/5 

<previous | next>

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

He stills when he spots you, and your eyes meet for a few seconds. It hurts because you don’t have anything to say to him, and he can’t tell you anything that would change the situation, either. You turn your head back to the girls in front of you, who are laughing loudly at something you missed.

Though, it doesn’t take long before you hear a voice call your name. Everyone at the table quiets down, and you do as well, turning your head.

Jeongguk looks… good. Strong, honest… he looks… worried and almost bothered by something but not scared to stand in front of you and your coworkers with everyone’s eyes on him.

“Can I talk to you?” he asks, not tearing his gaze away from you. 

“Uh… sure,” you answer, looking apologetically at your surprised but not overly concerned friends and Doyoung as you slide off his lap. “I’ll be right back.”

Jeongguk waits until he sees you near him, and then you’re following someone outside for the second time that night. Your thoughts are all over the place. What does he want to talk about? What did Wendy say to him? 

You can’t deny that your heart skips a beat, being in his presence. Even more so when he holds the door open for you, and you very well could simply reach out and touch him. Maybe his chest, surely warm and firm even through his black t-shirt, or his strong and capable arms.

Ever since you first met him, you’ve felt an insane pull to him, and it’s not much better now. It’s like it’s twice as intense, like your longing for him only increases it, and you have to stop yourself from reaching for him. It would feel so nice, though, to warm your cold hands against his skin, run them up his chest and down his back underneath his shirt.

When outside, he keeps walking until you’re at the corner of the building where he turns to you but doesn’t immediately say anything. You’d almost forgotten how it feels to be in his presence, to have him look down at you in front of him. 

“So… what did you want to talk about?” you ask, your voice sounding more confused than you’ve started to feel. After all, how many topics could he choose between?

“How are you?”

You blink, unsure if that’s what he really wanted to ask but feeling like you don’t want to push it. “I’m… good. How are you?”

“I’m alright. Been missing you.”

You take on a slightly skeptical expression, feeling like his warm but slightly careful words don’t really belong between the two of you, at least not from his side.

“You didn’t want me there, Jeongguk,” you remind him, unable to keep the frustration from leaking through your words. “You didn’t even tell me you had feelings for someone before you made the decision.”

In turn, his voice turns frustrated too, although less angry. “Yeah, cause I overheard you, and it fucking broke my heart. I loved you, but I was nothing to you, just a porn star.”

“What?” Your mind halts, trying to understand what he’s trying to say. “Jeongguk, you were the only reason I stayed as long as I did; I already told you that.”

“Then why would you tell Wendy you’d never date someone like me? You don’t think I’m good enough for you.”

You’re transported back to the last day you spent on ‘good’ terms. 

You zip up your jacket, then meet Wendy’s eyes sadly. “I do like him, I think he’s… great and really sweet, but… he’s a porn star, Wendy.”

Wendy bites her lip looking at you like she understands. 

“I just… can’t. Not a porn star.”

“I get it, I just think it’s a shame,” she says, lifting her bag to reveal a small box on the floor.

“Oh, aren’t those Jeongguk’s?” you say, bending down to pick it up, “I’m pretty sure these are his earbuds.”

“You turned back for your earbuds, didn’t you?” you conclude after putting the pieces together.

Jeongguk looks sad and disappointed, his frustration turned low. “Yeah. I thought we had… something. But how could I continue to work with you when you not only didn’t feel remotely the same as I did, but I would never be good enough for you because of my profession?”

You’re not surprised he took what he heard the way he did; after all, not everything was said out loud and much of the conversation was contextual. It just wasn’t meant for him to hear, and you hadn’t thought he had.

“I didn’t look down on you…” you try to explain, finally realizing why he did what he did. Somewhere in the back of your mind is also the fact that he just confessed to liking you. Or at least back then.

”Forget about it. It’s fine. I get it, it’s not for everyone, I was just hurt–”

“–I’m a stubborn, insecure bitch, alright? That’s why I didn’t tell you I liked you. You’re practically perfect; you’re sweet and kind and funny, and insanely hot, and you fuck other hot people for a living. How would I handle that? I couldn’t, so I never said anything.”

It’s his turn to have a realization, and for a moment, he looks to be searching for words.

Finally, he regains his thoughts, and as he takes a step closer, you notice the change in atmosphere. The increasing intensity brewing in his eyes is slow and gradual but strong like a tidal wave. 

“That guy…? Are you with him?” he asks, and his voice is lower than mere moments ago.

It’s worse now, the heat of his body pulling you in like the strongest magnet. “No,” you breathe. “And you’re not with Joy?”

He shakes his head. “I lied.”

Slowly, he lifts his hand to run his fingers softly along your jaw, keeping them there as he steps so close you can smell his cologne. “If you don’t kiss me now, I–”

Of course, you want to. You want and you wish and you desire, and maybe you would’ve even if you were entirely sober, but the relatively small amount of alcohol in your system makes it an easier decision. Perhaps it’s not the best decision, but you physically can’t stop yourself, knowing that he wants you too.

Swiftly, you grab his cap, putting it on your own head but backward, and you can confidently say that nothing has felt as right or as natural as throwing your arms around Jeongguk’s neck, and from the tips of your toes, connecting your lips to his.

You close your eyes, and you enjoy the softness of his lips, the taste of him, and the feeling of his arms pulling you closer by your waist. You just can’t get enough of him, wanting more and more and more. You let one of your hands venture below his shirt and up his toned stomach, pulling at his hair with the other as you tilt your head to get a better angle. Jeongguk groans, moving you backward against the brick wall until your back hits it. It’s an urgent kiss, lips moving hastily like you’ve been waiting for something for far too long or like you’re running out of time. 

Biting his bottom lip, you pull back half an inch. His chest moves with every breath against you, and the audible breath he lets out is so desperate and horny you’re not sure what to do with yourself.

You let go, laughing giddily, both in relief and surprise, before going right back to kissing him. This time, he urges your lips apart with his tongue, licking into your mouth. Unsurprisingly, he tastes a little of beer and some other alcoholic beverage, or maybe that’s also from you. Moving his hand, he pulls you flush against him by your waist.

“My place?” he asks after pulling away breathless, his lips ghosting the corner of your mouth. “It’s not far, like a six minute walk. Four if we hurry.”

You smile wide, face flushed and lips surely already swollen. When you peer up at him, still with your arms around his neck, you really see what you missed so much since you quit. Dark, almost black eyes, honeyed skin, the dark and defined eyebrows, and the most attractive nose. 

“Yes, but I’m like a ten second power walk away from getting blisters from these shoes just so you know.”

“Okay, there are, like, three options you can choose from,” he informs cheekily, smiling down at you in a way that has goosebumps rising on your skin. “Either I carry you, you power through and have me bandage you up later, or I fuck you in the next alleyway over.”

Heat spreads through your body, and your heart is going haywire as you try to keep your cool.

“How romantic.”

“I don’t care, I only need you.”

“Do you?” you tease, running a hand down his chest and toward his pants. After leaning sideways to peer behind him and confirm you’re alone, you dip your hand beneath the waistband of both his jeans and underwear.

He breathes a shaky breath when you touch him. Like always, he’s warm, and he’s big, and although he’s not rock solid, he’s definitely… firm. You run your thumb over the head, watching with a smile as Jeongguk’s heavy-lidded eyes stare you down.

“Continue like that and I’ll have to bend you over something right here.”

You gaze up at him somewhat innocently, jerking even slower than you used to. “I’d like to see you try.”

“Fuck. Can we go?” he almost pleads, shutting his eyes in pleasure and leaning his forehead against the side of your head. “I’m about to go crazy.”

You let go of him, pulling your hand out of his pants and nodding eagerly. God knows you’re just as affected as he is. Sure, continuing to tease him outside a bar like this sounds fun, but it’s nothing compared to the thought of having all of him, sweating above you, underneath you, inside you…

“I need to grab my jacket and bag.”

“I… need my jacket as well.”

Wiping your mouth and running your fingers underneath your eyes in case of any makeup smudges, you step back. “How do I look? I gotta look believable when I lie about going home because I don’t feel too good or something.”

“Heart-breakingly gorgeous,” he grins, lifting his hand to reclaim the cap you’d forgotten was on your head. He puts it on himself, adjusting it slightly. “What about me?”

Licking your lips, you inspect him briefly. Sure, his face looks a little bit flushed but not abnormally so after a night out. Your heart is beating way too fast, and you feel… high. 

There just isn’t anyone as attractive to you, no one you want more. 

“Stupidly hot. Like someone I’d almost let bend me over something and fuck me in an alleyway.”

He laughs, and you continue, “Maybe it’s the cap. You know I love it when you wear caps.”

“I know,” he grins.

Jeongguk surprises you by pulling you into him by your waist quickly, tilting his head to not poke you with the cap, and noses at your ear. “Be quick.”

Goosebumps rise on your entire body again, and when he lets go, you nod. “Meet back here in a minute or two?”

“Yeah.”

Body on fire from the inside, you search your brain for the best excuse. It’s not that you’d be ashamed of sleeping with a porn star but you feel like a bad friend for ditching your company, even though hanging out is a common occurrence and you spent time together after work only a few days ago. 

The booth is chatting wildly about something when you return, and so you approach quietly, not wanting everyone’s eyes on you for your performance.

Lisa, who’s on the far end of one side, and Doyoung, who’s at the other side, of course notice your return, their eyes watching you curiously. 

Doing your best to appear serious, maybe even a little… sad, or maybe disappointed, you keep your voice low. “I’ve gotta go. It seems me and him have a lot to talk about.”

“Oh?” Lisa raises her eyebrows, “You sure? He’s a good guy, right?”

“Yeah,” you nod assuringly because Jeongguk is definitely one of the good guys. “Don’t worry, I’ll be fine, we just need to… sort out some stuff as to why I quit and such.”

“Just call if you need anything,” Doyoung informs earnestly.

Once again, you nod, thankful to have good friends, maybe even better friends than you deserve tonight. On your way back out, your denim jacket unbuttoned over your shirt and with your bag in hand, you feel bad. It’s mostly for lying at this point, but the feeling is soon forgotten when you spot Jeongguk leaning against the wall after you’ve stepped outside. He’s wearing a jacket of his own, a black, oversized bomber jacket.

“Hi,” you smile, feeling almost giddy.

“Hey,” he returns, quick to push off the wall and look around. “What did you tell them?”

“That I left with you to talk everything out. Think they bought it. You?”

“The same, basically.”

“Okay…”

Half a second later, he’s approaching you quickly, grabbing your hand in his, “Come on, we should hurry.”

You laugh, letting him pull you with him. It’s not like you want it any less than he does. “Or what?”

He looks both ways before pulling you behind him across the street.

“Well, if I don’t have you in, say, ten minutes or so…”

A good kind of thrilling chill runs down your spine, and you quicken your step. “We’ll have to hurry then. This way?”

He confirms with a nod, and you walk in front of him, soon reaching another, deserted crosswalk and traffic light.

Before you can press the button, Jeongguk pulls you back by your hand, and somehow and very smoothly, spins you around so that you’re once again facing the traffic light.

However, your arm is wrapped across your stomach, and your back is pressed against his front. You hear the sound of the button being pushed next to you, and you feel him press himself even further into you. 

With no one around, you close your eyes, reveling in the quiet breath that ghosts your ear. “You have no idea how long I’ve waited for this.”

The sound of a car nearing has him untwirling you to face him, still holding your hand. The black car passes, but your moment alone is over as voices approach from behind. Peering behind him, you spot a group of young people, a lot more inebriated than you, closing in. The light turns green, and you start to cross.

Despite the ‘hurry’ you’re in, the group consisting of around seven people are faster, and after crossing the street, Jeongguk pulls you to the side with him to let the unruly party-goers pass.

You stand beside him, innocently placing your palm on his stomach while you watch the people–who look like they’re celebrating someone’s birthday–walk past you along the main street. You can’t help yourself, moving your hand in under his shirt instead and feeling his warm skin and defined muscles. 

“And you don’t think I’ve wanted you, or what?”

“I can’t answer that,” he says, groaning when you pinch his left nipple slightly.

“What? You said it yourself, that you thought–knew–we had something. Of course, I wanted you.”

“Mhm,” is all he says when you look up at him, bewildered.

“What is it that you’re not telling me? I’ll pinch harder if you don’t tell me. I’ll make you suffer.”

Jeongguk laughs at your warning, “You know I’m highkey into that, though.”

You’re about to deliver a double handed attack on his chest when he grabs both of your hands. You’re forced to follow when he starts to back away into a side street. 

“Where are we going? I thought it was that way?”

“It is, I just..” he positions you with your back against the wall of a building whose corner you just rounded, and he steps closer, letting go of your hands in order to push his body even closer to you. “I have a question.”

You feel his hands rest on your hips, and he wedges one knee in between your legs. You drop your bag, and it ends up on the pavement beside your feet with a low thud.

“Okay.”

“The contract. Your preferences. Is that… what…”

It’s in the way he licks his lips but still looks down at you in earnest. You’ve made out, but otherwise, it’s really only been you touching him. 

You take a second to collect your words, smiling as you explain. “I wasn’t sure when I started, and I didn’t change anything because if you were to touch me, I think I would’ve gone insane.”

“I mean… I definitely suspect they would’ve had to physically pull me away from you if you would’ve let me touch you, so maybe it was for the best. I would’ve lived between your thighs.”

Another wave of heat spreads through your body as you image the vision of him between your legs, both fucking you and eating you out. You’ve seen him do both acts countless times, have heard the sounds of pleasure echoing through the different sets.

One of his hands inches down from your hip to where the front pocket of your jeans ends. “So my question, I guess, is… what about now?”

You can barely think, but you know from the way he still looks so genuinely patient that he’s not doing anything else if you’re not clear with him. 

Despite never having any problems with it before and making it pretty clear he wanted to sleep with you, you feel bad for not asking him before putting your hand down his pants earlier.  

“Disregard them. I don’t want to be choked or intentionally hurt, and I’m not into anal, but besides that, if it’s not too crazy, do it.”

“Of course. Tell me if you’re ever uncomfortable.”

You nod your head, and he turns his, looking around. The street is empty, and so he returns his attention to you, continuing to move his hand. Just like you expected, he runs it directly to your crotch, tracing the middle seam in your jeans. Your hands move by themselves to grip at his shirt, and when he puts pressure right on your clit, your knees nearly buckle and you gasp.

“Oh my God,” he breathes at your reaction, licking his lips hungrily. Instantly spreading your legs wider with his knee, he repeats the action but faster, seemingly drunk on your body’s response. The overwhelming pleasure has you leaning your head back against the wall, your eyes closing and your mouth opening as you breathe faster.

“Jeongguk…” you moan quietly. He’s everything you see, hear, feel. 

“Fuck. You’re so responsive,” he groans, “How are you real? We should stop, we need to stop. I’d love to make you come in your pants, but I think I’d come in my pants too.”

Slowly, he stops and moves his hand back to your hip, clearly very affected. “I just know you’re wet. So soaked and turned on that anything I’d line up would sink right in. I bet you could even take my cock without any sort of prep.”

“You’re kind of a monster, though,” you say, fisting his shirt in your hand.

He chuckles, “I’m not that big. Just slightly above average.”

“Slightly above average for male porn stars. Who, naturally, are already above average. I don’t think anyone could take anything that size without prep.”

He rolls his eyes, “I was trying to dirty talk; of course I’m not just gonna shove it in. We’ll do it at your pace.”

“In that case, I probably am wet enough that it’ll slide just in,” you say, continuing his dirty talk. “Warm and wet, just for you.”

Almost like he can’t control it, his hand starts inching back down slowly, “And I bet you taste divine, like absolute heaven, fuck–we need to hurry.”

Once again removing his hand, he now takes a step back, grabbing your hands and pulling you away from the wall. What you don’t quite expect him to do is let go of you and bend down to throw you over his shoulder, grabbing your bag too.

“Jeongguk?!”

“I don’t want you to get blisters, but don’t worry, we’re not too far away now.”

You have an inkling that maybe he was worried your legs wouldn’t carry you, which… they would, but you would’ve definitely needed a few seconds to collect yourself.

The rest of the journey takes a little more than a minute–at least according to your half-sober calculations. Jeongguk can’t keep his hands off of you, patting both your ass and your thighs and making you giggle.

Occasionally, you pass some people, but you assume the reason no one is stopping him to check on you is due to your regular laughter. You, however, don’t even notice most of them before you see legs somewhere in your peripherals.

When you’re finally let down, you’re already inside the dark hallway of Jeongguk’s apartment. You brush the hair out of your eyes, instantly coming face to face with the man himself, who cages you in against the wall. It’s either one of his favorite things to do or he just associates you with the position; after all, it’s how you spent a lot of time on set.

He throws away his cap and sheds his jacket into a pile on the floor before he helps you out of yours, which then meets a similar fate.

“You’ve seen me naked so many times,” he murmurs, tugging a little on the neckline of your shirt.

“Probably more naked than clothed.”

“Exactly. So I think it’s only fair…”

“Then undress me,” you quip, moving away to back into the rest of the apartment with his hand held loosely in yours. “Where’s your bedroom?”

“Second to the right. You know, I think this is the best day of my life.”

Grinning, you lead him into the room, tearing your eyes away from his to briefly take in your new surroundings. The room is large, and there’s a big bed against one of the white-painted walls. It’s clean, but you can tell Jeongguk isn’t a neat freak because the duvet is pulled up somewhat haphazardly with no bedspread in sight, there’s a few items of clothing hanging over a dark blue loveseat in the corner, and a gaming console and a few game cases lie on the floor underneath the huge wall-mounted TV. 

“Adult film business pays well, I see?”

When you turn your attention back to him, he’s still watching you, shrugging halfheartedly. “I’ve got what I need. Now, at least.”

“How romantic,” you repeat your words from earlier. 

Jeongguk chuckles, helping you out of your shirt and tossing it in the direction of the loveseat. Immediately, you tug on his black t-shirt as well, and he yanks it over his head in a swift motion, dropping it to the floor. 

“I’d consider myself a romantic guy, yeah.”

You roll your eyes, letting him reach behind you to unhook your black lace bra, something he does effortlessly and with one hand. The back of your knees then hit the edge of his bed, and you go down.

“You’re even better than how I imagined you,” he swears, his hungry eyes on the way your tits bounce.

“You’ve imagined me naked?” you tease, crawling higher up on the bed.

He follows you, climbing onto the bed to stand on all fours above you. When you reach a hand out, touching his sternum, he sits back, seemingly wanting to take in the sight of you properly.

“I think you should strip for me,” you propose cheekily, making Jeongguk raise his eyebrow.

“Strip? I’m a porn star, not a stripper.”

“If I remember correctly, you played a stripper like a year ago. I know you can dance.”

“I promise I’ll dance for you next time, but the more urgent stripping is yours to do.”

You roll your eyes jokingly again, to which Jeongguk smirks, leaning down to kiss you passionately. 

Wrapping your arms around him, you tangle your fingers in the silver chain he wears around his neck. He continues to kiss you, but moves from your mouth to your jaw and then your neck. 

It’s addictive, the warmth of him against your skin, and you’re so desperate to have him close, wanting to feel every little part of him. His warm mouth on your pulse point has goosebumps rising on your body.

Continuing his journey, he kisses his way down to your breasts, groaning before enveloping your right nipple in his mouth. You moan quietly, moving a hand to his hair and keeping the other on his back.

He’s gentle in the way he kisses, sucks and bites on your nipple, using his other hand to pinch your left one between his fingers.

Way too soon, he lets go, and you open your eyes to see him looking down at you, just an inch or two away.

“You can’t leave any marks on me,” he reminds softly, and you blink, realizing your hold on his back caused your nails to form those half-moon marks on his skin.

You’re quick to let go, “Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” he smiles reassuringly, lowering his head and his main focus to your other breast, placing small kisses around your left nipple. “You know, if it were up to me, I’d let you leave all the marks.”

“Yeah,” you agree quietly, saddened by the reminder that he’s not yours. Even if he might want to be, which you’re not entirely sure of, you can’t make him yours. You focus on the feeling of his soft hair between your fingers.

Jeongguk doesn’t seem to notice, and you don’t dwell on it too long as he unbuttons your jeans.

“Can I?” he stops to wonder, gazing up at you.

“Go ahead,” you nod, and he hooks his fingers into the belt loops, pulling them down your legs.

“To actually answer your question, of course, I’ve imagined you naked. I’ve imagined you on set, fucking you instead of them, I’ve imagined you at home, here in my bed, letting me do whatever I want to you.”

His smirk has you pulling a little on his hair. “Well, you obviously don’t know me very well if you think I’d just ‘let you do whatever you want to me.’”

“I know.”

With your jeans removed, you’re left in nothing but a matching, black lace thong. “In fact, I think I remember saying that someone should fuck the brat out of you, and it looks like it might have to be me.”

You let go of his hair and lift your feet as he then slides your panties down your legs. Looking hypnotized, Jeongguk traces his fingers across your knees and licks his lips. 

“I mean, you can try. But right now, I gotta taste you before I go insane,” he says, putting his hands on your raised knees, intending on spreading them for his eyes.

“Nuh uh,” you object, scooting higher up on his bed and keeping your legs closed. “Not with that attitude.”

Jeongguk’s eyes go big and round, and it almost makes you laugh. 

You definitely feel desired, holding so much power in your hands. “You want to?”

“In this moment? More than anything in the world,” he admits in what sounds like pure honesty.

The smile that spreads across your lips is almost wicked. “Then you’ll have to follow my orders.”

“You’re evil,” he lets out, sounding almost like a whine, “what do I have to do?”

You laugh at his misery, trying to think of a plan and settling on one with a smirk. “I need you to answer a question first.”

“Okay, shoot.”

“How close?”

He looks at you, bewildered. “As close as possible?” 

“Hm, okay. You might regret that. Stand.”

Obeying without much thought, Jeongguk stands up, watching you intently and waiting for his next instructions. You take a second to admire him in the low light, no shirt and his jeans hanging low on his hips. He looks so warm, and you feel like you definitely won’t have the patience to tease him too much because you need his body against yours or you’ll freeze.

Your eyes trail upward, over his muscular chest to his arms and the veins that run across them. His tattoos look much darker in the low light, but you know them like the back of your hand anyway.

The silver chain around his neck is on the shorter side, begging for you to pull him in by. There’s a confident smile on his face, as he watches you check him out. Maybe you’ll definitely also pull him in by his hair.

If only he knew exactly how goddamn unbelievably wet you are for him, and the kind of absolute need and desire you feel for him. It’s a thrill and a goddamn confidence boost to know that it’s you having him follow orders just for the chance to pleasure you. It’s you he wants to be with, at least physically and at least in this moment.

“I want you to kneel by the end of the bed.”

Wordlessly, he sinks to his knees, keeping eye contact with you where you sit higher up on the bed, your legs still closed for him.

“Before I say so, you can not touch.”

He doesn’t have time to say anything before you slowly open your legs, and you almost laugh at how quickly his attention is turned from your face to your wet pussy.

To taunt him, you hold your middle finger in the air and then lower it to slowly and lightly run it up your slit. It feels good, the touch of your finger is almost electric, and the anticipation of having him somewhere right there is fueling your heartbeat all by itself.

Miserable, Jeongguk rests his cheek defeatedly against the bed. “I want you,” he complains.

“You’re a brat, though,” you remind, making a show out of touching yourself oh so slowly.

“I’m not. I’m good. I’m so good for you.”

“In the moment, yeah. Do you remember what your answer was?”

His eyes flicker to yours, and seeing the smug smile on your lips, he groans in what sounds like pain.

You close your legs, and Jeongguk sits up straighter, watching as you crawl toward him, stopping to sit in front of him with your legs to the right of him and your weight supported by your left arm.

“Remember, no touching.”

And so you swing your left leg over his head, resting both legs on his shoulders.

Immediately, he grabs your thighs, seemingly holding on for dear life. Since you technically touched him first, you guess you’ll allow it. “You’re the devil,” he breathes, eyes fixated on your sex and how it’s dripping for him just inches away. “I can’t believe you’re doing this to a poor, desperate man.”

Testing the waters, he blows on your cunt, but you do your best to ignore the sensation that has goosebumps rising on your arms. Instead, you put your finger right back, showing him just how you like your pussy touched. A moan slips from your lips as you circle your clit, breaths growing heavy when you instead lower your finger to slowly push inside.

“Because I want you to surrender.”

Suddenly grabbing your hand, Jeongguk holds it in the air and watches the wetness glint on your finger. He licks his lips, using his hand to guide your finger into his mouth.

But you’re not letting him, pulling your hand back from his open and awaiting mouth. “Uh uh.”

“Do you not want me to eat you out until you come? Stuff you full of my fingers? My cock?” he questions, eyes lowering to practically devour what’s in front of his face. 

“Of course, I do,” you admit honestly, even the thought making your head spin, “but first you–”

Despite boasting about the amount of sub roles he’s done, Jeongguk is not the best sub, evident by the way he suddenly pulls you closer toward him and dives face first into your pussy. You shriek, caught by surprise and then immediately overwhelmed by pleasure as he eats the hell out of you.

“Oh fuck,” you moan shakily, your hips moving by their own accord as he flicks his tongue over your clit.

“I’ll make you come so hard for doing that to me,” he pauses for a brief second to warn, as if that’s a punishment for you.

You shut your eyes tightly, arching your back off the bed as he continues french kissing your cunt. 

“How many times am I going to make you come tonight?” he wonders, his words strained. While he talks, you feel him put an intense pressure on your clit with his finger and slowly sink another into you. “Five is too little, but eight seems like overkill, at least tonight. Maybe next time. So, somewhere in between? Should we start at six? I want you to wake up tomorrow, after all.”

For a few seconds, you let him go back to desperately eating you out, slowly pumping his middle finger in and out of you, but his cheeky words and attitude have you thinking. He seems to enjoy the prospect of making you come over and over again almost a little too much, and isn't he the one who should be punished for failing to follow orders?

Your breaths are shallow, shaky, as he practically overwhelms you with his tongue, holding your hips as still around his head as possible.

Your entire body feels like it’s on fire, and you really don’t want him to stop because you’ve never felt this good and honestly, this desired and in love, but it will be worth it, you tell yourself.

“Stop,” you muster up an order, your voice breathy as the tension in your lower belly grows a little too quickly. 

He does, removing both his face and hand from you and looking at you with wide, almost worried eyes. “Why? Are you alright?”

You try your best to catch your breath, rising to your elbows to get a proper look at him.

“You can’t make me come.”

His worry turns more into confusion, “What do you mean? Of course I can.”

“No, I meant you’re not allowed to,” you grin, watching him piece it together, “cause you chose not to follow orders.” 

Jeongguk wraps both arms around your thighs again, holding them tightly, “So it’s not that you don’t want to continue this, but you just feel like denying me that pleasure because I didn’t follow your stupid orders?”

Your grin widens in confirmation. He uses his arms to spread your thighs further in front of him, redirecting his eyes down to your cunt.

“Your rules, are they the same as before?”

“I don’t know, I just want you to follow my instructions.”

“No, not those. Your rules; no choking, hurting, anal, or anything too weird, are they the same?”

“Oh. Yeah,” you confirm with a nod.

“You’re familiar with the color system of safe words?”

You raise your eyebrow at him, watching him still staring intently at your pussy laid bare in front of him. It looks like it’s taking all his concentration and willpower not to attack it.

“You mean red for ‘stop,’ yellow for ‘hold on, something’s not right,’ and green for ‘keep going?’”

“Yeah,” he answers, looking up to give you such a heated gaze, you feel yourself throb. “Cause if you want to deny me, you’re gonna have to fight me. I’ll have your six orgasms, thank you very much.”

<previous | next>

author's note: so... anyway, how's the weather where you're at?

[kmpac]

Hot damn! That was exactly what I needed tonight! I love this storyyyyy.

between takes | 02

as a fluffer for a popular porn star, your focus is to keep him hard and performing on set. turns out he's not the only thing that's hard.

pairing: porn star!jk x f fluffer!reader

genre: porn star au, fluff, angst, smut

word count: 3.7k

warnings: mentions of sexual positions, also yearning and feelings, otherwise pretty tame

rating: NC-17 – Adults Only

masterlist

part 2/5 

<previous | next>

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

Life is great. Quitting your part time was the best decision you could’ve made. To be honest, even if you could work remotely, Jeongguk fucking someone just yards away was too much of a distraction. The work you managed to do wasn’t up to your standards, and you were forced to compensate, work dragging out into the late nights. It tired you out, and you rarely had the energy to meet friends or family.

Now you do. You wake up, feeling rested, and you’re up to date with everything at work, sometimes even ahead. You see your family and you meet with friends beyond your colleagues. You’ve even started taking long daily walks around the park close to your apartment.

But something is still missing. You’re still pretty busy, but your thoughts drift when you’ve gone to bed or when your ears are filled with music as you trudge the familiar route around the park. In those moments, your heart hurts. 

You miss him. 

Although working there for slightly more than a year and becoming pretty close, you never exchanged numbers since you were adamant about keeping your work and private life separate. Or more like, keeping Jeongguk separate from your private life. The only message you got was an email from the company saying you forgot your laptop charger there. You have multiple, so you didn’t bother getting it. Until your other broke, and you’d promised yourself to stop wasting so much money.

So, four months after you thought you left the big, shiny building for the last time, you’re once again pushing open one of its large entrance doors. In and out, just take the elevator to the reception and they should have your charger there. It won’t even take five minutes.

Except that there’s someone you don’t know working the reception, and she seems to have trouble answering the man in front of you’s question. If there’s one thing you don’t need, it’s for Jeongguk to see you, so you bite your lip, hoping the woman finds what she’s looking for soon. It’s earlier than you know he usually arrives, but you can never be too sure.

Finally, the man thanks the receptionist for the number to someone in production, and you take his place at the desk.

“Hi, I used to work here up to around four months ago. I got an email saying that I’d forgotten my laptop charger, so I’d like to pick that up, please?”

The woman nods and smiles at you before she rolls her chair away to open some drawer. You hear the sound of things rustling around as she’s obviously searching for it. Unfortunately, she mumbles something and returns to her original position, scratching her head.

“Uh, It’s not here, but I remember Yeri said something about reorganizing the lost and found, but I–”

She’s interrupted by the phone, glancing at the number displayed and sighing. “You know Yeri?”

“Yeah,” you nod, “I do.”

“She’s in B42, why don’t you go and ask her? This is going to take a while,” she speaks, lifting the corded phone and putting it to her ear. “Hello, this is Nayeon at Adam & Eve, how may I help you?”

Confused, you mouth “I don’t have a keycard anymore,” to which she removes the phone from her mouth and covers it with her other hand. “They’ll let you in if you knock.”

Poor Nayeon looks like the person on the other line is the last one she’d want to talk to, so you figure you’ll cut her some slack.

To get to B42, you need to take the elevator up to the fourth floor and into the ‘B’ corridor, and it doesn’t take you long to do just that. Standing in front of the locked door, you place three solid knocks on it and wait a few seconds until it opens. Turns out it’s another familiar face that greets you, dressed in nothing but what looks like a firefighter’s thick, yellow pants.

“Hey? I, uh, thought you quit?” 

“Hey… Taehyung. I did, yeah, but I forgot something here, so… I’m looking for Yeri?”

You’ve only spoken to Taehyung a few times, but the tall blonde has been nothing but polite, and he is now as well, smiling down at you and opening the door wider to let you through. “She’s over there,” he gestures behind him into the middle of the room.

Like he said, you spot Yeri on the set, dressed in jeans and a dark red turtleneck sweater, talking to two men who carry heavy equipment in their arms. She stands with her back toward you and therefore hasn’t spotted you, so you step into the room.

The set is another one meant to look like a regular home, and considering what Taehyung is wearing, you guess a beautiful, seductive woman is about to burn something on her stove and receive a valuable fire safety lesson from a hot firefighter.

“Yeri?”

She turns around at the sound of her name, breaking out in a smile when she recognizes you.

“Hey!” she exclaims happily, “How are you? Are you coming back?”

“Oh, uh, no, I just came to get my charger, Nayeon seemed to have her hands full at the reception, so she asked me to find you.”

“Oh, I see. Well, we had some of the new but delayed filming equipment finally delivered, so I just need to tell these guys–no, more to the left!--uh… where to place it all. I’ll be done in like… two minutes and you can follow me to the office?”

“Sure, no problem.”

“Great, so, tell me, what do you do these days?”

“I work full time as a data analyst, so it’s pretty different from… ,” you start, gesturing around you to the large set. But as you’re doing so, you happen to also peer around the big room, nearly doing a double take when you see him. 

Apparently, Taehyung isn’t the only firefighter meant to teach someone a lesson because not far from the door you just entered through a few minutes ago, Jeongguk stands. Just like his coworker, he’s only dressed in those big, bulky firefighter pants, the red suspenders hanging loosely from his waist. 

You look at him, and he looks at you, his brown eyes wide. But he isn’t alone. A woman stands before him, looking up at him with one hand down his unbuttoned pants and the other splayed across his chest.

You blink, turning your head away quickly, “Pretty different from this.”

Yeri chuckles, oblivious to the strange feeling in your chest. “I bet.”

A man dressed in black asks her about some cable to which she points to her desired outlet.

“Get ready everyone, ten minutes!” someone calls out, and people put in an extra gear. You spot a beautiful woman, dressed in short shorts, a tank top, and with her makeup looking flawless, leading you to believe that she’s the one about to be spitroasted for endangering her neighbors.

“Hey,” a voice you’d recognize anywhere sounds from behind you.

Turning around, you’re once again met with those brown, round eyes. A woman calls for Yeri and she rushes over to help with something, leaving you alone with Jeongguk.

Seeing him again has your heart dropping. Was he always this big? This thick and muscular? His honeyed skin looks so warm, and your own body is telling you to just please take a few steps closer so that you can wrap your arms around him and touch him like you used to.

“Uh, hi…”

“How are you?” he asks honestly, disregarding the people moving around him.

“I’m… good. How are you?” you ask politely in return. The woman he just left behind stands leaning against the wall, looking at her phone but glancing worriedly at the two of you. She’s really pretty, so while it feels like someone is strangling your heart slowly, you’re not all that surprised.

“I’m alright… Listen, I didn’t think you’d quit,” he reveals, looking sad and almost regretful.

“Yeah, I was thinking about it for a pretty long time, actually. The only thing that kept me was… well… you.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, so I take it it went well?” you nod toward the woman behind him. “Is that… her?”

He turns his head to look behind him before returning his eyes to you. “Yeah.”

“She’s your girlfriend, like officially?”

It’s a fair assumption considering he didn’t want you touching him because he was in love with someone else. You wonder if she was in the business before getting to know Jeongguk, or if she applied for the job because she got to know him.

“Yeah.”

It’s like a stab to the heart. You never pursued him because you knew it wouldn’t work, but it still hurts to see him with someone else. You had your reasons, but you still feel like an idiot who made their life’s biggest mistake.

Just in time, Yeri returns smiling at the both of you, “So, are you ready to go?”

You nod before addressing Jeongguk, your feet already moving you back toward the door. “Look, I gotta go. It was nice seeing you again, Jeongguk. Good luck with everything.”

He nods slowly, mumbling something you don’t quite catch.

For the next two months, you don’t think a lot about Jeongguk. Or, at least you try not to, but he still manages to weasel his way into your late night thoughts and even dreams. Your biggest savior is work because without it, you would’ve probably just been moping around.

And work is… fun. After overcoming the initial bout of imposter syndrome, things are improving, and you’re well on your way of becoming pretty close with some of the coworkers your own age. They definitely make work itself more fun, but you also spend time together outside of it.

“Here you go,” Jennie says, placing the colorful drinks down on the table before taking her seat on the opposite side of the curved booth. 

“Thanks,” Lisa grins, reaching for the yellow one and immediately bringing its straw to her mouth for a sip.

Already slightly tipsy, you thank Jennie as well, your hand grasping the pink one you ordered, your third for the night. 

“Where are the guys?” Rosé questions from beside Jennie, “I thought they’d be here by now?”

“Doyoung said eleven, so… now, essentially,” you answer after glancing at your watch.

Lisa elbows you softly with a teasing smirk, “So, Doyoung…”

You roll your eyes, moving the straw around in the glass, “We’re friends.”

“He definitely likes you, though, and he’s really cute.”

He certainly is. And honestly, he is your type of man: sweet with big, round and dark eyes, a sense of humor, and an… incredible body. You’d be insane not to blush just a little when he’s around.

But before Doyoung and the other male coworkers show up, another group of people does. You notice them by accident as you’re leaning back, trying to see if there’s a line to the bathroom, your eyes landing on a very familiar muscular back and head of dark hair. He’s standing at the bar together with Taehyung, Jimin, and two laughing women; Wendy being one and the other being his… girlfriend.

They’re too far away–with too many dancing people between you–to see you, and so you turn your attention back to your own table. Turns out that the guys are running late, and no matter how hard you try, you can’t keep your eyes from slowly drifting away from your friend group.

Jeongguk is wearing all black; a t-shirt, baggy jeans, and a black cap, similar to the one he wore on set that last day. He looks so big, so muscular where he stands, talking to his friends and holding a beer. You swallow uncomfortably, painfully aware of how your body just absolutely still longs for him.

“You okay?”

Blinking, you turn your head back to Jennie, “Hmm? Yeah, of course.”

Jisoo observes you, so you put on a big smile that seems to convince her. Though, soon enough, you really do need to visit the ladies’ room, so you pick a moment where it seems like the entire bar is cheering for someone or something, and you slip through the crowd seamlessly.

The line takes five minutes, and when you’ve peed, you sit on the lid for an additional thirty seconds, the loud but muffled music beating in time with your heart. You don’t want to be considered rude, but you hope Jeongguk doesn’t notice your presence. If you’ve learned anything since quitting the fluffer job, it’s that Jeongguk meant a whole lot more to you than you thought. Or at least that missing him feels more intense than you could’ve guessed. It’s just salt in your wounds that those wounds could be partially self inflicted and that his girlfriend is really pretty. 

Before someone knocks on the door, you gather yourself, adjust your jeans and red top, and unlock the door to step out. You hear her call your name before you see her. Wendy. She’s all dolled up tonight, wearing a short, sparkly black dress and her hair in a high ponytail.

“Oh my God!” she exclaims with her arms open, turning her head to speak to the girl after her in line, “you go ahead.”

Wendy wraps her arms around you, and you do the same, feeling a genuine smile pull on your lips. “It’s nice to see you, Wendy.”

“I’ve missed you!” she gushes, “How are you doing?”

You let go of each other and step back.

“I’m… good. Out with my coworkers. How are you?”

“I’m great, especially now! And also out with coworkers,” she grins, motioning over her shoulder before turning somewhat serious. “Can I ask what happened?’”

Surprised, and confused, you feel the lines crease on your forehead. “Uh… what?”

“I figured something must’ve… happened,” she explains, looking slightly worried. “Between you and Jeongguk? Something that made you quit?”

“Quit? I quit because he switched me out.”

Surprised herself, she meets your eyes, “What? He didn’t say that. Why?”

“He didn’t want to work with me anymore. Said he had feelings for her,” you nod toward the group still standing by the bar, Jeongguk speaking to his fluffer and girlfriend.

“What? That’s not possible; she started like a month after you quit, and they didn’t know each other before that.”

Your thoughts spin inside your mind. You just assumed that if he didn’t feel comfortable with another woman touching him like you did when he was in love with someone, he wouldn’t get another fluffer. Except if that fluffer was the girl that he was in love with. And he confirmed it, didn’t he?

You and Wendy stand in silence, watching each other in confusion. “But he… I went back for my charger a while ago and I saw them and asked if she was his girlfriend. He said ‘yes.’”

Wendy narrows her eyes, appearing deep in thought. “Like I said, they met after you quit, so… ”

You shift the weight on your feet. “Look, don’t worry about it, it doesn’t matter. If he didn’t know her at the time, he either lied to get rid of me or he had feelings for someone other than her,” you shrug, trying to play it off like both options don’t hurt. “But they’re dating now, so it doesn’t matter.”

Wendy looks between you and over her shoulder at the people in the distance behind you. “You know what I think?”

That Jeongguk truly lied to get rid of you? That you somehow did something that made him dislike you, practically from one day to another. Or… maybe it came slowly and gradually until he just couldn’t stand you anymore? It almost brings tears to your eyes to consider.

“No?” you mumble, apparently loud enough–or your body language clear enough–for Wendy to understand you.

She grabs your arm and motions for you to follow her. A look toward your friends confirms that they’re not looking for you yet. After all, the lines to the bathroom can be pretty long, so it won’t be strange if you disappear for another minute or two.

She weaves through people until you reach the entrance, where the colder outside air leaks inside. You follow her outside where she stops and turns to you.

“Okay, so… They’re not dating. I mean, Joy for sure is interested in him, but I think he’s in love with you.”

At first, your eyes widen, before they narrow and you scoff lightly. “He didn’t feel comfortable working with me, I doubt he’s somehow in love with me.”

“Yeah, I don’t understand… everything, but listen. He doesn’t care for her. Sure, he’s nice cause he’s Jeongguk; he’s always nice, but… it takes a whole lot longer to… prepare him for shoots.”

“Prepare..? You mean get him hard?”

Wendy nods earnestly, “Yes. Like, twice as long, easily. I even saw him pop a blue little pill the other day.”

Though her discoveries make you… sad?, you sigh, feeling your shoulders sink a little. “Wendy, that doesn’t mean anything, you know that. Men of all ages experience… troubles like that sometimes, especially if you’re expected to perform as often as he is.”

“Sure, but look at the whole picture; he’s not as vibrant and excited to come into work as he was when you were around.”

You bite the inside of your cheek. Of course, a part of you wants him to miss you. You want to have meant something to him, but you’re not sure you believe her. And even if it was true and she’s right, he switched you out. For whatever reason, he didn’t want you there.

“It could be… seasonal depression,” you mumble, gaze directed toward the street. “Look, Wendy, I gotta head back to my friends.”

She looks as if she wants to say something, but the sad smile you give her as you start to back toward the door again stops her, and she decides not to.

“I’ll see you around?” she tilts her head hopefully, and you nod despite knowing that you weren’t close enough to even have exchanged phone numbers to begin with.

The walk back to your friends feels weird. Some questions were somewhat answered, but new ones just popped up to take their place. If not Joy, who was he referring to when he said he’d started seeing someone? Could Wendy be right about him missing… you? 

Going back to the basics, it hurt you a lot when he simply decided one day not to work with you anymore because you thought you were something, good friends at least, yet he didn’t even warn you. You had hoped, maybe stupidly, that even if he didn’t want you to touch him like that anymore, that he’d still have you as a regular assistant? After all, getting him and keeping him hard wasn’t the only thing you did.

There are more people around your booth when you arrive, tall men squeezing into it next to your female friends. You smile toward whoever notices you as they’re settling down.

“What’s wrong?” Lisa mouths, eyes worried.

You keep your voice down as much as possible, sighing before you smile sadly. “You know the guy I worked with before? He’s here.”

Lisa’s eyes widen just as you hear a voice say your name. Directing your head forward, you meet Doyoung’s brown eyes. He sits in your previous spot, at the far end of the curved booth, and he pats his thighs. You could probably squeeze in next to him, but it’d be a tight fit, and following Jennie’s lead, sitting on her boyfriend’s lap, is probably more comfortable. 

“The porn star?” Lisa asks hurriedly, her gaze searching the room, “Where?”

You take a seat on Doyoung’s thick thighs. “At the bar. Tall, wearing all black. Cap.”

The moment she finds him, Lisa swats Rosé’s arm next to her, getting her attention and motioning toward Jeongguk.

“Porn star?” Doyoung asks from behind you, having heard the loud gossip. Though you’re not one to spill the details of your past job to just anyone, you don’t feel like you need to keep Jeongguk a secret in that way.

Glancing at your old colleagues where they’re throwing back shots at the bar, you also know Jeongguk isn’t embarrassed in the slightest by his profession.

“Yeah. I used to work part time as an assistant at Adam & Eve.”

“Shit. For him?” another of your male coworkers–Johnny–speaks in awe. “I’ve definitely seen him.” 

With Johnny’s shameless admission, the conversation turns to revolve around porn-watching habits. You tune out the men and their curious thoughts regarding just how many women a porn star has slept with, and how they definitely don’t have trouble getting laid in their private time either.

Doyoung reaches for your hand, pulling you back into him slowly, not appearing starstruck or too curious about Jeongguk or the porn industry.

“You okay?”

You nod, “Yeah. We weren’t… I just thought we were better friends than it turned out we were.”

He hums in understanding, getting the hint that you don’t really want to go into details about it. And how would you explain it? That you dream about him–not necessarily his body but the way he can step inside a room and just warm everything up? How he made you laugh and forget about the world around you, and how he always listened to you complain about uni when you were still in it despite possessing no knowledge of computer science? How he would, intentionally or not, make you feel so beautiful and desired, even though he was the one naked and never you? How would you explain missing him so much it hurts, and when you wake up after dreaming about him, feeling empty? 

Sitting on Doyoung’s lap with a drink in front of you and your elbows on the wooden table, you start feeling better as the conversation moves on. You try not to let your eyes wander from your table and company, but the one time they do, you spot Wendy on her tippy toes, speaking into Jeongguk’s ear while the rest of their company down another shot.

The second she steps back, you watch him look for something. Or someone, more precisely. You. 

<previous | next>

author's note: hey, i hope you like it despite it being a bit shorter (the next part and the part after that are pretty.... long and eventful LMAO reminder: there is no taglist

[kmpac]

My man ateeeeeee

'Standing Next to You' official teaser

[kmpac]

WHAT🧍‍♀️

dextrocardia | 08

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: 6.3k

warnings: a lot of talk about assault of different kinds (sexual included), harrassment, sexism, there's blood and very serious injuries, trauma heavy. if you feel very bothered reading stuff like that, please skip this <3

rating: NC-17 – Adults Only

masterlist

part 8/? 

<previous | next>

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

“Answer me. You’re a double agent?!”

You’re too terrified to be embarrassed by the way you’re trembling, sitting on the floor in your pair of black cotton shorts and gray t-shirt, pressing your back against the wall furthest from the door. Not that nor the tears that start to wet your lashes and soon enough roll down your cheeks.

Despite not being too surprised, you’re obviously not any less scared.

“Please don’t,” you beg, your vision starting to become blurry from tears, “you don’t have to do this. Please, Jeongguk.”

You focus on the silhouette of him, the dark blue dress shirt and black pants. “I know what I did was wrong, I know, but I didn’t know what else to do. He was pressing t–too hard, and I couldn’t breathe.”

Tears and fear block your throat, and your heart beats a thousand beats a minute, but you try your best to get the words out, try to convince him even though you know it’s a lost cause.

“I know I’m not im–important or pretty, but I didn’t want to die. What was I supposed to do? My hand slipped out, and I–I just reached for his g–gun.” 

Wiping the tears with your wrist, you see how he changes tactics, the way Jeongguk’s eyes have gone from furious to looking worried. How he’s put on his acting face.

“What… what are you talking about?” he asks, voice void of any anger as he takes another step toward you. “I didn’t mean to raise my voice or scare you, I’m sorry, but what… are you talking about?”

Quickly reaching for the razor blade in your bra, you accidentally cut your finger when you remove the blade from its case. Blood drips down your hand as you raise it in a pathetic warning.

“Don’t come any closer,” you try to sound confident, but maybe it is a bit embarrassing how your voice shakes and your hand is so unsteady that you have to support it with the other. “Please, just let me go, Jeongguk? I’m pulling the report, and I’ve apologized. If you let me go, I’ll disappear tonight, okay? You won’t ever have to see me again.”

Your gaze is drawn to the knife still gripped by his veiny hand, and so is his. A second later, he tosses the knife to the other side of the room where it hits the floor with a clinking sound and looks to bounce underneath the bed, closer to you than him, as if he wouldn’t still be able to reach it before you.

“What… report?” he asks, sinking down to one knee, still only a few steps into the room. “What are you talking about?”

But you’re not fooled by those pretty eyes, and it frustrates you how he thinks he can look at you softly and have you forget everything. It lives permanently in the back of your mind. The threats, the attempts, the fear, and now ultimately, the defeat.

“Stop pretending, Jeongguk,” you plead, sniffling. “We both know what this is. If you’re going to do it, just… get it over with. Please. Don’t play with me like this.”

Like he’s thinking hard, maybe even realizing something, his eyes lose focus, and he stands up.

“You’re talking about Hoseong, aren’t you?”

You’re quiet—well, as quiet as a crying, pathetic mess can be—when he looks down at you. You’re not sure what it is that he’s hoping for, if it’s for you to lower your guard and vulnerably crawl into his arms or if he’s deliberately trying to provoke you to get a reaction that he can answer. You meet his eyes with your razor blade slowly lowered, and he waits for something, his eyes searching yours for answers he already knows. But you can’t give them, and he backs out of the room with you still trembling on the floor.

Raindrops smatter against the windshield as Jeongguk drives toward the city.

His phone dings with a text, and he raises it, reading the preview.

He sets his course toward a more specific goal. A bar.

It’s long since dark when he steps out of the car, locking it behind him and looking around. It took him around forty-five minutes to reach the well known destination, and he spent them all in silence, his thoughts loud enough.

The wet pavement reflects light from the streetlights and a few neon signs, and Jeongguk walks with determined steps up to the door and pushes it open, placing the car keys into his breast pocket for easy access.

Inside, it’s busy as usual. People are sitting in booths or on bar stools around round tables or the bar itself, and they’re laughing, chatting loudly and singing along to the music.

Not long after entering, Jeongguk spots them. His friends. There’s three of them, sitting around a circular table.

“JK, hey!” Seunghwan calls, alcohol evident in his flushed cheeks.

Jeongguk nods in a neutral greeting, coming to stand before their table. Hoseong tips his bottle of beer slightly to the side, looking at him curiously. 

“Thought you were shipped out? How’s it going?” he speaks loudly over the music. “Can’t believe you got her to apologize, man,” he grins, leaning back.

“Had to ask you a few things,” Jeongguk answers at the same volume, finding it harder than he thought to keep his emotions at bay, “about her, actually.”

 Hoseong and Ryung both raise their eyebrows, but Jeongguk continues. “I want to know what happened that night. When you got shot.”

Although looking surprised, Hoseong still lets a smile pull on his lips. “Well, I fucked her. You know that, and she got pissed because I wasn’t interested in being her boyfriend.”

Seunghwan chuckles, but Jeongguk doesn’t find it funny.

“You ‘fucked her?’” he repeats. He knew that, but this time, he’s looking at the situation in a new light. 

“Yeah, I fucked her,” Hoseong shrugs, toning it down just a tad, like he’s suspecting where Jeongguk is taking the conversation.

“Well, did she want you to ‘fuck her?’ Did she threaten you with the gun because you turned her down, and you were shot by accident?” Jeongguk stares at the person he thought was his friend. “Or was it intentional?”

For about two seconds, Hoseong just looks at Jeongguk like he’s… assessing something, and Jeongguk isn’t sure how the man in front of him will react.

But he leans back again, rolling his eyes lightheartedly. “Oh, come on, man, don’t be like that. You know how women are these days, they want to be tied up and fucked, but when you don’t want her to call you ‘sweetie pie’ and hold hands, they scream ‘rape.’”

Jeongguk holds his breath for a second, trying to keep his cool. He looks around at the unsuspecting environment. “Let’s talk outside, I can barely hear you in here.”

Before he turns on his heel, heading back toward the exit, he sees Hoseong stand from the barstool nonchalantly.

It doesn’t rain anymore, and the outside air is a lot colder than the sweaty atmosphere inside. Somehow, the difference in sound level makes the situation all that more real. Jeongguk walks away from the entrance to give them some privacy, not to be nice but to maximize his chances of getting the entire story.

“You forced yourself on her, didn’t you?” he turns around, putting his clenched fists in his pockets. Hoseong and Ryung followed, but Seunghwan stayed behind. “You tied her up in the hotel room you were staked out in for that case, and you raped her. She got free and shot you in self-defense. Am I getting close?”

“You’re overreacting, dude. You know she was in love with me, right?”

Jeongguk feels his anger and frustration grow, but he tries to keep calm. “I knew that she loved you, yes, but it doesn’t mean she automatically wanted to sleep with you. She filed a report too, didn’t she? What happened with that?”

Hoseong shrugs indifferently, and it’s unclear if he doesn’t know or doesn’t care. Or maybe he just doesn’t want Jeongguk to know. Jeongguk shakes his head in disbelief and turns around. He needs to leave before he does something stupid.

Ryung calls his name, but Jeongguk is already walking back to the car briskly. He gets into the driver’s seat, slams the door shut, and starts the car, and when he glances back in the rearview mirror, he sees the people he thought he knew standing close together, talking. They’re looking his way.

The drive back is tortuous and slow. Jeongguk navigates back out of the city with ease, but then he’s stuck on the freeway with nothing and no one else but himself and his thoughts. He’s been living a lie ever since he started his current job, and slowly but surely, his brain puts all the pieces together. The pieces he has—some, he’s certainly still missing.

In a fit of rage and despair, he gives the steering wheel three harsh and undeserved hits with his palm, the horn blaring each time.

“Oh, God,” he whispers, shutting his eyes for a microsecond. What has he done? What has he done, what the fuck has he done?

He bites his lip, reaching for the phone he threw onto the passenger side, his eyes alternating between the road and Google, where he’s searching for a phone number.

 

Your limbs are frozen and your senses both feel like they’re hyper tuned to your surroundings and numb all at once. You don’t know when Jeongguk left–actually, you’re not even certain that he did leave. Sure, you heard the door close and the car drive off, but he could’ve parked it a few houses down and snuck back inside somehow, waiting somewhere in the dark for you to lower your guard. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you hear Fenrir bark, but all you can focus on is that dark doorway.

Then, you hear sounds. A car door, then the front door. Fenrir stops barking, and your worry grows. Then, there are steps, and someone is coming for you. Is it Jeongguk? Or did he leave you to one of his friends? Is it Hoseong? Unable to stop them, tears start to flow again. You promised yourself you’d meet your end with at least a bit of dignity, but you’re not that brave, evidently.

It’s Jeongguk who appears in the doorway, his hair and clothes slightly wet. You look behind him, waiting for the rest of his colleagues to come into view, but they don’t.

“Hey,” he greets quietly, looking like he’s trying to appear non-threatening, but you remember hearing him promise his friends to put you in your place, show you that it’s a man’s world you’re living in. 

Put an end to it. He’s certainly tried before.

You press yourself impossibly closer to the wall as he takes another step into the room. You’ve cheated death four times–that you know of–but you won’t be able to this time.

“I’m not going to hurt you, okay?”

It doesn’t matter that his brown eyes look kind and soft, they’re not, and he doesn’t care for you. He thinks you’re ugly, doesn’t think anyone could ever want or love you. He only cares about him, his friends, and their pride. He thinks that you should’ve died that night, and he made you apologize for surviving.

Now he’s just playing with his food. 

“Stop, don’t come any closer. I’m warning you,” you panic, raising the blade again.

Jeongguk stops, and his eyes land on your other hand, on the nick in the skin of your ring finger. “You’re still bleeding.”

He takes another slow step, and another. You keep your terrified eyes on him, but you’re sure he can tell that with every step of his, your trembling worsens.

“Please stop playing this game with me,” you plead, tears rolling down your cheeks. He won, they all did, can’t he just put you out of your misery?

“I’m not playing. Here, let me look at your finger.”

He’s so close now that he sinks to one knee and holds his hand out. You’re still gripping the razor blade, but he obviously doesn’t think you’ll actually cut him. You don’t make any move to let him see the hand you’ve put in your lap, so as slow as he can, Jeongguk reaches for it, himself.

You don’t have the courage to fight him. Logically, you know it’s your skin that’s freezing cold, probably due to shock, but his skin is burning against you when he grabs your hand. He must feel every little tremble as well. You shut your eyes. It helps not seeing him, but you still smell him, feel him around you.

“I can’t hurt you. You knew that,” your shaky mess of a voice states your discovery quietly.

Just… any second now. A blow to your head, or a knife to your throat. You made a breakthrough in the case, so he doesn’t need you anymore. He’s going to end your life, plant whatever weapon he uses at the Jung’s, and frame them for your murder. An undercover mission gone wrong–they found out about your real identities and killed you. Jeongguk escaped, and he gets the glory of clearing the case and putting the bank robbers and subsequent murderers behind bars. Not to mention the relief of knowing you’ll take the truth to the grave, and the new chief, whoever they are, will be none the wiser.

“Where’s Fenrir? What did you do to him?” you whisper, breathing becoming more difficult by the second as you’re imagining all the ways he could kill you.

Surprisingly, Jeongguk lets go of your hand and stands up, backing a few steps. You chance a glance at him and see that he looks worried–there’s a crease in his forehead and his eyes are wide. 

“I haven’t done anything to him. He’s in the backyard.”

So he’s dead then. You don’t comment on it, instead you shut your eyes as another wave of tears runs down your cheeks. Like before, the rate at which you’re breathing increases, and you feel lightheaded, even as you’re sitting down.

“I’m not going to hurt you, okay?” he mumbles, and the sound of movement has you peeking in fear. “Just… hold on.”

For some reason, he’s backing out of the room, leaving you once again in the limbo of not knowing what he’s planning. The rain beats harshly against the roof, and the sound of thunder makes you jump. You hate storms, nothing good ever happens during them.

You feel yourself going insane, waiting for him, but he’s not gone for long this time. Do you prefer him in the room with you? At least then you know where he is and what he’s doing. It makes you anxious, not knowing. Maybe he’s pouring gasoline over the furniture, waiting to light a match?

Surprisingly, you watch as he returns to round the bed–away from you–and approaches the dresser. He rummages through the top drawer, searching for something, until he finds it and turns around. 

It’s when you see him, rounding the bed again–towards you–with the handcuffs in hand that you scramble back along the wall and into the corner. You remember how he teased you about it, arrogantly offering to tie you up, cuff you to the bed. If he’s planning on resuming what Hoseong started…

Noticing your distress, Jeongguk’s eyes grow wider, and he stops and stands in front of the bed with his hands raised.

“Oh, no, no, they’re not for you,” he explains, looking at you, sitting terrified in the corner. His eyes move from you to the silvery cuffs dangling from his hand and back again. “He cuffed you, didn’t he? Hoseong?”

You’re not sure where he’s going with it, but your guess has evolved. He wants to act sweet and like he cares so that you’ll give in and he can do whatever he wants to punish you, gloating about how he managed to trick you. The dumb feminazi falling for it and thinking he cares for her.

“Look.”

You do, watching anxiously as he opens one side of the handcuffs and locks it around his wrist. The other side, he closes around the metal bed frame, leaving about two yards between you. He sits down and throws the key, which lands at your feet.

“I can’t hurt you.”

You don’t think about the fact that even if the bed probably weighs a ton, Jeongguk could surely pull it with him if he wanted to reach you. No, you don’t know what you’re thinking about, if anything, you’re just so overwhelmed and scared and relieved that you barely have time to reach for the empty, gray plant pot before you’re throwing up. It’s just bile, proof that it’s been a while since you’ve eaten anything. 

Another thing you haven’t done is sleep. And for your poor, terrified, starved, and sleep-deprived body, it’s too much. As carefully as you can when the room is spinning, and someone is speaking in the background, you lie down, your cheek against the cold floor, and you pass out.

You’re still absolutely exhausted when you come to. It takes a while for your eyes to even open, and you can guess what a mess you must look like. Your head is pounding, surely from dehydration, and your entire body aches. At least some parts of you don’t feel that cold anymore–someone has thrown a duvet from the bed over you, covering your body pretty well except for your left foot and your right shoulder. You’re not trembling anymore, not even as your eyes find Jeongguk.

You’re not sure how much time has passed, but he’s still sitting there, across from you with his wrist cuffed to the bed. He’s moved the bedside table away in order to lean his back against the wall. He hasn’t noticed that you’re awake yet–after all, you haven’t moved–and he keeps his eyes on his right hand that he rests atop his knees, his feet flat against the floor. 

You can’t help but think that he looks like he’s waiting patiently for something, maybe the train, worried that it might be late but understanding that there’s no use in pacing. As you observe him tiredly, you notice something very faintly, so faintly you’re not sure if you’re imagining it. It almost looks as if his eyes are puffier than usual, maybe just a tad bit red too. Like how people look when they were crying a long time ago. Now that you think about it, his hair looks a little messier than usual, and he’s unbuttoned a few buttons on his shirt, as well as the sleeves that he’s rolled up a tad.

A chill runs through your body, and slowly, you pull the duvet closer around your body, notifying Jeongguk of your consciousness.

“Are we waiting for your friends?” your voice is so strained, it comes out as a whisper.

He looks at you, smiling the saddest little smile you’ve ever seen on anyone, and he shakes his head. “No, I called Jihyo, and she’s on her way to pick you up. It’ll take her a while to get here but she’s on her way.”

You narrow your tired eyes slightly. He’s lying.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know,” he apologizes gently. “If I had, I wouldn’t…”

It’s the way he looks bothered that almost has you believing him. But you know just how good of an actor he is. He has despised you ever since he arrived at the district, commented on you and your body with disgust. Yet, you’ve seen how he’s capable of holding your hand in his, kissing you gently and like he means it. Only to go back to insulting you. 

“Everyone knows,” you state quietly, calling his bluff.

“I didn’t. And I’d never dream of hurting you, I promise.”

“You hate me more than anyone, Jeongguk.”

It really is true. Jeongguk obviously feels immense loyalty to his friends, and he’d do anything for them. He’s been one of the most vocal ones, letting everyone know just what a terrible, disgusting, worthless person you are.

“And I’ve gotten to know you pretty well since you transferred, especially here. You can say how sorry you are and how you didn’t know all you want, but I know you’re lying. I hurt your friend and now, with the chief retiring, I’m a threat. What would happen if the new chief is a woman and our station’s little secret gets out? Pretty unlikely, but not impossible, right?”

You swallow, blinking away tears. “You can lie all you want but we both know I was never going to make it back home.”

There’s something that looks like pain in his brown eyes as he watches you.

“I don’t hate you. I thought I did because–fuck–I thought the chief was protecting you by not dealing with the problem, not that he was protecting him. Us.”

His frustration turns into something reminding you of guilt when he continues. “You have no idea how sorry I am. And I can promise you, it’s never occurred to me to hurt you. Not physically, at least. I know I’ve been a dick to you–which is obviously coming back to bite me now–and I wanted to make you feel bad for what I thought you did, but I’d never want to injure you. No one has any plans on doing so.”

His words make you chuckle even though it’s not fun in the least. 

“What?” he looks confused.

“Do you think I’m stupid? Not only have I found the trackers you’ve put on my car, but you’ve tampered with the brakes on it three times in the last months. My mechanic keeps bugging me about filing a report, saying I shouldn’t drive any car for my own safety. How do I explain to her that I can’t exactly go to the police?”

Jeongguk only stares at you, and it makes you all the more frustrated.

“Obviously, I can’t say exactly which one of you is doing it, or who it is standing across the street from my home, just watching, late at night sometimes. Or whose breathing it is on the phone calls. Do you remember like three months ago when I made the mistake of getting coffee and stopping by the printer, leaving my mug unsupervised for three minutes? Who was it that put the fucking cyanide in it? You can tell them that it left a bit of suspiciously chunky foam on the surface.”

“Cyanide?”

“Yeah. Had it tested. You can also tell whoever it is that keeps throwing poisoned meat into my yard that I always check it before letting Fenrir out.”

Jeongguk is quiet, looking like someone just turned his world upside down.

“You really meant it when you said you thought I’d poison your food if you let me cook. That’s why you barely sleep too, right? You’re scared I’m going to hurt you. You brought the razor blades and the dog for me, didn’t you? You’re more scared of me than of the suspects.”

“Why on earth do you think I have a trained personal protection Doberman to begin with?”

Jeongguk puts his face in his free hand, “Fuck, I’m so stupid. I had no idea.”

“Yeah,” you agree quietly, closing your eyes for a second. You know Jeongguk is only playing with you because there’s just no chance he’s gone so long being besties with a rapist and attempted murderer without knowing. Partaking in harassment without knowing the reason why? No, no way. But does it matter at the moment? No, probably not.

“Why did you agree to come here?” he asks, sounding almost… helpless? “If you thought it was a setup?”

“Well,” you start, pain spreading through your exhausted body. Your lips pull into a small, sad smile. “I can’t exactly decline anything at work or I won’t have a job to go to. With the kind of letter of recommendation the chief would leave me, no one else would hire me. Besides, we both know I wouldn’t be safe just by quitting.”

The smile fades, and a tear escapes the corner of your eyes, dropping toward the floor. “And frankly… I can’t do it anymore. It’s been two years, and it only escalates. I don’t have the energy to always look over my shoulder, or lock and barricade my doors and windows at night. I can’t afford to have my car fixed every or every other month, and one day, I’ll miss something, or you’ll go after my mother. It’s just a matter of time.”

“So you… came here, convinced that… I was going to kill you?”

Slowly, you move a hand to your face, wiping the tear away. “Yeah. I mean, I always hoped things wouldn’t end up this way. Or that, at least I could defend myself from… prolonged pain. But at the same time, I knew nothing would change. And I… I promised myself that I’d try my best to be brave and not fight it cause it’s going to happen sooner or later, but… well, I’m evidently not very brave. I’m a coward, coming here to die but still fighting it and begging you to spare my life.”

Then again, the last couple of days have made you doubt yourself. If Jeongguk came after you with a knife, could you… hurt him? With Hoseong, it was a no-brainer, and you fought for your life on pure instinct, only making a conscious effort not to shoot him where he wouldn’t survive it. 

But Jeongguk? He hates your guts, finds you disgusting, and is a man like them all. But as you look at him now, you see the way he held baby Doyun’s hand at the barbeque, and you see him playing and cuddling with Fenrir when no one’s looking. You remember the feeling of his hair between your fingers as he rests his head in your lap, and his gentle hands around your waist. You walked into the trap, and you got trapped. You couldn’t hurt him.

“So, I’m essentially your… terminal illness,” he speaks, looking at you sadly. Your eyes widen. “Eunha told me; said she wanted me to take care of my wife. But you’re not sick, are you?”

“No.”

“Fuck,” he shuts his eyes tightly before opening them and looking straight at you with a pained look, “I know you don’t believe me, but I’ve never regretted anything more in my entire life. I thought I was doing the right thing, but instead, I–fuck, I made you apologize? For–”

He hides his face in his free hand again. “I am so sorry.”

It’s hard not to believe him when he looks and sounds so genuine, but you’ve experienced his talent before. Not only that, but he’s a man–he’s not capable of caring for you.

“You said you called Jihyo?” you speak, ignoring his fake apology. 

He removes his hand from his face and nods. “Yeah, she should be here in an hour or so, I think.”

“Okay, say you actually did, why would you? She’d bring unwanted attention and risk unnecessary suspicion. Or maybe you’re just trying to kill two birds with one stone, literally?”

Jeongguk’s face remains soft even as you’re practically insulting him.

“I called her to pick you up because you trust her, and this is no place for you to be right now.”

“But you’re risking the mission. We’ve got a breakthrough but it isn’t all the way through yet, and the bugs still have almost a week’s worth of battery life left. The last thing you want is for them to become suspicious and search for the bugs.”

You don’t know why you’re so intent on letting him know just how thoroughly you see through him. Perhaps you’re simply so used to always having to prove yourself, your capacity and intelligence around men that you can’t let him think you’re nothing more than a dumb girl. You saw through everything, and he needs to know that. 

“You think I give a fuck about the mission when I literally just saw you throw up because you’re so scared of me? I’ve handcuffed myself to the bed, but you’re still shaking in the corner, looking terrified.”

At his words, you realize he’s right. You didn’t even notice the return of the tremors, and they’re not because you’re cold underneath the duvet. Thunder sounds again.

“I promise you,” he starts, looking into your eyes with what looks like a determined sort of kindness, “I’ll do my very best to make things right.”

You wouldn’t have known what to say even if you weren’t interrupted by the sound of a car. Worried but still relieved to finally see Jihyo, you carefully sit up, and then you stand, feeling weak but almost… hopeful. Maybe you’ll get out alive, after all?

But that hope is soon replaced by an ice cold chill running down your spine and filling your stomach as you peer out through the window and onto the cars that have stopped below. It’s not Jihyo. 

You take a step back from the window right as at least two men are exiting the cars, one holding an aluminum baseball bat.

“You… you called… your friends,” you state quietly, feeling dumb for not foreseeing it. He was stalling, and you fell for it. “You’ll be taking turns until I…”

Jeongguk says something, a few rushed sentences, but you’re already exiting the room, not entirely sure why or what your plan is. The sound of his handcuffs rustling against the bed frame sounds as you’re descending the stairs onto the dark bottom floor. 

Should you try to find a way out? Is there one? Jeongguk is stuck upstairs, but you stand no chance against even one man in your current state. Not to mention that you’re unarmed. Where’d Jeongguk’s knife go? Your razor blade? Last you remember, you had it before you passed out. 

You’re so in your thoughts that you don’t hear the footsteps closing in on you from behind. 

“I confronted them, and I guess they’re mad. We’ll go out back, okay?” a familiar voice speaks quietly right above your ear, making you jump. “I promise I’m not going to hurt you, just come with me.”

You turn around, meeting Jeongguk’s eyes. He holds his hand out, no trace of the cuffs. How did he get free?

“I saw them from the window, and there’s four of them. They’re surely armed with more than just the baseball bat, but we might manage to sneak out through the back if we hurry.”

You look at his hand in the darkness.

“Trust me,” he encourages gently, “I’ve got you.”

For some odd reason, you meet his honest-looking but also worried and stressed eyes. And you put your hand in his. It’s warm, and he starts to pull you with him towards the back door.

However, stopping you in your tracks, one of the kitchen windows has been left open, and hushed voices sound through the crack.

“Absolutely no shots, okay? In and out, basically.”

Well, you guess that’s a good thing? You and Jeongguk exchange glances, and he mumbles something about his own gun being in the car. You’re just about to continue when the front door is unlocked. They have a key? Fuck, they must’ve gone to the station in search of the address and key before coming here.

The door glides open, and in steps Hoseong. And then Ryung with Seunghwan in tow. The last person inside is Junseo.

Hoseong stops when he spots you, a smile breaking out on his lips. “Well…”

“Leave,” Jeongguk orders, pulling you behind his body. A thousand thoughts are swirling around in your head, but you’re none the wiser. Any minute now, Jeongguk could start laughing at how you thought he’d protect you. Or, he could be genuine, but what sucks about that scenario is that there’s no way Jeongguk could take them all. Four against one.

“We can’t. Look, I thought we got each other, Jeongguk? Bros before hoes and all that? Correct me if I’m wrong, but it seems like you might be causing us some trouble?”

Peeking from behind Jeongguk, you’re really not a fan of how Hoseong twists the bat in his hand, and your heart is freaking out.

“Technically, you caused the trouble all by yourself,” Jeongguk argues, visibly furious.

Then, before you know it, Hoseong lunges, and Jeongguk pushes you back, out of the way before he’s dodging too. Your heart is in your throat as you watch Hoseong swing at Jeongguk multiple times, Jeongguk dodging all of them before finding an opening and delivering a swift blow to Hosoeng’s head. Behind them, you spot Ryung’s dark eyes locking onto you, and you gulp.

All while Jeongguk somehow manages to grab the bat–which is good considering he’s fighting both Hoseong and Seonghwan–Ryung waits for his opening. Junseo, you don’t even know where he went.

Ryung’s chance comes when Jeongguk aims a powerful kick at Hoseong’s side, sending him flying into the kitchen table and knocking two of the chairs over and Jeongguk to the floor. Hoseong wheezes, like he got the wind knocked out of him.

Ryung decides to take the opportunity, setting off for you, but before he can reach you, he’s intercepted, Jeongguk’s wide shoulders knocking him off his path and into the fridge. While he gets back up, Jeongguk bashes Seunghwan’s head against the countertop once, and he falls down, groaning in pain. Jeongguk is about to follow, but Ryung grabs his shoulders, and manages to get Jeongguk on the ground and climb on top of him. 

You watch as Jeongguk swings the bat, Ryung catching it, but as his hands are preoccupied with it, Jeongguk uses all his strength and connects his fist with Ryung’s face so hard that you hear things crack and see blood spurt. As a result, Ryung falls off and to the floor, lying on his side. 

It’s at that moment you spot Junseo. He’s at Hoseong’s side–Hoseong who’s just gotten up–and is giving him something. Hoseong’s sinister and angry eyes find yours as he accepts the samurai sword.

Then, he’s running. 

It doesn’t take more than a split second for you to decide. You shut your eyes, preparing for the pain and the force that will surely knock you over. The force comes first, but there’s no pain, at least not for a while. It’s like Hoseong is… hugging you?

Surprised, you open your eyes, only to see that the person holding you in their arms is not Hoseong. It’s Jeongguk. Then, you become aware of the pain, a sort of… uncomfortable pin prick to your chest, only bigger? 

You look down between your bodies. There’s a hole in your t-shirt and you’re pretty sure the wetness on your skin is blood. What happened? 

Jeongguk coughs above you, and that’s when you see that the tip of the sword that’s digging into your skin is coming out of his chest. 

Even in your shocked state, you recognize the shape of the item he’s shakily stuffing into your hand. The car key.

“You need to…” he starts, his voice strained. He stumbles, and you see blood coloring his bottom lip. “...Get out of here.”

Suddenly, he groans loudly, and you feel the sword scratch your skin before Jeongguk is sinking to his knees. Behind him, Hoseong is twisting the handle roughly. Then, he lets go, letting Jeongguk’s body fall limply to the floor.

“See what you made me do?” Hoseong hisses at you, stepping over Jeongguk.

He’s caught off guard when you kick him, aiming your foot for the exact spot in which you shot him two years ago. He stumbles, his knee hitting the floor, but then he surprises you by grabbing your foot, and you fall, hitting your head against the floor. You groan in pain, lying flat on your back and seeing Hoseong stand up above you.

But before he can end you, there are gunshots. 

You’re not looking, but you hear Hoseong shout in pain, then a lot of shuffling and two other male voices you can’t quite place. 

All that you’re seeing is Jeongguk. He lies beside you, on his stomach, the long samurai sword he hung on that wall himself sticking out from his back. There’s blood, a lot of it. Some from his mouth and more from his chest and his back. You don’t need to examine him more to know that he’s already dead, that sword went straight through his heart with no chance of missing it, and there’s no surviving that. 

A face comes into view above you, and it takes your pounding head a good second to recognize it. Yoongi.

He meets your teary yet defeated eyes, and you open your mouth. “He’s dead.”

It’s both a question and a quiet statement, the side of your hand touching the side of Jeongguk’s. His eyes are closed, his face blank and void of any life, and you feel empty inside.

Through blurry tears, you see Yoongi look Jeongguk over. Then, gently and with a sad crease between his eyebrows, he nods. Abandoning Jeongguk’s lifeless body, he instead focuses on you. He tries to keep you awake, but something wet and warm pools underneath your own head, and soon enough, you can’t keep your eyes open any longer.

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hey pals... let me know what you think RIP <3

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JUNGKOOK I AM NOT YOUR STRONGEST SOLDIER

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What a lovely thing to watch. They took good care of him. So sweet.

the way they reassured comfortingly jungkook trying to calm him down ♡🥹 (cr. soowoozoooo)

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I can hear this gif.

jin’s reaction lmaooo

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My fav V look ever!!!!!!!!!

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Oof! It’s heating up! Love it! Can’t wait to read more!

dextrocardia | 04

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: 5.3k

warnings for this part: none really, except sexism and insults and jk is HOT but confusing (also,,,, k i s s i n g)

rating: NC-17 – Adults Only

masterlist

part 4/? 

<previous | next>

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

Behind you, Jeongguk must be looking even more confused than you. 

“It’s hard not to notice the tv when you don’t have any curtains and really big windows,” Eunha elaborates with a chuckle.

Shit. Your heart starts to race, and you can feel your hands go clammy. That’s your fault. You leave the ginormous tv on during the night whenever it’s your turn on the couch. 

“He snores,” you blurt. “And I don’t wanna disturb him so I sometimes go downstairs because I know he needs his sleep.”

You know you’ll be skinned alive the moment you’re alone together, but you needed a believable explanation and you needed one fast. Technically, you could’ve pinned the snoring on yourself, but… no, Jeongguk and his friends have made your life a living hell, and you’re not about to forget that just because he’s got a tender touch and kissable lips.

“Oh?” It’s Hoseok who speaks, “That must be rough.”

“Yeah, I’ve told her to wake me, but she insists on going down, herself,” Jeongguk answers, his voice gentle and warm, and even if you can’t technically hear it, you do hear it; the irritation.

You zone out after that, relieved that your quick thinking worked but still frozen in some kind of fear, the others’ voices becoming muffled as they move on to small talk. You nod here and smile there, but soon enough, you and Jeongguk turn to leave.

“Why the fuck did you have to say that?” he seethes the moment you’re out of sight, turning to walk down the neighborhood’s sidewalk. 

You keep your eyes forward and your emotions in check, knowing that there could be neighbors watching. “Because we needed an excuse.”

“And of course, your first instinct is to throw me under the bus.”

“No, but I don’t see why I should always be the one to sacrifice myself?”

“‘Sacrifice yourself?’ I can’t recall you sacrificing anything, actually.”

You can’t say that he doesn’t, once again, disappoint you, but you glance at him, your lips parted. You definitely shouldn’t be surprised.

“You’re an ass,” you inform, “and on second thought, I think I’ll head back. Don’t really feel like hanging out with you.”

Holding your hand out, expecting him to pass the leash to you, you have to admit that what does surprise you is seeing him sigh and almost look… apologetic. Almost.

“I can still take him for a walk. I know you said he needed it, so I can do it, I don’t mind.”

For two seconds, you contemplate. But you don’t have the energy to argue and while you stare at Jeongguk, Fenrir pulls on the lead, excited for a long walk. You may dislike Jeongguk, but he seems weirdly fond of your dog.

“Fine.”

They’re gone for nearly two hours, leaving you to plan the coming days in peace, and when they return, Fenrir snoozes off happily under the dining table.

 

It turns out that the house’s sad excuse of a flower bed comes in handy for you. There are weeds and corpses of a few different plants you can’t identify sticking up from the dry dirt that lines the inside of the fence in the front yard. It’s not like you have an extreme interest in gardening, but thanks to your grandma, you know a few things, and coincidentally, working on it will give you a good reason to be outside, observing both the neighbors and possibly that god forsaken cat.

Wiping your forehead with your wrist so as to not transfer dirt from the gloves to your face, you gaze up, irritated at the sun. It just had to be an exceptionally warm summer, didn’t it? Insane beyond words, Jeongguk left about an hour ago to join Namjoon on his jog, and you almost hope he perishes from sunstroke or dehydration while away.

You’re wearing another light blue, flowy dress, your bare knees on the grass as you’re kneeling in front of the dirt. Despite the result of the flower bed being absolutely not important whatsoever, you’re still happy with what you’ve accomplished during the last hour or two.

Behind you is the pile of weeds you’ve managed to unearth, which is a lot. Unfortunately, you don’t have any live plants or even seeds to plant, so there’s just one more thing you can do today, which is watering the flowerless flower bed thoroughly.

It takes way too much effort to unroll the garden hose from its wall-mounted holder, but with the hose on the ground and the tiny little lever pulled just right, you hear the telltale sound of water moving through it.

The area you’ve “moved” into is a fairly dry one, so you’ll have to really drench the soil all the way down, and you waste no time.

As soon as you twist the muzzle, the water sputters until there’s a steady stream flowing. You twist some more, and the stream evolves into something more like a shower. It’s pretty, how the sun’s rays scatter on the many, many droplets, and you feel the slight breeze carry the very smallest of them to your skin. 

You take a deep, relaxing breath, enjoying the feeling and letting some tension go. You’ve been so uncomfortable here. Unsurprising, really, considering who else shares your house and what the mission means, but it’s really put a dent in your health. You have a hard time sleeping, scared of being snuck up on and murdered, and you don’t eat much, paranoid of being poisoned. Danger and evil is everywhere, around every corner.

You lift your gaze from the ground, and it falls on a specific house on the other side of the street. The cat, a ragdoll?, has shown himself maybe once. Perhaps you’ve also seen a suspiciously fluffy tail swish past a window once. His relative absence confirms your suspicion that he spends most of his time at a window facing the backyard and not the front.

You’re in the middle of planning a shorter side mission that might entail you, dressed in black from head to toe, and crawling through the tiny little, tree-sparse forest behind the Jung’s backyard fence when a sound catches your attention.

Before realizing that it’s Jeongguk calling your fake name, you’re startled, your body tensing up and turning around.

Still with the hose in your hand.

“What the?!” he exclaims, as he’s doused in the cold hose water, and you’re immediately trying to get your surprised hands to twist the muzzle shut.

“Oh my God, I’m sorry,” you apologize, eyes lowering from a half-naked (to whose surprise?) and dripping Jeongguk to your hands. 

The wet, slippery hose doesn’t cooperate, and so all you can do is redirect the water down onto the ground while you try your best to shut it off. 

Somewhere in the back of your head, you register… laughter, and big hands suddenly appear in your vision to take the hose from your hands.

When you peer up, you’re eye to eye with your partner, his hair wet and dripping water onto his face. But he’s grinning, seemingly carefree and not… angry?

Gently, he takes the hose and twists it shut, and when you look around, you notice the reason. There’s laughter coming from the small audience of Namjoon, also half-naked and sweaty from their run, and Eunha and Hoseok, leaning against their own fence on the other side of the street. Perhaps you also spot one of the older ladies living in a house further down the street peek her head out the open door at the ruckus.

“Thank you. And, uh, sorry,” you smile sheepishly, watching a droplet run down Jeongguk’s face and drip from the tip of his nose.

“It’s okay.”

But his smile grows as he takes a step back, and before you know it, he’s turning the water on again with you as his target.

“Jeo–Jaehyun!!” you shriek, holding your hands out in a feeble attempt to stop the cold stream from soaking your dress.

Oddly enough, your nemesis turns the setting to the softest stream, but you realize it perhaps wouldn’t look the best if he was witnessed trying to powerwash his wife’s skin from her bones.

Luckily for you, he only keeps it on for a few seconds, but you definitely think he enjoys it. When he shuts the water off again, he drops the hose to the ground to approach you.

You lock eyes, your heart beating heavily, and you don’t have the brain capacity to think about the others watching.

He steps closer, so much so that you’re nearly chest to chest, and your heart comes to a standstill instead as you peer up at him. Your skin is wet, almost as wet as his although your hair remains a bit dryer.

A water drop threatens to fall from a black strand hanging nearly in his eyes. Eyes that don’t waver from yours. They’re warmer, almost freckled with gold under the sun.

“Your dress is see-through.”

Not once, as he walks you back to the front door, shielding you with his own body, does he look down. Not even as the distance between you increases when you go to open the door to slip inside, instead, he looks away.

“Thank you.” You don’t know why you’re thanking him. Well, you do, but you don’t.

“No problem,” he smiles, turning around to head back to his new-found buddy.

 

Around twenty minutes later, when you’re in a dry change of clothes, Jeongguk enters the house. 

“Eunha’s visiting her mom in two days. She’ll spend the night there too.”

You look up from your laptop where you’re sitting on the couch. Jeongguk is still half-naked because when is he not, but he’s also still a bit wet. Not as much, so you figure he must’ve dried off quite a bit out in the sun, already disappearing into the bathroom to return with a towel to pat the remaining water away with.

“What? How do you know that?”

“I heard her. She asked Namjoon where to buy a bonsai tree for her mom.”

“Oh,” you answer, trying not to stare as Jeongguk rubs the towel all over his hair, making his abdominal muscles flex. “That’s good. So, today is… Tuesday, meaning that she’ll leave on Thursday, and spend the night. Their cat’s favorite window is guaranteed at the back of the house, so if we find a way to figure out which exact window it is by Thursday… We can get inside then.”

“No, that’s too early. You want me to go to the poker night–the first one I’ve been invited to–and skip out early? Even if we do crack which window it is, it’s too risky. Too suspicious. I say we wait a week; watch the cat in the meantime, and I’ll leave early next week.”

You’re almost a bit taken aback. Since when does Jeongguk know how to converse–about your different opinions nonetheless–without calling you names and looking at you with disgust? Silently, you wonder if he slipped and fell on his head outside.

“It’s not. We use one of the battery-powered mini cameras and we set it up on their backyard fence tonight after dark, and you go to Namjoon’s on Thursday, stay for a drink or two, for maybe… an hour or two? I’ll call you and tell you that I’m sick.”

He watches you, still unconvinced but with a surprisingly optimistic look on his face.

“The quicker we get even the smallest lead that we can use in the investigation–and we can leave, the better. Even if it’s a bit less suspicious to postpone a week, the risks increase each day we’re here. Besides, we don’t know when the house will be empty again.”

Jeongguk doesn’t say anything, and so you shut your eyes for a second before opening them and looking at him. “They’re not telling us anything; our best bet is to bug the house as soon as possible. You can tell them I’m pregnant or something. Say that it’s early on but that I’m still affected. You can even say that I’ve been sleeping on the couch because I throw up a lot and want to be near the bathroom and not disturb you. That I lied about you snoring because I didn’t want to tell anyone yet. ”

Finally, he seems to actually consider it, biting his cheek before he speaks. “Fine. We rig the camera tonight, and depending on how it goes, if we get clear enough evidence on the cat, we do it this week.”

“What do you say?” Jeongguk’s quiet voice sounds from your phone that’s lying on the kitchen table.

“A little more to the right. No, no, tilt it to the right,” you guide, both hands gripping the Ipad screen. Jeongguk follows your instructions and the Jungs’ house moves within the borders.

“There, there! That’s good; all windows are in frame.”

“Good, I’ll just… fasten it,” he informs, and you can hear the slight rustling and see the camera move minorly. “Still good?”

“Yeah.”

“Great. I’ll be back within five.”

With that, the call ends, and you sigh. The house is still displayed on the screen, in the night vision mode’s green tint. You make sure the screen is plugged in properly, and you adjust the settings to start recording at the smallest sign of movement.

Then, with approximately one minute left until Jeongguk’s return, you start preparing. He’s been more focused on the job the last few hours which is positive because the more focused he is, the less vile he is toward you.

You take a deep breath when the front door opens, silently reminding yourself to not stare at his body. Before he left, he got changed into a black, long-sleeved compression shirt and black cargo pants, and you’re not sure what’s worse, the usual lack of a shirt or this one because you can still see every little shape and bulge and dent in his upper body.

“Works?” he asks the moment he steps into the kitchen, heading directly toward the cupboard with glasses.

“Yeah, good, uh… job.”

The second it’s out, you shut your eyes briefly. You didn’t need to say that, he was gone for less than fifteen minutes. He taped a camera to a fence. Immediately, you brace yourself for the incoming insult. ‘It’s not hard when you have the slightest bit of talent in your body,’ or ‘do you really think I need compliments from you?’

“Thank you.”

You blink, certainly surprised. 

It would’ve been your turn on the couch if you hadn’t gotten fucking exposed. What bothers you is also that, after hearing Jeongguk’s reasoning, a small part of you is actually considering sleeping in the bed with him.

“We don’t even have curtains. And our windows are too big, if they look through them even from the street, they’ll most likely see you.”

Maybe you’re the one who hit their head somehow? Because you’re currently standing in the bedroom, watching Jeongguk pull the covers away. 

“That’s all you’re wearing?” you question, fidgeting with your hands and nodding toward his mostly-naked body. Of course, he’s bare up top, only wearing a pair of shorts, and it’s ridiculous how fit and muscular he is. The muscles in his arm flex when he grabs a pillow, and his abs move too when he positions it to his liking.

“Uh… Yeah? It’s summer; it’s hot as fuck.”

It doesn’t matter that he isn’t spitting insults in your face–you’re still not comfortable with him. Maybe even less so because why would he suddenly not take a very good chance to hurt you? Why didn’t he insinuate that you’re lucky to be able to witness a body like his? Sleep next to him in bed?

Should you do it? What happens if you don’t, and they notice you on the couch? You don’t think your neighbors are suspicious of you but will they be? If the mission fails–if you fuck it up–what will happen? You won’t pretend that your safety isn’t at risk.

“Are you just gonna stand there, or…?”

“What about Fenrir?”

Jeongguk plops down on the bed in a sitting position with his back against the headboard and clasps his hands behind his head. You try not to look at how his biceps bulge.

“I don’t mind him. In fact, I’d rather sleep beside him than you, so he might as well sleep in here too.”

There it is, some sort of insult. In fairness, you guess having someone as gorgeous and talented as Jeongguk also be kind would offset some sort of balance in the world. You just can’t have it all. 

While he watches, you open the closet and gather some shorts and a t-shirt in your arms, and without a word, you head out to the bathroom on the bottom floor.

Fenrir looks at you with his big, brown eyes when you unlock the bathroom door a few minutes later, having washed up and changed for the night. He’s an attentive dog–that’s why you got him–and he surely knows that you’re nervous. 

“Okay, we can do this,” you whisper to the dog, “It’s just one man, and you’ve got my back, and I’ve got yours.”

Not that Jeongguk would even look at Fenrir with anything remotely close to disgust, but it feels better when you remind yourself that Fenrir’s on your side. Sure, Jeongguk may like him, and perhaps Fenrir likes him back, but the dog is yours, and you are his favorite person.

When you return, Jeongguk is still sitting in bed, but he’s preoccupied with the phone in his hands. 

“So what’s the plan for tomorrow, then?” you ask, flicking the light switch off and trying to ignore your nerves as you approach the bed. 

“I’m not sure,” Jeongguk answers without looking up. The only lightsource in the room is the device in his hands, and it illuminates his face, “what do we need before we’re ready to enter the house?”

“Well, we’ve got the equipment and hopefully the window of time when Eunha’s away and Hoseok’s at Namjoon’s. If we’re lucky, we’re able to confirm which window to enter through tomorrow. I’d say all we need to do is perfect our excuse as to why you’ll have to return home without it seeming suspicious.”

You stop at the foot of the bed, disgusted at the thought of having babies with Jeongguk, even if they’re made up. 

“Also, we should probably see if we can find out more about their cameras, if there’s, you know, a plug to pull before entering just in case either of them decide to take a look. You could always try to steal Hoseok’s phone during the poker night or otherwise prevent him from looking, but Eunha might want to check in on the cat through hers.”

“I can have the chief make some calls to cut the power to their house for a few minutes?”

Surprised, you look at him with wide eyes and raised eyebrows.

“I mean–yeah, if that’s a possibility? I didn’t know it was?”

He puts the phone down on the bedside table. “I think it is. It won’t work for the alarm since those have backup batteries, and there’s a small risk the cameras could as well, but it would be better than only disconnecting the router while already inside in case they have their own connection. We don’t know if the cameras are set to record movement or, like you said, Eunha decided to take a look either.”

His suggestion is good, you can’t deny that, but it makes irritation bubble in your veins. Yes, the chief is sexist like so many men in law enforcement, and your relationship isn’t the best, but to hear Jeongguk speak of the man as something like a friend? You doubt he’d be cutting power if you asked.

“So, are you getting in, or?”

Blinking in the low light, you realize that you’ve just been standing at the foot of the bed with both Jeongguk and Fenrir watching you, Fenrir from the floor beside the bed.

“Yes,” you sputter, not wanting your nerves to show. More determined than you’ve felt in quite some time–fake determination or not–you grab the duvet on your side to get under it. “Just a warning, though. If you touch me, I’ll get Fenrir to bite you. Fenrir, up!”

The big dog jumps up and lies down between you and Jeongguk, and you feel confident enough to lie down with your back toward him.

“If I touch you? You think I want to touch you?”

Like so many times before, your heart sinks. Of course, it doesn’t make sense that you care since you hate the man, but evidently, you do. You’ve begun to reach the conclusion that something’s wrong with you.

 

Unsurprisingly, you don’t sleep much. At all, really. So, you rise with the sun because what’s the use in lying in bed with an unconscious Jeongguk? He’s definitely pretty to look at, and sleep somehow makes him look almost… endearing, but you definitely know you shouldn’t, so you grab a change of clothes and leave the bedroom.

It’s eight a.m., and you’re sitting at the kitchen table when a newly awoken Jeongguk drags his feet into the kitchen. You look up from the tablet just in time to see him stretch his arms over his head and yawn. Still half-naked, of course.

“Didn’t expect you to be awake at a reasonable time,” he comments, nearly tripping over his own feet. It makes you snicker, and you curse to yourself.

“Dude, I don’t think you’re even awake.”

Jeongguk squints his light sensitive eyes at you, his hair sticking out in every direction and swaying as he approaches the fridge. After opening it, he reaches for the orange juice, and you think you feel the air turn slightly… awkward.

“So, today… We should look happy. Like, even happier than just newly-weds. As if we just found out you were… pregnant? Or should the story be that we’ve known a little while?”

Oh. Your fingers trace the rim of your own mug.

“Well, if I’m supposed to be sick tomorrow, then maybe it would be best if we say that we, or I, have been suspecting it because I’ve been feeling… the symptoms? And that it’s the reason I decided to test for it yesterday? We can act like we’re happy but trying to keep it a secret for a little while longer because it’s still early?”

Taking a sip from the blue mug in his hand, Jeongguk nods. “I’ll do the rounds, looking excited, but I won’t tell them until poker tomorrow when I explain why I’ll need to go home.”

“Because I’m sick and worried something might be wrong?”

“Yeah. By the way, did you have time to look through that yet?” he gestures toward the screen in your hand. “Did it show anything?”

“Yeah, I think we got it,” you smile hopefully.

 

Your sleepless night catches up to you, and while Jeongguk locks the door behind him to meet Namjoon for yet another morning run, you dive back into bed. Can you call it a nap if it’s not even ten a.m.? Who knows, but the extra sleep in a quiet house does you good.

At eleven, you stick your feet into your sandals to take Fenrir for a walk, but it isn’t long after you’ve stepped outside that you spot Jeongguk and Namjoon outside your short fence. Both are breathing heavily and more or less drenched in sweat. In all honesty, Namjoon is both slightly taller and bigger than Jeongguk, even if Jeongguk looks more… defined, but… it bothers you how your eyes are drawn so much more to Jeongguk. You, if anyone, know what a terrible person he is, and how he finds you appalling and gross and disgusting, yet you find yourself looking at him.

You manage to pass the men quickly, but since you’re supposed to be extra happy and in love today, you still make an effort to give your fake husband a heart-eyed smile and a kiss from your tippy toes, your hand on his sweaty chest. He looks down at you warmly, and you hope that you manage to look as happy as he does.

You allow Fenrir to do his business, and then, you’re on your way to Hyeji’s house. She’s on her porch when you approach, excitedly waving you closer.

“Good morning!” she greets, and even Bubbles comes running from inside the house, barking.

“Morning, how are you today?” you lean your arms on the fence, giving her your best ‘I just found out I’m having a child with the man of my dreams but I’m keeping it a secret for now’ smile.

“Great! How are you? Care for some tea?”

“I’m pretty great too. And sure, I’d love to,” you smile, intending on acting like you’re feeling sick but pretending to be good. Layers.

Hyeji grins, and as you head inside the fence and toward her porch with Fenrir in tow, you realize that perhaps you’ll miss her when all of this is over. If you make it out, that is, there are still a ton of risks.

For almost three hours, you sit and chit chat. You even forget that you’re supposed to act somewhat happy because you don’t have to act. In a way, Hyeji reminds you of your friends back home, of Sana and Jihyo, but despite how much you’d rather stay and talk about anything and everything (except your real life) with her, you should probably get going. 

Your mind is in overdrive during the short walk back to the house. Dark, mysterious eyes, friends, assignments, weapons. Gunshots. When you slide the unlocked front door open, the house is eerily quiet. Your heartbeat picks up.

“J–Jaehyun?” you call carefully, just in case Jeongguk is home but not alone. There’s no reply, but another sound. Like… groaning?

Briefly, you wonder if someone’s hurt, and logically, it would be Jeongguk. Slowly, you sneak through the front part of the house with Fenrir’s collar tightly gripped, until you see him.

It is Jeongguk, and he’s doing pull ups on one of those bars he installed in the doorway to the bathroom. Like earlier, he’s wearing shorts, his sweaty back facing you, and he appears to be listening to music through his headphones. For just a second, you let yourself admire him; his strong back and arms, and the sounds he makes. Then, you unleash Fenrir, chuckling a little to yourself when he lunges in excitement, startling Jeongguk to the point he almost falls on his ass.

“Didn’t hear you,” he heaves, bending down to scratch Fenrir behind the ears. 

“We noticed. How has it gone today, so far?”

Jeongguk straightens up, “Uh, pretty well. I’ve mainly been, you know, trying to build relations and acting extra happy. Also went through the footage up until now, and the result’s the same. It’s for sure that window.”

You nod, “That’s… good. Means we can proceed with the plan.”

The plan may not have been the most detailed or…  planned, and it definitely didn’t contain Jeongguk moving the old hammock–left behind in the backyard by the old owners–onto the porch and waving you closer when you step outside.

“It’s… cold,” you excuse, looking out over the street. It’s nine p.m., and the sun is setting over the neighborhood, but it doesn’t mean that its residents have retreated inside yet. In the distance, there’s still laughter and chatter echoing from someone’s backyard, and two houses over, people are sitting on the steps of their porch with wine glasses in their hands.

In a surprisingly good mood, Jeongguk keeps motioning for you to come closer. You do slowly, wrapping your arms around your dress-clad self.

Seeing Jeongguk look anything other than seething confuses you and nearly has you squinting your eyes at him in suspicion. An hour earlier, you went looking for Fenrir, calling his name throughout the house and starting to grow worried. Then you saw them through the window, playing in the backyard, and you stayed there, watching.

You don’t like seeing Jeongguk happy. It’s just not believable. To be fair, he didn’t know you were watching him, and he was alone with your dog with no one else around, so there was no use for him to pretend, but… it just can’t be real.

The eyes that are usually so dark with hatred and disgust–or at least used to be–crinkled in a way you’ve never really seen before. He smiled as he called for your dog’s attention, laughing happily when Fenrir went running for the ball Jeongguk threw. You observed as they played for a while, and then as Jeongguk sat down in the grass and patted his lap, Fenrir trotting over with the ball between his jaws and lying down across Jeongguk’s legs.

“Stop whining,” he teases, looking so handsome as he rises to stand before you, “and sit with me.”

Taking you by surprise, Jeongguk shrugs off the navy sweatshirt he’d been wearing and places it over your head before you can say anything about it. Somewhat reluctantly, you put your arms through the holes, gasping in surprise when Jeongguk tugs you down beside him by one of the inevitable sweater paws.

“Do you think they’re fooled?” he wonders quietly, still holding onto the sweater, “Do we look like newlyweds that can’t keep their hands off each other?”

“Umm, I don’t know. Never been a newlywed. Or married at all, actually.”

You’re not sure what it is, if it’s your quiet voices in the summer night air, or if it’s something else, but a calmness starts to settle in your chest.

Jeongguk chuckles, locating your hand in the fabric, “Well, me neither. But we look like we could be, at least I think. You’re not the worst actress, after all. Or wife.”

Eyebrows raised slightly, you meet his eyes. “How generous of you.”

He keeps smiling but doesn’t say anything more, and slowly, he raises his hand, stroking your cheek before gently holding your chin. Then, he moves closer, and he kisses you.

You let him, and you definitely do kiss him back. Slowly at first, then a little more eager. He tugs a little on your waist, and carefully, and with your heart beating out of your chest, you move onto his lap. He keeps his warm hands on your waist, rubbing soft circles with his thumbs, and you feel the rough fabric of his jeans against the skin of your legs.

At that moment, he’s sweet. Kind. Funny. You don’t think about the cockiness, the arrogance, the rolling of eyes, and insults directed your way. You live the fantasy, ringed fingers and feelings growing warmer. Being cared for, desired. But even if all of it were true, you’d have a lot to work through. And it isn’t true, it’s an act, especially from his side. The neighbor you saw peek over her hedge a minute ago just reminds you of it. It doesn’t stop you from coming to the realization that you want it. You want him to like you, you want him to want you.

Despite you not moving much on his lap, something soon happens. At first, you thought you imagined it, but no, he’s definitely getting hard underneath you while also slowly, slowly lowering one of his warm hands to the naked skin of your outer, lower thigh, and it triggers your fight or flight response. 

You pull back, fear in your eyes as you climb off him.

“Hey, I–” he tries, but you’re already back away.

“I gotta go, I, uh, have to get ready,” you excuse. 

Of course, there isn’t anything to get ready for, not until tomorrow anyway. But you turn, and you hurry inside, locking yourself in the bathroom.

<previous | next>

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He is illegal and dangerous

JUNGKOOK — 'Seven' exclusive photos

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Dang! I love this story! I don’t want to love JK but I totally do and after the last couple lives in bed I’m totally imagining that for OC. Sheesh. Such a great story so far and looking forward to getting to know Hobi’s character. The scene with the handcuffs was hilarious and a fun turn. Thank you for sharing this story with us!

dextrocardia | 03

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: 5k

warnings for this part: if it wasn't clear before, i don't know how law enforcement really works so i made my own 🤪 there aren't anything serious in this part, just a bit of sexism. well, jk is still very hot 😅

rating: NC-17 – Adults Only

masterlist

part 3/? 

<previous | next>

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

For the next three days, you’re entirely focused on the Jung house. The goal of surveying it can be divided into two; find out when it’s empty and which window isn’t hooked up to a sensor.

Thanks to Jeongguk, you know that the men all get together at Kim Namjoon’s house on Thursdays to play poker, but what complicates it is that Jeongguk is supposed to attend it as well. Additionally, you don’t know what Eunha’s doing at that time, either.

The majority of those three days, you spend on the top floor with your binoculars. It’s more what you’re used to anyway; observing from a distance. 

Sure, occasionally, it gets boring, but the nice thing about investigating a feline and its window preferences is that it doesn’t matter if you take a five minute break or ten. 

Additionally, you don’t have to spend a lot of time with Jeongguk, who’s out befriending the male neighbors. If anyone asks about you, he’s supposed to tell them you’re feeling a bit under the weather. 

Besides, the atmosphere between the two of you since you returned from the barbeque has been… odd.

After you got back to your house, you stiffly explained what you’d found out, and you planned loosely for the coming days, but neither mentioned what happened at the Jung’s. You touched him, and then you slept in his arms. You cringe just thinking about it. Perhaps it plays a part in why you’re even less enthusiastic about seeing him. ‘Perhaps’ meaning ‘definitely.’ Luckily Jeongguk didn’t bring it up to tease you about it, he spoke almost neutrally to you about the plan but in between sentences, he looked to be trapped inside his mind.

At five p.m on that third day, your conclusion so far is that although the white, incredibly fluffy cat sometimes is seen through any of the windows facing the street, its preferred squirrel-watching window is most likely facing the backyard. 

The result is both good and bad. Bad because you’ll have to find a way to observe the back of the Jung house, good because entering through a window on the front would be so much riskier.

To your disappointment–even if you knew three days is a very short time–the only sort of pattern regarding Eunha’s late night activities that you’ve managed to discern is that she basically just stays home.

Speaking of Eunha, at five-thirty p.m., you watch through the window as she walks up the short driveway to your door with Hyeji in tow. Assuming Jeongguk is still with Fenrir in the backyard, you rush downstairs to greet your new neighbors.

“Hey, heard you weren’t feeling well, are you better?” Eunha asks the moment you slide the door open.

“Hello, uh, yes. I thought I was coming down with a cold but it stopped at a sore throat and a bit of a cough.”

“That’s good to hear,” Hyeji pipes up from behind her friend, “Eunha baked you cookies!”

Smiling shyly, Eunha nods and hands you the plastic container she’d been holding. 

“Oh, there’s no need–thank you,” you bow politely, realizing that they won’t take no for an answer. The container is white with a red lid, impossible to see through.

“It’s no problem, I was baking anyways, but I thought of you.”

“That’s really sweet of you,” you smile, unable to keep your heart from warming. Eunha and Hyeji are about your own age, but you feel undeniably like a teenager getting fed at grandma’s.

“Like I said; no problem,” she dismisses with a casual wave of her hand. “By the way, how are you settling in?”

“Well,” you start, placing a hand on the door frame and glancing back over your shoulder as if you’re not a hundred percent aware of the state of your barren house. “We’ve gotten the bedroom mostly in order and the kitchen. There was a problem with the moving company we hired, so the last trucks won’t be here for another day or two. But we can eat and sleep, and we have our couch and TV, so we’ll survive!”

Hyeji rises to her toes in a subtle attempt at getting a look inside. “I don’t wanna come off as prying, but… do you think we could get a look inside? The previous owners were such hermits, but we saw them doing some sort of remodeling inside, and, well, we’re curious as to what they had changed.”

“Oh, uh… sure,” you smile nervously, realizing that declining would seem suspicious. 

Dashing through all the rooms in your head, you don’t think there’s anything incriminating left visible. You’ve made it a habit to not leave your binoculars and notepad out when taking a break, usually dropping them in the nightstand drawer if in the bedroom. The listening devices you hope to somehow place inside the Jungs’ house someday are still packed away in Jeongguk’s suitcase under the bed.

The women step inside, and you follow them as they look around, still holding the cookies to your chest.

“Where’s Jaehyun?” Eunha looks back at you.

“Who?” you respond absentmindedly before it hits you.

“Jaehyun? Your husband?”

“Oh! I didn’t hear you,” you lie, hoping it sounds believable and not like you don’t know your husband’s name. “He’s probably playing some ball with Fenrir out back.”

The involuntary tour begins with the living room, and you let them feel the fabric of your couch, lying when Hyeji asks what brand and material it is–you wouldn’t know, you didn’t buy it.

“What kind of curtains are you planning?”

Looking up at the cold walls around your gray couch, you improvise, not knowing if the furniture truck even contains curtains, much less what color.

“Well, we have a couple different ones; I like to rotate them, but… light ones, probably? White or some kind of cold beige?”

As if picturing the drapes, Hyeji and Eunha both listen, humming quietly in agreement.

“Yeah, that would fit nicely with the table too. Clean, I like it.”

“Thank you.”

“Do you mind if we look upstairs?”

Although still nervous, you shake your head, knowing there’s nothing weird for them to stumble upon. “No, no, go ahead.”

“Are you sure? We don’t want to intrude.”

“It’s okay, I definitely understand being curious,” you smile sweetly.

One after the other, you ascend the stairs, you at the very end. During the way up, you hope that they won’t ask about the lone chair at the window in the empty bedroom. It's what you’ve been using whenever Jeongguk’s been occupying the furnished bedroom but you’ve still had to observe the house across the street. 

Luckily, it’s possible to explain, and you can just claim to have used it to check the ceiling light socket or something.

The furnished bedroom is the one closest to the stairs and therefore the room Eunha enters first.

“Oh, this is nice!” she exclaims, twirling slowly to get a feel of the whole room. “Does Fenrir not sleep with you? I’m just wondering how you manage to keep it clean with a dog that size? Although I love light colors like these, I’d never dare have them with an animal in the house.”

You laugh along with her, “No, he does sometimes, but usually, he sleeps in his own bed–which hasn’t arrived yet–but at the moment, he prefers the couch, to be honest. I think it gets too hot for him to sleep with us.”

“Oh, I bet,” you hear Hyeji snicker from behind. It gathers Eunha’s attention.

Confused, you turn around, the color leaving your face–or more like rushing to it–when Hyeji lifts the metal handcuffs off the dresser with her finger. You hadn’t seen them beside the black shirt of Jeongguk’s, lying thrown onto the surface.

“Oh, uh..” you stammer, watching her inspect them.

“These look so real,” she eyes them wide-eyed before her eyes travel to something else on the dresser, “And, uh, this…?”

To your horror, it’s not only his handcuffs that Jeongguk has left out in plain sight.

Eunha blinks with her eyebrows raised slightly, “Is that a… baton?”

“Oh, those….” you step forward, your cheeks warmer than in a long, long time, and you take them gently from the hands of a grinning Hyeji, “belong in the special drawer. I, uh, got them for him a while back. You know, a man in uniform…”

It fucking pains you, having to embarrass yourself due to Jeongguk’s fucking carelessness. He might as well have left his gun and police badge out for anyone to see.

“You know, I can’t even blame you, honestly,” Hyeji smirks as you open the dresser with blazingly warm cheeks to shove the baton into it. “I didn’t take you as the role-playing type, but with a man like that?”

“Yoongi’s crazy hot too, though,” Eunha points out, and you definitely have to agree. Although not as cold and imposing appearance wise as Jeongguk, Yoongi is a hell of a looker. Possibly also part of a criminal community, but you don’t have any concrete evidence for that yet.

“Yeah, of course, but he’s not into that kind of stuff. But I bet Hobi is,” Hyeji’s smirk grows wider, and she wiggles her eyebrows. 

To be fair, Hoseok, Hobi, is also incredibly hot, and he certainly doesn’t lack authority. Honestly, you could throw him into the station and he’d fit right in, who knows what some of those police officers have done behind closed doors?

Eunha blushes. “I know Hobi looks… dominating, but we don’t really engage in those… dynamics. I respect people who do,” she chuckles and nods toward you (please, God, if there’s ever a fitting time for a freak accident to annihilate you), “but that’s just not us.”

Me neither, you want to shout, but painfully enough, you can’t. Instead, you’re searching your brain for a way to change the topic in a natural way.

“I know that J–Jaehyun’s hot and that he can look stern and intimidating, and although I enjoy… that side of him, as you know now,” you chuckle while breathing through the pain, “he’s… so much more than that. He’s sweet and kind, and he’s my best friend in the whole world. So definitely more than gorgeous, and I’m so lucky to have him.”

Hyeji lets out an aw, and you smile shyly in turn. Jeongguk fucking owes you one. Big time. 

“Oh, hello,” Eunha suddenly greets sweetly, and you hear the sound of paws before turning around and seeing Fenrir trot into the room. 

Well, that means Jeongguk is probably also back inside, and that’s definitely your cue to break it up.

After another five minutes and a ton of comments and decor suggestions, your new friends have looked through the entire house, leaving only when you carefully work ‘still feeling tired’ into the conversation. They don’t appear too disappointed as they step outside, perhaps it has something to do with a shirtless Jeongguk giving them a wave as he passes them on his way to the kitchen.

Your blood is already boiling when you close the front door behind them. In vain, you spend twenty seconds trying to collect yourself, but you’re so incredibly angry. The whole point of having a house, shipping furniture to it, and pretending to live a happy little life in it is to be prepared to let people near you. 

Yet, Jeongguk almost blew your entire cover and put you in incredible danger had you not saved the both of you. You’re just lucky they bought it.

With furious steps, you enter the kitchen, only to find Jeongguk leaning back against the counter with a glass of water in his hand. You get that it’s warm and that he was playing with Fenrir, but why does he always need to be shirtless?!

“You’re such a fucking idiot,” you hiss at him, still keeping a respectable distance. “Care to explain why you’d risk the entire operation–our fucking lives–with these?!”

Reaching into your pocket, you grab the handcuffs, throwing them at Jeongguk’s chest. Of course, he catches them. 

“And your fucking baton?! Which I have no idea why you’d need now, and even less so why you’d leave out?!”

“I guess I forgot,” he shrugs, playing with the silvery cuffs in his veiny hand, “Sorry.”

“Are you for real?!” you question, his apology not exactly having simmered your anger. “Do you realize what could’ve happened if they suspected we’re fucking cops?!”

“Well, luckily, you managed to convince them that you want to be. Not that it took much.”

You glare at him, his words not clicking in your head but his face and the way he starts to smile arrogantly keeping your anger alive. You understand that he heard you, but what else?

“Fucking cops. Cops that are fucking, I mean. Want me to tie you up?” he places the glass down on the counter to take a step closer, eyeing you with disgusting confidence. “Cuff you to the bed?”

In response, you take a step back, feeling your stomach churn. The hottest layer of fury dwindles, and you’re left nearly speechless. “Besides stupid, you’re… you’re… vile,” you manage to say, “Try to touch me, and I’ll cut your hands off. And put a fucking shirt on.”

The rest of the afternoon and evening pass without much action. You don’t eat any of the cookies Eunha baked, but you do watch Jeongguk gobble them down without a single worry. 

Funnily enough, you almost think he feels… bad… for fucking up earlier. You would’ve never guessed he had any sort of conscience, but you don’t know how else to explain his actions.

Why would he offer to walk Fenrir when he paws at the door after you’ve just let out a sigh–much less subtle than you thought–so tired you’re struggling to keep your eyes open?

Although still incredibly suspicious, you do let him, and you stand at the window of the bedroom as they leave for, according to Jeongguk, an hour’s walk.

You don’t like the bedroom, you don’t like the couch. Hell, you don’t feel at ease anywhere in the house, but as you’re left with it to yourself, and it’s your turn to spend the night in the living room, you take the opportunity.

Locking the door to the bedroom, you set an alarm for fifty minutes on your phone.

You make a phone call later that day, and the morning after, Jeongguk receives another, informing you that the moving truck is set to arrive at one p.m.. 

You’re not too excited–not at all, really–but it does bring some satisfaction to finally see Jeongguk struggle.

He skips his morning run, stating that he’ll take a rest day with only the exercise that hauling heavy stuff around provides. When the truck pulls up, he’s however still wearing his normal workout outfit, meaning–shirtless. 

It does draw a roll of the eyes from you, but you feel like you can’t blame him too much; the sun really seems extra harsh today. When it comes to your own outfit, you’ve opted for a shorter light pink and flowy dress, held up by spaghetti straps. You try not to think of Jeongguk's opinion.

You stand back when the two men introduce themselves, letting Jeongguk do most of the talking, but when they open up the back of the truck, you’re happy to grab some brown boxes to carry inside.

Honestly, you have absolutely no idea what’s inside all these boxes, but at least they’re labeled by room to make it easier. The plan is to just carry them inside and procrastinate unpacking them for as long as possible, ideally until you’re done and there’s no longer a need to pretend anyway.

And although there are countless disadvantages to being a woman in this world, there is also at least one perk. 

It turns out that both moving guys, Donggeun and Gaeul, are surprisingly… chivalrous. They’re also just regular movers and definitely not law enforcement. Gaeul works primarily from within the big truck, handing the boxes out, and you, Jeongguk, and Donggeun accept them to move them inside. 

Well, as soon as Gaeul lifts a particularly heavy one–or just not one weighing basically nothing–he immediately counts you out. 

If he’s there and ready, Donggeun is Gaeul’s first choice, and he only hands it to Jeongguk if his colleague is busy. More than once, you reach for a brown box, only to have it gently snatched from your hands with an ‘I’ll take that for you, miss.’ 

You don’t like being made to feel weak, especially not by men, but to be honest, today you don’t mind taking the backseat. 

Still, you walk to and fro the house at least ten times, and you start to wonder if the chief and whoever coordinated the props miscalculated something because this many boxes truly is overkill. There are only so many things you do need for your short stay and only so many more to make your pretend life believable.

Despite making more runs than you, carrying a whole lot heavier things and sometimes two boxes at once, Jeongguk is clearly irritated whenever he misses his chance of taking a box from you to carry himself. Even more so when Donggeun beats him to it. Like you said, you don’t mind. Additionally, you don’t feel the threatening aura from either of the movers despite them being men, and you’re pretty sure both of them wear wedding bands. All men are shit, you know that, but evidently, some less so than others.

After having given you an appropriate-deemed box, only for Donggeun to return from the house and happily take it from you, Jeongguk calls for a break. By now, even if you hate the mere thought of it, you and your fake husband have gotten quite good at looks. Subtle glances, pointing gazes–it’s clear that your communication has improved, and you don’t miss his hint.

“Something to drink? That’s not water, I mean?” you clap your hands together smilingly as Gaeul runs his forearm across his sweaty forehead and Donggeun sighs tiredly. They both nod appreciatively, and so you turn, entering the house.

Rummaging through the cupboards, you find a big glass jug that you fill with raspberry lemonade. Jeongguk would’ve probably appreciated a cold beer, but honestly, Gaeul and Donggeun can’t drink on the job, and neither should he.

“Here you go,” you set the jug down on the little plastic garden table placed just inside the fence that’s already holding glasses and the guys’ water bottles. “I added some salt and a bit more sugar to restore fluid balance now that it’s so hot.”

You’re straightening up, wiping your hands on your dress when you feel a hand on your waist. There’s barely any time for you to react before you’re gently tugged into someone’s side and there’s a casual yet sweet kiss placed on your temple.

“Thank you, love.”

You’d be lying if you said his actions and low voice didn’t affect you, and it’s with warming cheeks and surprised eyes you glance up at him. But he’s already directed his focus elsewhere–onto the red liquid that admittedly looks very tempting–and as he’s moving away, his hand slips from your waist.

You breathe out. Man, you gotta get it together.

After twenty minutes and multiple denied offerings of cookies from your side, you get back at it. Well, Jeongguk and the others do; he tells you that he’s got it from here and that there aren’t that many boxes left. 

So you carry the empty jug and glasses back in, pretending that you don’t hear one of the moving guys–you’re not sure who–call you a sweetheart.

The air conditioner does you good, and you take your time washing the glassware, leaving it to air dry before you find yourself standing in the middle of the living room, gazing out over the sea of brown cardboard boxes. You really hope you and Jeongguk can make enough progress in the next few days to finally go home and continue the investigation from there.

Still in your thoughts, you head toward the door to go back outside. As soon as you open it, you see Jeongguk approaching, his head turned back over his shoulder and seemingly also deep in thought as he watches the guys.

He only notices you when you’re a few steps out of the door, his gaze falling onto you, and there’s something in it that you can’t quite decipher. It’s not hate or disgust; those he appears to keep contained for the moment. 

It happens very quickly after that. Without visible hesitation, he marches up to you, his hand already reaching for your face. Naturally, your heart bursts into an attack of some sort, and you’re just lucky he can’t feel your pulse and know how he makes your body react.

“Can I kiss you?” he asks, and it’s quiet enough that no one else hears, but clear enough that you do. 

Your eyes widen. “I, uh, o–okay.”

He’s doing it for the mission, you’re aware. You just haven’t had the time to figure out exactly why. And at first, you have no intention of figuring his exact reasoning out because Jeon Jeongguk is already kissing you. 

His hand that reached for your cheek travels to the back of your neck, and he uses it to pull you closer, his other hand finding your waist. 

And you… you can’t even say that you hate it. Well, you hate how gentle he is, even when eager, and you hate how he smells nice despite being a bit sweaty. You loathe how soft his lips feel against yours as they kiss you sweetly, and how he tastes of raspberries. Additionally, it’s disgusting how firm and warm his skin is when you run your hands up his back.

Most of all, you hate how someone like him can dent all your walls and how a part of you actually wouldn’t mind kissing him for longer.

But eventually, the kiss does end.

“What are you doing?” you ask quietly, embarrassingly out of breath.

“Kissing my wife.”

You almost laugh at the absurdity, but also… you can’t be mad because he did ask and it was… probably the best kiss you’ve ever had.

It hits you then. Why he did it.

“...You’re jealous.”

Unsurprisingly, Jeongguk scoffs, “No, I’m not. I just think… you know, you don’t talk about someone else’s wife and be all nice.”

The last part he mutters as he turns his head away, and you can’t resist.

“Oh, you so are,” you chuckle, watching him. “So you’re the jealous type of husband. Who would’ve thought?”

Actually, it’s not that much of a surprise. Jeongguk is incredibly competitive, that you do know, and those features tend to correlate. He doesn’t like you in any way, but he still can’t handle other men giving you attention?

He rolls his eyes, “No, I'm just irritated that they don't think I can take care of you on my own.”

Now that wasn’t what you expected.

“I don’t need to be taken care of, though. I can carry some boxes. I may be a woman, but I’m not that weak.”

“I know. Even though you are pretty weak,” he smirks, but it’s less arrogant than usual when it’s only the two of you. “The thing is that you don’t need to.”

You curse your heart for… doing something, and to hide your… fluster…? you sidestep him. “I’m glad we’re not actually married,” you whisper, “You’d be a terrible husband.”

From behind you, you hear how he follows, “You’d be an even worse wife, though. Can’t cook for shit.”

But his insult doesn’t carry that usual bite, and you don’t feel that usual surge of anger. Maybe it has to do with the fact that you’re not alone–at least two witnesses not too far away–or that you still feel him on your lips.

The next day, you’re already up and about when Jeongguk goes for his morning jog, and you see him exit the front door with Fenrir and a shirt on. The former with your (reluctant) permission and the latter by what can only be a belated Christmas miracle. 

Jeongguk seems to have taken a liking to Fenrir, which isn’t that weird considering the dog is an absolute angel, what’s weirder is that Fenrir likes him back. 

Honestly, you don’t really know what you think of it, but a part of you definitely dislikes it. Fenrir’s supposed to have your back, but instead, he’s frolicking with the enemy while you’re working your ass off.

You knew that signing up to live undercover would entail doing a lot of things not directly tied to the operation, but just how much came as a bit of a surprise. 

For instance, you hadn’t planned to be halfway through a recipe, flour on your cheek and a bit of egg white on the floor, but here you are.

Baking has never really been your thing, but you begrudgingly realize that you need to repay Eunha for her cookies and also simply for their generous welcoming. Okay, you probably don’t need to, but being perceived as friendly definitely won’t hurt you on your quest. 

Besides, doing something might help you not think about the day before and how your fake husband’s body feels pressed against yours and under your hands. Or his lips. Your heart almost giving up. His scent–

So, after crawling way too far down Google in search of something you could make yourself and pass off as a family recipe without being called out by an avid baker, you’re taking the tray with cookies out of the oven.

Inspecting the round little things, you tilt your head. At least they look… homemade.

Fifteen minutes later, while you’re in the middle of cleaning up the mess you accidentally made, a sight you’ve unfortunately grown used to enters kitchen.

Jeongguk. Half naked and sweaty. And out of breath. You pretend not to notice him although definitely always keeping an eye on him. Of course, the shirt was just too good to be true as it appears to have vanished into thin air. If you had less self control, your eyes would be glued to the way his abs move with every labored breath.

“Oh, you’re… baking?”

“Yeah,” you pretend to look for something in a drawer, “thought it would show some friendliness and give us a reason to go over.”

“Good idea, but…”

You close the drawer and look up. “What?”

“Can you even bake?”

He moves before you can react, approaching the counter top, and it’s at the last second you manage to open your mouth.

“No, don’t, those are—”

“—Poisoned?”

“—Hot.”

He meets your eyes, and you’re faced with a horrid realization that changes absolutely everything. 

Jeongguk lowers his hand, head turning and eyes spotting the cookies already gathered off a tray and onto a plate. “I guess I’ll have to volunteer as the guinea pig.”

You don’t stop him from biting into one of the cooled-off cookies, and when he tells you–after licking crumbs off his lips–that they’re not terrible, you’re not sure how to feel other than scared.

That feeling doesn’t go away, not even as you watch Jeongguk curiously sift through some of the brown boxes he didn't have time to yesterday, grinning in excitement as he finds some sort of “authentic samurai sword” to hang above the tv.

If baking and your realization had you scared, it’s nothing compared to delivering the cookies. 

A few hours have passed since you took your creations out of the oven when you’re knocking on Eunha’s door. Behind you, Jeongguk stands, looking around absentmindedly with Fenrir’s leash in his hands. You’re stopping by to return the container with your own cookies inside as thanks before going on a walk together; that’s the story.

However, it’s not only Eunha that comes to the door, but also Hoseok. Instantly, your blood freezes. You haven’t spoken much to him, much less than you’re sure Jeongguk has, but there’s just something about the man.

You’ve seen him talk and laugh with his friends and wife, but in between those moments, he seems so… cold. Or… scheming.

“Hi!” you greet, happy to the best of your abilities, “we came to return the favor. And the container.”

“Oh, you didn’t have to,” Eunha assures but still takes the box from you, opening it to inspect the contents. “Thank you.”

“No, thank you, it was really sweet to bake for me. Actually, you’ve all been very sweet to us, so thank you.”

“No need to thank us,” Hoseok speaks from behind his wife, and your heart skips a beat. “Although if your go-to ‘thank you’ is cookies then I don’t mind.”

You laugh and so do Eunha. Even Jeongguk lets out a chuckle from behind you.

“So how are you? Not fighting, I hope?” she grins.

You blink at Eunha’s question. Why would she think you were fighting? What could she have seen? Or heard?

“I’m just wondering since it looks like someone’s sleeping on the couch.”

You gulp. Fuck.

<previous | next>

so what are your thoughts?? what do we think of jk?? 😅😀

[kmpac]

OooooooooooOooOooOo

This is so good! What a delightful enemies to lovers story! I don’t like how mean he is to her but I love that she copes with some confidence issues about her physical appearance and I look forward to seeing what that dynamic develops into over more chapters. Really enjoying this!

dextrocardia | 02

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: 7.5k

warnings for this part: overall sexism, jk is mean but not much more than that.

rating: NC-17 – Adults Only

masterlist

part 2/? 

<previous | next>

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

When you wake up, the sun is already shining its rays through the living room windows, and you hear something that sounds eerily like a shower running. Immediately, you fly into a sitting position, patting down the covers retrieved from “your” side of the bed in search of your phone. Fenrir, curled up over your legs, lifts his head to look at you.

“Fuck,” you whisper when you find the device. It’s nine a.m. You really couldn’t sleep last night, too on edge, and the last thing you remember, it was six-fifty.

Few things make you as uncomfortable as the thought of being asleep on the couch while Jeongguk’s awake and walking around in the house, and the sound of the shower stops while you’re still cringing at how you didn’t manage to wake up before him. You guess you’re lucky that he needs you for the mission, otherwise, he wouldn’t have passed up a chance of suffocating you with a pillow, surely. Additionally, you probably looked even more disgusting than usual.

Touching your mouth, you’re at least relieved that there’s no drool, and although your hair feels slightly messy under your fingers, it certainly doesn’t feel like a bird’s nest. You're busy patting it down further when something moves in your peripherals.

Of course, it’s Jeongguk entering the room. And of course, he’s shirtless, the only thing he’s wearing being a pair of gray sweatpants hanging incredibly low on his hips.

Let’s just say that if you weren’t entirely awake, you for sure are now.

It’s truly ridiculous, and you hate how the vision in front of you–Jeongguk holding a towel in one hand and drying his black strands with it, occasionally lowering it to dab away a stray drop that’s run down his chest–almost makes you forget how much you hate him.

You knew very well how fit he is, but to see the evidence? The way the muscles bulge under his skin? It turns your skull into an echo chamber. 

You especially despise how insanely attractive he is. Because sure, muscles are hot on their own, but it’s the way he’s so nicely proportioned, his wide, strong shoulders that evolve to impressive but not exaggerated biceps, and veiny, sturdy-looking arms. 

As he rubs his hair with the towel, you can even see parts of some kind of back muscle peek out on his side, a little lower than the bottom of his shoulder blades. And why does his waist look like that? Tiny, defined, and the contours of those muscles making up his abs and v-line move with his every breath. And you haven’t even mentioned the tattoos snaking up his arm and making him look all the more dangerous.

At least you find some sort of solace knowing that with a body fat percentage in the negatives like that, if the world were to end, Jeongguk probably wouldn’t survive anything colder than a mild winter.

“So you decided to finally wake up?” his voice snaps you out of it, and you meet his eyes, annoyance starting to trickle into yours. “Don’t you think you should get up earlier? What if someone pays us a visit to see you still asleep at this hour? Not very housewife of you.”

“Oh, shut up. As if you’ve accomplished anything at this hour except being an ass,” you roll your eyes, turning your head and trying not to let him see how your cheeks are just a bit warmer than before. “And put some clothes on, will you?”

“Well, I did find out that the guys spend Thursday nights at the Kims’, playing poker, and managed to get myself invited,” Jeongguk boasts. “And no, I don’t think I will. I realize you’ve most likely never seen this much of a man before, but if I were you, I’d take advantage of it. Who knows when someone will let you see anything like this again. Never, probably.”

He gestures toward his abs, and you have to admit that the single water drop running down the bulging muscles looks very delectable. Of course, you don’t let him know that, hurt and anger still boiling in your veins.

“Unfortunately, I have, but it doesn’t matter, I don’t wanna see you. At all, actually. And when would you have had the time to find anything out?”

“Oh, right. I forgot. And I found it out when I went on my morning run just now? And keep telling yourself that, honey. You may hate men, but you can’t deny the fact that you'd get under me in a heartbeat if you had the chance.”

It’s the way he takes a step closer, arrogance reeking from him, and you despise how, for a split second, your gaze lingers on his thighs, visibly thick even through the fabric, and the evident bulge, not even visibly hard, front and center. You loathe how you just know that Jeongguk is most likely big and pretty, and how he definitely knows it too.

Seething–and with your heartbeat racing–you reach underneath the duvet to pluck the razor blade from its container strapped to your thigh. “Come closer and I promise you, I’ll cut your corneas out, and my face will be the last thing you see.”

“You’re fucking mental,” he shakes his head in disbelief, seemingly not very scared by your threat or the blade between your fingers. “What kinda name is ‘Fenrir’ anyway?”

You follow his line of sight, eyes landing on the new topic of conversation lying beside you. Carefully, you place the razor blade back.

“Norse mythology? The evil wolf that killed Odin?”

You take his raised eyebrows as a ‘no’. “The gods tried to bind him with magic chains, but Fenrir refused, only allowed it if his handler, the god Tyr, dared put his arm in Fenrir’s mouth.”

“So? Did he?”

“Yes, and Fenrir bit it off.”

You can’t really decipher the look on Jeongguk’s face except that he looks disinterested. He hums a ‘huh,’ and turns to leave the room. Weird.

Deciding to follow his lead even though your body is screaming at you to go back to sleep, you stand up and fold the duvet over your arm. Fenrir jumps down from the couch and follows you as you head up the stairs to return the covers to the empty side of the bed.

With the bed made, you shut your eyes briefly. You need to get started with the day and the mission, but that means going back downstairs and most likely having to spend time with Jeongguk close by while you’d much rather just stay in the bedroom alone.

Sucking it up, you change into another dress provided for you, a light pink summer dress with a pattern of the tiniest flowers on it. It’s pretty, but as you stand before the mirror, your eyes fill with worry. It’s not as tight as the blue one, but you’re still scared Jeongguk will comment on your body. You sigh and will yourself to not think about it and move on. It doesn’t matter.

When it comes to your hair, you would’ve just combed your fingers through it if you were home, maybe tied it away from your face somehow, but you wouldn’t have carefully combed through it like you do now. Neither would you have reached for a small bottle and pumped it twice into your hands, rubbing them together before applying the oil to the lengths of it.

You meet your own eyes in the bathroom mirror. Should you just apply some make-up? It’s no surprise that you look exhausted, and you don’t think you could hide it–along with all your imperfections–with make-up, but maybe just to smooth out your skin tone? Add some eyeliner and mascara to make your eyes look bigger? Contour your cheekbones a bit?

With a deep sigh, you retrieve your make-up bag, starting off by washing your face. Surely, they could’ve sent another female detective? If not Jihyo then Sana? Someone more appropriate and definitely more fitting than you. Because you’re… alright, but objectively and infuriatingly speaking, you don’t belong with Jeongguk. How no one has already called you out on your bluff is beyond you.

Looking somewhat presentable, you decide to take Fenrir out on his first walk of the day. It’s nice to have a backyard where he can relieve himself but he needs a lot more than just that.

The sun is already high in the sky when you close the front door behind you, leash in hand. Discreetly checking out your surroundings, you notice some of your neighbors doing various yard-work and gardening. 

Although these are people you’re supposed to spy on and put on your life’s act in front of, you honestly feel more relaxed outside than you do inside the house with Jeongguk. Fenrir stretches his body out before lowering his nose to sniff the lawn.

For a moment, as you walk through the neighborhood that’s actually pretty lovely, you almost forget about everything bothering you and the challenging mission you’re on.

The sound of someone calling your fake name snaps you out of your thoughts as you walk along the sidewalk. When you turn around, you see Hyeji waving excitedly, a leash of her own in her hand. Her dog is much smaller than Fenrir, and it’s white. A maltese perhaps?

 

It’s with a bit of smug pride that you return to the house one hour later, opening the door for yourself and Fenrir. 

You expected Jeongguk to be there, of course, and not to be at his very happiest because of, well, the situation, but when he comes to meet you at the door, he’s angrier than you could’ve guessed. 

“Where were you?” he crosses his arm over his chest–at least wearing a navy t-shirt now–his jaw tight.

“Walking Fenrir?” you state, stepping back and definitely not understanding what his problem is. You’ve been gone for a little more than an hour, not the entire day. 

The dog in question stands between the two of you, giving Jeongguk his stink eye. He doesn’t like men all that much, especially not if they seem threatening or unstable in any way, and Jeongguk does give off that kind of vibe.

“And you didn’t think to tell me?”

“Well, no? I didn’t think I had to ask for permission?” you blink in disgust. “You do know that this housewife, bread-winning husband thing is just an act, right? Besides, we just woke up, you’d think you’d understand that he needs to go outside.”

Jeongguk scoffs, “Just tell me when you leave and where.”

“Because?”

“Because,” he lowers his voice to a strained whisper, “we’re not exactly here on vacation, and I wanna know where you are.”

“But you didn’t tell me when you left for your run?”

“Because you were sleeping, and besides, I’m a man.”

“You’re a real dick, Jeongguk, you know that, right?”

Jeongguk just rolls his eyes, still standing with his arms crossed over his chest. 

“And I was gonna tell you about the lead I just found.”

This seemingly piques his interest, “What lead?”

For a split second, you consider not telling him as a punishment for being an ass, but honestly, you don’t want to anger him more than necessary. 

“Hyeji’s got a dog. I just met her, and we walked them together, so I’m thinking that’s my way in.”

Jeongguk hums, his professionalism taking the lead. “Yeah, that could work. Getting close to her will get you closer to Eunha too.”

“By the way, just so our stories match, should someone ask, I told her that I got Fenrir after a burglary before I met you.”

“What? Who did you tell? Hyeji? Just her?”

Confusion colors your expression, “Yeah, why?”

“Because I told Namjoon, the guy living in twelve, that I got Fenrir.”

You shut your eyes in frustration. “Now why would you do that? And why wouldn’t you tell me about it?”

“Because it’s such a masculine dog, it wouldn’t make sense if he was yours?”

“And why is that?”

“Look, stop being a feminazi for once. He doesn’t fit your character. Sure you’re not this sweet, pretty girl in real life, but that’s who you’re trying to be here, right? It makes more sense that he’s mine.”

You press your lips together. It shouldn’t hurt what he thinks of you. “Fine, just tell me if you do something like that again.”

“Fine.”

“And we really need to hurry up and get this over with so we can leave before everything starts to crumble around us.”

You stay inside for most of the day, reluctantly showing Jeongguk the commands you use when walking Fenrir, and even letting him play soccer with him in the backyard. It’s good for your image as a couple, you begrudgingly realize, and if you’re ever confronted about the contradicting backstory of Fenrir, you’ll just say that Jeongguk’s male ego is too fragile to admit that Fenrir’s originally yours. 

Stuck inside, you wonder what you’re going to do about the food for the remainder of your stay. Yesterday, you ate what Hyeji and Eunha brought you, even though you were hesitant in case it was poisoned. Since Jeongguk disregarded your warning and seemed fine, you followed his lead.

Although frustrating you beyond belief, you realize that you might as well bite the bullet and cook for the both of you. You don’t really want to provide any type of service for Jeongguk, but at the end of the day, it’s your job. Not to be his maid–cough–wife, but to be undercover and finish this mission.

You hear the sound of paws on the kitchen floor before you hear Jeongguk’s voice.

“You know this is probably the best part so far, Mrs Jeon,” he taunts smugly. 

Turning away from the pans on the stove, you roll your eyes. At least he seems to be in a better mood. 

“First of all, I’m not a Mrs, and certainly not your Mrs. Secondly, unfortunately I have to eat, and I know you’d use the opportunity to poison me, so I might as well do it.”

“Might as well do what? Poison me?”

“No, idiot, cook. You don’t have to eat it if you don’t want to because you’re a grown man and surely able to feed yourself? But I don’t have very much reason to poison you. Yes, I hate you with everything in me, but how would I explain your absence? What would I do with your body?”

“Oh, there are probably plenty of things you’d do with my body.”

Your eyebrows shoot up. “Jeongguk, I don’t want to be anywhere near you, dead or alive.”

“Hmm, let’s say that,” he shrugs.

He does end up eating the food you serve. In a different room from you, of course.

 

 

Your heart beats quickly, and your veins are filled with anxiety as you stare at your options of dresses. The fact that even though it was your turn to sleep in the bedroom, you didn’t manage to get a good night’s rest, doesn’t help.

The barbeque is today, in a few hours actually. You haven’t spoken to Jeongguk about what he’s wearing, and you really don’t want to, treasuring the fact that you haven’t seen much of him today so far.

It’s probably best to go for cute and proper, casual yet… elegant? Something not too revealing or form fitting around the chest as well. You sigh, not having put this much effort into your looks in a while. It’s not like you have anyone to impress at work, anyway.

In the end, you settle for a light yellow dress, reaching just below your knees and with a square neckline and short sleeves. It’s cute, you think, as you hold it in your hands. It won’t look its very best on you, but it will have to do. You just hope Jeongguk will keep his mouth shut because you really don’t need it today.

Ten minutes to six, you open the front door with a large oven dish containing food in your hands, Jeongguk right behind you with a case of beer in his hand. The few sentences you’ve exchanged so far were all about the plan, and it’s placed you into some kind of bubble. 

Until Jeongguk’s voice breaks you out of it. 

“Wait,” he says, hand still on the open door when you turn around.

He’s wearing a dark blue button up shirt, the first two buttons undone, paired with black chino shorts, and it’s incredible how good he looks. The outfit brings out the darkness of his hair and eyes and shows off his impressive physique. 

You never thought someone’s knees and calves could be attractive, but that’s obviously the case when it comes to Jeongguk because you’ve found yourself glancing even at those more than once. His whole body is just so… manly. Strong and athletic. And it makes you hurl on the inside how you’re unable to stop your body from appreciating his.

He’s quiet until you take a step closer, looking up at him questioningly. “What?”

“Let your hair down.”

Instinctively, your hand flies up to feel the loose ponytail you put your hair into an hour ago, but you don’t feel any particular bumps or loose strands that would make it look weird.

“Why?”

“Just do it.”

Glaring at him and his non-informative answer, you shake your head. “No.”

But he doesn’t give up. “Come here,” he instructs, and you’re well aware that people could be watching you, so reluctantly, you decide to listen.

“Just trust me for once,” he looks down at you when you come to stand in front of him. Your heart starts to race when he puts the beer down to lift his hands to your head, taking the hair tie out and letting your hair fall freely. You hate that you know how he smells, and you hate that you like it.

“I don’t trust you,” you state because it’s true. The only reason you’re somewhat going along with him is because you’re outside where your neighbors could see, and they can’t witness you arguing.

If your heart was beating quickly before, it’s nothing compared to what it does when Jeongguk chooses to run his hand through your hair to fix it to how he likes. Being so close to him makes you nervous of meeting his eyes, but when his focus lies elsewhere, you chance a glance at his face. 

He looks concentrated and stern, but you notice a mole under his bottom lip that makes his entire face almost… cute. It’s disgusting, really, how kissable his mouth appears.

“It makes you look younger, more care-free,” he explains absentmindedly. “Now, you need to act well, so if you can do me a favor and hide your man-hatred for just one night.”

You hadn’t felt how your eyes had softened just a tad, but you damn well feel the glare return stronger than before.

“Excuse me, I’m a great actress,” you bite in a strained whisper. “A great detective.”

“Let’s just agree to disagree on that one,” he smiles down at you, but it’s sarcastic and full of distaste.

“Fuck you,” you mutter, stepping away from him.

The walk to the Jungs’ is a short one–it really is just on the other side of the street–but you’re clutching the oven dish tightly in your hands the whole time. You begrudgingly realize that Jeongguk is an even better actor than you thought.  

As soon as you arrive at the Jungs’ backyard, all attention is on the two of you. The new couple. All in all, there are maybe ten to twelve people gathered, most watching curiously. Jeongguk is quick to hand the beer away and then take the oven dish from you to put it down on a table filled with food and ingredients. 

After that, he doesn’t leave your side for the ten minutes it takes for everyone to greet you, his arm resting comfortably around your waist. You try your best to ignore the nerves as you’re basically held against Jeongguk’s firm body, but you’re almost sure he can feel your heartbeat through your clothes.

Remembering what he said before, you throw caution to the wind and place your hand on his abdomen. Jeongguk doesn’t react and only continues to speak with your new “friends,” and you try to act as if having your hand on his firm stomach–moving slightly under your touch with his every movement and breath–is a common occurrence.

“Awh, that’s so romantic,” Wheein exclaims when you once again tell the story of how you and Jeongguk ‘met.’ She and her two friends watch you with heart eyes, but it’s definitely mostly because of your fake husband. If only they knew the evil that resides behind that ridiculous beauty.

“Yeah, and we just knew, right, honey? Right away?”

“Yeah,” you smile up at him, and you’re almost floored by his warm smile. 

If you’ve learned anything so far, it’s that you’ve never seen him really smile before coming here, and it’s so convincing. You take notice of how dimples appear on his cheeks and how the corners of his eyes crinkle when he looks the very happiest. It’s almost jarring.

Fortunately, you can’t stay together the whole time, and Jeongguk decides to help out with the meat, seeing it as a chance to get closer to the guys. You, on the other hand, talk with some of the wives. And unsurprisingly, they just really wanna gush about your hunk of a husband.

You nod along to their fawning over Jeongguk until Hyeji calls for them from inside the house. She needs help with the food, and Wheein, cradling her practically newborn baby, holds him out for you.

“You wanna hold him a little bit for me? I’ll be right inside if you need anything, but he’ll most likely just sleep.”

It’s been a while since you held a baby, the latest being your cousin’s daughter, and she’s almost seven now, but you nod. It’ll be nice to not have to listen to Jeongguk’s new admirers for a while. Even nicer not to have to agree with them.

“Uh, sure.”

Gratefully, she hands him over and disappears into the house.

Turns out that Wheein wasn’t lying, and although Doyun isn’t asleep, he’s very calm. You spend another ten minutes easily watching the little baby in your arms, mesmerized by how incredibly adorable he is. He’s got a lot of hair for such a young baby, his entire head covered in black tresses.

“New here?”

When you look up, you’re met with an unfamiliar face. It’s a man, tall and with black hair. He must’ve just arrived.

“Uh, yeah,” you answer, “moved in just a few days ago.”

The man smiles, and you’re hit with how pretty he is, but there’s a… feeling in your stomach.

“I’m Haneul”

“Nice to meet you,” you greet, thankful for the little human occupying your arms and rendering you unavailable for a handshake.

“The pleasure’s all mine, nice to finally have some beautiful new women in town.”

“Oh, uh, I’m flattered, but unfortunately, I’m married,” you smile politely and shift Doyun around to give Haneul a glimpse of your fake ring.

He only glances at it briefly before hitting you with a lazy smirk. “‘Unfortunately,’ huh?”

Fuck. 

“I didn’t mean it like that, I love my husband.”

“Is he here?”

“Yeah,” you answer, turning your head to search for your tall, dark-haired husband. But you don’t see him at the grill, and your stomach drops. “Uh, he was there just a moment ago.”

“I see. Listen, I know a lot of husbands can be… lacking… in certain areas, and I’m having a hard time tearing my eyes off you, so I thought I should at least offer, you know?”

You hate men so fucking much, the audacity to come onto you in this manner after you already told him you were happily married? You’d also bet every penny you own that he wouldn’t have made the offer if he saw Jeongguk, because your fake husband–regardless if you’d ever admit it to anyone or even yourself–can be really imposing. He’s tall, strong, and has great posture. 

Honestly, they’re probably not even that different, Jeongguk and Haneul. At least they both seem confident and very entitled.

Your pulse races, but not in a good way, and you instinctively take a step back. You can feel the plastic case lying in your bra, but unless it is a real life or death situation, you can’t reach for it.

“Well, I’ll have to decline, and you should probably know that not a lot of husbands would appreciate your offer,” you warn politely, realizing that this is a man who won’t respect a woman’s opinion, but only her male owner’s.

You continue walking backward, smiling nicely just because you know it’s in your best interest not to cause a scene. He follows you, still with his lips pulled into that smirk. “Oh but they don’t need to know.”

Luckily, Jeongguk has returned from wherever he went, talking with the other men–Hoseok included–when you reach him.

He’s looking the other way, not having noticed you as you almost bump into him before hoisting Doyun up and holding him with one arm and carefully snaking your free one around Jeongguk’s.

“This is my husband,” you tell Haneul. At the same time, Jeongguk turns his head questioningly, looking between you and the man. 

Truthfully, it hurts you to have to come to him for any sort of help, but you guess you can at least play it off as your cover–Kim Yeji–needing him and not you. 

Certainly understanding why you’re suddenly seeking his protection, when you peer up at Jeongguk, you see his stern face observing the other man. 

Haneul only smiles apologetically and raises his hands, palms facing you.

You know that Jeongguk’s lack of pleasantries doesn’t mean that he’s angry at the guy–he’s probably only annoyed at you for interrupting his mingling–but Haneul accepts his defeat and leaves anyway. With him gone, you step away from Jeongguk, making sure it’s inconspicuous enough. 

In true Jeongguk-manner, he raises his eyebrows minimally at you, but all you do is give a little dismissive wave. 

For the few minutes it takes you to make sure Haneul isn’t lingering, you stay in Jeongguk’s proximity. Although keeping his confused aura whenever he peers over at you, there aren’t any opportunities for him to ask, and the other beer-drinking men keep him busy.

Soon enough, you find yourself at the border between the Jungs’ and the Choi’s yards, sitting down on the low stone wall dividing them. Doyun is wide awake but so well behaved and calm that he might as well have been knocked out, and you don’t even try to keep your eyes off him.

It’s not until someone sits down beside you that you look up. Surprisingly, you breathe out in relief when the brown eyes you meet belong to Jeongguk. Who would’ve thought you’d ever be relieved to see him?

“It’s going well, but unfortunately, I haven’t found out anything else of importance,” he updates you.

Realistically, you’ve always known you wouldn't be able to solve the case in an afternoon, but realizing you might be stuck here for longer than you expected makes your heart sink.

It’s quiet for a moment. Something about this cute little being on your lap lessens your anger, and you’re forced to realize that there’s just no point in overworking your heart at the moment. You can’t run, and there’s nowhere for you to hide.

“Isn’t he the cutest thing you’ve ever seen?” you ask quietly, focusing on the little being that’s still pure.

As if he didn’t see the tiny baby before, Jeongguk peers over into your lap. “Hmm, he’s pretty cute.”

Hit by another realization, you turn your head to first look at Jeongguk and then Doyun again.

“Do you have something to tell me?”

You can practically feel Jeongguk’s confusion. “What?”

“I mean, he a hundred percent looks like he could be yours,” you smile a small smile, and for the first time in what feels like forever, you think it’s mostly genuine. If someone told you two weeks ago that you’d try to make light conversation, joke even, with Jeongguk, you would’ve laughed at the insanity.

But, of course, no good deed goes unpunished, and the peace is short-lived.

“So you think I’m cute?”

“That’s definitely not what I said,” you scoff, not even sparing Jeongguk a glance.

“But it is what you meant.”

You grow quiet, not feeling a fight but unable to lie at the moment. Jeongguk just needs to ruin everything not already terrible, doesn’t he?

“So you do?”

“Jeongguk,” you sigh, holding the little boy’s hand, “I’m sure you don’t need me to tell you you’re handsome.”

“No, but it’s always nice to hear,” he says, and you can hear the grin in his voice. “But honestly, you’re right, he does look a lot like me. I’m pretty sure I looked exactly like that when I was a baby.”

For some reason, you find the irritation slowly melting away once more. You’re just tired of always being angry with him, and since he’s not terribly mean at the moment, you guess you can allow yourself a little break. It’s not like he’s going to insult you and your family and then bash your head in with a rock in front of all the neighbors.

“It’s the nose, right? And the eyes—yours are also really round.”

“Yeah.”

You watch as Jeongguk offers his hand and as Doyun grips his finger. The vision of his large, tattooed hand being held by this tiny little one ignites just a little bit of warmth in your chest.

“That guy… what was up with him?”

You tear your eyes from the cuteness in front of you to peer at the side of Jeongguk’s face. He seems curious.

“I don’t know, he…”

But you just don’t have the energy to start anything. Telling Jeongguk about how men never respect you and how you hate the way they only stop when there’s another man involved will only make him roll his eyes and call you a man-hating lesbian. 

Besides, even if you think Haneul was interested in you in some way or another, you can’t tell Jeongguk that either. Although you’re well aware that men frequently only show “interest” to prove their power over you as a woman, Jeongguk will only retort that you’re being negative. He’d call you self-centered for thinking that Haneul wanted something because how would someone that pretty possibly be interested in you?

So you don’t continue your sentence. Neither does Jeongguk. 

A moment passes before he places his hands on his knees. “Well, I’m gonna head back to the guys and keep trying.”

“Yeah, me too. They’ll probably be back soon,” you nod toward the house. 

Jeongguk nods as well, “Good luck, then.”

“You too.”

The food is delicious, even if you do wait to take the first bite until everyone else has, just in case. You’re seated at the end of the table, Jeongguk on the short side with the corner between you.

It’s more difficult than you would like to admit to find a balance in eye contact, or just any contact, really. 

Ideally, you’d prefer to pretend he doesn’t exist, but he does, and you can’t seem too avoidant or there will be suspicions. 

On the other hand, if you look too much at him, he’ll for sure call you out on your obsessive behavior later, and you don't want to give him any more ammunition than he already has. He really doesn’t need to know that you don’t think you’ve ever seen a man as handsome as him before. 

Hyeji sits on your left side, turning to you often but otherwise talking animatedly to her husband Yoongi on her other side.  

Jeongguk speaks a bit with his neighbor too, but it’s not someone of importance–Hyeji’s visiting cousin. You don’t know her name but she doesn’t hide how interested she is in your “husband.” Which sort of makes you unreasonably irritated. Or maybe it isn’t so unreasonable since it makes you feel disrespected. For what she knows, Jeongguk is yours.

Luckily for you–for the mission–Jeongguk only interacts with her in a clearly platonic way, no too joyous smiles or any touches at all. Just small talk.

If it were up to you, you would’ve preferred going through the evening without as much as another word to your partner, leaving him to talk to whoever he wants, but there’s one thing that makes the hair on your arms stand up. One man.

Hoseok.

He sits on the other side of the long, rectangular table, approximately five seats away. He’s too far away for you or Jeongguk to really speak to, but that in itself doesn’t bother you too much because you don’t want to risk coming on too strong, anyway. 

What does bother you is the curious, even inspective way he turns his head to look at you. He’s a handsome man, with dark brown eyes and hair and sun-kissed skin, but he makes cold shivers run down your spine.

Without meeting his eyes, you try to appear confident and like your new friends are demanding all your attention, but whenever Hyeji turns away, you’re left to your husband.

In an attempt to at least look like you enjoy having him on this earth, you place your hand on top of his that’s resting on the table. Not executed in the smoothest way possible–a little bumpy–you still think it looks somewhat genuine.

At the action, Jeongguk turns his head to face you, but you’re already turning yours away, this time asking Hyeji where she grew up and ready to tell your own made-up childhood story. To your surprise, you feel Jeongguk turn his hand over and intertwine your fingers, and for quite some time, your hands remain like that.

“Hi! Good to get away from the others for a bit, right?”

You match Hyeji’s grin as you come to stand before her, Fenrir and her dog, Bubbles, sniffing each other. 

“Yeah, I just zone out when they start talking about sports,” you chuckle, referring to the few couples still at the Jungs’, and particularly the men. “They’re so passionate about it, too?”

“Oh, definitely! Does Jaehyun invite his friends to watch important games? Or just… all the games?” she laughs, wrapping her cardigan tighter around her in the chilly night air and taking the lead on the sidewalk.

You call for Fenrir’s attention and follow Hyeji. “Yeah, not all the games, and they’re not always at ours, but yeah, they can’t seem to watch anything alone, can they?”

“No, meanwhile I just watch my series with Bubbles, but he’s so much better company than Yoongi, honestly.”

“I can relate to that! How old is Bubbles, by the way?”

“He’ll be seven in December, so almost an old man,” she smiles fondly down at the dog who stops to pee on a neighbor’s fence. “Oops,” Hyeji smiles childishly. “What about Fenrir? How old is he?”

“He’s five.”

“He’s so big,” she marvels over the dog that dwarfs her maltese.

“Yeah. He’s made me feel a lot safer since… what happened.”

“I get that. I’m sorry that happened to you, it must’ve been awful. But at least you’ve got Fenrir and your husband too now to protect you.”

You almost laugh at the irony. If someone broke into your fake home, Jeongguk would probably serve you up on a silver platter for the burglars to take you. He’d interrupt them, only to happily offer them a knife and remind them to really stab you through the heart before they leave.

“Jaehyun is… strong and all, but I honestly think he’s a little too relaxed,” you complain, appearing worried. “Speaking of security, we’re looking to install a home alarm, but we’re not sure which one to get. Do you have any recommendations? Since you also have a dog?”

“Oh, of course! I can’t remember the name of our model, but I remember that one of our criterias was that there are no motion sensors because even though Bubbles mostly sleeps while we’re gone, we really don’t want him to trigger the alarm.”

“Exactly. So we’re looking at an alarm with just door and window sensors?”

“Yeah. I’ll look up the name of ours but I’d honestly recommend getting another brand because we have so little time to enter the code from the moment we unlock the door that it gives me half a heart attack every time.”

You chuckle at the dramatic way she clutches at her heart. “Oh, yeah, that would stress me out too.”

She tilts her head curiously. “How is Fenrir inside when he’s alone? Is he destructive?”

“No, he’s pretty good. He can bark a bit if he hears something outside and he can paw at the door sometimes, but he leaves furniture and such alone.”

“That’s good. He’s not on the windows, then?”

You pretend to think about it, already knowing that Fenrir’s very well behaved and absolutely never up to anything bad whenever he’s alone. “Hm, not that I know of? Maybe if he sees something, I’m sure he could bark and press his nose against it.”

“I’m just asking because I know you can choose an alarm that has window sensors but disable it for specific windows. Did you know that Eunha’s got a cat? He sits at this one window day in and day out, looking at the birds, but if he sees a squirrel in the tree outside, he goes crazy and basically tries to claw his way through the window.”

“Oh, really?” you exclaim curiously, grinning victoriously on the inside.

“Yeah, and their alarm isn’t connected to any kind of first responders or security company just because he sometimes decides to smash his head into any of the other windows too.”

Hyeji laughs and you chuckle along as well, although, you can definitely think of a few more reasons that the Jungs wouldn’t want any sort of authorities visiting their house.

“It just sends alerts and activates their inside cameras. Which is good if there’s a risk that your pet triggered it.”

“Oh, so you can check for yourself? That sounds smart. I’ll look into it with Jaehyun. Thank you.”

“No problem.”

To say that you get back to the Jungs’ with a little extra determination in your step is an understatement.

Jeongguk is still sitting outside at the table with the guys, their passionate voices talking about various sports and athletes sound through the summer night air. The sun set quite some time ago, the tables now only lit by candles and strings of fairy lights hanging from the few trees.

Your discovery lies heavy on your tongue, and you want to tell Jeongguk as soon as possible. He doesn’t notice you and Hyeji walking back to the table until you’re standing at his side. They’re all looking so relaxed, leaning back in the rattan armchairs.

“Hey, uh, honey? I think I’m gonna head back home. It’s getting late, and I’m getting tired.”

He looks up at you and then to Fenrir who sits behind you patiently.

“Oh, already?”

You can tell by his eyes that he wants to stay to work on his own connections, but you feel like the best tactic is to take it slowly and not push too much. Additionally, you’ve already found a huge lead.

The voices are still loud as Jeongguk’s new friends discuss a particular game from five years ago, a few of the remaining wives having gathered at the other end of the table and talking animatedly to each other about something. Hyeji joins them with Bubbles on her lap.

So you make sure no one’s watching too closely, and you lean down.

“I need to talk to you,” you whisper in Jeongguk’s ear.

He pulls back to look at you questioningly, still reluctant to leave so you gesture with your hand for him to lean back in.

“I think I found our way in.”

But the moment after you say it, your gaze travels carefully over the other neighbors and lands on the eyes of Hoseok himself. He’s watching you with something unclear in his gaze.

In a slight panic, you recall the chief’s words, and with no time to second guess yourself, you slide your hand down Jeongguk’s chest, mindlessly toying with the first thing you feel, which happens to be the third button. It’s the first one that’s actually buttoned, and perhaps unfortunately, it accidentally opens under your touch.

“He’s watching,” you explain quietly but rushed into Jeongguk’s ear, and to make sure your act is believable, you press your lips against his cheek and with your other hand coming up on the other side of his face from behind, you tangle your fingers carefully in his hair.

Truthfully, you don’t think Jeongguk minds, otherwise you would’ve definitely been more careful. Well, he’ll probably spend an hour in the shower when you get back, scrubbing his body free from your touch, but he allows it, even encourages it since it’s vital to the mission. 

Along with what the chief said about needing to look in love, Jeongguk’s own words from the first day ring in your head.

“Touch me like you love me” 

Or something like that. So you definitely have his permission.

What shouldn’t surprise you but still does is when he raises his hand to cover yours on his chest, sliding it to the side, underneath the fabric of his half-open shirt.

You let out a shaky breath against the side of his face, hoping, most likely in vain, that he doesn’t notice. His hand is warm over yours, and his chest under your palm is too. The heartbeat you feel is just your own, pulsing through your entire body and to your hand, not his, even though your hand is basically right above it. You honestly aren’t sure he has a heart.

Although knowing you’d see more of him than you ideally wanted, you wouldn’t have guessed that you’d essentially be feeling him up in public like this, but honestly, his body isn’t the problem. 

Somewhere in your mind, you’re already dreading having to sooner or later look him in the eye.

Surprising you even more, you feel his other arm wrap around your waist, somehow tugging you, gasping, onto his lap.

Ending up sitting sideways over his thighs, you decide to make the best out of the situation and look relaxed, leaning back against him. You don’t check if Hoseok’s still watching, but you’d rather play it safe than make him suspect something.

“Did I tell you how pretty you look today? My little wife.”

You try your best to conceal your surprise, but you still feel your eyes widen a tad at Jeongguk’s quiet words. And of course, your cheeks start to heat up even more than before. 

Yeah, you guess that Hoseok must still be watching.

Looking at Jeongguk, meeting his eyes, you almost lose your breath and the leash still grasped in your hand. You get why the chief sent him. 

Jeongguk is probably the officer that hates you the most out of everyone, yet he has no problem gazing up at you like you're his entire world. It’s not that much of a surprise that he’s a god damn talented actor because he’s just good at everything.

You’re in no position to do anything but play along, and you don’t really want to admit it to yourself, but after today and at that specific moment, it doesn’t seem that terrible. 

At first, you’re extremely aware of every little area where you and him are touching, even through your clothes. You’re aware of your breathing and his–both slow and calm, but his feeling just a tad bit more naturally unaffected than yours.

But his embrace is soft yet sturdy, and he has the audacity to slowly and softly rub your back and sometimes your shoulder. Ten minutes pass just like that.

And you’re tired. So incredibly exhausted. You’ve barely slept at all, and strangely enough, you don’t feel threatened at the moment despite being surrounded by dangerous people.

So you drift off. Right then and there, in the arms of the man that despises your very being–your head resting right by his neck–and in the backyard of one of the country’s most accomplished robbers. One of them will for sure be the death of you, and you don't think it will be Hoseok.

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