BTS Austin Butler As Feyd Rautha Dune Part Two

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

> fluff, slight angst / wc: 3.4k

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“what about jungkook?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“just came by to give you a snack.”

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

“i mixed them myself.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“do you have a test, too?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“what does it taste like exactly?”

“water with a hint of mint?”

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

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

“you’re so- heavy! move!”

“no! give me back my protein shake!”

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

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

you didn’t. you just wanted to bicker.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

so needy and dramatic.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“but gimbap is better. let’s go.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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richard siken my beloved

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)!!

This is why your characters don't feel real

Here are the top reasons why your character could be feeling flat or unreal. What every author aims for is to make palpable realistic characters who feel like someone we could actually know.

They have no internal conflict(!)

You haven’t got a clue about their backstory.

Or about what their struggle/internal conflict is rooted in.

You write them to fit the plot, instead of letting them react the way they should in the given moment (even if this leads to a huge change in the story!).

You fail to think about their dynamics & backstory with each important character in their narrative.

You don’t give them a motivation/goal going into each scene.

There are so many factors that go into making a character feel real - and you might hear advice that this is because they don’t have an interesting personality, or a unique character voice, but honestly? These are surface-level reasons. These are not going to make or break your character.

What IS going to make them interesting is internal conflict —> a struggle which we meet them in, a story of overcoming the struggle that we get invested in, and a root cause for the struggle in the character’s backstory.

Would you like to learn more about crafting realistic character who lead the plot FOR you? 🤯

You might want to give my 6-month group coaching program a go! It's designed specifically to help overcome this issue and teach you how to plot ANY story with ease. It uses a mix of writing their classes, with group coaching sessions to work specifically on YOUR project.

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ও taehyung ( BTS ) lockscreens .

MY HEART 😭 IM SO SOFT 🥺 (cr.)

dextrocardia | 14

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: 9.7k

warnings: a LOT of bodyshaming and fathobia and sexism

rating: NC-17 – Adults Only

masterlist

part 14/? 

<previous | next>

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

“I hope you know that I appreciate all the things you’ve been telling me. I know it can’t be easy, all the things you’ve gone through. So I appreciate it, even if I unfortunately…”

“Don’t have much to say?” you smile at him as you turn to close his bedroom door behind you.

“Yeah. It’s a lot different than when I’m talking to someone who maybe just got out of a… situation because, while that’s always hard, you just have to listen and assure them they did the right thing, going to the cops and that we’ll guide them through the rest and hopefully help them get justice. That it wasn’t their fault, you know? But you know all that already, and I’m not much help; in fact, I was a big part of your problem and going to the police probably made it worse in your case because we let you down instead of helping you.”

It’s sad, the way he says it, reaching for the collar of his t-shirt at the back of his neck. He pulls it over his head before he suddenly stops, the shirt stuck across his lowered arms. You meet his deer-in-the-headlights eyes and see how it dawns on him that despite explaining earlier that he wants to keep his shirt on–at least with you in the house?–he hasn’t actually been committing to that promise. You wonder if it had anything to do with his scars, if he wanted to spare you from seeing them or just not risk you being uncomfortable.

“It’s fine, take it off,” you comment casually, “but do know that I might warm my cold feet against your skin.”

He grins, finally removing the shirt entirely and throwing it onto the chair in the corner. “Feel free.”

Flicking the lights off, Jeongguk joins you in the dark, getting under the duvet and getting comfortable.

It’s silent for a while, and you’re halfway between sleep and consciousness when Jeongguk says something you definitely weren’t expecting.

“Are you still scared of me?”

You roll over to face him, even though the room is almost pitch black.

“Do you want me to be honest?”

“Of course.”

“I think that I will always be aware… of what you can do. Even right now, if you in this moment decided to hurt me, there would be nothing I could do about it. I can spend my days in the gym but odds are a vast majority of men could overpower me anyway. If I were to trust my gut, it would say that you’re a… good guy, but I know that most women murdered by a man they knew or even their male partners didn’t fall for someone openly abusive. They’re sweet at the start, and then they change. Hoseong was like that too; kind until he wasn’t. I know you know that because he fooled you too.

“When it comes to you, I think the only reason I’m here with you is because of what you did that night. I would’ve found any reason to believe that you were still playing a game of making me trust you, just waiting for the right moment to strike, if I hadn’t seen you fight them. No matter how talented of an actor you are, they were prepared to kill you, and you… were prepared to die.

“And this…” you move your hand under the sheets, tentatively finding his chest and the scar. “I don’t like looking at it, and it feels like it’s my fault your mom almost lost her son, but it’s also… almost a relief. I don’t have to second-guess if you really want to help me or if it’s just a long con to… finish something. But like I said… just because you haven’t tried to kill me yet doesn’t statistically mean you won’t. I don’t think you will, but then again, there are a lot of dead women who probably wouldn’t have imagined their murderer being someone they knew.”

Jeongguk places his hand over yours on his chest. “For what it’s worth, I could never hurt you. I know I did; that I hurt you emotionally and scared you, but not even when I thought you were the most selfish person on the planet would I have physically hurt you.”

“I will let the fact that I came to live with you speak for how I feel about you, or at least want to feel about you. Also the fact that I’m sleeping in your bed with you.”

“That you find me entirely irresistible, dying to be close to me at all times?”

You roll your eyes, however, blood rushes to your cheeks. “Yeah. Absolutely.”

“Good that we’re on the same page then, cause I’m kinda stuck on the fact that you kissed me.”

Inevitably, your cheeks warm up further, but it’s okay since it’s dark anyway.

“I did. It was a good kiss.”

“Yeah. I totally wouldn’t hate it if you did it again. In fact, I am open to kisses anytime, just as I am hand-holding.”

“You’re sure? Even from me?”

You hate that you have to ask, but… you do.

“Absolutely.”

You consider it for a moment, but eventually decide to trust his words, at least tonight. Empowered by the dark, you move your hand from his chest. It travels over his warm neck before it reaches his jaw. Your heart beats so hard you’re almost convinced he can hear it, but you ignore it and move closer. Despite the dark, you see his face and how he’s smiling, patiently waiting. It’s both a blessing and a hellish curse how handsome he is; he truly takes your breath away. 

Using your hand, you move your hair away, and you lean down to connect your lips. His are so soft, and he kisses you back so sweetly, letting you set the pace. You move your mouth against his, pulling back an inch just to do it again. Jeongguk lets his hand hold your waist, and even though kissing him is… a dream, you’re reminded that there’s a limit you’re not comfortable crossing.

So you pull back, but you still let him hold your waist.

“There.”

You fall asleep quicker than the nights before. A few hours later–and a few hours before morning–you blink your eyes open, finding yourself entangled with him. You’ve got your arm thrown over his middle, your cheek resting on his naked chest, right below his chin, and one of your legs lies between his.

For a while, you listen to his breaths, thinking about what it is that you’re doing. He’s so warm, and he feels so… safe, but there’s still a certain thought in your head.

When you wake up the next time, you’re once again alone in Jeongguk’s bed, and the first thought crossing your mind is how unnecessary boarding up your window really was when you’re practically almost always sleeping in his bed these days. Also, does he count on being able to hear a potential intruder trying to break in through his window? Because there is one, and it’s definitely not boarded up.

Your curiosity grows when you hear Jeongguk move throughout the house, and the sound of a…. what is that?

Rolling out of his bed, you yawn as you open the bedroom door to almost run head first into a stressed-looking Jeongguk. The sound you heard you identify as the now turned off blow dryer, something you’ve borrowed yourself but never seen him use. Looking up, you realize that, yeah, his hair is still wet from a shower and blow drying it means that he either doesn’t want to wait for it to air dry or he can’t.

“You’re going to the station?” you ask, noticing that he is actually indeed wearing his dark blue, almost black uniform.

“Yeah, uh, multiple trafficking victims on their way. Want to be there before they arrive.”

A very specific feeling moves through your chest; an uncomfortable sadness that someone has most likely been through hell, but there’s a warmth there too, for Jeongguk.

“What are you looking for?”

He looks around, patting his pockets, “Uhm, I have my phone, wallet, house keys. I need the… bike key and the helmet. The helmet is probably in the garage, but I’m not sure where the key is.”

You blink, trying to remember what jacket he was wearing the last time you recall him using the bike. The leather one, right? You step up to the coat rack, looking through the jackets until you find it. Swiftly, you search the pockets until… 

“Found it. Do I put it in your uniform jacket?”

“Oh, thank you. Yes, please,” he says over the sound of the blow dryer that he grabs once more.

You watch him dry his hair, incessantly running his fingers through it to speed up the process. A few minutes later, he turns the machine off and runs his fingers through the black hair one last time, “It’ll have to do.”

Then, he’s gathering his stuff, taking the jacket from your hands and heading toward the door leading to the garage as he throws it on. “Not sure when I’ll be back, it might take a while cause I don’t know how many they are or what they’ve been through, but I can update you?”

“Jeongguk?”

“Yeah?” he asks.

“Come here for a second.”

Confused, he takes the four steps until he’s in front of you looking down curiously but a little stressed at you.

You smile at him, at how pretty and caring he is. “Be careful.”

He grins, a little surprised. “I always am. But it’s mostly just letting them talk and writing it all down, and–”

“I meant on the road. With the bike. I know you can handle the case.”

“Oh. Will do.”

For a millisecond, he looks at you, his bottom lip bitten. Then he’s pulling you closer by your waist, pecking your lips sweetly.

“I’ll see you later.”

With warm cheeks, you watch him enter the garage, thinking of his kind, brown eyes. You don’t know what to feel.

When Jeongguk returns, he’s angry. He doesn’t say much except frustratingly relaying that apparently, one of the women had called the police about a creepy neighbor appearing to watch her house six months ago. The two officers sent did absolutely nothing at all. Couldn’t offer any protection, didn’t talk to the neighbor, couldn’t even give the woman any advice, just left. Two weeks later, the neighbor takes her. You understand Jeongguk’s frustration toward the system, but when he’s spent two hours in the gym without any kind of break, you decide to check up on him.

You hear the brutal beating of the punching bag long before you spot him.

“How are you doing? You’ve been in here a while…”

Jeongguk stops and looks at you from behind the sand-filled bag, breathing heavily. He’s shirtless, and there’s sweat covering his skin and wetting his hair.

“I’m alright.”

But you can tell that he’s frustrated by the turmoil in his eyes. Although it’s hot to see him work out, you don’t like seeing him like this. It has an uncomfortable feeling growing in your stomach.

“You’re doing what you can.”

“Yet there’s always more to do. It never ends, and it’s never enough.”

He’s definitely right about that, but does it help to be so worked up about it? Or are you the weird one, more likely to go apathetic when reminded of the injustices of the world these days?

“But you did your part today, and I know you made an impact in their lives.”

He looks disappointedly at the sandbag, as if your words didn’t affect him at all.

“Hey,” you call softly. He looks at you.

“If it weren’t for you, I probably wouldn’t be here right now.”

‘Right now’ as in alive.

“But I–”

“If you never transferred, they would’ve gotten me at this point.”

“Bare minimum,” is all he mumbles.

“It meant a lot to me. Everything, actually. And I’m really grateful.”

At that, he finally smiles a little, and you find yourself dangerously lost in his eyes again.

Thirty minutes later, at nine p.m., the power goes out. You stop what you’re doing, your hand, holding the kettle frozen in mid air over the mug. Even the very, very low humming of the fridge and freezer stops. You put the kettle down, glad that you probably managed to fill your mug with enough tea water.

Where is your roommate? Last you heard, he was about to take a shower. 

“Jeongguk?” you call, but the moment you peek out into the hallway, you run straight into him, still wet from the shower and with a towel around his hips, you think. 

“What happened?” he asks, his hands steadying your elbows.

“Uh? I don’t know? I was pouring tea and the lights and everything went out.”

“Oh? So that means it wasn’t our doing. I’ll check if there’s a blown fuse; you never know.”

“Okay,” you pat the pockets of your sweatpants, “Here’s my phone if you want a flashlight.”

“Thanks,” he nods, grabbing it from your hand.

He taps the screen to turn the flashlight function on, the light pointed down immediately illuminating every little crevice in his abs and the glints of water still on his skin. The white towel hangs low, exposing a bit of a happy trail.

You look away, and Jeongguk, seemingly none the wiser, turns around to find the fuse box somewhere other than in the kitchen, guided by your phone.

Sighing to yourself the moment you’re alone again, you go back to your tea, removing the bag from the mug. Opening the fridge, you’re once again reminded of how dependent on electricity you are when the open door doesn’t trigger the built in light. Still, you find the milk, and you manage to pour a little bit into the mug and put the container back in the still chilly fridge.

By the time you finish stirring the tea spoon around, you hear Jeongguk’s steps approaching you, and you see the ray of light illuminate the floor in front of him.

“No blown fuses. I’m gonna see if there’s anything on the provider’s site or else I’ll give them a call.”

“Are you gonna get dressed as well, or?” you joke, watching him smile cheekily. 

“Yeah. I was just barely done washing my hair when the light went out.”

“I can see that; you’re dripping all over the floor.”

“Sorry,” he says and shakes his head like a dog, launching drops of water at your clothes and face. 

 “Jeongguk!”

Laughing, he leaves the kitchen and steps out into the dark.

“What if I slip and fall?” you call after him, wiping the drops from your face before returning to your mug to take a test sip. It tastes good, but you’ll definitely try to remember to buy honey next time you go grocery shopping because you’re a sucker for a little sweetness.

Half a minute later, you hear footsteps approaching, and when you turn around from the sink, Jeongguk is drying the floor with the towel he was just using, now wearing what looks like a pair of sweatpants of his own. He doesn’t say anything, just makes sure the floor is dry and then he leaves again, much to your amusement. Like you said; you’re a sucker for sweetness.

While he’s gone, you use your phone’s flashlight to pour the rest of the water into another mug in case Jeongguk wants some tea too. Then you venture carefully into the living room, trying not to spill the hot contents. It goes without accidents, and so you set the mug down onto the coffee table before reaching for the remote. Which doesn’t work. 

“Fuck, no TV,” you mutter to yourself. And you’ve used your laptop without the charger all day. Even more fuck.

“Jeongguk, is your laptop charged?” you call out, praying to the gods.

“Uh, yeah,” he appears behind you, having matched a black hoodie to his gray sweatpants.

He’s holding something in his arms, a lot of smaller things. Candles, you realize when he leans down to gently dump them onto the table. From his pocket he then produces a lighter.

“You wanna watch something?” he asks, lighting the candles one by one, the coziness factor doubling with every flame added.

“I was gonna watch this documentary, but my laptop isn’t charged,” you pout. “Oh, and also, the Wifi won’t work.”

Jeongguk chuckles. “Mine should be fully charged. And we can use my mobile data.”

Wow, way to flex.

“Great. I made tea, do you want some?”

“Sure. Thank you.”

While he goes to grab his laptop, you return to the kitchen to fix his mug of tea as well, returning as he’s setting everything up, the screen illuminating his face where he sits on the couch. The flickering candles are doing their best too, casting a more yellowy glow across the room.

“Thanks,” he says once more when you place the mug in front of him. “Here.” 

You accept the laptop, navigating to the specific streaming site and the documentary released just last week about the development of the space shuttles. Due to the size difference between Jeongguk’s TV and that of his laptop, you take your seat closer to him than usual.

Jeongguk sips his tea, but the moment he’s put the mug back safely on the table and is leaning back against the couch and watching the screen, he slowly lets his hand find yours. 

In turn, you find yourself moving closer, leaning your head against his shoulder. He smells nice, and he feels nice. And it’s suddenly like someone started some kind of wordless game. You don’t say anything, but there’s also a kind of tension that builds, no less in your body. 

Perhaps also feeling the… electricity building, Jeongguk makes his next move, this time slowly lifting his arm to put around you, making you lean against his chest instead. The action has his hoodie riding up just a little, exposing a sliver of his stomach.

When it’s your turn again–and you feel your shared anticipation grow–you try to psych yourself up. He likes you, he likes you. 

So, you place your hand on the exposed section of skin, caressing it carefully with your thumb.

Besides the documentary, it’s quiet, although you’re almost positive Jeongguk can hear your heart beat erratically; it’s definitely beating loudly in your ears. For his next turn, Jeongguk somehow both swiftly and slowly pulls you onto his lap, and before you know it, you’re straddling him, staring down at his smiling face.

The narrator speaks in the background, but you can only focus on Jeongguk and how your heart might soon beat its way out of your chest. 

You could kiss him. You could.

He looks at you like he’s hoping for it but not expecting it, and you pray to God he actually does want you to. Because you want to kiss him so badly. 

He’s got his gentle hands on your thighs, and you place yours softly on his face, holding his jaw and rubbing your thumbs slowly over his cheeks. Until you move one thumb and press it even softer against his lips.

This man is too good to be true, he has to be. As you let your eyes admire him, you think about the fact that, even if you disregard how he literally took a sword to the heart for you, he’s done more for you in the short period of time you’ve known him than any other man in your life.

So you move your finger from his mouth, nervously switching it out for your lips. You can’t even describe how much you like kissing him. When it’s sweet and innocent and just lips and a wordless confession of ‘I like you,’ or when you use a little tongue, and he chooses to follow your lead, kissing you back with the same growing heat. But there’s still something bothering you that you can’t ignore.

In the midst, you pull back an inch, eyes glued to his lips to avoid his eyes. “I like kissing you, but… “

“But what?” he wonders, his hands drawing innocent shapes on your thighs. Your heart pumps even harder as you choose your next words.

“I’m not really your type.”

He smiles, looking carefree, “You are. I think you’re a sweet girl.”

Jeongguk kisses you again, and you try not to think about it, but even with his lips against yours, it’s hard. A sweet girl. Letting one of your hands fall from his face, you grab the collar of his hoodie, clumsily placing your hand inside it to touch his chest, feeling for the scar.

Taking it as you wanting it off, he pulls away to yank the hoodie over his head, and it ends up somewhere toward the end of the couch. Even without it, his bare skin is just as warm under your hands, but before you know it, you’re on your back on the couch, and he’s above you. He’s very sweet, and in this moment–with your hands splayed across his back and the scar there–you know he won’t hurt you. 

A sweet girl.

Right?

A sweet girl. You hear the voices and feel the anxiety and fear return to fill you. You go with the flow, unsure of what to think or do. Jeongguk helps you out of your shirt and then your bra, and you watch him sit back to throw them onto the floor somewhere. 

But the moment he returns his attention to you underneath him, he stops. Because you’re covering your naked chest with your hands like your life depends on it, eyes teary and absolutely and helplessly begging him to look anywhere but at you.

He still does, and you can tell he’s surprised, his wide eyes taking in the situation from above you.

So you plead quietly, “Please don’t look at me.” 

It takes half a second, and he’s immediately closing his eyes, turning to feel around for something behind him. Your shirt probably lies somewhere farther away on the floor, and so his black hoodie is what he ends up grabbing, handing it to you still with his eyes closed.

And he of course moves off of you, the only sounds in the room being the documentary, the slight rustling as you’re putting the hoodie on, and your quiet breaths.

When he assumes you’re dressed, he opens his eyes, heart visibly breaking when he sees how absolutely shaken to the core you look, hugging your body and sitting up. You turn your eyes to the documentary on the screen even though both of you know you haven’t been watching it.

“I’m so sorry, I wasn’t thinking,” he starts to explain, sounding genuinely apologetic.

“It’s fine,” you say quietly, wanting desperately not to make a big deal out of it. If you could just will your hands to stop shaking.

“No, I–”

“Jeongguk, please. I’m fine, okay. I’m not… I’m not ready, but… Can we not talk about it, please?”

Reluctantly, you meet his eyes and see the somber worry in them as he watches you from where he’s sitting, still shirtless.

“Okay. If there’s anything I can do…”

You smile tentatively at him, desperate to move on from the subject, “Watch the rest of the documentary with me?”

“Okay.”

“Okay,” you repeat, “I’ll, uh, go and change so you can get your hoodie back.”

“No, no, it’s alright. Keep it,” he’s quick to rise to his feet, already on his way somewhere–presumably his bedroom.

The forty seconds he’s gone you use to calm your breathing and stabilize your voice. It wasn’t his fault. He wasn’t going too fast or not listening to you. He listened to what you gave him; you, yourself only figured out where exactly the line was drawn when it was basically already crossed.

He’s wearing a black t-shirt when he returns, taking a seat next to you and focusing his eyes on the screen, probably more so for your sake than his. “I hope you know that you can tell me anything. And I have no certain expectations you have to fulfill or so.”

You already know that he’s not asking sex for rent, if that’s what he’s wondering. But regarding his first statement… there are definitely things you don’t want to talk to him about.

“Yeah,” you answer regardless.

When the credits roll only a few minutes later, you know that you have two options. If you sleep in your own bed like you ideally want to, you risk there being an awkwardness tomorrow and that you definitely don’t want. Or you sleep in his bed with him like you have the last few days, and sure, it might be a little awkward, but he probably realizes you’re not up for cuddling, and it’ll be easier tomorrow.

“Oh. Finally,” Jeongguk exclaims when the ceiling light flickers on, signaling the return of the electricity. “I was starting to worry about all the food in the freezer.”

Subsequently, he leans over the coffee table, blowing out the small candles one after the other. It’s late anyway.

“So, uh…” he rises from the couch, “I’ll keep my door open, but I’m not offended if you choose to sleep in your bedroom.”

“Okay,” you nod at him, watching as he leaves to brush his teeth and get ready for bed.

You stand up too, but no matter how much you want to crawl into bed next to him and have him hold you the entire night, you get ready for bed, and you lie down in your own room. You’re still wearing his hoodie because it smells like him, and it ironically brings you comfort. Still, you lie there in the dark, and you think about his face, and his eyes, and his body. His voice, even, and how he might actually be a good guy. Maybe even everything you want, even if it doesn't matter. And you curl up, a few tears running silently down your cheeks. Because Jeon Jeongguk is so very far out of your league, it’s not even funny.

After waking up, you trudge toward the kitchen, still feeling half asleep. After everything that happened yesterday, you still managed to sleep pretty well, most likely because you were exhausted and sleeping alone.

“Morning.”

You stop, hands mid eye-rub. 

“I… thought you’d be at the station?” you say, redirecting your focus to taming your hair. Jeongguk is sitting at the kitchen table, donning a white t-shirt and black, what looks to be cotton, shorts.

“No, I’ll use today to go over some of the potential leads you helped find. Can do that from here.”

He takes a bite of a cupcake, and you catch his eyes linger a second on your body and how a small smile pulls on his lips before he looks into his phone in front of him. Glancing down, you realize that since you didn’t expect him to be home, you didn’t change out of his hoodie so what he saw waddle into the room was you, swallowed by his hoodie, sweater paws rubbing your eyes.

“It, uh, smells good,” you mumble quietly, realizing way too late that it’s not that great of a defense. “But I’ll wash it and you can have it back.”

It smells good because he smells good.

He waves his hand, still looking almost… fond. “It’s okay, keep it as long as you’d like. I have a ton of them.”

“Okay, uh, thank you.”

“No problem.”

At least the awkwardness was for another reason.

You decide to do a bit of laundry, although skipping the black hoodie and hiding it away under your duvet for a little while longer. Doing the laundry, vacuuming most of the house, and emptying the dishwasher takes you almost an hour, and then you find yourself outside Jeongguk’s office, knocking on the open door and peeking inside. 

“Making any progress?”

He lifts his head from the laptop screen and swivels around in his chair to face you, a pen in his hand. 

“No,” he sighs, “I’m looking into the girlfriend angle and so far, we’ve put detectives on a recent ex of Seunghwa’s and on two of Ryung’s flings, but it hasn’t resulted in anything. Regarding Hoseong… I’m not sure I ever actually heard him mention anyone by name, at least not any name that I can seem to match to anyone.”

“What about… I remember him talking about this Jimin?”

“Who’s that? I think we’ve covered most of his friends?”

You search your memory, but it’s hard to remember details. It’s been years since the conversations you try to recall, and as far as you remember, he only mentioned her in passing. “It was a woman, and I think they were more than friends. Or at least she wanted to be.”

“I didn’t even think of that; I only know male Jimins. Tell me more,” he urges, and you can tell he’s trying to recall if there was ever a mention of a Jimin.

“Well, I heard him complain about her a few times; said she was clingy and honestly a little obsessed with him. He made it sound like he didn’t care for her that much. In retrospect–besides being a very red flag–it sounds like something he could’ve said about me when I liked him.”

“Someone who maybe is mostly just a regular woman and would still maybe help them if they’re desperate enough to ask. Or him, at least.”

“Yeah.”

For a few hours, you and Jeongguk work together in his office, and you nearly forget about yesterday’s mishap, trying to find more info on this ‘Jimin.’ Until you find yourself nearly chest to chest with him after turning around too quickly and not expecting him so close. Instead of meeting your eyes sweetly and slowly lowering his head to kiss you like he probably would’ve even yesterday, he smiles and… backs up a few steps. 

“Hey, should we take a break? Have a late lunch?” Jeongguk stretches his arms out in front of him. 

You continue noting down some last names from your phone onto a paper, using the chair Jeongguk wheeled into his office specifically for you as a table while sitting on the floor. “Uh, you go ahead. I had a late breakfast.”

He stands up. “Oh. I didn’t notice.”

“Mhm, you were already in here.”

“I can wait then, and we can eat together.”

“It’s alright; go ahead.”

He mumbles something you don’t quite catch, but he does leave you to your notes and disappears from the office.

For the rest of the day, it’s just as if you’ve taken two or even three steps back. You don’t… touch a lot, and you definitely don’t kiss. A part of you misses it, but another part is relieved that he’s giving you space. He’s still very, very sweet, of course. You didn’t expect anything else.

Like when you open a cupboard, gaze set on a specific mug of his you’ve taken a liking to thanks to the very big ear that prevents the hot tea from burning your hand even through the ceramic. Compared to your male roommate, you’re lacking a little more in the vertical department and for some reason, whoever emptied the dishwasher placed the mug on the top shelf.

You look at it for three seconds, debating on whether you should grab a kitchen chair and climb or simply admit defeat and choose the next best mug. You’re about to go for the latter option when your hero swoops in, wordlessly and casually picking it down for you, a mug of his own raised to his mouth.

“Thank you,” you take the offering from his hand, a smile growing on your lips.

“You’re welcome.”

Or how he’ll still open whatever door you run into for you, to the point that it wouldn’t surprise you if he tried to open the automatic doors and hold them open with his hands when he takes you grocery shopping.

And sometimes, you do touch. Whenever he’s quick enough to exit the driver’s seat and open the passenger door for you, he holds his hand out for you, and when you take it, he helps you out as if you can’t step out of the car on your own. 

When you watch a movie, you don’t sit glued to each other, but he’s not scared to gently pull your feet–which you’ve complained all day of being tired–onto his lap to briefly massage them for you. He smiles at you, all crinkle-cornered sparkly-eyed and dimpled. On two short occasions, he holds your hand carefully, something you don’t object to because it feels nice, it really does.

But despite all these things, you still sleep in your bedroom. You don’t lock the door, but you do sleep alone.

Three days after the incident during the power outage, you’ve worked a long day in Jeongguk’s office. Alone, because he had to leave for the station at nine a.m.. You’ve had a lot of time to think, not only today but ever since what happened–and before that honestly–and it’s become very clear that you need to make a decision. Maybe you should simply gather your courage, give it a shot, and tell him how you feel about him, no matter what happens after?

Despite feeling somewhat determined and having some kind of honestly not very thought out plan, you’re anxious, wandering around the house as you wait for him to return. 

An hour before he comes home, you find yourself in front of the washing machine, throwing the black hoodie into it finally. With the machine on, you head into the kitchen, pouring yourself a glass of wine. It helps a little, and the remaining nerves that still reside in your chest, you decide to just try to ignore.

The sound of his bike is what notifies you of his return, and you leave the kitchen to meet him in the garage, watching as he swings his leg over the bike and takes the black helmet off, holding it under his arm.

“Hey,” he greets when he sees you waiting, a genuine smile on his face. “How was your day?”

“Uh… good. Narrowed down the Jimins a bit, I think.”

“That’s great,” he grins, his elatedness infecting you too, causing you to smile a little hesitantly despite the nerves devouring you. “Have you eaten yet? I know it’s kinda late but if not; I could cook something?” 

He puts the helmet on one of the shelves that line one of the walls, and then he comes to stand before you. 

You keep your eyes on the jacket with the police emblem on it before you peer up at him. A little hesitantly, you reach for the zipper of his jacket, fiddling a little with it.

“I, uh… actually have something else I want to do. Something I’d like to try… If you’re up for it…”

Tentatively, you reach your hand out, fingers pulling down the zipper of his jacket. He watches you curiously, doing nothing to stop you.

“What is it? That you want to do?” he asks, his warm voice definitely sounding curious but not overly so.

You swallow, deciding to just go for it and slowly placing your arms around his neck, “Well… Do you have any… handcuffs?”

He tilts his head, holding your waist while looking at you, searching. “For me? I do, but we don’t have to do anything; you know that, right?”

“Yeah, but if I really want to? Or maybe you…” you realize that he might just not want to. Like, at all. Oh, how embarrassing.

Seemingly noticing the way you take a step back, lowering your arms from around his neck, he stops you, his hands keeping them there.

“No, no. I’m always willing to let you do whatever you’re comfortable with. I don’t mind.”

His encouragement has a more genuine smile pulling on your mouth.

“Meet me in your bedroom then?” you ask, “And bring the cuffs.”

Not waiting for a confirmation, you drop your hands from his neck, and you turn around to head inside the house. Your heart is pounding, going absolutely haywire while you wait for him on the edge of his bed. Maybe you should’ve worn something else? Something other than just a pair of mom jeans and a blue sweater, but it’s too late now, you guess.

He shows up only a minute later, eyes curiously observing the heavy chair you’ve moved from the corner and into the middle of his room. The first thing he does is unbutton the dark blue shirt of his uniform, sliding it down his arms and throwing it onto the bed. You look at his chest and his arms and his stomach, and you see how he notices. This… humble confidence looks so good on him, and it’s so insanely different from how he acted during the mission. You’ve never seen anyone so attractive. 

The next thing he does is approach you where you’re sitting, offering you his hand all while smiling sweetly… but still a little cheekily.

Placing your hand in his, you’re pulled up to your feet, basically chest to chest with him. There’s heat in his gaze, but it’s not scalding; it’s just warm. 

You give in.

“Kiss me?”

He searches your eyes for hidden answers, but you really do want him to kiss you, and so he does. He places one hand on your lower back, moving your body with him as he steps back and sits down on the chair. Ending up sitting across one of his thighs, you open your eyes when he pulls away just enough to speak.  

“I don’t mind you doing… whatever you want to do, if that’s just sitting on my lap or… exploring me. I’m all for it. Do what you want to do. But,” he says, emphasis on that last word. “Only do what you actually want to.”

You nod, and he reaches down to pull something out of his pocket. The handcuffs. You take them from him, pocketing the small key.

“By the way, how did you get out of the cuffs at the house?” you ask, weighing the metal in your hand.

“I went and got another key before. So I threw you one key and kept the other.” 

You feel your forehead crease as you think about what that means. You were only able to relax when you thought he couldn’t hurt you, but he… could? At any point, he could’ve simply unlocked the cuffs himself?

“I didn’t keep a key because I had ulterior motives or anything. I was just worried you might hurt yourself or pass out for real, like, stop breathing and everything, so I needed a way to get to you if that were to happen.”

“I didn’t even think about that,” you admit quietly. It’s true; the fact that you had multiple pairs of handcuffs with you to the house, and they all use the same universal key entirely slipped your mind. “But of course. How stupid of me.”

“It wasn’t stupid. You were under a lot of stress, and I used that to my advantage, hoping you wouldn’t think about it.”

Standing up, you round the chair to kneel behind it. Without having to be asked, Jeongguk puts his hands back and waits for you to cuff them together.

“So I’m tightening these extra hard and making sure I have all keys,” you joke, still fastening them tight enough for him not to be able to slip them off.

“If that’s what you need to feel comfortable. But I hope you know that I’ll always listen to you.”

You nod, maybe more so to yourself when you stand in front of him again. He looks up at you where he sits, shirtless and looking gorgeous and absolutely mouthwatering.

You bite your lip briefly. “Can I… kiss you?”

“Whatever you want,” he grins, a smile that widens when you sit down on one of his thighs again.

“Okay. Close your eyes?”

Without a word, he obeys your request, and you feel yourself get almost hypnotized, looking at him. You’ve truly never seen anyone so stunning, even to the point that you could sit and gaze at him for hours. The best of mankind but still very much a man. You remember how you used to hate him, thinking God wasted this incredible beauty on someone so ugly, but although you’re not entirely sure how you feel about him, you know you don’t hate him.

Carefully, you trace your fingers along his sharp jaw, and despite his eyelashes fluttering, he doesn’t open his eyes. Unable to help yourself and because you truly don’t think he minds, you allow your gaze to drop. His neck is relatively thick, and the veins are only slightly visible compared to when he’s physically active. Your eyes then land on his collarbones. Then his wide, muscular shoulders and pecs. Then the scar, before traveling across his abs.

“You’re so pretty,” you state quietly, looking up at his face just in time to watch him smirk.

“Pretty is for girls; I’m a man.”

You can’t quite explain the emotional wave that hits you as you come to terms with what you have to do–the decision he’s made for you–but you know that you have to hide it, can’t make a sound of hurt in the silent room. Pressing your lips together, you look around the bedroom before you rise from his thigh.

“What are you doing?” Jeongguk asks, still smiling and oblivious, his eyes closed.

Already at the window, you untie the white curtain’s tieback and hold it up. “What about this?”

He opens his eyes and looks at the white piece of fabric in your hand, but doesn’t appear too skeptical. “For what purpose?”

“Blindfold.”

Trying to keep a positive and somewhat fear free mindset, it still hurts when you see how he immediately connects the blindfold to how you shielded your chest from his eyes. There’s pain and there’s guilt swimming in his dark eyes.

“You can, but please don’t do anything you don’t want to.”

“I won’t,” you promise.

“Okay then.”

With his permission, you place the folded sash over his eyes and tie it in the back, careful not to trap any hairs. When you’re done, you take another second to look at him. There is something so irresistible about him, something that has your heart yearning and your body pulled in. He’s so warm, both body and presence. You bite your lip, using your hand to trace his cheek softly while thinking about how he’s so conflicting. What if you want to stay here forever? Curl up like this where he can’t touch you, and lean your head against his neck where he can’t see you?

Like the time when you kissed three days ago, you touch your thumb to his soft lips, and you let the smile and the mask you’ve been wearing fall. Quietly, you stand up, and you take a step back.

“I thought you were going to kiss me?” Jeongguk jokes lightly.

You don’t know what to say, stuck in your footing to the floor and how he can’t see you. It’s like a weight has dropped from your shoulders, but your heart still feels heavy.

“I’m sorry.”

Not picking up the real meaning behind your words, Jeongguk tilts his head. “Okay. It’s alright. Why don’t you uncuff me and we can maybe order dinner instead?”

“I’m leaving tonight.”

“Wait… what?” he straightens up, struggling to process your words, “Why?”

But you go silent again, unsure of exactly how you’ll ever be able to tell him everything. He calls your name, sounding stressed, and you hear how he tugs on the cuffs.

“You scare me.”

He stops, and you can tell by the way he seems to almost be holding his breath that it wasn’t exactly what he wanted to hear.

“I… I understand that you’ve been through a lot, but I’m never going to hurt you.”

You keep your eyes on him, feeling like he, himself most likely believes what he’s saying. But it’s not that easy.

“I know… that all in all, you’re a good man. You want to help me and others, and I know you said that not even when you thought I was the most selfish person in the world would you be able to hurt me physically. But you had no problem hurting me in other ways.”

“I know, and I’m so sorry for what I did. I’ve apologized for that, and I’ll keep doing it.”

“I don’t know how to read you,” you add, disregarding what he said because he has apologized, but not in the way that you needed. Not in a way that really matters to you. If this man hasn’t had you broken in a thousand pieces and still insisted on stepping on the remains.

So you keep going. “You look sweet–you’ve been sweet, but you look just like him. Hoseong was sweet too, until he wasn’t. And you… you have this desire to hurt, you want to inflict pain on those who wrong you or who you think have done you wrong. What happens if you think I’ve done something you don’t agree with?”

“I’m not jumping to conclusions without talking to you, I’m not making the same mistake again–”

“What if I actually do something you don’t like?”

For a few seconds, he goes quiet. “I’m not going to hurt you ever again, I promise.”

You fiddle with your hands, glancing down at them. “Are you sure? It was so easy for you, using all my weaknesses against me and breaking me down without ever asking me for my side of the story. And it scares me how you, during the mission, showed just how easy it was for you to one moment act like you could stand me–looking just as sweet as you do now–then angrily tear me down the next.”

It hurts in your whole body but the worst pain originates from your chest. You feel small, insignificant, but also like you take up too much room.

“I know that you probably don’t want to hurt me physically, and that you’re a better man than most, and at first when we came back, it wasn’t too difficult to ignore what you…. think of me, but now…? I kissed you, and you kissed me back, and it just… everything is coming back. I’ve been trying to tell myself that you wouldn’t hurt me at all anymore and that maybe you even like me like I like you, but I know that you don’t. Which in turn makes it hard to know why you’re doing all of this. I think maybe you feel guilty or want to be nice? Give me a chance even though I’m not your… type. But I… I like you. I really, really like you.”

It’s easier to admit than you originally thought, but it doesn’t make it hurt any less. “I want to look at you every second of the day and my hands absolutely yearn to touch you all over. But I don’t want you to touch me. I don’t want you to look at me. I don’t want to be perceived at all. I know that if I stay here and show myself to you, you will not like what you see. You will be disappointed.”

Jeongguk shakes his head, not straining against the cuffs anymore but taking on a calmer approach. “It’s not true. I really do like you, and I think you’re really pretty. Please, I apologized for the things I said, and I’ll do it again. I’m really sorry; I just said those things because I wanted to hurt you. “

“You did. You hurt me, and I’m hurt. You apologized for wanting to hurt me, but you’ve never impli–actually, It doesn’t matter. I know what I look like, it’s kinda hard to forget when you’re constantly reminded. You and your friends came for every single flaw of mine, Jeongguk. “

“I only continued because you never seemed fazed by it.”

“‘I never seemed–’”, you stop to chuckle in disbelief. Your eyes are tearing up as you recall the moments you’re about to remind him of. 

“Are you saying that you never noticed that I stopped eating lunch at the cafeteria after what you did? Hoseong said that maybe someone would actually like me if I ‘ate less,’ and you laughed like it was the funniest thing you’d ever heard. That was the day after you walked past me in the cafeteria, saying ‘leave some for the rest of us, why don’t you?’ Jihyo brought cookies for her birthday two weeks later, and you suggested–in front of everyone–that maybe I should do something else with my mouth besides eat. I criticized the fact that no male officer wanted to work on ‘low-rewarding’ cases like my trafficking case, and you… Do you remember what you said?”

Your eyes are already blurry with silent tears, and you feel the humiliation drown you. There’s no way to go, nowhere to hide. People like Jeongguk are watching, inspecting and observing every little part of you. Your bottom lip trembles.

Jeongguk is silent. If he could see, he’d be looking at your feet. You were right to blindfold him because you would’ve never been able to speak so earnestly had you not. Although you like him, and he’s been so kind and sweet to you, you’re back to feeling like nothing in his eyes.

“‘It’s not about the case; it’s about you. You couldn’t pay me to even look at you. In fact, I bet not even the traffickers would take you, otherwise we would’ve definitely traded you.’”

The pain radiates from your chest, leaving no cell of your body unaffected at the implications. You are so ugly and disgusting to him that if he had the chance, he would’ve sacrificed you to a fate no one should ever have to face. 

He doesn’t give you a reaction now either; he just sits there with his head lowered. But this is your one chance to tell him how you really feel. You take a big, shaky breath.

“I was doing okay before all of this. Sure, I’ve always known that I have a lot of flaws, but I was doing okay. But you’ve said over and over again that I disgust you, my body makes you want to hurl, you wouldn’t fuck me if your life depended on it, etcetera. It takes its toll. Eating around men gives me anxiety, even if I try to hide it. I cover up my… shoulders as much as I can because I can hear you describe them as ‘manly,’ and how every man within earshot chuckles. 

“I wear thick bras and tops, especially around you, because you made it a habit to comment on my breasts and how unfortunately shaped and sized they are. I remember how you asked me how on earth I ever expected Hoseong to like me when I had the ‘saggiest tits in the district.’ And I remember the field day you had when you found out they’re a bit uneven, finding a way to lower your rating of me from a 0.5 out of 10 to a 0.1. Then you asked the other men for their opinion and rating. Or how you’ve so kindly informed me that I didn’t have the tits for that pretty, blue dress and that it looked awful on me. Are you saying that you didn’t notice that whatever you’ve commented on, I’ve never worn again? Not even anything similar?

“I don’t wear tighter pants without a longer shirt to cover my ‘misshapen,’ ‘unfeminine’ hips and the ‘weird dips’ you’ve laughed at, and whenever work dress codes require me to, I’ve avoided you and other men the best I could.

“I wore a skirt to work once, and when I ran into you before changing into my uniform, you said that skirts are for pretty girls and that no one wanted to see my… cellulite. You took every chance to remind me that I have myself to blame for being undesirable, and that men weren’t the problem, I am, and ‘how wasn’t I ashamed for thinking someone like Hoseong could ever like me?’

"Believe me, I was ashamed. I am ashamed. Do you think I never considered just… drinking the poisoned coffee? Or just starting the car even though I knew the brakes wouldn’t work? If there was a way to get rid of one’s body, believe me, I would’ve. It doesn’t matter that you didn’t know what he did to me at the time because how I looked never changed. But looking like you do, I get that you don’t understand how it is to walk around, filled with shame for existing in such an unfortunate body, but I can tell that you want to be better. Maybe you feel bad and want to give me a free trial of how it is to be with a Good Man. Or you want to do the ‘right thing’ so that your dad would be proud? I don’t know, but I can’t ignore the fact that I know how you really perceive me and how you are so far out of my league, it’s embarrassing to even stand here and say it.

"So while I appreciate everything you’ve done for me cause I’d be dead and gone without you, I can’t stay here. You want someone to hold hands with and to buy flowers for, but that’s not for people like me.”

Finally done, you wipe the tears that fall, and you shakily swallow the lump that’s formed in your throat.

“Take the blindfold off and uncuff me,” he begs, once again straining against the handcuffs. You know he isn’t getting out of them, and while he could stand up, the chair is too heavy for him to just pull along with him when he’s got the blindfold on and no sight. He knows, just as well as you, that there’s no use.

“No.”

“Then listen to me; none of that was true. You are so pretty, so breathtaking. I like you so much.”

“Forgive me for not believing you. If you really thought I was even remotely pretty, there have been countless opportunities for you to say so. Or even just a ‘hey, you know you’re not actually as revolting as I told you.’”

“I… I didn’t want to overwhelm you or have you doubt my intentions, but I’m telling you now that I’ve always thought you to be beautiful.”

You scoff sadly. “Yeah, now when the consequences of your actions have arrived,” you glance down at your feet, feeling so insignificant. 

“Please don’t leave.”

“I’ve already packed my stuff.”

“Where are you going? You can’t go home; it isn’t safe there.”

Truly, at this moment, your safety doesn’t seem like your top priority. “I’ll be careful.”

“Can’t you stay with someone, at least?” he bargains, “Jihyo or Sana?”

Another tear falls, and your voice goes quiet. “I want to go home.”

You really do. You haven't been home in months, and you feel like a child sleeping over at a friend's, missing your mom so much it hurts and just wishing she'd come and pick you up.

“I know, but you just gotta hold out a little bit longer. Call Jihyo, please. Do you want me to watch your house twenty-four seven, cause I will.”

You consider his words, and if there’s anything you don’t want, it’s to have him so close again. “Fine. I’ll call her tomorrow.”

“Thank you.”

“Yeah…”

With nothing really left to say, you pull your phone out of your pocket, opening the Uber app.

“I’ll uncuff you in a few minutes, I’m just ordering an Uber.”

Luckily, a car is only three minutes away, and so with quick fingers you confirm it. You packed your stuff three hours ago in case this would be the outcome, something you’re very grateful for now. Maybe, maybe, if he had said something, you would’ve kissed him and decided to stay, hoping that he was being honest. But you know that you might be a sweet girl to him, but you're not a pretty girl.

A minute passes, and you sigh sadly. “Okay, I’m gonna open the handcuffs, but I’m begging you, Jeongguk, stay there until I’m gone, okay? Don’t remove the blindfold, please?”

It’s his turn to seemingly consider what you’re saying. What you did, agreeing to call Jihyo, was for him and respecting his wishes. So he has to respect yours. He can’t rip off the blindfold the moment you twist the key in the cuffs and try to persuade you to stay, no matter if he wants to. 

“Okay.”

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

You decide to trust him, and with the key belonging to the cuffs, you round the chair where he’s sitting. Kneeling like before, you manage to unlock one of the cuffs in two seconds, and the metal clinks as it falls off his wrist. Instead of freeing his other wrist as well, you grasp his free hand and put the key into his palm, closing his fist around it.

Though you shouldn’t have expected him to be entirely quiet and still, because while he doesn’t make any move to rise from the chair or remove the blindfold, he does swiftly grab your hand, holding it firmly. Despite being blindfolded, it definitely feels like he’s staring straight at you behind him.

“Don’t believe anything any of us said, please. You really are so gorgeous, and not only that but you’re incredibly smart and hard-working. You’re amazing, and I will regret what I did to you for the rest of my life.”

But you hurt so much on the inside that you don’t say anything to that, you just pull your hand out of his grasp.

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author's note: so.... anyway, uh... like, comment, and subscribe <333

NAMJOON’S BIRTHDAY COUNTDOWN: namjoon & monie’s love-hate relationship 🤍 [cr. qdeoks]