part time lover; jjk
➳ pairing: investigative journalist!jeongguk x daycare teacher!reader. alternatively, spy!jeongguk x assassin!reader
➳ genre: smut, fluff, angst, fake marriage au, dad au, spy x family au
➵ word count: 30.8k
➳ summary: there is no crime more perfect than marrying jeon jeongguk. your relationship is nothing more than a ruse - while your friends pester you for being perpetually single, jeongguk desperately needs a wife to complete the pristine image of a family, fooling his way through the parent interview at the nation’s most prestigious private school.
only time will tell how deep your lies will run as you find home in one another’s minds. because untangled in the moonlight, he is but a spy, exposing a secret world of corruption, and you, an assassin, ridding the streets of danger one hit at a time.
➳ warnings: themes of parenthood, raising a child, reader and jk were both orphans, reader has a past where she struggled with financially supporting her family, eldest daughter trauma, reader is insecure, fears of abandonment, mentions of violence and m*rder (but not explicit), mention of weapons (guns, knives, grenades, poison), jk has a bruise from boxing, descriptions of an explosion, blood is drawn twice (via kitchen knife and shrapnel from aforementioned explosion), (1) mention of weight loss, jk changes his appearance in an attempt to fit in, mention of a minor car crash, social drinking, scars (surgical/knife, bullet wounds), characters are liars for the sake of the plot, side characters are misogynists (satire), food descriptions, pet names (hers: angel, good girl, princess his: love).
➳ a/n: thank you for being so patient with me as i toiled through this fic. it wasn't an easy one! but i do think it's special because of how healing the journey was for me <3 please enjoy, let me know what you think. don't forget to check out the other fics from the "industry baby" collab hosted by the ever so lovely @jeonjcngkook and @mercurygguk !
➳ smut warnings: virgin reader, sexual tension, body worship, nipple play, marking, oral (f receiving), fingering, hair pulling, unprotected sex, jk has a big dick, praising, stomach bulge, spitting, use of the word slut, marriage kink(?) he loves his wife so much, reader wants to be bred, cumshot
Jeongguk, 26
Investigative journalist at Golden News Network
Less than a mile away
To whom it may concern, I am a single father looking for a wife (DM me for serious inquiries only).
“Your profile is dog shit,” Seokjin deadpans. The cringe settles into the downward turn of his lips as he swipes through his best friend’s Tinder account. “You’d be bitchless if you weren’t hot.”
“Jin, watch your mouth.” Jeongguk shoots a deadly glare toward the older man. “There are children around.”
From the kitchen, Jeongguk cranes his neck to take a peek into the messy living room where his adopted daughter sits, criss-crossed, in front of the television. Minji is too distracted by her weekly cartoon updates to even notice the crude language.
“Minny, don’t sit too close to the TV,” he sends his daughter a stern yet gentle reminder. “Your eyeballs are gonna fall out of your head if you do.”
A frown etches itself onto Minji’s face as she scooches back on her knees.
Jeongguk returns his attention to the dinner he’s preparing tonight. A pot of homemade tomato sauce simmers on the stovetop.
In the back of his mind, he wonders if his dating profile is as terribly unappealing as Seokjin says it is. Otherwise he wouldn’t have so many notifications, right? ー Messages from girls, asking if he could be their daddy too. Jeongguk’s bio is short and straight to the point. He’s not that ugly, or so he thinks. Being a journalist is a respectable occupation with steady income. So what could be so bad about it?
Is it the fact that Jeongguk isn’t even his real name ー nothing but a fake persona to help him with his investigation? Maybe it’s because his adopted daughter doesn’t have a striking resemblance to him, and his pictures look like a shady scam.
But there’s no way that they can see through Jeongguk’s facade. After all, he’s the best spy in the agency. His specialty is deceit. It’s foolproof. There’s no reason not to believe him.
“I think they’re really into the whole dad thing,” Jeongguk nods, focusing on the sliced onions in front of him. The smell of garlic and fresh herbs permeate through the air.
“Really?” Seokjin says in feigned disbelief. He leans back against the couch, making himself comfortable. “It’s not because of the video where you’re deepthroating a deep dish pizza? Just for that, I would have gotten on my hands and knees to suck your di-.”
“Can you seriously watch your language?” Jeongguk cuts him off before pointing a knife in his direction.
Kim Seokjin may be his closest colleague, but that’s exactly where he draws the line. Seokjin is nothing more than Jeongguk’s informant. His job is to get the latest intel on all of his targets, and that’s it. He’s not here to fool around or make friends.
“We took that video in Chicago. Doesn’t it show that I’m well traveled?” Jeongguk asks with genuine curiosity. He remembers reading an article about how women love that sort of stuff.
Seokjin pinches the bridge of his nose. “It’s gonna be a long, long night,” he mutters to himself. His best friend is beyond the point of fixing, but at least he makes a good househusband.
Jeongguk wipes his hands against his frilly apron before dipping a wooden spoon into the pot. He inches the tomato sauce closer to his pursed lips as he blows on the piping hot confection. It could use more parsley.
Just when Jeongguk thought he could distract himself with cooking, he suddenly remembers the pressing problem that occupies all of his brain space: he is in desperate need of a wife. The constant reminder is taped to the front of the fridge 一 a letter from Minji’s prospective elementary school.
Dear Jeon family,
Congratulations! Your child’s preliminary results indicate that he/she has passed the entrance exam at Hwa Yang Academy. Our institution carries a prestigious reputation, accepting only the nation’s brightest students. Due to your child’s outstanding academic score, we invite you to the second phase of admissions where a family interview will be conducted. Please have both parents and child present at Yeon Hwa Hall on the first of May, promptly at 10am.
It is our good fortune that you chose to apply to Hwa Yang Academy. We look forward to welcoming you and your family to our renowned institution.
Sincerely,
Department of Admissions at Hwa Yang Academy
The fact that Minji received an interview at the top school in the nation is amazing beyond belief. Everything is going according to plan. The only problem is that Jeon Jeongguk is, in fact, bitchless.
“Remind me again, why do you need to get Minji into that school?” Seokjin furrows his brows. He’s never seen his best friend this stressed. The way that Jeongguk is willing to jump through hoops makes him feel as if he’s never wanted anything so bad in his life.
Jeongguk clenches the wooden spoon in his hand, threatening to give himself a splinter. “I have to get access to Hwa Yang,” he says, like it’s do or die. “There are families with infinite amounts of political power there, including the prime minister. The big boss suspects that they’re planning a rebellion, and I need to get close to them to expose their secrets. Obviously I can’t even touch the elite without pretending to be one myself. So I need this family to be as perfect as it can be.”
“You think you can prevent a whole rebellion and save the country if you go to a few parent association meetings? Bake a batch of cookies like a soccer mom?” Seokjin’s questions are sarcastic, but he’s not wrong. He needs to infiltrate the prime minister’s inner circle, befriend him, and uncover his government secrets. But doing so would be impossible without first securing a wife and earning acceptance into the school.
“If it comes down to making a paper mache volcano, I’ll do it.” The determination in Jeongguk’s eyes is unwavering.
“You really expect to get through the admission interview with a fake wife? I can’t even get a single date, but you think you can get married by the end of the month?” Seokjin laughs at the expense of his own heartache.
“Maybe the mommies would like you more if you weren’t so de-looshe-in-ull,” Minji chimes.
Has she been listening all along?
“Delusional?” Seokjin scoffs, fueled with exasperation. Lately, he’s had thoughts about being a kinder person, yet a part of him still believes that he deserves the last word in every conversation. “Where did you learn about that?” he queries, balling up his hands.
“Appa,” Minji replies, pointing at the man in question.
Seokjin winds his fist back as if he’s throwing a punch across the room, but he listens to the screaming voice in the back of his head. The one that tells him he’s much too pretty to get pummeled today ー that his face would look better if Jeongguk’s fist wasn’t imprinted on the surface of it. So instead of starting a fight with a five year old girl, Seokjin folds his knees against his chest, cursing under his breath. Maybe he can be the bigger person.
“So why can’t the agency send another spy operative to play house with you?” Seokjin asks, resorting to a life of civility under Jeongguk’s roof. He forces a smile through gritted teeth and returns his attention to the dating app in the palm of his hands, half-listening to his best friend.
“Well, a bunch of police officers arrested our agents. There’s only a few people left on the team. Haven’t you seen the news? The government is cracking down on espionage.” Jeongguk rolls his eyes, clenching his jaw. “They use women as their scapegoat, filling up some stupid quota for incarceration.” How can men be so ignorant and simple minded?
Ironically, Seokjin flashes his phone in front of Jeongguk’s face. “Swipe left or right, what do you think?” Yep, the minds of men are pretty simple, and Seokjin definitely didn’t hear a single word that came out of Jeongguk’s mouth.
Y/N
Daycare teacher at children’s municipal library
1 mile away
Critics review: ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐
“Loves her emotional support characters, and will only ever love her emotional support characters”
“Can’t cook to save her life, but she can top off your ramen with a fried egg”
“Pros: loving and down to earth, great with kids. Cons: doesn’t know her own strength, hates mushrooms, has a quirky laugh”
“You know what? I’ll swipe right. You’ll get more matches if you do,” Seokjin suggests with a determined nod.
Jeongguk stares at his informant in disbelief, jaw slack. There’s no way this stupid app is going to land him a wife by the end of the month.
“What do you think about this guy?”
“Hard pass. I mean, look at his photos. His whole personality is about working out.”
“Okay, then what about this one?”
“Nah, he looks too stuck-up. I don’t think he can take a joke.”
“How about her? She’s pretty, right?”
“She doesn’t even have a bio! What if she’s a catfish?”
From the way your coworkers appraise these people, they act as if they’re the ones looking for a partner. Because as a matter of fact, it’s your phone in their hand, swiping away on your dating app.
It doesn’t matter if there are library books that need to be stowed away or paperwork to be filed. They pay no mind to the clock indicating that there’s 30 minutes left in the work day because finding you a significant other seems to be their only priority.
“Sujin, stop being so picky. At this rate, y/n isn’t going to get a date if you swipe left on everyone,” Yumi whines.
“Why did you make a profile for me anyways? I don’t need to be in a relationship.” The sound of your widely unpopular opinion makes the two girls look up with big, round eyes.
“Aren’t you ever lonely?” There’s a hint of pity that lingers in Yumi’s voice.
You find it quite offensive that she would think that. As much as you’d like to keep your job, you would also like to rip the rug out from beneath Yumi’s feet until she falls flat on her face. But the reality is, you really need this job. So all you do is shake your head and grit your teeth. “No, not really.”
“Life is soo much more romantic when you have someone to love.” Sujin’s unblinking eyes make you wonder if she’s being held hostage against her will. Is her boyfriend tapping into her phone, listening to all of her conversations?
“y/n, you’ve never been in a relationship before. Do you ever feel like you’re missing out on something?” There’s a pout that rests on Yumi’s lips. Her tone leaks with faux sympathy. “Hobi just got married, and Nari’s having a baby. We’re all grown up, and I don’t want you to feel left out, especially at my engagement party next weekend. It might bring out some… bitter feelings.”
You resist the urge to roll your eyes, reminding yourself that you should definitely not push Yumi down the stairs at the end of your shift. “I think I’ll be content on my own.”
“Here, look through the app for a little while. Maybe you’ll find someone that you like. Just give it a chance, okay?” Sujin hands the phone back to you. “You should really think about it. San tells me he’s been worried about you.”
Your expression falls upon hearing your younger brother’s name. Of all people, San should know that you value nothing more than your independence.
“He just wants you to be happy ー for someone to take care of you.”
Some part of you believes that Sujin is projecting her opinions and throwing your brother under the bus. “I don’t need anyone to take care of me,” you assure her. “I can be happy on my own.”
Nowadays, many people come to believe that a wedding ring is the solution to everyone’s misfortune. Supposedly, it’ll keep you safe from all things cruel in this world. They don’t seem to realize that there are problems that run much deeper than being single. It’s as if something must be inherently wrong with you if you’ve never had a partner, let alone a first kiss.
You have to admit that sometimes, their words can hurt like knives. It’s damaging to your self-esteem if you really think about it. Because surely, everyone wants to be loved and to be desired ー to be chosen. How nice would it be to lie in bed, held and comforted by something other than the warmth of your own body?
If you were to have a relationship, perhaps you could go to bookstores together and read for hours on end. The two of you could laugh and sing at the top of your lungs, dancing like fools in the dim light of the bathroom with toothbrushes tucked between molars. You could listen to ballads on the radio and finally resonate with the lyrics, plastering a goofy, lovestruck smile on your face. If you were in love, you could share childhood memories, and even the mundane details would be tucked away for safekeeping. You’d know one another's biggest fears and greatest vulnerabilities. Even when you reveal the ugliest parts of yourself, they would choose you over and over again.
If there was just one person to run their fingers across all of your curves, your dips, your scars, only to tell you that you are still the object of their affection, then perhaps you would give love a chance.
But having thought about love your entire life, and never yet to experience it, you’re certain that you’re better off on your own. Ever since you were a little kid, it’s always been you, yourself, and your grief. You’ve harbored yourself in your own bones for decades, so who knows you better than you know yourself ー truly and completely unfiltered? With your mind and wit so sharp, who will find you lovable when they discover there’s a blade where your heart is?
If you were to find a partner, there is simply no way that you can continue the life that you have. You could never return to them at the end of the night, bloodied and bruised, with no questions asked. Surely, it’s not an easy pill to swallow when you tell them that you're an assassin. There’s no sugar coating that.
Much like being a daycare teacher, being an assassin is just another job. You started living this secret identity because it earned enough money to take care of your younger brother after your parents had passed away. It put food on the table and cash toward your bills. Money would roll into your bank account by the thousands. At 18 years old, that type of money was unfathomable. But now that San is old enough to take care of himself, there’s really no need to continue this lifestyle.
Yet you pursue the chase because there’s a certain thrill that comes from seeking justice and vigilance. These monsters no longer hide beneath your brother’s bed. Instead, they lurk between the shadows ー among the alleyways and abandoned parts of town. They prey on those who are weak and exploit them for all that they are.
If the law enforcement team is never going to uphold their end of the social contract, you have to be the one to act first and eliminate them. So with every job completed, you can be certain that the world is safer one hit at a time.
But to continue being an assassin, you have to keep this secret under wraps. You’ll be forced to hide under a life of normalcy, as nothing more than a naive and innocent daycare teacher at the local library ー a background character in the story of others. In all honesty, you prefer to keep your secrets tucked away. Because to be loved is to be known, and you simply cannot let that happen.
Some people aren’t made for romance, and maybe you’re one of them. Nobody shall ever hold your heart in their hands without pricking their own flesh.
Despite all that is said and done, some part of you thinks that there’s no harm in checking out the unpromising dating app. Curiosity gets the best of you as you mindlessly swipe through all of the profiles. However, everyone you’ve come across is either too shallow, too arrogant, or too boring.
A defeated sigh slips past your lips until you come across a certain profile. You look closer at the photos, inspecting each one with great care. There are only so many pictures: one of him and his dog, a second one of him shoving a Chicago deep dish down his throat, and another with a young child. Tattoos litter across his sun-kissed skin, and piercings scatter his handsome face ー beautiful in the most unorthodox ways.
His bio reads: “To whom it may concern, I am a single father looking for a wife (DM me for serious inquiries only).”
Have you seen this man before? Could it be… him?
The longer that you stare at his profile, the more concerned you become. At this rate, you’ve created an entire fantasy about a relationship with this stranger, and now you’re planning the dinner menu for your wedding. But there’s no way that you’d actually consider swiping right and messaging him, right? You don’t even want a boyfriend! This man could be joking for all you know.
When the clock strikes the hour, a chime resounds through the air. You shake your head, finally coming to your senses. You slip your device into your pocket, forgetting about the man who lives in your phone.
Jeongguk. His name is Jeongguk.
“Appaaa!” There’s a piercing cry that slices through the air as the little girl begs for her father’s affection. From behind the bookshelves, the curious librarian pokes her head between the gaps to catch a glimpse of the commotion.
“Don’t let go, please, please, pleeease!” The young child slips her tiny hand into her father’s, shaking it back and forth with a sense of urgency.
Jeongguk stands frozen in place. The apples of his cheeks darken into a rosy hue. It’s a little embarrassing to be that parent ー the one who can’t control his child’s outbursts in the middle of a public space, let alone a library, an academic sanctuary that promises peace and quiet.
With a heavy, exhausted sigh, Jeongguk crouches down to meet his daughter’s innocent expression. “Minny, I promise you, I’m not going anywhere. I ask that you give me ten minutes, okay?” His voice is firm and assertive. It’s a little rough around the edges, but it can’t be helped. He speaks in a way that commands attention from the room. This is the only way he knows how to demand respect from his subordinates.
“I just need to pick up a few things. We can go home afterwards, so be a good girl until then,” Jeongguk bargains. “You can go to the playroom, and the nice librarian will take care of you.”
Minji squeezes her tiny hands into fists, and she dies on the inside. Tears form in the corner of her eyes. Even the slightest change in her father’s tone makes her believe that she’s done something wrong. Her worst nightmare flashes before her eyes.
Would her father abandon if she were to misbehave? Or worse, would he dare to return her to the orphanage she was adopted from? What if her biggest fear comes to fruition? After all, it’s not uncommon for parents to realize far too late that kids are too difficult to handle. Then, they’re left hoping and praying for some kind of return policy for their own flesh and blood.
Minji’s eyes become glossy at the thought of it, unlocking a hidden memory from the past, but she refuses to let herself falter underneath his piercing stare. Yet no matter how hard she tries to keep the tears at bay, her emotions get the best of her, and her resolve crumbles into smithereens. After all, she’s only five years old.
It appears that the authoritative approach only works in the combat room, but perhaps not with a five year old girl. So Jeongguk lowers his defenses and drops to his knees. He wipes the tears away with the pad of his thumb, and she sniffles even harder when he comforts her.
There’s something about the little girl’s demeanor that reminds Jeongguk of himself when he was younger. Perhaps it’s the need for her father’s approval ー the desire to please and put others above herself. Maybe it’s her tenacity for standing tall and strong despite the dull ache in her tender heart.
“You can let it all out,” he reaffirms. A beat of silence passes by while he caresses her cheek, allowing the tears to fall. “You ’kay now?”
Minji reluctantly agrees with the slow nod of her head, but she avoids her father’s strong gaze, staring down at her shoes, sullen. When the warmth of her father’s hand disappears, another sniffle racks through her body.
Normally, Minji is never one to throw a tantrum, but what does Jeongguk know? Just when he thought he had a hang of the whole “parenting” thing, he’s thrown into a loop. In spite of Jeongguk’s confident demeanor, he genuinely doesn’t know the first thing about raising a child, let alone a daughter.
In his past ten years of being an undercover spy, he has diffused nuclear bombs and hacked into government files, but nothing has ever prepared him for being a single parent. Yet as a man and a father, he needs to do better. He needs to be better. The least he can do is try.
Jeongguk raises a hand between their bodies, extending his pinky for her to interlock, pledging his vow. “I’ll be back for you in ten minutes, I swear.” He reassures his daughter before planting a kiss on the crown of her head. He crosses his fingers, silently praying that she won’t cry again.
A dribble of snot falls from Minji’s nose. Her eyelashes are soaked. A dramatic hiccup heaves through her tiny, five-year old body.
Jeongguk can feel the venomous judgment of everyone around him. They must think that he’s utterly unfit to be a father, and they would be right.
They would wonder: What kind of child causes a scene in public, screaming, crying, and begging her father not to abandon her? How can he send her to the playroom where there’s nothing but disgusting germs and snotty kids? Is he seriously going to hand off his responsibilities to a total stranger in an underfunded public institution?
They can easily write Jeongguk off as a villain ー a big, scary man with piercings and tattoos. They could hurl accusations at him with no regard as to where they land. All it takes is a quick glance and a first impression (a false one at that). Obviously, they would think he’s someone who’s not built for child rearing because of the slits in his eyebrows and the gel in his hair. There must not be a gentle bone that resides in his big, burly body, but for that, they would be wrong.
The worst part about this whole “father” situation is not necessarily the judgment of others. He is familiar with scrutiny, and he knows it all too well. Rather, it’s that Jeongguk was never particularly fond of having children of his own. Some people are not cut out for fatherhood, and that’s simply the truth of the matter. But that doesn’t mean he won't do his best. He can’t let Minji down. He won’t.
As if Minji could read his thoughts, she raises her arms, begging to be picked up. Her sniffles have long died down.
Jeongguk takes a deep breath before caving into her wishes and hooking an arm around her knees. Minji’s grimy, little hands cling around his neck, and an inaudible, celebratory noise escapes from her lips.
Minji nuzzles her head beneath her father’s chin. She chatters about the incomprehensible things that only five year olds would understand. She is an enigma beyond her father’s own understanding, but he is determined to learn the ins and outs of this child no matter what it takes, even if it kills him.
After Jeongguk had finally dropped Minji off at the library’s playroom, he peruses the non-fiction shelves in search of answers.
How the hell is he going to raise a child?
He thumbs through all of the top-rated parenting books available, skimming through the blurbs, trying to absorb enough information to pass judgment on them. Because if he’s going to follow parenting advice from someone else, they better be successful in their trials. Jeongguk doesn’t want to be the one to fuck up his own child’s brain chemistry.
There’s a sudden tap on his shoulder that helps Jeongguk to escape from the existential dread of fatherhood.
“Excuse me, sir.” A soft voice sounds from behind him. Your breath catches onto the nape of his neck.
“How did this woman sneak up on me without me noticing? Maybe I’m losing my touch.” Jeongguk wonders, shocked by his carelessness. Because from behind, he didn’t hear the fall of a single footstep. The air was still and undisturbed until he felt your presence a moment too late. Normally, he would have surveilled everyone within a mile radius before they could even think about approaching him. But you managed to do it so effortlessly. He’s never met a woman so stealthy.
“I think this belongs to you.” Your voice interrupts his stream of consciousness.
The man before you turns around, and surely, he is a sight for sore eyes 一 a little intimidating to say the least. There’s a silver ring that protrudes from his bottom lip, contrasting against the subtle pink. Even more metal resides against the surface of his skin, a piercing on either side of his eyebrow. There’s a scar that sits on his cheekbone, and you can’t help but wonder how it got there.
You’ve only ever admired this stranger from afar. Most days, he never fails to browse the children’s manhwa section with a talkative child latched onto his leg. Up close, he looks like a tough guy, but the moment he sees his adorable daughter clinging onto your dress, the hard look in his eyes softens. A dimple carves itself into the curve of his cheek.
“Who do we have here?” His typical inflection changes into something slightly more playful. But he uses it to mask his exhausted state.
“Appa, appa! Miss y/l/n is so pretty, don’t you think?” Minji says enthusiastically.
A flame ignites beneath the surface of Jeongguk’s skin. He grows flustered under the little girl’s stare.
Your eyes widen. You’ve never been considered “pretty” by conventional standards. It’s not often that you hear those words, if ever, really.
“Minji, everyone has their own opinions, but you shouldn’t push your beliefs onto someone else,” you begin as a form of damage control. “I’m so sorry, but she ran up to me, saying she lost her father. She seemed so distressed, and I thought she was going to burst into tears if she couldn’t find you.”
Jeon Jeongguk has never known peace before. Minji is just as sneaky and conniving as her father; she’s a filthy liar just like him.
“No, no, it’s okay, don’t apologize. Her attachment issues have grown by the day,” Jeongguk replies, shaking his head. He wears a bashful smile, cheeks tinged with pink. “Minny, do you remember what I taught you?” He crouches down to pick his daughter up by the waist, squeezing her sides.
“Don’t sleep with wet hair otherwise I might get hippo-pot-a-therm-ia?” Minji recalls, butchering the pronunciation.
Jeongguk bites the inside of his cheek, shaking his head. “No, the other thing.”
“Minny doesn’t have to eat anything that she doesn’t want to?”
“I never said that.” A look of disapproval crosses her father’s features.
“Drawing mustaches on sleepy people is wrong unless it’s Seokjin samchon?”
He scrunches his nose, nodding his head from side to side as though he’s contemplating. “Well… yes, but no. Try again. The thing about beauty.”
“Oh! Beauty is something that comes from the inside!” Minji’s eyes light up upon recognition.
“Exactly, it comes from inside.” Jeongguk reminds her. He presses his pointer finger against Minji’s sternum for emphasis. Upon his touch, a sweet giggle falls from her lips.
“But you do think it’s true, don’t you?” Minji asks once again, persistent. “Miss y/l/n is really pretty.”
The blush on his cheeks grow a shade darker. “Minny, of course I think she’s pretty. I thought we talked about this.” Although he lowers his voice like it’s a secret, you can still hear every single word.
Minji giggles to herself, hiding her face behind her hands.
Jeongguk has always known your face, but never your name. “Miss y/l/n, right?”
It sounds odd to hear your title from a grown man, but you laugh it off with a chuckle. “Yeah, that’s what the kids at the daycare call me. It’s just y/n though.”
Jeongguk readjusts his daughter in his arms before reaching for a handshake. “I’m just Jeongguk.” It doesn’t strike how little his name means to him. Of course it’s just an alias for the sake of the mission. He picked it on a whim, but it suits him more than he had thought. Jeon Jeongguk, pillar of the nation. The lie tumbles out of his lips so naturally, and he doesn't have to think twice.
His eyes lower into crescent moons as the corner of his lips curve into a smile, something akin to fondness. A shallow dimple finds its way onto his cheeks.
Dammit. He’s cute.
You reach forward, cupping your hand around his in a reverent greeting. He holds you gently as if there’s a butterfly that had landed on the tip of his fingers. It contrasts against your strong grip.
Observant as ever, Jeongguk notices that there’s no sign of a ring on your hand. He digs through the arsenal of intel that’s locked up inside his brain. Thanks to Seokjin’s sticky fingers, he managed to spend an entire weekend studying the most recent census information, getting to know the profiles of everyone in the city (just in case). There has to be some information about you stored in his head.
“y/n… Where did I see that name before?” He thinks to himself, mentally sifting through all the files he’s read. “Ah, I remember now. File #901: y/l/n, y/n. Never married, never divorced. Orphaned at the age of eighteen. She has one younger brother. Both of them have clean records ー never been in trouble with the police, never even received a speeding ticket.”
“Jeongguk…” you murmur his name as if you’re testing the waters. “I know. I’ve seen you around before.”
Minji might have accidentally let it slip that he’s the man who's been her appa ‘for a very long time.’ She never seemed to mention that she’s adopted. Instead, she continues to describe her father as someone super handsome and very single.
“Really?” Although he’s noticed you plenty of times before, he’s surprised that you recognize him. Jeongguk doesn’t like drawing attention. He supposes that lately, it’s been difficult when his daughter attracts a lot of eyes.
“Most of the time, you wander through the aisles, half-dead like a zombie, with a cup of coffee in your hand.” You lean forward, speaking in a hushed tone. “You really aren’t allowed to bring drinks into the library, but my coworkers let it slide because they think you’re handsome.”
Perhaps you’ve overshared because Jeongguk stares at you blankly, taken aback by the news.
“Here’s another secret.” You beckon him closer once again, speaking barely above a whisper. “You should be careful about reading parenting books. You’ll end up stressed about what to do if it doesn’t work, and you’ll feel like a failure by the end of it.”
His eyes widen in surprise. He had hoped that the parenting books would put an end to his sleepless nights. “What do you think I should do then? I don’t know how to deal with this monster right here.” He ruffles Minji’s hair in endearment.
“Hey!” Minji shouts in defense of herself.
“That’s not to say you shouldn’t read any parenting books. It’s just trial and error,” you shrug. “As much as you don’t want to hear it, there’s really no right answer.”
Jeongguk drops his shoulders, slightly disappointed. The defeated look on his face is a feeling you can sympathize with.
“But if it helps, I think it’s important that children need a little bit of softness every now and then, especially because the world is so cruel.” You flash him a gentle smile, urging him to lighten up on his daughter. He needs to stop pretending that raising a child is anything like the military or the spy academy.
Upon hearing your conversation, there’s a mischievous sparkle that appears in Minji’s eyes. “Miss y/l/n, do you wanna be my eomma?”
You stare blankly at her, blinking as though you are processing her question. The words die on your tongue, yet you cock your head to the side, meeting the little girl’s gaze. “Y- your eomma?” you reiterate, startled.
“Pleaseee? I’m so lonely with no eomma,” Minji pouts, melodramatic as ever. She puts her hand on her forehead as if she’s feigning an illness.
“Jeongguk, do you happen to be looking for a wife?”
“Is this your way of asking me out?” He leans forward, inclined to hear your proposal.
You wonder if this is a bad time to mention his Tinder profile. It could be a little awkward knowing that you’ve also made an account on that wretched app. There’s nothing inherently embarrassing about wanting to find love through modern dating, but why is it so hard to admit it?
You weigh your options in your head, but Jeongguk beats you to it.
“Because if you did 一 ya’ know 一 ask me out, I would have said-” His words are cut short.
“You know what? I’m sorry if I was being too forward-” Mentally, you want to smack yourself on the head.
Jeongguk didn’t mention anything about a girlfriend, let alone a wife. He has no idea that you’ve seen his Tinder before. You never even swiped. You never matched.
After you found his profile, you tucked your phone away and refused to open the app again. The blissful state of not knowing is better than playing the waiting game. Will he swipe, will he not? Will he message you and jumpstart some epic romance?
You decide to tell him the truth and swallow your pride before coming across as a complete weirdo wrapped up in her delusions.
“It’s just that… the other day, my friends made a dating profile for me because they’re worried I’ll be single for the rest of my life. I came across your account, and I thought you looked familiar. So I just wanted to know if you’re actually looking for a wife because I swear, I’ll do it.”
Jeongguk has never been this close to making a breakthrough, and he thinks he’s half in love with you. “Are you being serious?” he wonders as a precaution. “Don’t lie to me because I really need this to be a dream come true right now.”
His daughter reaches forward to pinch his cheeks. Jeongguk winces at the pain, and he’s certain that this moment is real.
“Do you want me to get down on one knee?” Your face is devoid of any banter, eyes fixed on Jeongguk as if you’re genuinely offering yourself to him. “Why do you need a wife? Tax money? Green card? Ex who won’t leave you alone?”
“It’s complicated,” Jeongguk begins.
“Trust me, I know it's complicated when I see it.” There’s a challenging look in your eyes, urging him to continue.
“Well, the other day, Minny passed the entrance exam for Hwa Yang Academy. Now, the board has to conduct an interview with the family, but they said they would want both parents to be there.”
“You can’t tell them that you’re a single father?”
“I think it’ll hurt her chances of getting accepted,” he explains. “I want my daughter to attend a good school. Her late mother would have wanted the same thing for her.”
“Appa said lying is wrong, but he’s so good at it,” Minji thinks to herself.
“Do you really think that I’m fit for the role?” You’ve never really had a penchant for acting or playing pretend. Lying, on the other hand, that is your strong suit.
“I don’t mean to be too forward, but I think you’re perfect.” Jeongguk speaks his truth without any hesitation. He looks at you with such sweet and delicate eyes. “You seem to be great with children, and Minny adores you already.”
You eye him as if you’re considering his offer, but you’ve already made up your mind. “I’ll do it, but only if you do a favor for me too. Are you free next weekend?”
“Next weekend?” Jeongguk raises an eyebrow. It’s starting to make sense why you agreed to do this in the first place. You need something in exchange, quid pro quo.
“My friends are throwing an engagement party. They’re worried about me all the time because I’m single, but I thought I would lay it to rest if I told them I finally had a boyfriend, or at least someone I’m talking to.” Your speech gets faster and faster with every word that comes out of your mouth. “I know it sounds crazy, Iー”
“I’ll do it.”
You stare blankly at him, unsure if you heard correctly, but a smile continues to creep onto the corners of your lips. “You will?”
Jeongguk reaches forward, gently taking your hand in his. “It would be an honor to be your boyfriend,” he says, even if it’s just pretend. “And an even bigger honor to be your husband.”
“y/n!”
You don’t hear your name being called relentlessly until your co-workers are shouting for your attention. Their words fall upon deaf ears.
As usual, they had been gossiping about their boyfriends and their weekend plans. You checked out of the conversation the moment Yumi opened her mouth and uttered her fiancé’s name, resisting the urge to gag.
You look up from your lap, slightly too distracted. There’s a small, maroon stain and a rip in the skirt of your dress. It’s not easy keeping your clothes in pristine condition when you’re constantly running toward danger. You’re lost in thought, wondering how much the tailor shop will charge you for sewing it back together.
“What are you doing this weekend? There’s a new episode of that drama you like, right? Are you going to order delivery again?” Yumi assumes. “You know, you should step outside from time to time. Maybe you’ll find a nice person to date if Tinder doesn’t pan out.”
“Actually, I have plans after work,” you announce before returning to inspect the damage on your dress.
“With who? Did you meet someone on the app?” The cadence of Sujin’s voice is airy, shocked in disbelief.
“I’m meeting up with some guy.” You try not to make it a big deal, but these girls always blow it out of proportion. “I didn’t meet him from the app though.”
“You’re seeing someone? Who?! You can’t just drop the news and expect us not to ask for the details!” Sujin shouts.
“He was at the library the other day, and he asked me out. He’s the one with the tattoos ー y’all would recognize him if you saw him,” you explain. “Minji is his daughter.”
“The guy with the coffee?” Everyone collectively gasps upon connecting the dots. “Him? How did you manage to pull that?!”
Ouch. That hurts.
“I would dump my fiancé in a heartbeat if the coffee guy could blow my back out,” Yumi confesses.
How could she be so shallow? She was just talking about how much she loved her fiancé. Is he really that disposable? Besides, is Jeongguk nothing more than the coffee guy? A pretty face who’s made for a one night stand? You’re starting to think that people don’t actually value their relationships. They just want a partner for the sake of having one.
There’s a sudden chime that resounds through the air, pulling you out of your thoughts. The service bell at the front desk had been struck. It’s odd considering most people exited the library by now, knowing that it closes in ten minutes.
You all poke your head through the doorway to catch a glimpse of the patron. Their eyes widen in surprise when they see the coffee guy standing at the front desk. He stands tall and proud with a military stance, a head above everyone else. There’s a bouquet of pink camellias resting in his hand in place of his typical americano.
“Jeongguk? I thought we were meeting at the cafe.” Perhaps you remembered the details of the conversation wrong.
When you speak his name out loud, all the girls shift their gaze to one another. Could it really be true that you’re seeing a man?
“I thought it would be nice if I could surprise you, and we’d walk there together.” He flashes a smile that sends an arrow straight through the heart (and through those of your coworkers). For a second, you think that Yumi might just faint.
He’s handsome as ever, just as you recall. But today, there’s something that’s slightly out of place. There’s a bandage that rests on the bridge of his nose. It’s pink with Sanrio characters plastered all over it ー Hello Kitty and My Melody. There’s something about it that makes him even more endearing.
You try to stifle a giggle as you shoot him an apology. “Sorry, can you hang around for a few more minutes? I have some things to do before closing.”
“Take your time, angel.” Jeongguk says. Crinkles begin to form at the corner of his eyes as the curve of his lips overtake him.
You have to admit that the pet name made your heart flutter. He plays into the role of a sweet boyfriend pretty accurately. It’s all part of the act.
Sujin closes the door to the office. The girls break into squeals. They playfully hit your shoulder in disbelief, elbowing your sides. “I can’t believe it! y/n is going out with a man?!”
“And he’s hot!”
You shake your head before returning to your work station, ignoring their cheers. But you can’t help the subtle smile that reaches your lips. Maybe the girls will finally leave you the fuck alone.
“I’m so sorry for the wait.” You apologize as you approach Jeongguk, looking like a disheveled mess after an 8 hour shift. Your blouse is slightly wrinkled, and you’re certain there’s residue left behind from all the marker stains the kids had carelessly drawn on you. Your arm is full of stickers, and you’ll have to remember to peel them off later.
In the daycare, Jeongguk is propped on top of a bean bag chair that is much too small for his body. There’s a manhwa that rests in his lap. It’s the one his daughter can’t stop talking about.
“I got here ten minutes early anyways.” He places the book on the table before clambering to his feet. “Oh yeah, and these are for you.” He passes the bouquet of camellias.
You raise your hands, not really sure how to accept the gift. You’re not the type of girl to receive flowers, love poems, or pretty things. Nobody has ever pursued you in that way. All you ever receive are cursory glances and awkward smiles, but never anything as beautiful as this.
He inches the flowers a little closer to you, urging you to take it.
You pull the bouquet to your nose, taking a whiff of the sweet scent. “These are really pretty. Thank you for that.” You motion for him to wait just a moment longer as you place the flowers into a vase.
Through the porthole of the office door, you can see the girls squeal and jump around in unison.
“Are you ready? Should we head out?” Jeongguk’s lips curl into a boyish smile.
You nod, sharply turning your heels in an attempt to hide the fluster of your face. Before you could take a step forward, you’re pulled to a halt. There’s a tug on your arm that spins you around. Jeongguk’s fingers wrap around your wrist, pulling you close.
“Wait one sec,” his breath fans across your face. “You have some chalk on your cheek. Can I-?” He raises his hand, tentatively learning forward.
Heat rushes to the surface of your skin, yet you nod your head, giving into his request. “Is this part of the act?” you wonder out loud, low enough for Jeongguk to hear.
“Only if you want it to be.” His deep voice sends a shiver down your spine.
As he leans forward to wipe the dust off your cheek, your throat dries. You freeze, attempting to avoid his gaze. You’re not certain whether you’ll explode upon gazing into his dark brown eyes.
Instead, you keep your sight locked straight ahead. It’s a terrible idea considering his strong chest is right in front of you. The top two buttons of his white collared shirt are undone, and the space between his pecs are exposed, a necklace dangling in between. There’s a chance that you might die staring at it, so you accept the risk of embarrassing yourself and glance at his visage instead.
“There’s my pretty girl,” Jeongguk says, dusting off the chalk.
A wave of butterflies swarm in the pit of your stomach, and your mind goes blank. You have no idea how to respond to such a compliment, and you’re unable to when your throat constricts. Your body warms, hyper aware of his palm on your cheek and the one wrapped around your wrist. Your one free hand that is not occupied by his clasp shoots up, hovering over the bandage plastered on his nose.
“What happened here?” The words splutter out of your mouth, trying to say something. Anything. Perhaps your anxiety would be less noticeable if you could just act natural ー If you could stop standing there without a single thought in your head.
“Bumped into a wall,” Jeongguk chuckles. It’s a blatant lie. He could never be this clumsy. In actuality, he had failed to duck during a sparring match with another spy at the agency. Fuck Kim Mingyu and his stupidly beefy arms. “Minny picked the bandage for me.”
“You mean you didn’t choose to wear the Hello Kitty? I think it suits you.” As soon as you graze the bridge of his nose, his laughter turns into a dramatic groan. Soft murmurs of ‘ow, ow’ fall from his lips.
“‘m sorry, ‘m sorry!” You apologize.
His other hand gently grasps your palm, pulling it away from his sprained injury. Maybe your dating profile was right when it mentioned you don’t know your own strength.
“Don’t worry, let’s just hope that Minny is okay,” Jeongguk remarks. “She insisted on wearing a matching bandaid because ‘if appa’s hurt, then Minny’s hurt.’ Kind of like a voodoo doll.”
Subconsciously, the thought of Minny wearing a matching bandage despite being perfectly fine forces your lips into a smile.
“Should we head out now?” Jeongguk leans closer, voice barely above a whisper. “Can I hold your hand? Give your friends a real show to watch?” It’s as if your hand wasn’t already in his.
You nod your head, suddenly remembering that this is all an act. You’re reminded of the girls crowded around the office door, peeking through the small window to catch a glimpse of the action.
Jeongguk’s hand glides down from your palm and between your fingers, lacing them together. A breath hitches in your throat, and you have to remind yourself to breathe. You can hear the high pitched screams from behind when the girls are convinced you’ve stepped far away enough. But it isn't as loud as the sound of your heart beating out of your chest.
The two of you make your way to the cafe, walking side by side, hand-in-hand, occasionally bumping shoulders when you walk a little too close.
“How was your day? I realized I never asked you what you do for work, and I don’t really know much about you in general,” you chuckle, slightly embarrassed. “I thought we would at least have our first kiss by now if we were married.” There’s a hint of sarcasm in your tone, one that Jeongguk easily recognizes because his informant, Seokjin, is nothing but shits and giggles.
“We would have done more than kissing, but we can start slow.” The corners of his lips curl into a playful grin. His words make you freeze, but it doesn’t seem to faze him.
With your hands linked together, Jeongguk is pulled back by your halted movements. He turns to face you, displaying his pretty eye-smile. “I’m a journalist,” he says. “I write investigative articles when they don’t ask me to cover silly politics.”
Although it’s not completely true, it’s not totally false at the same time. He writes exposé articles based on the intel he uncovers from his spy missions. The articles that he writes are written under an anonymous name, obviously so he can’t be tracked for exposing highly classified information. Nobody should ever know that he’s digging into the lives of corrupt politicians. Jeongguk might never see the light of day if word gets out.
“My routine is pretty consistent,” he explains. “I did some research for my article, wrote a few thousand words in my drafts before deciding to scrap the entirety of it, and I picked up Minny from kindergarten. I asked my friend to babysit her while I’m away tonight.”
Jeongguk wants to scrub his tongue after admitting that Seokjin is his “friend.”
“What about you? How’s your life at the library?” Jeongguk asks.
You describe the events that spiraled today as the two of you head inside the coffee shop and place your orders. “Well, the girls seemed convinced that we’re on a date,” you chuckle.
Jeongguk gasps. His hand clenches against his chest as if he’s wounded by your words. “You mean to tell me this isn’t a date? I thought we had something special.” He feigns exasperation. “You are my wife, after all, aren’t you?”
You don’t care to admit how amusing it is to hear the word wife coming from him. Despite the smile that plays on your lips, you shake your head no.
“This isn’t a real date,” you explain in denial. Nobody has ever asked you out, and you’ll be damned if the first time is just pretend. “But I guess this is good practice, especially when the stakes are higher for the interview.”
“Hmm… practice.” A crinkle forms between Jeongguk’s brows, lost in thought.
“I have to admit that I don’t have a lot of experience with dating, and that’s why we have to practice.” You shake your head, flustered. “Actually, I’ve never even been in a relationship.”
“Why’s that?” He asks the age-old question.
“I’m not really the type that people fall for.” You tuck your head between your shoulders, offering a shrug. “I’m quiet ー Not really good with people. I’m a bit of a late bloomer. I spent a lot of my youth taking care of my younger brother.” That’s only the jist of it. You don’t bother getting into the nitty gritty details. Being a full-time assassin isn’t necessarily “first-date appropriate” conversation.
“How many partners have you had?” You bounce back, diverting the attention away from you.
“Just one, my wife who passed. We had been together since we were in high school.” The lie seeps through his teeth so easily. It’s terrifying. But the less you know, the better.
The thought of being Jeongguk’s first “girlfriend” since the passing of his wife makes you incredibly nervous. Upon seeing the sullen avoidance in his eyes, you don’t bring it up again. Instead, you try to lighten the mood.
The two of you fall into a routine of volleying questions back and forth. If you’re planning to convince everyone that you’re husband and wife, you’re going to have to know more than just one another’s (supposed) names and (supposed) professions.
You start with the easy stuff. “Where did you grow up?”
“Busan. I miss the sound of the ocean, but I don’t mind the city as long as Minny goes to the best school in the country. What about you?”
“I grew up in a town so small you wouldn’t be able to find it on the map, but it’s not far from the capital.”
“Cryptic, I like it.” A grin forms onto the corners of lips before he takes a sip of his coffee.
Over the next hour, you learn that Jeongguk, as robust and intimidating as he looks, is warm and gentle. His favorite thing about being a father is having someone to love and protect. To him, Minji is a bundle of joy who makes his day brighter despite the hurdles that come with being a parent. He would do anything in the world to give his child the life he never quite had.
Likewise, having lost his parents at a young age, he learned to lead a fulfilling life all on his own. Instead of letting it bog him down, he clings onto the simple things for respite, searching for happiness in every corner of the universe.
He loves the rain and how it fleetingly smells like the warm and muggy summers of his hometown. Although he doesn’t experience the monsoon season quite like he used to, he loves to watch Minji splash around in her yellow rain boots. His favorite time of day is golden hour, especially when the fluffy white clouds are tinted with orange hues, reminding him of his first dog, Gureum.
Jeongguk has a slight addiction to black coffee, even if it makes his stomach hurt on the odd occasions (and you suggest he tries tea instead). He likes his eggs scrambled, and he prefers waffles over pancakes. He has plenty of awful habits like singing karaoke at four in the morning followed by cooking a pot of instant ramen to satiate his brutal cravings (yes, his food preferences are vital to your understanding of who Jeongguk is as a person, down to his core).
He tells you about his trip to Chicago some months ago where he definitely deepthroated a deep dish pizza after being dared by Seokjin. As much as he loved traveling, he was easily home-sick and desperately missing his fix of samgyeopsal. In fact, he tells you he would love to invite you over one day so he can make you a meal. And thank God for that because you are not handy in the kitchen whatsoever.
You learn that not necessarily all of his tattoos have meaning. The tiger is an emblem of his country while the tiger lily is his birth flower, and it is a silent, desperate plea to be loved. There’s a silly emoji on his middle finger just because he thinks it’s funny. He hates having to cover it up when he goes to work (tattoos may not have been the smartest idea knowing that he has to keep his identity a secret, but the damage is already done), and he’s certain that everybody judges him for the ink on his arms.
“As long as you like your tattoos, it doesn’t matter what anyone else thinks.” You offer him a warm smile as though nothing could ever hurt him. God, how he wishes that was true.
For some reason, Jeongguk doesn’t know how to react to your words. He’s only ever been told to cover up his skin as if he has something to be ashamed of.
In exchange for his stories, you trade Jeongguk pieces of your life. How your favorite memory from youth was when you had taken the city bus an hour and a half down to the beach with your brother, San, where you’d build sand castles on the brink of collapse. Sometimes, the smell of salt air and the longing for August still lingers to this day.
You tell him about your attempt at joining the knitting club so you could make cute sweaters and vests. They were never perfect. But at least they kept your brother warm during the winters. Besides, you had fun playing dress-up with him. Jeongguk finds that perhaps the boldest thing you’ve ever done is bleach your hair strawberry blonde, only for it to turn out orange.
His laughter blooms through his chest when you tell him about the time you almost set the microwave on fire. Your mom never told you that aluminum foil doesn’t belong in there, and you had to learn that the hard way. That’s probably why you should never set foot in the kitchen again. Nevertheless, you made mistake after mistake just so that San could have food on the table everyday after school. At least you’ve perfected the art of cutting fruit at this point ー no cooking skills required.
Although the two of you talk for what seems like hours, you can’t help but think there’s so much more to this man, and he’s unwilling to share. It doesn’t necessarily bother you because you, too, have secrets of your own. You can’t expect him to reveal everything about his life, even if he never does.
It’s well into the evening when Jeongguk walks you home. The path is quiet. It’s illuminated by the dim light of the street lamps. It feels like a scene from a movie you’ve once watched ー the origin of all your teenage fantasies. But this is real. You’re just a girl, standing in front of a boy, and that’s where it all begins.
“y/n?” The way he says your name brings you to a halt. His voice, although usually confident, is timid and uncertain. “I’ll see you tomorrow, right? We still have a lot to talk about.” He looks at you with stars in his eyes, although none of them belong to you, and they could never be yours.
Your lips press together in a tight line, nodding your head in affirmation. As you bid your goodbyes, you wonder if it would be inappropriate to give him a hug. After all, you’ve only just met the day prior, and this is nothing but pretend. Yet how will you ever grow accustomed to the touch of your husband?
Your arms remain crossed over your chest. You look down at your shoes, kicking a loose pebble at the front of your door, contemplating.
But he reaches for your hand, lightly grasping around your fingers. You jolt back as if he set your nerves aflame. Your gaze lifts toward his eyes, but it quickly lowers as Jeongguk descends down to one knee.
Your heart pounds against your chest, and you pray that he cannot hear it.
“I’m sorry I don’t have a proper ring…” He begins. “I hope you can accept this for now, and I swear I’ll get a diamond on your hand one day ー As big as you want.”
Jeongguk carefully pulls a small metal band from his pocket. It can easily be confused for the end piece of a keychain ー perhaps it’s something that his daughter had left behind in his coat, never to be remembered. But for Jeongguk, he knows perfectly well that it’s the pin from a grenade he had tossed the week prior on an escape mission. He slides the ring onto your finger, and although it is slightly too large, you wouldn’t have it any other way.
“I may not have been your first choice of a partner, and for all I know, I could have been dead last, but thank you for sticking by me. I swear I’ll take care of you. I’ll hold your heart with gentle hands, and I won’t ever let it break.”
After all, this is just pretend.
But for some reason, his voice sounds so earnest, and you almost believe him. To be frank, you never really cared about lavish weddings and seven carat diamonds. If you were to ever look for a companion, all you could ask for is an honest partner.
Too bad Jeon Jeongguk is anything but that.
Throughout the next week, you spend more and more time getting to know your new “boyfriend.” Because of this, you have to put your side hustle on pause and constantly decline assignments on your burner phone. You certainly wouldn’t want Jeongguk to overhear your plans to murder while he sits pretty beside you, waiting to hear about your day ー your hopes, your dreams, and anything else that’s on your mind. But it would be a shame if you cut your dates early, only to spend less than a second to put a bullet through your enemies’ heads.
You’d have much more fun with Jeongguk instead. Because he tends to plan the cutest surprise dates, and they’re so incredibly thoughtful. Sometimes, Minji would accompany your dates when Seokjin can’t babysit (he’s too busy trying to find his own baby mama so he can prove Minji wrong). Nevertheless, Minji adores the time that you spend together because it feels like you’re a real family.
The three of you would drive to the movies, play boardgames, and eat ice cream for dinner. Jeongguk had even taken you both to the annual carnival that you desperately wanted to check out. He wasn’t fond of going because those claw machines and arcade games are absolute scams! Yet you caught the smug grin on his face when he finally won a stuffed bunny after downing fifty bucks. He was just so addicted to the thrill of nearly winning: “I could have gotten that!”
During your dates, you would laugh for hours on end, but by the end of the night, Minji would fall asleep on her father’s shoulder. That’s usually your cue to head home. Sometimes, you think that he might kiss you goodnight, but he never does. His lips only ever brush your knuckles like the gentleman that he is.
…
True to his word, Jeongguk invites you over for dinner the following Friday.
When you arrive at his apartment, you are instantly the worst houseguest known to mankind. Your umbrella is dripping wet from the pouring rain, effectively ruining Jeongguk’s wooden floors. However, that’s not the problem that Jeongguk has with you. The problem is that you’re unable to stop laughing at Jeongguk’s attire.
Surely, your parents had taught you to be kind, especially to your hosts. Well, when Jeongguk swings the door open, revealing a frilly apron, something akin to what your grandmother would wear, you couldn’t help it! A picture of My Melody is stamped onto the chest, staring straight into your soul.
It isn’t lost on you ー the irony of a big, strong man, no doubt subjected to dress up in his daughter’s choice of clothing.
“Don’t laugh at me,” Jeongguk pouts, tilting his head like a puppy.
You stifle your giggle behind a tight lipped smile, but you’re so close to bursting at the seams. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”
After placing your shoes at the door, Jeongguk leads you into his humble abode. He takes the bottle of chardonnay from your hands, thanking you for the gift, and places it onto the dining table.
“Dinner should be ready in an hour,” he informs you.
“I know I’m not very useful in the kitchen, but if you need help-”
Before you can even think about lifting a finger, Jeongguk is quick to suggest an alternative. “No, don't worry, you’re my guest. Just relax, okay? Minny is in the living room. You should spend time with her.”
In the adjacent room, Minji is crouched over her study material. Her worksheets spread across the coffee table. Each question covers a different subject: basic biology, political science, religion and ethics, foreign language, etc. You never quite realized how much pressure children face in the education system.
After all, you were never really concerned with grades. You never thought about applying to the top school in the nation. In fact, your grades had fallen down a slippery slope by the time you were in high school. Rather, all of your time was dedicated to earning money and supporting your family.
When you sit beside Minji, she beckons you closer before you can even greet her. “I’m dying. Help me,” she pleads with wide eyes. You look down to see her math homework ー fractions, Minji’s sworn enemy.
“Appa wants me to study, but he won’t give me the answers,” Minji whines.
You can’t help but chuckle. “Minny, you have to figure out the answers on your own if you want to do well.”
The sound of your advice makes her drop her head on the table with a soft thump.
“Here, let’s do a few questions together,” you suggest.
Try as you might, you only manage to complete half of the assignment. Minji huffs, slightly frustrated when she doesn’t understand the concept.
You pat her back, consoling the small child. “Once you eat dinner, you’ll have more brain energy. Maybe you just need a break.”
A lightbulb goes off above her head, and she springs to her feet. “Appa! Can I give eomma a tour of the house?”
You tilt your head, amused by the sound of Minji calling you her mother.
“That sounds like a great idea!” Jeongguk cranes his neck to peek at his devious daughter. “Just make sure you study again when you’re done.”
Minji takes her father’s approval as a cue to grab your hand in hers, showing you every corner of the house ー all of her drawings taped to the fridge, her favorite stuffed animals lined up at the end of the bed, and the sparkly clean toilet where she poops every morning. After describing everything in excruciating detail, you could have sworn that Minji would run out of words to say. But she never does.
“What’s behind that door?” You point to the end of the hall.
“That’s appa’s bedroom. He told me I should never go in there unless he gives me permission.”
You suppose it’s healthy to set boundaries between you and your child. It’s not like Jeongguk has distasteful art hanging on his walls, and it’s not likely that he’s hiding a dead body in there. He doesn’t seem to be the type to store skeletons in the closet. You, on the other hand, now that’s a different story. Perhaps Jeongguk just needs a little privacy at the end of every night.
Minji’s voice breaks you out of your reverie. “Eomma! This is your room! Well, it’s a guest room, but appa says it’s basically yours if you ever want a place to stay.”
You step into the final room, glancing around the walls at a loss of words. Your eyes are drawn to the shelves. They’re brimming with so many novels. It’s like your own personal library. You could probably spend the entire day just browsing through each book.
As you slide open one of the drawers, you’re surprised to find an array of period products. There are also makeup wipes, an abundance of face masks, some sunscreen, and essential oils (apparently, women love that sort of stuff according to an article Jeongguk had bookmarked). There’s even a candle that’s labeled ‘ocean breeze.’
“Do you like it?” Minji looks up at you with wide, glimmering eyes as she uncaps the candle, shoving her entire nose against the wax with a hard whiff.
“I love it, Minny, thank you for the tour. I really appreciate it. You should get back to your studies. I’ll help your dad with dinner, but if you need my help, just call me, okay?”
Minji sniffles theatrically and drags her feet into the living room.
You head towards the kitchen to find Jeongguk slicing a daikon radish with military precision. There’s soft music playing in the background, accompanied by the pouring rain outside, occasionally interrupted by the soft huff of frustration when Jeongguk’s bangs cover his eyes. The sleeves of his shirt are rolled up to his elbows, revealing his strong forearms covered in tattoos.
Jeongguk finally looks up at you in the doorway. He flashes you a smile ー delighted, and very much enamored. “How was the tour?”
“Your home is so cozy. But I don’t know if I was supposed to look at the top secret file you forgot to put away.”
“I- WHAT?” He yelps. The shock on his face is quickly replaced with an acute pain. The knife had sliced through his palm upon one careless motion.
“Oh, fuck,” he mutters under his breath, ensuring that Minji won’t hear his foul language.
Jeongguk drops the radish onto the cutting board with a thud. He forces pressure onto the wound with the pad of his thumb to stop the bleeding. In actuality, he’s more concerned about the food than he is about his finger.
“Oh my god, are you okay?” You rush over to his side, reaching for his wrist. “Let’s run it under cold water.”
The two of you waddle towards the small sink, attached by the hip.
“I was kidding about the secret files. I’m sorry about the cut.” You’re ridden with guilt, seeing that your mindless joke had cost Jeongguk his hand.
“No, no, you don’t have to apologize. It was my fault. I was the one holding the knife.”
You shake your head. “Don’t blame yourself either. It happens. I get cuts all the time.” If there’s ever a blade against your skin, it’s usually by the hands of your enemies. You, on the other hand, are a pro when it comes to handling knives.
Jeongguk shuts the faucet off, examining the cut. It’s shallow. You could hardly see it.
“I’ll grab a bandaid for you,” you offer, already sprinting down the hallway.
“They’re in the bathroom! Medicine cabinet!” Jeongguk shouts.
“I know! Minny gave me a tour of everything,” you shout back. You pluck the ointment and the familiar Hello Kitty bandages off the shelf before shuffling back to the kitchen. “Minny shared way too much information about the inventory of your medicine cabinet. Apparently, you have two morphine capsules left. You should get a refill on those.”
Jeongguk hums in recognition, and you wonder why he would need a painkiller as strong as morphine.
Taking Jeongguk’s hand in yours, you assess the cut and gently blow on the appendages with the purse of your lips. You place the pink bandage onto his hand, and out of habit, you give him a quick kiss on the booboo.
When you pull back, you’re absolutely mortified. You avoid his gaze, trying to hide your own humiliation. “I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to do that. The kids at the daycare always ask for a kiss when they’re injured.”
“It’s okay, I understand.” A rosy hue dusts over Jeongguk’s cheeks. Why is he so shy when he’s usually the bold and courageous one? He’ll be sure to call Seokjin tonight to ask what this means ー to be so flustered and afflicted by your touch. Is his skin supposed to feel like it’s on fire?
With the look on his face, you’re not quite sure who’s more embarrassed. So you run towards the sink and nervously wash your hands, practically rubbing the skin raw.
“I’ll cut the radish for you.” You take his place by the cutting board.
When he asks if you’re sure, you just hum in response, having already started, and he succumbs to your offer. Typically, Jeongguk would not be willing to accept anyone’s help. But there’s warmth and sincerity in your tone.
“Let me tie this for you.” Jeongguk steps behind you, lightly brushing your hair back to keep it out of your eyes.
Heat rushes to your face, and you nod in agreement. Instantly, Jeongguk separates your hair into three different strands.
“You know how to braid?” you ask, chopping away at the radish. “You can just tie a simple ponytail if you want.”
“Minny said she wanted to go to school with a French braid. I didn’t know how to do it, so I looked at a video online. I’m not that good, but let me practice, okay?” He ties off your hair with the elastic that he keeps on his wrist for standby. “Tadaaa!” A proud grin sits on his pretty lips.
You can tell that the braid is a little too loose for your liking, but you’ll be sure to show him how to properly braid later. Perhaps after dinner. “How does it look?” You wonder.
“You’re perfect,” Jeongguk says affirmatively, sweet as ever. “Here, let me give you an apron.”
Before you know it, he loops a string of fabric over your head. It sits loosely on the back of your neck. Jeongguk’s hand rests on your shoulder blade, pushing your hips against the counter as he reaches to tie the string around the small of your back. He fixates on the knot that tethers around his thick fingers as he works on the fabric. His breath is hot against your neck. You can feel the heat radiate off of him.
When he pulls back, you swallow the lump in your throat, sighing a breath of relief. “Thanks,” you murmur.
The worst part is that Jeongguk doesn’t even realize the effect that he has on you. You wonder when he’ll put an end to this madness. Because at this rate, you think you might explode if he inches any closer to you.
As it seems, fate has other plans.
While he watches you cook, he hovers behind you; not because he’s controlling, but because he wants to make sure you’re safe. He has to admit that you’re skilled with a knife, but your cooking techniques aren’t quite there.
“When you cut, curl your fingers and tuck your knuckles underneath them.” Jeongguk inches closer and places his chin on the crown of your head. He slots himself against your back as his protective arms cage you against the marble counter. His hands slide down from your wrist, careful not to startle you, before cupping them around your fingers. He gently guides your hand, ensuring that you don’t cut yourself.
You don’t realize that you’ve been holding your breath until he steps away. Maybe cooking isn’t as bad as you make it out to be.
The heavy downpour of rain patters against the windows.
“It looks like the weather is getting worse. I didn’t realize it would storm tonight,” Jeongguk peeks between the blinds before lighting a few candles. The lamps had been flickering because of the torrential rain. “The roads aren’t very safe. If you want to stay over, you can take the guest room.”
You nearly drop the cutlery on the table in the midst of setting up dinner. “Ar- are you sure? I don’t want to be a bother.”
“Stop with that, you’re never a bother,” he reassures you. “If you want, I’ll drive you home first thing tomorrow morning.”
You think about the invitation before ultimately deciding to accept. “Thank you, Jeongguk. And by the way, I really appreciate how you set the room up for me.” You shoot him a grateful smile.
“Anything for my wife.” The warmth of his words makes your heart flutter.
When the table is finally set, the three of you settle down for dinner.
You bite the inside of your cheek as you stare at the beautiful arrangement of food you have yet to touch. There’s tender pork belly, fermented shrimp, spicy oyster radish, fresh garlic, and pickled cabbage among a bunch of other side dishes you can’t even put a name to.
“You said you were hungry, right?” Jeongguk picks up the cabbage leaf and stuffs the ingredients inside. He wraps it into a roll and places it on top of your fluffy white rice.
Watching the steam rise in front of you, you nearly bawl from how delicious it smells. The tears threaten to spill from the corners of your eyes.
Nobody has ever made you a home-cooked meal since your parents had passed.
“Are you- uhm,” Jeongguk lifts his hand, not knowing what to do with his own limbs. A set of chopsticks rests between his thumb and pointer finger, fish cake tucked between the silver metal. It hovers halfway across the table, abruptly stopping before he could reach your bowl. “You can cry, it’s okay-”
You don’t dare to move a single muscle when the tear falls down your cheeks.
Minji reaches over to wipe the droplet away. You can’t tell if she wants to comfort you, or rather, she’s just looking to steal a bite of your pork belly. But you’re inclined to believe it’s the former. Her father had already served a piece of meat in her bowl.
“It’s okay, eomma. You can cry. Just… don’t do it over the dishes. You don’t want your food to be salty,” Minji advises.
Jeongguk calls his daughter’s name, scolding. He plucks out a few tissues from the box and passes them across the table.
You wipe your eyes, praying that the tears will stop. “I’m sorry, I’m fine,” you shake your head. “I just don’t really remember the last time I had a home-cooked meal with anyone other than myself. I think my parents were the last people to ever cook for me.”
“What about your brother?” Jeongguk inquires.
“I’ve always made food for him growing up, and ever since he went to university, he’s been away from home. I really haven’t seen him in a while.” A sullen smile tugs on your lips. “We usually just talk on the phone.”
Jeongguk topples more food onto your bowl, filling it to the brim. “Whenever you come over, you can have any kind of food that you want. Just name it, and it’ll be yours. Even if I don’t know how to make it, I’ll learn. Now let’s eat up, okay?” He picks up a piece of pork belly, prepared to bribe you like a child who hasn’t stopped crying.
You open your mouth, allowing him to feed you, humming in satisfaction. You mutter a thank you before putting on your bravest smile as the rain pours outside.
It’s late in the night when you hear a soft sniffle that echoes from the other side of the bedroom door, followed by a dull strike against the wooden surface, a call for your attention.
“Eomma?”
It never takes you by surprise when a child who isn’t yours calls you their mother. It happens often enough at the daycare center. Tiny humans let the term of endearment slip from their loose lips ー some variation of “mom,” “mommy,” or “eomma.”
These children cry for you when they have trouble opening their chocolate milk, or when they get a “booboo” from their arts and crafts activity, nothing but a measly, barely-there papercut. These children have an understanding that they’re safe with you. That you’d take care of them like a mother would, opening their bottles, helping to clean their mess, kissing their pain away, and wiping the tears dry. Sometimes they don’t notice their honest mistake, having called you their mother. Other times, they’re apologetic and embarrassed. But what’s there to be embarrassed about?
The vocabulary of children is limited to only a few hundred words, but they always resort to the one thing they know. Whether it is, “mom,” “mommy,” “eomma,” or so on and so forth, they trust you in the purest form. They feel protected and comforted by you.
Although you’ve heard it a dozen times before, you’ve never seen a child mean it so earnestly, not like Minji, and definitely not at two in the morning.
You open the bedroom door, looking down to see her tear stained cheeks. The instinct to protect kicks in like second nature. “Minny, what’s wrong?”
Lightning flashes through the sky, followed by a loud crash of thunder. The little girl flinches with a yelp, squeezing her eyes shut, pressing her hands against her ears.
“It’s so loud, ‘m scared,” Minji pouts.
You crouch down to wrap your arms around her shoulders, whispering sweet nothings into her ear. She shivers in your hold, trying to calm down as you rub soothing circles onto her back.
“Don’t worry, Minny. The thunder can’t catch you while you’re in here,” you murmur, adjusting the nightcap on the top of her head. “You’re always safe with me.”
“Can I sleep with you and appa tonight?” Minji asks.
“Th- the both of us?” Your eyes widen. Perhaps Minji doesn’t quite understand the terms of your arrangement. You’re not actually her mom, and Jeongguk isn’t really your husband. Certainly, sleeping in the same bed as Jeongguk crosses some imaginary boundary. “I- I don’t know if appa would-”
“Can we ask him?” Minji pleads, and she looks like she’s about to burst. It doesn’t hurt to try, right?
So you relent, and the two of you tiptoe down the hall to Jeongguk’s bedroom, hand-in-hand. There’s a light that leaks from the bottom of the doorway. Could he possibly be awake this late in the night?
You motion at the door, encouraging Minji to knock. She has to be a big girl, expressing her needs, asking for help when she needs it.
“Appa!” Minji whacks the palm of her hand against the wooden surface, and you have to correct her form. You squeeze her hands into a fist, showing her how to properly knock and urge her to try again.
On the other side, you can hear the shuffle of papers and the sound of wheels scraping against the linoleum floor, followed by the pad of footsteps. The door swings open, revealing a set of sleepy eyes, shrouded behind a pair of glasses. Jeongguk’s hair is disheveled, having run his hands through his overgrown mane a million times (he’s been pondering whether he should cut it, but you’ve shyly expressed how he looks handsome either way, and right now is no exception).
“Appa, can I sleep with the both of you tonight?” Minji hiccups between sniffles, and a tear treads down her cheek. When a crash of thunder sounds through the air, she lurches forward to wrap her arms around her father’s legs, shaking like a leaf.
Jeongguk pats the top of Minji’s head to comfort her. “What’s wrong? What happened?”
“The sky,” Minji shakes her head, pressing her face deeper into her father’s thigh. “Too loud. It’s scary. Wanna sleep with you and eomma.”
Normally, Jeongguk would be stressed, weighing his options, trying to determine the best course of action for his child. But there’s a sigh of relief that slips from his lips when his gaze meets yours. There’s a deep blush that spreads across his cheeks. “Is this okay with you?” His lips move in silence, mouthing the words, only for you to see.
In response, you nod your head and flash him a concerned smile. “You?” You mouth the words right back.
Jeongguk’s answer is obvious when he wraps his arms around the little girl and lifts her into the air. “Let’s go to sleep, Minny.”
Jeongguk taps his chin, pondering, as he stares at the little girl sandwiched in the center of his bed. “Something doesn’t feel right.” But there’s an unmistakable glimmer in his eyes. As tired as he is, he doesn’t seem to let it show. “You know what we should do?”
Before you can respond, he’s already darting out of the bedroom. He stumbles into the living area, grabbing all the mismatched furniture that he can find. There’s a coat rack in one hand and a stool in another. He runs to grab a fishing pole from the closet, one that he had stolen from Seokjin and never returned.
“What’re you doing?” Your brows furrow, confused. But the smile on your face tells him that you’re thoroughly entertained.
“We’re building a fort! Come help me!” He takes hold of your hand and leads you into the living room. “Here, take as many pillows as you can.” Instantly, he holds out a stack of cushions. And who are you to say no?
With your inventory in hand, you run back to Jeongguk’s bedroom and plop them down onto the bed. “Minny, put the pillows wherever you want! Make it comfy for yourself.”
The three of you get to work, constructing a pillow fort, and suddenly, you’re five years old all over again.
Jeongguk returns with spare bed sheets and throw-blankets, tenting them over the makeshift poles. When you’re finally satisfied with your fort, the two of you climb onto the mattress on either side of Minji, huffing and puffing from all the energy exerted.
“That was fun,” you say, exasperated. A beat of silence passes by as you catch your breath. “Thank you again for letting me sleep over, by the way.”
There’s fondness in Jeongguk’s eyes as he turns to look at you. “I hope you know that you can stay as long as you want, and you’re always welcomed whenever.” His sentiment makes your heart beat a little faster. “I told you I’d take care of you.”
“You should know…” As you stare at the roof of the makeshift fort, you try to make sense of how you ended up here. It doesn’t feel real. It doesn’t feel like you deserve it. “Taking care of me is more trouble than it’s worth.”
Jeongguk’s voice is stern and relentless. “It’s not trouble. Not if it’s you. Do you really think I scare so easily?”
You think you might cry, but you’ve already used up more than enough tears from your daily allowance. So you turn to thank him, only to be met with Jeongguk’s half-lidded eyes. He only hums in response ー there’s no need to thank him.
His face is illuminated by the faint glow of the desk lamp on the other side of the room, the one he abandoned in favor of lulling his precious daughter to sleep. Minji holds her father’s hand while you stroke her hair. Within a few short minutes, she’s sound-asleep. The room is quiet, save for her soft snores.
“Poor Minny, I hope that this doesn’t ruin her sleep schedule,” you whisper into the night.
“She might need a nap tomorrow, but that’s okay. It happens sometimes.” Jeongguk lets out a yawn as he tugs the blankets up his shoulders.
You remind him with gentle caution, “What about you? You shouldn’t sleep so late.”
“I know, I know.” He presses his palms against his eyes, utterly exhausted. “I just wanted to squeeze one more chapter in.”
You peek out from the gap in the fort, scanning the mess that lies on top of Jeongguk’s desk. Books are stacked across two different piles, separated by genre ー One of them being social psychology books required for his research; “How to Win Friends and Influence People” sits on the very top.
Another stack is dedicated to the parenting books he often checks out from the library. There are Hello Kitty post-it notes that fill up nearly every page, bookmarked for future reference.
Your eyes return to Jeongguk’s figure, convinced that you can steal a glance, evaluating his exhausted state. But he already has his eyes trained on you, albeit very groggy. A dopey grin stretches across his lips. If he wasn’t already tired before, he definitely is now.
“You don’t have to do all this alone, Jeongguk. You need to rest.” You flash him a matching smile, hoping that the sentiment reaches him. “I don’t think that you scare easily, but I don’t think you’re immune to it either. And that’s perfectly okay. We’re all just people trying to get by.”
Jeongguk sinks deeper into the pillows, succumbing to his sleepy desires. “Thank you,” he murmurs, slurring his words. Another yawn slips from his lips. “I’m just used to it 一 being on my own.”
“Well, you’re not on your own anymore. You can count on me. We’re a team, remember?”
Jeongguk hums, reduced to non-verbal responses that don’t require much energy. Exhaustion tugs at his eyelids until they’re shut. He makes a mental note to talk about this with you another day.
You wave a hand in front of his face, convinced that he’s far gone from the state of consciousness. “If it makes you feel better, I can head back to my room now,” you whisper. You think it might be futile to warn him, considering he’s not awake. But as you peel the blanket back, one foot off the bed, there’s a warmth that envelops your wrist, and you halt in your tracks.
“Stay,” Jeongguk, as tired as he is, manages to mutter with conviction.
His grip doesn’t falter, and so, you relent. You crawl back beneath the sheets and let the night fade into dawn.
The sound of rain splashes against the window. The petrichor smells like childhood. It feels like home, and Jeongguk has never slept so soundlessly in his entire life.
Somehow, Jeongguk wakes up long before you, and you want to curse him for looking so handsome at the crack of dawn. His hair, although disheveled, looks perfectly imperfect. His shirt, as loose as it is, hugs his body in all the right places, sweatpants hanging low on his hips. His round specs perch on the bridge of his nose.
“What do you think about going on a family outing?” Jeongguk suggests over breakfast.
Minji’s eyes widen as excitement fills her tiny frame.
“That sounds like a fun idea,” you chime. “We should spend more time together so we can be perfect for the interview.” Because loving this man and his daughter is nothing more than a performance, right?
“Maybe we can stop at the convenience store and have a picnic in the park. What do you think?” In Jeongguk’s mind, he maps the layout of the market, pinpointing the food that the three of you would enjoy: kimbap, dried squid, potato chips, banana milk, and even fish shaped ice cream.
“The weather cleared up today. It’s beautiful outside.” You say, chowing down on a bite of strawberries.
Jeongguk raises a brow, questioning. “You want to go today? I thought you would want to go home after spending the night.”
“I don’t have much else planned on a Sunday. It gets kind of lonely at my house,” you shrug. “Are you sick of me already?”
But Jeongguk shakes his head. He’d be foolish to ever push you away.
…
In sync, both you and Minji enthusiastically bounce on your feet through the streets of Seoul. You could easily pass as a family from that simple action alone. It’s evident when elders cross paths with you, a fond smile sitting on their faces: “You have a beautiful family!” There’s no denying that. The three of you are picture perfect as you link hands on either side of Minji because she is, in fact, the center of your universe.
When you arrive at the convenience store, Jeongguk picks out a variety of nutritious food while Minji tries to slip cookies into the basket. She’s convinced that her father is not looking because he’s too busy sneaking glances at you from the other end of the snack aisle. He doesn’t think anyone would notice, but Minji surely does.
For some reason, he feels so content standing in a supermarket with his wife who picks the freshest fruit, and his daughter who tries to distract him from seeing the junk food in her hands. In fact, he could probably spend the entire day comparing vegetable prices, and he would still have the time of his life with you. He used to hate running errands, unless it was doing laundry. But now, he doesn’t seem to mind it. Perhaps it’s because he has two companions at his side, and it feels a little less lonely.
“Jeongguk?” You call his name from down the aisle. “Do you want me to grab coffee for you?” You reach for the top shelf on your tippy toes, struggling to grip your hands around the bottle.
Within an instant, Jeongguk is already at your side. He wraps an arm around your waist to prevent you from falling forward. A heat envelops your hand as he wraps his fingers around your palm. “I think I’ll skip on coffee for now. How about tea?”
Upon hearing his deep voice against the shell of your ear, you grow flustered. The heat of his body makes you freeze, and all you can do is nod your head, stunned. He reaches one shelf over to pluck a large bottle of tea, one that you can all share.
Although he’s dropped your hand, he keeps a strong arm around your waist. His shoulders are broad enough to simply devour you. Even his chest is so firm pressed against your back.
“By the way, angel, don’t you think we’ve moved on from the formalities?” There’s a pout that rests on his lips. “I’d like it if you could call me something other than Jeongguk. I think it’s more convincing that way.”
“But that’s your name. What do you want me to call you? Babe? Baby?”
He shakes his head as he rests his chin in the crook of your neck. His hair brushes against your cheek, and your breath hitches in your throat.
You stutter the words out of your mouth, trying to act unaffected. “H- how about darling? Honey? Sweetie? … Handsome?”
He doesn’t react to either of them, but handsome definitely makes him giggle.
You ponder for a moment more. “Then what about love?”
His arm squeezes your waist a little tighter as he presses an innocent kiss to your cheek. “That’s perfect, angel.”
He unravels himself from you as you stare blankly at the beverage aisle in complete awe. You brush your fingertips against your cheek where his warmth lingers.
This is still practice… right?
As you stroll through the park, you come across a live performance at the base of the fountain. There’s a man playing guitar, and he’s serenading the crowd as he busks for money. The three of you stand to admire just for a moment.
A few feet away, Minji is spinning and dancing to the soft melody. Meanwhile, Jeongguk moves his head to the beat of the song, singing the words, albeit faintly.
“You have a pretty voice.” You nudge your shoulders against his to catch his attention.
“Oh, it’s nothing.” He’s bashful.
“You should sing for me one day.” You raise your brows, trying to tempt him.
He contemplates your request, but he teases you with a soft “maybe.” He bumps his shoulder against yours like a high schooler with a crush.
You return the sentiment in a playful back and forth. His sweet action makes you squeal, but not for the reason that you think. Because the affectionate brush of skin against yours quickly transforms into Jeongguk hauling you into his arms. His thick biceps wrap beneath your thighs, and he lifts you into the air. You can’t stop yourself from giggling when he spins you around. There’s a combination of thrill and euphoria in your chest.
Jeongguk’s mind briefly wanders back to the conversation he had with Minji right before he tucked her into bed last night. “Appa, do you have a crush on eomma?”
He had scoffed at the question, brushing it off as if that was far from the truth. But Minji had thought otherwise. “When you have a crush on someone, you think about them all the time. You want them to be happy, and you would do anything to make them smile. Whenever you look at eomma, I can see your ears go red. I think you were shy when she kissed your booboo, and you probably want to kiss her back, right?” For some reason, Minji’s advice seemed to be more introspective than what he could ever pull out of Seokjin.
Jeongguk shakes his head, returning back to reality as he tucks the memory away. When he places you on the ground, you pant with adrenaline. “I thought I was going to fall.”
His gaze meets yours, and he playfully brushes his knuckles beneath your chin. The peak of sunset illuminates your eyes, and you look golden. An epiphany flashes through his mind, and Jeongguk mutters a curse that echoes through his thoughts. Fuck, fuck, fuck. He wants to kiss you.
But as usual, Jeongguk’s mind wins over his heart. He bites his tongue back and offers the next best thing: “Do you think I’d ever let you fall?” He grabs your hands as if nothing had happened ー as if he isn’t falling in love ー and you sway to the beat of the music, skipping to the lawn where you can enjoy your picnic.
…
The park is bustling with so many individuals going about their day, minding their own business. The city comes alive with all of the action that surrounds you.
“Eomma, what’s that over there?” Minji points at an art display at the other end of the fountain. There’s a throng of people, crowding around the small space. The three of you pack up your meal, making sure to toss all of your garbage, before heading over to catch sight of the action.
There are rows of copy paper attached to a fishing line. It strings across a makeshift perimeter, rooted with no rhyme or reason. Apparently, all the buzz is about an interactive exhibit. Anonymous letters from passersby are posted for you to view, and you may even contribute by submitting your own story. You could write about anything you want.
“That sounds like a fun idea,” Jeongguk suggests. So he grabs paper and markers for the three of you as you get to work.
Jeongguk tries to steal a glance at your story, but you throw your body over the paper.
“Hey, no peeking!” you shout. “These stories are supposed to belong to strangers, okay? Let’s keep it anonymous.”
On the other hand, Minji is enthusiastic to show her father the family portrait she’s drawn.
As the minutes pass, you finish jotting your thoughts. It’s not perfect by any means, but the sentiment is still there. When all is said and done, you’ve agreed that you wouldn’t read one another’s stories. One day, you both will disclose the contents of your letter, and you will finally know the truth, but today is not that day.
.
.
.
Dear reader,
If I’m being honest, I’ve always felt undesirable. Nobody has ever confessed their feelings for me. I’ve never been in a relationship, nor have I had my first kiss. I’ve never been stopped in the middle of the street, only to be told that I have a beautiful smile. I’ve always been average at best.
My friends are concerned that I’m lonely. They’re convinced that I need someone to take care of me, but I constantly tell them that I can do it on my own. I’ve done it my entire life.
I’ve held my own hand, swallowed the heartache, and reminded myself “I can do this!” before doing the scary things I never wanted to do. I patted myself on the back when I finished school, earned my first job, and paid all my overdue bills. I raised my younger brother at the age of eighteen as if I was a single mother. I woke up to an empty bed every single day and fed myself scraps of food, even when I didn’t want to. Sometimes, it was burnt, charred, and a little too salty. But that’s what love tastes like, right?
Through the smooth sailing and the rough patches, there was no boyfriend, no girlfriend, no partner or lover. Just me. But the more that I think about it, I am so, so tired.
Perhaps I grew up too fast and burned too bright. Because now, I don’t know what to do. There’s a guy that I like, or at least I think I do. Nobody ever taught me how to sort out my feelings. I’ve always been told to give and give and give. I’ve had to sacrifice my life, my time, and all of my energy. I was never allowed to feel anger, sadness, or human connection. I never had anything for myself, and I feel empty.
But lately, being with him brings me to life.
Although I don’t know what it’s like to be in love, this is the closest thing I’ve ever felt to it. When I’m with him, my inner child wants to come out and play. That little girl has always lived in my imagination. I don’t know her very well, but she’s running around, laughing and dancing as if she knows no pain. With him, she is always reminded that she is beautiful and spectacular. That she is stronger than anyone he knows. She is safe. She is protected. Above all, she feels seen. She gets ice cream for dinner, and it’s sweet. It doesn’t quite taste like the love she once knew, but somehow, she thinks it’s even more delicious.
Surely, yes, I can take care of myself. But maybe we can learn to take care of each other.
.
.
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Hi. I don’t know who cares to read this, but if you do, welcome.
Where do I even begin? I know this sounds pathetic, but… I don’t think anyone has ever truly understood me for who I am. Perhaps that’s my fault. I constantly reinvent myself to be the person that they want me to be. Society has so many expectations as to how I should look, how I should act, and how I should feel.
Let me paint you a picture. I’m big ー horribly buff. I have tattoos and long hair. All the neighborhood grandmas tell me I should cut it because I’d be more handsome. They even tell their grandchildren not to look up to me because I’m far from being an aspiration. Even if I’m the most charming person in the room… if I change my appearance ー if I lose weight, cover my tattoos, and buzz off my hair, they’d find another reason to hate me. It’ll never be enough. They’ll always perceive me as the bad guy and villainize me for everything I do.
They say it’s better to be feared than to be loved if I cannot be both. But… I think I want to be loved. I want to be loved so bad that I would do anything to make people look at me. Yet they all shove their unwanted opinions down my throat, and I have nothing left to swallow but my own pride. I have no choice but to be exactly what they want.
Most people assume that I’m indestructible. Fortified. That I don’t have a single worry in this world. They think that I can shoulder all of these burdens, and nothing could possibly hurt me. Supposedly, I don’t ever cry ー I never break or bend or shatter because showing emotion is a sign that I’ve already lost.
But it’s not true.
I’m softer than I look. I worry that I’m not good enough. I feel like I suck at my job, and I constantly make mistakes. I don’t know how to be a good father, but I try.
I don’t really know what I want to say. I just wish that people didn’t feel entitled to my body. My body is my own except when it isn’t. It happens more often than not. Maybe then, I could finally be myself, whoever that may be.
It sounds like my life is awful, but I promise it isn’t that bad. Recently, I’ve found a small glimmer of hope. There’s one person who accepts me for who I am. She doesn’t expect me to be anyone but myself. She looks at me like I’m human ー as if I’m someone who’s worth it. Like I’m more than just an idea. She showed me that there’s kindness in this world ー that there’s bravery in being soft. She sees me, and scary enough, I think she can even see right through me. I’ve told her so many vulnerable things about myself, and she could probably stab me in the back with all that she knows. I think it would be worth it though.
There’s still so much I have to tell her. She may not know the whole truth, but one day, she will. I hope she doesn’t leave me when she finds out. Until then, I will take care of her. I will keep her safe and protect her with every inch of my life. I promise.
By the end of the week, you and Jeongguk have amped yourselves up for Yumi’s engagement party. But there’s one problem.
Jeongguk is late.
He’s never late. When he needs to pick up his daughter from school, he always shows up thirty minutes before dismissal. On date nights, he knocks on your door while you’re in the midst of putting on makeup, and he gladly watches you doll yourself up for the entire hour. For Jeongguk to be late, something must be terribly wrong.
The two of you had agreed to meet up at Yumi’s party seeing that Jeongguk was running behind from work. But where could he possibly be when you need him the most?
Outside of Yumi’s apartment complex, you pace anxiously, twiddling with the engagement present in your hands ー a cast iron skillet that you and Jeongguk had both bought at the department store. From the sidewalk, you can hear the sound of music streaming from the open windows. Endless chatter filters between each beat. You glance at your watch for what feels like the hundredth time.
“Jeongguk, where are you?” You groan, ready to accept defeat.
A nervous sigh falls from your lips. Your shoulders slump. If you have to wait any longer, you might just head into the party all on your own and lose face in front of your friends.
Suddenly, you hear the echo of your name from down the street. Jeongguk is sprinting towards you. He’s a blur of motion. Before you realize it, the air is knocked out of your lungs. Jeongguk had overestimated his speed, missed his landing, and he is colliding into you with open arms.
“Angel, I’m so sorry I’m late.” He tucks his head against your shoulder, panting. His cheeks are hot, and his hair is disheveled. He murmurs apologies against your skin. The scratch of his voice etches a frown onto your face.
Between the two of you, Jeongguk is the more composed one. You’ve always known him to be calm, collected, a little silly, but lovely nevertheless. You’ve never seen him quite like this. He’s shaking.
You squeeze his shoulders in an attempt to peel his body away from yours. But his arms wrap around your waist even tighter, unwilling to part ways. This scene is rather familiar, something akin to a little child seeking comfort. You pat his back, hushing him, as to tell him that everything will be okay.
So you start counting to ten, reminding him to breathe in and out. You place your hand on his chest, strong and reliable, right over the beat of his heart. His eyes close, concentrating all of his energy on the blooming feeling inside of his ribcage. So you paint a pretty picture for him as you dwell in a little puddle of grief together.
“My mom used to tell me that if you transport yourself to a happy place, then all your worries will melt away.”
Jeongguk doesn’t respond, but he hums against your collarbone. He wants nothing more but to hear you talk. He loves the sound of your voice. What is your happy place?
“These days, I picture myself with you in your house. We’re baking a cake with Minny, and it’s going terribly wrong.” You let out a chuckle, and it’s the sweetest thing Jeongguk has ever heard. “Well, actually, the taste is perfect. You’re the head chef after all, and you’re so talented. You know better than me.”
You interrupt your own story with something that will definitely make him laugh. “Did you know that I’ve been borrowing cookbooks from the library? I know it sounds ridiculous. I want to get better so you don’t have to cook all the time. It’d be such a shame if I accidentally poisoned you and the cops would swarm in, charging me with second degree murder.” You can feel his smile against your neck. “I found a recipe for buckwheat noodles, and maybe we should try it out next weekend.”
He nods against your neck, sniffling. He doesn’t want to break it to you, but all you need is a boiling pot of water to cook the noodles.
“Well anyways, in my happy place, the kitchen is a disaster because there’s icing everywhere. Sprinkles are in your hair. I think I have flour in my bra and butter on my cheek. But we’re having fun, singing along to the radio with all of the wrong lyrics. I’d ask you to dance, and when you’re too scared of looking stupid, Minny would pull out a dance move that’s even sillier than what you could ever imagine. Because even if we can’t do it perfectly, whether it is cooking or dancing or singing, we’re still trying.”
There’s a wet tear that falls onto your collarbone. You trace a circle against Jeongguk’s chest, reminding him to concentrate all of his feelings right there. His shoulders relax and his breath evens out.
“When we’re in our happy place, we never go hungry. So if you ever feel sad or anxious, then just meet me right here. I’ll bring the cake ー sorry, just the ingredients, actually, but I’ll get better at cooking. I swear! Minny will bring her cute attitude. And you can just bring yourself.”
There’s a soft breeze that surrounds you. The moonlight conspires with the flight of the fireflies, illuminating the dim sidewalk. The party is long forgotten as you hold onto Jeongguk for just another moment. Reluctantly, he steps back with his head down. His eyes train on the pavement.
“How do you feel, love? Look at me.” You cup his cheeks, and he leans into your touch, nuzzling into your embrace.
After taking a deep sigh, he lifts his head to reveal a bruised cheek and a gash above his eye, right on the brow bone. The blood runs dry.
Shock runs through your body. “What happened? Did someone hurt you?” You gently move his head from side to side, examining every inch of his skin to check for more injuries. But your eyes are frantic. Your hands run through his hair, feeling for bumps and bruises. The search comes up empty, but your throat constricts at the thought of someone hurting your husband.
You grab the cast iron skillet, wielding it like a weapon with the force of a grip so tight that it threatens to bend beneath your fingers. Your other hand clenches his palm, stomping in the direction he came from so he could lead you towards the perpetrator.
Whoever did this to Jeongguk is going to pay, and you’re willing to kill whoever it is. Because for him, you would wage a full on war, running straight into your demise if it meant fighting for him. You would barrel through fire, load your rifles, and draw your daggers no matter what it takes. If they ask you to rip your heart out and put it in his hands, you would have considered the deal done long ago.
Jeongguk is quick to extinguish the fiery passion that fuels your anger, reminding you to not make any rash decisions. The flash of his doe eyes is enough to soothe your worries, and all you want to do is hold him.
The truth is, Jeongguk had already taken care of the situation. As the story goes, he had accepted a side mission to stop the smuggling of antiques from a museum ー gifts from a billionaire tycoon who had long passed. His heirs had sent the treasures to be appraised in the city before it was quickly intercepted by a smuggling ring.
Jeongguk managed to save original art from dynasties past (no doubt stolen), rare coins, china sets, and clusters of intricate jewelry. He stopped the ploy before the thieves had even left the warehouse. However, being the best of the best does not mean he is able to escape unscathed every time.
Jeongguk did not account for the hidden explosives on the agenda. A shrapnel had grazed his skin, forming a deep gash above his brow bone. Had he not been more careful, he would have been in much worse shape.
Although Jeongguk had completed his mission, barely injured, he can’t help but feel guilty for showing up late. If his wound was much more serious, or perhaps he was left for dead, he would not have made it to Yumi’s engagement party. The last thing Jeongguk wants is to keep you waiting.
While he zipped through the streets of Seoul, he didn’t even have a chance to think of a lie. All he could think about was running to you. So he says the first thing that comes to mind. “The airbags in my car set off.”
“You were in a crash? Was Minny with you? What are you doing here? You should go to a hospital!” The words splutter out of your mouth.
His hand cups yours as they rest on his cheeks. “Minny’s with Seokjin today, so don’t worry. The collision was really minor, I swear. I already went to the emergency room, and they said I’ll be good as new.” His voice is eerily calm.
He laces his fingers with yours and presses his lips against your knuckles before promptly taking the iron skillet from your hands. “I don’t want you to worry, let’s just go to the party, okay?”
You’re too concerned to even dwell on that tender moment of intimacy. “You worry me too much, you know?”
“I know, angel. I’m sorry. I’ll make it up to you, I swear.”
You squeeze his hand a little tighter as you shake your head. “I don’t need anything. I’m just glad that you’re here.”
But little do you know, there’s a diamond ring worth millions burning a hole in Jeongguk’s pocket. Some dead billionaire isn’t going to miss it.
Everyone at the event is captivated by Jeongguk. Of course they would. It’s easy when Jeongguk is so charming in such a deceitful way. He can easily spin different versions of himself after each new greeting, creating a hundred nuances to his personality in an instant. He could tell everyone that he’s the prince of Joseon, and they would easily fall for his lies because of the charisma that he oozes.
Your friends see him as the best boyfriend in the world, someone who’s the total package and simply put, he’s way out of your league. He’s romantic in every aspect of the word, he’s open about his feelings, and he’s the purest definition of a “girl dad.” What more could you possibly ask for? Whatever it is, Jeongguk is exactly that.
Even when Jeongguk has no need to impress the men at the party, he has dozens of conversation topics up his sleeve. It’s impressive when he knows basically everything about everything. You name it: video games, boxing, and the federal reserve. This arsenal of information is stored in his mind simply because he’ll never know when he needs to strike up a conversation about camping, barbecuing, or fishing (despite never having an interest to sit and stare at the water with Seokjin for hours on end). Men are so simple minded. They’re absolute fools.
Thankfully, your brother, San, is just another man who falls for the thinly veiled ruse. He seems to approve of your relationship with Jeongguk. Mostly because he can talk about their passion for different cuts of meat. But also because he sees the way that your “boyfriend” takes care of you in the most subtle ways ー by virtue, it’s the act of noticing.
Jeongguk walks you through the crowds of people with a guiding hand on your lower back. He fixes your hair when it falls loose in front of your face. He refills your cup with your favorite drink without ever having to ask. He can’t stop talking about how grateful he is to have a chance with you ー how you’re so beautiful and smart and the only thing he ever wants. There’s obviously love and intention in Jeongguk’s eyes whenever he looks at you. Anyone could see that. To be loved is to be known, and Jeongguk knows you like the back of his hand.
You can feel the pressure of having to prove your relationship when all of the girls gather around, asking invasive questions. How did you convince y/n to go out with you? We almost lost hope for the poor girl. Have you all hung out as a family yet? What does Minji think of your relationship?
For some reason, it feels like you’re back in high school, listening to locker room gossip. It feels as if they’re judging you. They’re laughing at you. But time and time again, Jeongguk defends you and your honor. Not because you need his help, but because you love the safety and security of his words.
“I don’t appreciate you being passive aggressive. Because to me, y/n is the most precious person in the world. If you have something you want to say, then just say it to my face.” He bites back without ever breaking eye contact. He rolls up the sleeves of his shirt. It’s equal parts intimidating and the most attractive thing you have ever seen.
All the girls seem to agree when they swallow a trace of spit and nod their heads in obedience. “Sorry, we just wanted to say that you’re both so lucky to find one another.” They drop the subject, but only for a little while.
Throughout the party, Jeongguk holds you close because he knows how nervous you were to come, and rightfully so. You told him how scared you were to introduce him to all of your friends (he doesn’t see why they deserve that title when they’re nothing but mean girls). Nevertheless, you’re frightened because your relationship with Jeongguk is sacred. Untainted. Unconventional, yes. But it’s protected because only you know about the depths of your bond. After tonight, everything will change. Having your “friends” witness your love so openly feels as if you have to give up another piece of yourself. After making this public knowledge, nothing could ever fully be yours.
But this moment right here is yours to keep, yours to hold, and yours to cherish. Jeon Jeongguk is in your arms, and all you can do is make it known that you are in love.
“Whatever they say, ignore them, okay? Just look at me.” His arm wraps around your waist, and you relax in his hold. The stars in his eyes keep you captivated, and everything else is long forgotten. He whispers sweet nothings in your ear, scared that if he were to go up one decibel, it would burst the little bubble that you’ve created for yourselves. Perhaps you would disappear if he says your name any louder, and he would wake up to realize that his dream girl is nothing but a figment of his imagination.
But there’s nothing about this relationship that’s fake. Your brother can see it all. Although you haven’t hung out with him in ages, he’s very intrigued with the man hanging off of your arm. “Jeongguk, when did you realize that y/n was the one?”
“Stop, we just started dating.” You smack the back of San’s head. But Jeongguk isn’t one to shy away from the question.
“Well, it’s a funny story. The first time I saw her, I thought I had to talk to her. A few months ago, I dropped my daughter off at the daycare. When I walked past the door, I tripped on my own two feet. I saw y/n reading a story at the front of the class. She was so elegant, graceful, and just so, so gorgeous. My first thought was that she is the most incredible person I’ve ever seen.” Jeongguk tells the story without ever taking his eyes off of you. It’s as if you’re the only person in the whole world. There’s a beaming smile stretched across his face. His dimples are carved into his cheeks.
“Minji, my daughter, she has a tendency to cry when I’m not there. So when she bursted into tears, y/n asked if she wanted to sit with her and help her read. She put my daughter on her lap, and instantly, Minny stopped crying.
“For weeks, I tried to work up the courage to approach her. I visited as much as I could. I borrowed more materials than I could even finish, and eventually, I had a pile of overdue books sitting in my apartment. When y/n wasn’t busy with the daycare, she worked at the front desk. I thought she might say something about my outstanding charges, but she never did. At that point, I wanted to talk to her so bad, but I was so foolish. I started bringing cups of coffee into the library, thinking that she would yell at me for breaking the rules.”
“Did it work? Why didn’t you just say something?” San wonders.
“I wasn’t sure what to say. I didn’t think she was interested. She barely looked at me. Never tried to initiate small talk,” Jeongguk shrugs.
Avoiding eye contact is exactly how you show interest in someone. Is there any other way to do it? You had been so nervous to even glance in his general direction! Men don’t ever give you affection, especially not men as gorgeous as Jeongguk. It just felt so wrong to even think about crushing on him.
“But one day, y/n approached me first by some miracle, and I was so shocked. I- I just thought she was an angel. My daughter was at her side. We talked. One thing led to another. The next thing I knew, I was stressing about what outfit to wear and buying flowers so I could pick her up for a coffee date. I don’t even know how to explain it. Everything just fell into place.”
You were convinced that Jeongguk had never noticed you before you approached him that fateful day in the non-fiction aisle. But it rings true that Minji had cried some months ago during reading time. You recall all of the details, albeit vaguely. Had Jeongguk been watching all this time? Did he really borrow an excessive amount of books and purposely buy illicit coffee just to get your attention?
There’s a soft smile that plays on your lips, and Jeongguk is certain that you’re a real life angel. “I hope you know that I waived your overdue fees every single time,” you confess.
…
At some point in the night, you and Jeongguk ended up separating in the most nightmarish of ways. Your coworkers had looped their arms around yours and pulled you away for some girl talk.
Meanwhile Jeongguk is at the other end of the hall, playing billiards with all of the other men. He socializes with them as if it’s effortless. He tells them jokes and makes them chuckle, but of course, his laugh is the one that stands out to you the most. He’s enchanting, and you are all but a moth drawn to a flame. He lights up every room he walks into, shining brighter than anything you’ve ever seen.
As you watch Jeongguk have his own fun, you check out of the conversation, barely listening to what Yumi has to say. You couldn’t quite relate to the stories that they’ve shared about their partners ー being engaged, moving in together, trying for children, having sex.
“y/n, how big is your boyfriend?”
You ponder the question. “Uhm, I don’t know his weight exactly…”
“No, no, sweetie, I mean how big is his dick?”
Your eyes widen in surprise as you shake your head. “We haven’t actually done anything yet. Our relationship is new, y’know. Also, I don’t think that’s any of your business-”
“You mean you haven’t even seen him naked? Surely you’ve touched him when you’ve made out, right?” Their eyes widen when you shake your head no, trying to sputter a retort.
“Even if you’re taking it slow, you must know what he likes in bed, right? Spitting? Choking? Spanking? A little bit of roleplay? Does he like to be called daddy?”
You, yourself, nearly choke on your own drink.
“Most couples get intimate because- I hate to break it to you-” Yumi leans closer to you until her voice is all but a whisper. “All men have needs. If they aren’t met, then he might break up with you and look for satisfaction elsewhere.”
You don’t know why you would believe Yumi’s words despite Jeongguk’s constant reassurance of how much you mean to him. She’s so fucking infuriating, but could she be right? Does Jeongguk see other women when you’re not around? Does he ever tell you that you’re pretty just for the performance of being a married couple? Has everything he said in the past few weeks been an act? Surely, you don’t know everything about this man, but would he ever lie to you? You bite the inside of your cheek as you anxiously pick on the skin around your nails, thinking about her advice.
Seemingly, Jeongguk doesn’t know what the conversation is about. But he doesn’t need to be familiar with the details to know that you’re growing anxious. He can see it from the way you fiddle with your hands. From the way you furrow your brows and chew on your lips. From down the hall, he can pick up on your breathing. He can practically hear the hurricane of thoughts swirling around your head.
Before you can drown in your thoughts, Jeongguk makes his way over to you, nursing a glass of champagne in his hand. “Hi, angel.” He whispers against your jaw. His cheeks are flushed pink as his head rests against the crook of your neck, slotting together like two pieces of a puzzle. “Do you want to get out of here? You can stay over at my place tonight if you want,” he offers.
“What’s wrong? Does it hurt?” You shift your gaze to the gash on his brow. Even when you don’t feel your best, you’re still concerned for those around you. That’s just the person you are. You’re so used to giving yourself away.
“Kind of,” he says. But it hurts more knowing that you’re not okay.
You ruffle your hands through his hair, trying to soothe his ache. “Do you want your painkillers?”
“Just want you.” His deep voice rumbles against your collarbone as he presses a shy kiss to your shoulder. “Come on, let’s go home.” He gently grabs your hand in his and leads you out the front door. You don’t even have a chance to say goodbye to all the guests. Quite frankly, you don’t even care.
The moment you return to Jeongguk’s apartment, you dart to the medicine cabinet, filling a glass of water and instructing him to swallow the morphine pill. To soothe the pain, you apply some ointment onto his injury and gently blow on his gash, hoping that it doesn’t leave a scar to mar his beautiful face. But you avoid eye contact with him as much as you can. All while Jeongguk stares at your pretty lips and your glittery eyes. You look so cute when you’re concerned. A pout rests on your face, and he wants nothing more than to kiss it better.
But then you bid him goodnight, rushing into the guest room, pacing back and forth behind closed doors.
Jeongguk sits in the living room, stunned, wondering if he’s done something wrong. Whether his breath smells, or maybe he’s come on too strong. Is it obvious how much he cares for you? Yet a part of him wants you to know, even if you don’t reciprocate. To love you so freely is enough for him.
For you, the problem is not Jeongguk. It’s the fact that you can’t stop thinking about the conversation from earlier in the night. Yumi’s voice echoes through your thoughts. All men have needs. If they aren’t met, then he might break up with you and look for satisfaction elsewhere.
A part of you needs Jeongguk to tell you that this isn’t true. Your heart and mind may not be able to rest otherwise. So for the sake of your fake relationship, you put on a brave face and patter down the hall to his room.
…
The soft knock on Jeongguk’s door draws his attention away from the vanity. As soon as he tells you to come in, you hesitantly enter his bedroom.
His back is turned as he faces the mirror, heedlessly applying his skincare. “What’s up? Do you need anything?” He spins around to meet you with curiosity written on his face.
You catch a glimpse of his exposed chest, and your cheeks heats up in recognition. The top three buttons of his shirt are undone, seeing that he’s getting ready for bed. He removes his rings and the silver watch from his wrist.
“Sorry, I- I didn’t know you were indecent.” You turn your head away, avoiding his strong build ー the biceps that bulge beneath his shirt and the muscles that flex with every movement. Your hand shoots up to hide your face in embarrassment.
He finds it adorable how flustered you get upon seeing a little bit of skin. Still, he makes no effort to button up his shirt. Because that’s all that it is ー just skin.
You swallow the lump in your throat, and your eyes flicker to the floor as if the rug is the most interesting thing in the world. “Can we talk about something?”
“Talk?” He approaches the bed, patting the spot beside him. “Come here, what do you want to talk about?”
You perch yourself onto the mattress bouncing up and down from the weight of the springs. Jeongguk sidles closer to you. His knees knock against yours. He smells like jasmine and musk, and it’s divine.
“At the party, the girls were talking about relationships,” you begin.
He hums with a nod, attentive as ever. Jeongguk looks at you as if you’re the only person in the world, but you don’t seem to notice, too preoccupied with anything else but the intensity of his eyes.
“What did they say?” He wonders, readjusting your necklace so the pendant sits pretty on your neck.
“Y’know.” You tug on your fingers, finding something to fiddle with. “The usual stuff.”
He reaches for your hands, instantly halting your movements. Soothing your nerves, he rubs his thumb over your knuckles. He knows that you must have mustered a lot of courage to come over and bring this up. “Angel, you have to use your words if you want to tell me what’s on your mind.”
You grow bashful under his touch, but that’s exactly the problem. “They talked about stuff like this.” You squeeze his palms for emphasis. “Holding hands. Touching. Skinship.” You mumble the last part, too shy to say it out loud: “Kissing.” Turning your cheek towards him, you murmur an apology. “Sorry. You make me nervous.”
Jeongguk doesn’t fail to notice the way your tongue licks the plump of your lips or the way your throat constricts after swallowing a trace of spit. “Nervous? C’mere- look at me.”
His deep voice sends a shiver down your spine. It’s authoritative, and you can’t help but follow his orders.
“I’m not familiar with being this close to someone,” you motion at the lack of space between his body and yours. “I wouldn’t want you to be upset with me if I’m not very affectionate.”
“Angel, I’d never be upset with you. We can do whatever you want at your own pace.”
“Are you sure you’d never leave me if-”
Jeongguk stops your train of thought before allowing your mind to wander to a dark place. His voice hardens upon hearing such a suggestion. “I never want to even think about that possibility because I’m not letting you go. I’m yours no matter what. You’ll actually have to fight me if you want to push me away. Even then, I’d crawl right back to you.” He truly means every single word that he utters.
There’s a hint of a smile on your lips. “Sorry. Intimacy is really scary for me,” you confess, hesitating. Jeongguk gives you another moment to collect your thoughts. He’d give you as long as you need, even if it’s a lifetime and all the stars in the night sky have burnt out.
“But another reason I want to talk to you is because I’m concerned this won’t come across as a real marriage if we’re physically distant, y’know? The girls said that it’s normal for couples to be… intimate.”
Jeongguk doesn’t say anything, at least not immediately. He doesn’t react. His eyes are distracted by your mouth ー the way your gloss clings onto your lips and the way it moves so languidly with every word you articulate.
“Jeongguk- Love?”
The sound of his name never really meant much to him. After all, it’s just an alias. Yet nothing sets him aflame more than the claim that you have on him ー the way that your lips purse when you call him your love.
“I know this sounds silly-” you begin.
He shakes his head, brows furrowed, effectively wiping away all of your insecurities. “Never.”
A naive grin spreads across your face. How could you be so foolish to believe that Jeongguk would make you feel anything less than important? Time and time again, he makes you feel heard. He makes you feel seen.
“Go on,” he urges. “Tell me.”
“Well, I read an article about how looking into your partner’s eyes for a long period of time increases intimacy. It also builds trust and helps to recognize emotion.” It’s ironic how you explain all of this while avoiding his eyes. Instead, you keep them trained on the scar sitting pretty and kissable on his cheek.
A dimpled smile spreads across Jeongguk’s face. “Okay, we can try,” he agrees. He reaches to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, and you think you might pass away. “But angel, you have to face me if we’re going to do this. I want you to be comfortable.”
“Right, yeah,” you mumble. “Of course.” Shuffling from the edge of the bed, you turn to face your husband. You tuck your feet beneath your butt and sit on your knees.
“Relax, okay? There’s no need to be nervous around me.” His voice is reassuring. It’s heartwarming.
You nod your head as you will yourself to meet his gaze. “I can do this. I can do this,” you think to yourself.
Jeongguk’s pupils glimmer in the lowlight, warm and comforting, and you wonder how anyone could be so handsome. You try to focus on the task at hand, but it’s difficult when he, himself, is so distracting. There’s a beauty mark on his cheek. His jaw. His nose. Beneath his lip. You could trace them all day and night, if only he’d let you.
Jeongguk’s deep voice cuts through the night. “Is there anything else that you want to try?”
“M- maybe we could hold hands?”
“We’ve held hands before.” He laces his fingers between yours so effortlessly, his hand engulfing.
Your breath hitches in your throat.
“Does it still make you nervous?” He wonders.
“A little bit,” you glance at how small your hand looks in his. “But I can get used to it.”
“Can I suggest something?”
You nod, agreeing. “Anything.”
He tilts his head to the side, raising a brow, unconvinced. “Anything? Are you sure?”
You nod with more confidence. “I’ll tell you if I don’t like it.”
“Then can I hold you?”
You hesitate for a second, unsure of what that entails. A beat goes by when Jeongguk is prepared to tell you that you’re free to say no. But you wipe that thought away, giving him your full consent.
Not a second passes by before he wraps his tattooed arms around your waist, tugging you onto his lap. Your thighs rest on either side of his hips, straddling him.
A squeak ー a fucking squeak. God, how much cuter can you get? ー slips past your lips. They’re swollen from how you nervously tug on the flesh, tethering it between your teeth.
“Does this feel better?” There’s a sense of longing that drips from Jeongguk’s honeyed voice.
“It’s… nice.” Your brain is on the verge of malfunctioning and shutting down upon feeling the heat of his skin against yours. “Better.” Your voice is breathy. It’s self preservation. You exhale deeply in an attempt to calm the flutter of your heart.
To keep yourself occupied, you trace your fingers across your bare thighs, unsure of what to do with them. Jeongguk had let go of your hands in favor of holding your hips. So you play with the hem of your dress that’s currently riding up your legs. Suddenly, you’re very aware of how little you’re wearing. How your skin is burning beneath his fingertips.
Jeongguk’s body is radiating, and you can feel the heat between your legs grow, the dampness in your underwear spreading.
“You can touch me if you want,” he offers.
You’re not as confident as Jeongguk, but oh, how you wish you were.
“Do you want to?” He senses your hesitation, yet you nod your head, affirming.
“I do,” you bite the inside of your cheek. “I want to touch you- feel you.”
Jeongguk wraps his fingers around your wrists, bringing your hands to rest on his broad shoulders. They’re muscular beneath your touch. You curse yourself for letting your mind wander and for letting your panties soak with arousal ー neither of which you can control.
Somehow, you resist the urge to look down at his physique. The sleeves of his shirt are rolled up to the elbows, revealing his strong forearms, adorned by the dark tattoos that coil up his muscles. Your gaze darts across his features, struggling to focus on the starlight in his eyes. You switch between the edge of his jaw, the dip of his neck, and the plump of his lips.
“My eyes are up here, angel.” The corner of his mouth draws into a smile ー so bright and devastatingly beautiful. He hooks a gentle hand beneath your chin, guiding you to meet his stare. “Tell me what you’re thinking about. What’s going on in that pretty head of yours?”
Your voice is soft, just barely above a whisper. It’s nearly inaudible. “Thinking about what it would be like to kiss you.”
The innocence of your words makes Jeongguk blush. He’s never been the type to be so easily affected. After all, he’s the bold one in the relationship ー confident, decisive, dominant. But you make him weak in the knees.
“You don’t have to ask permission to kiss me.” Jeongguk inches closer, considerate hands squeezing around your waist. “You’re my wife.”
Why does the thought of belonging to Jeongguk make your heart stutter? You’re certain that this is nothing but pretend, yet the only thing that makes you believe this could be real is the soothing circles that Jeongguk draws onto your skin. He’s present. He’s willing. His lips are right there, right in front of you. You could take the leap of faith and close the distance, leaning forward to kiss him.
So you do.
When your lips meet, it’s as if the rest of the world has gone silent. Time has stopped, and nothing else matters but the two of you at this moment.
His lips are pillowy soft against yours. He tastes like champagne and mint. He’s gentle, only applying as much pressure as you do. You melt into his touch, feeling featherlight in his hold. His hands grip your waist so delicately, with love and intention, as if you are the most precious thing in his eyes.
You pull apart to catch your breath, allowing the air to fill your lungs, regretfully so. If you were to drown, you would want to drown in Jeon Jeongguk. Your eyes flutter open, but you can’t seem to look at anything but his cherry lips.
“Love…” The term of endearment leaves your lips in a pant, and he grows harder beneath you. “This is going to sound so embarrassing…” Your voice trails off as the heat engulfs your entire body. Your head lowers, feeling self-conscious of your actions.
Jeongguk nuzzles his nose against your neck as he presses tender kisses on your collarbone. “What is it? You can tell me anything.”
Your fingernails dig into his strong shoulders, squeezing his taut muscles as you muster the courage to tell him the truth. “That was my first kiss.”
He peers up at you from beneath his long eyelashes. “That’s nothing to be embarrassed about.” Jeongguk shakes his head, squeezing your waist with reassurance.
Your eyes are half lidded as you murmur a quiet confession, “I want to kiss you again.” Normally, you wouldn’t dare to be so bold, but you feel drunk on his taste.
“You can do whatever you want to me.” Jeongguk draws you closer, dragging your core onto the apex of his thighs, thick and sturdy. “I like anything that you like. Kissing you. Holding you. Just looking at you,” he shrugs. “And if it wasn’t obvious enough… I like you.”
Jeon Jeongguk makes you absolutely breathless. “Ar- are we still pretending?”
“Never.” Leaning forward, he brushes his mouth against yours. “I have never once pretended with you.”
You kiss him back with more fervor, desperate and wanting. You’re more confident now, fully knowing that Jeongguk wants this as much as you do.
“When you said I could do whatever…” You pull back, thinking about Jeongguk’s previous statement.
He nods his head with the most innocent beam on his face. “I mean it.”
God, you feel like such a pervert. You’ve shared your first kiss with him, something so sweet and innocent. Why couldn’t that be enough for you? You’re sitting on his lap, feeling the broad planes of his chest, and you can’t stop thinking about what it would be like to do more. To feel more.
You’re ridden with guilt, drowning in your own arousal, but Jeongguk is so kind. He’s understanding. He’s staring at you as if you’re his whole world. He would never dare to objectify you because he’s a gentleman. But… What if you want him to?
“The girls at the party were also talking about…” Your words begin to trail.
“About what?” You subconsciously trace circles onto his shoulders, distracting yourself from the conversation, not knowing that Jeongguk’s eyes flutter close because he adores the drag of your nails and the subtle warmth of your fingertips.
“About… doing it.” Your words come out in a hushed whisper. It feels too inappropriate to say it out loud. Yet you don’t dare to mention how your panties are absolutely ruined.
“Angel, what did we talk about?” His lips press against your shoulder, at any inch of skin that he can reach. “You have to be more specific.”
Jeongguk has never once made you feel ashamed or embarrassed. He has never laughed at you or told you that you’re being silly. So why is it so difficult to tell him that you want him ー Need him?
You take the leap of faith because this is your partner ー in life, in death, and in crime. This is Jeongguk. Your one and only lover who never fails to remind you that you are the strongest woman in the world. He who delivers nutritious lunch boxes to you and tucks cute notes into the lid because he knows that they make you smile. Jeon Jeongguk who massages the knots out of your shoulders after a secret night of combat. He who gets pouty when you call him anything other than ‘love.’
There’s no need to hide anything from this man. He’s your home, just as you are his.
“They talked about sex… You know… making love. ” The crude word sounds so wrong leaving your lips. So out of place. It’s dirty, and it’s naughty. “They said all couples do it, but we’ve never…”
“Do you want to do it because you want to, or is it because your friends told you to?” Jeongguk searches your eyes for clarification. “Because if you feel pressured when you’re not ready-”
“No! I do!” You cling onto his shirt with more urgency. “I want to do it ー with you. I trust you.” You lean closer, brushing your lips against his ear. “You’re my husband.”
Jeongguk groans at the sound of your words. At the way your fingernails scratch down his chest. At the way you sit so pretty and perfect on top of his lap, pressing your weight into his erection.
He gulps as if this is the first time he’s ever been nervous in his life. “Why don’t you take off my shirt?”
“C- can I?” you stutter.
“Like I said, you can do whatever you want to me. You’re my wife, and I’m yours.” He presses his lips against your brow. “Yours to hold. To kiss. To love.” He kisses your nose. Your chin. Your jaw. He tucks your hair behind your ears and whispers. “I’m yours to make love to.”
With trembling fingers, you reach for the button that barely holds Jeongguk’s shirt together.
His hand engulfs yours. “Don’t forget to breathe, in and out, okay?” Jeongguk, patient as ever, waits for your respiration to steady. “You’re safe with me. If you want to stop, just say the word.”
With each button undone, his shirt falls apart, revealing Jeongguk’s toned abs. As glorious as he is, your eyes are drawn to the scar on the side of his stomach, barely covered by the fabric that hangs off his back. The scar is jagged, and the skin is raised, the tissue is puckered at the edges.
“Wha- what happened here?” Your fingertips reach down to trace over the scar, but before you make contact, you pull away.
“You can touch it-” Jeongguk reaffirms. “Wherever you want. I’m yours.”
Jeongguk’s breath hitches in his throat when your cold hands lightly graze the rough texture, feeling the ghost of his past. But he knows how you’ll respect his boundaries no matter what, and he relaxes, fully knowing that you’ll take care of him.
“I had surgery when I was younger.” Jeongguk lies. “They took out my appendix.”
Your brows furrow. There’s no reason not to believe him, but why is the scar so jagged and uneven? Certain parts are wider than others as if the surgeon had twisted a large blade into his abdomen, and not simply sliced to gain access to his organs.
As usual, Jeongguk can read the concern written on your face. “It’s okay, it didn’t hurt much.” The curve of his lips settle into a warm and reassuring smile. “I promise.”
Jeongguk doesn’t express any discomfort about his scar, yet you can’t help but wonder what kind of horrors he had to live through.
To ease your mind, Jeongguk pulls you into his body and presses his hands beneath your thighs.
A yelp escapes from your lips as he lifts you up. You’re chest to chest with him, legs wrapping around his waist. He presses your back down to the mattress, settling your head onto one of the pillows at the bedpost.
He hovers above you, a hair's breadth away.
“Hi,” he whispers against your lips. “You look so stunning.”
You grow shy with all the attention that Jeongguk feeds you. “Hi,” you whisper back. Your legs wrap tighter around his waist.
“Can I take this off?” Jeongguk glides a finger beneath the strap of your dress.
There’s a rush in your head, feeling dizzy upon nodding your head with so much vigor.
His lips pair with yours in a quick kiss before calling you a good girl. He shifts his weight off of you so that he can tug you into an upright position and peel the dress off.
Jeongguk’s eyes widen at your bare chest, having omitted a bra so as to not ruin the outfit. His throat goes dry, and he’s having trouble forming words in his head. You’ve never seen him so speechless.
Subconsciously, you raise your arms to cover your chest.
“No, no, no, don’t do that.” Jeongguk wraps his fingers around your wrists, pressing a smooch to your delicate skin. “You’re so pretty like this. Don’t ever hide from me, okay?”
His words make you shiver. Having someone dote on you as much as Jeongguk is something you’re not used to. But that’s exactly why you’re here, right? So you nod your head and let him pin your hands to the mattress before leading a trail of kisses down your body.
Curious fingers speak freely against your skin, exploring every inch of you. He takes note of every gasp, giggle, and moan that escapes your lips. He presses his swollen lips to your sensitive spots until you keen louder for him, desperately begging for more. His lips wrap around your nipple, sucking on the bud until you whimper. He’s a drooling mess over your tits as he leaves a trail of saliva, marking your skin and claiming you as his.
Jeongguk furthers his descent down your tummy, placing sweet kisses against the waistband of your panties. He reaches down to feel the leather strap around your upper thigh. It’s the holster that you use to sheathe your knife, and thank God you disarmed before stepping into Jeongguk’s bedroom.
“I use it to hold my pepper spray,” you murmur a half-ass excuse. “Some of my clothes have shallow pockets.”
Jeongguk smiles against your skin as he ghosts his lips against your soft thighs. He doesn’t think much of it, but he does think it’s really hot. So he doesn’t bother to unstrap as he continues to worship your body.
What catches his attention is not the way you’ve soaked through your underwear, as arousing as it is. But rather, he’s intrigued by the faint mark on the outside of your thigh. It’s not a regular, old scar. To Jeongguk, it’s oddly familiar because it’s what appears to be an old bullet wound.
Jeongguk stutters in disbelief, eyes wide. “What’s this? W- were you sho-” He tries to mentally collect himself as he settles on a choice of words. “Were you hurt? Who hurt you?”
You look down, noticing the circular scar on your outer thigh before shaking it off. “It’s nothing. It was from an injection.”
“Are you sure? It looks li- It looked serious.” His voice trembles with concern, hands fisting at his sides.
You pull him up by the collar of his undone shirt, hanging off his broad shoulders. Your lips meet his in a delicate, comforting kiss. Jeongguk visibly relaxes in your hold.
“I’m fine, really. I just want you.” You claw his shoulders in an attempt to peel the rest of the fabric off.
Jeongguk sighs, trying to forget about what he had seen. But he’s certain that his mind will wander back to the scar at another point in time. He strips the shirt off his back, carelessly tossing the fabric onto the floor.
Jeon Jeongguk is mesmerizing. You’ve never seen the entirety of his sleeve, but there it is, in all its glory. There’s a faint beauty mark on his chest, one that you did not account for when tracing all of the scars and marks on his upper body.
“Tell me you want me,” his breath is hot and heavy against yours.
Subconsciously, you clench at the sound of his words. “Guk- I want you more than anything.” Your hands float down to the buckle of his jeans as you unclasp the button. “You’re wearing too much. Take it off.” The plea that falls from your lips is breathy and desperate.
“Fuck-” Jeongguk curses, trying to restrain himself.
Jeongguk has slept with plenty of women before, but never like this. He’s always had one night stands with an ulterior motive, whether it is for leverage or intel or for the sole purpose of converting an innocent woman into a whistleblower. He’s fucked with media journalists, cabinet members, and even the wives of politicians. He isn’t proud of it, but women, just like everyone else, are more likely to say things they don’t mean when their desires are fulfilled. They’re willing to trust him and spill their secrets when they’re lost in the throes of pleasure ー when he hands over his lust and his attention. It’s transactional.
Jeongguk has always thought that love is cheap. But not with you.
With you, Jeongguk has the innate need to take his time. He wants to show you what it means to make love.
He hooks his hand beneath your panties, pulling them down your legs. There’s a string of arousal that breaks when he tugs the fabric off. It’s absolutely soaked in your arousal. Jeongguk’s lips press against every inch of your skin, leaving no spot untouched.
You shudder when his hot breath meets your inner thighs, threatening to close them. He wraps his thick arms around your legs, digging his fingers into your hips, pinning you to the mattress.
He keeps his eyes trained on your face as you tremble beneath his touch. He kitten licks your clit, careful as to not overwhelm you. But you quickly melt into the pillows, gripping his hair between your fingers.
Jeongguk wants to commit this to memory. The way that you look so angelic in this light.
Quiet whimpers escape from your parted lips. “You don’t have to hold back,” he reminds you. “Be as loud as you want. Nobody’s home. We have all the time in the world, and I want you to feel good.”
He wraps his lips around your clit, sucking softly on the bundle of nerves until you’re writhing against his mouth. Soon enough, you grind your hips, practically riding his face like a needy slut, desperate and wanting.
The moans slip out of your mouth freely, and Jeongguk grows harder at how pretty you are, lost in pleasure. He begins to rut his hips against the mattress, seeking some kind of relief for his aching cock.
His tongue slips between your walls, licking up the arousal that seeps down your thighs. His chin is coated in your wetness, and he’s utterly obsessed with your taste.
Your nails dig into his hair, pulling on the roots. He elicits a moan against your core, and you’re muttering apologies, “sorry, ‘m sorry.” Yet you continue to grind your cunt against his tongue, proving that you’re not sorry at all.
Your grip loosens, but Jeongguk whines at the loss of tension. “Feels good, angel, don’t stop.”
He quickly grabs your hands and places them on the top of his head, encouraging you to tug as hard as you want. He’s obsessed with your taste, but he’s also addicted to the pain that you inflict on him.
He dips his tongue between your walls, reaching as far as he can go. He smiles against your core as if he’s the one enjoying himself ー and truly, he is. He can’t get enough of you. Jeongguk loves to bury his face into your sweet pussy, making out with your cunt. His chin is doused in your essence, and he wants more. He needs to see you dripping in cum so he can taste you straight from the source.
“Guk, it feels weird,” you choke on your words, pressing your hands against your tummy. The tears cascade down your cheeks as your high builds in the pit of your stomach.
“Shh, shh, angel,” he hushes before dropping a thick glob of spit onto your entrance. He can’t believe that you’ve never come in your life. Have you never played with your cute little cunt before?
Jeongguk laps your clit while he works a finger into you, gliding between your tight walls. He pushes another one in, watching you stretch around his digits. In the back of his mind, he wonders how you’ll be able to take his cock when you can hardly take his fingers. He curls them inside of you, slowly adding a third.
You will yourself to pick your head up, allowing your gaze to meet his. The sight before you is filthy beyond belief. You can’t believe that Jeongguk is making out with your naughty pussy, and you love it. His fingers are gliding inside of you, reaching places you’ve never reached before. He’s humping the mattress, trying to satiate his throbbing cock that’s leaking through his boxers.
“Guk- love, I-”
“Just let go. Come for me,” his husky voice vibrates against your cunt.
At the sound of his command, you unravel on his tongue, shuddering beneath his strong hold. Your cunt pulses as waves of pleasure rip through you. Soft moans flow through your parted lips, and it’s suddenly Jeongguk’s new favorite melody.
He watches you fall apart with hearts in his eyes. His hands wrap around your thighs, holding you in place as he fucks you through your climax. You’ve never felt a sensation this strong before. It doesn’t even compare when you’re high on adrenaline.
Yet Jeongguk laps your pussy as if he’s a puppy, so eager to please you as he collects all of your cum on his tongue. He wants you as much as you’ll allow. Before the overstimulation sets in, you have to weakly tap his shoulder, pushing him away as your thighs close around his head.
He presses a smooch to your clit before finally pulling back. “How did that feel?”
“Never felt anything like that before,” you gasp, trying to catch your breath. “C- can you show me how to touch you too?” The innocent look in your eyes drives him absolutely mad. “Wanna make you feel good.” You palm him through his boxers, and he groans at your touch.
Fuck. “Tonight’s about you, angel.” Jeongguk curses at himself because you look so pretty batting your eyelashes at him. You’re practically begging to suck him off, and he can’t bring himself to say yes. Your hands dip beneath his underwear, gliding your hands up and down his throbbing cock.
Jeongguk thinks that he might be in heaven. “Aren’t you too tired? I’ve already made you come once.”
But you shake your head, “I want more, please? I can take it. Will you please give it to me?”
“I- I don’t have a condom,” he confesses.
“Don’t care, I need you.” Your hands roam across the planes of his chest before settling on the back of his neck. You pull him closer until your lips brush against his. “Need you so bad…” You subconsciously roll your hips, grinding your bare cunt against his thigh, pleading ー begging for him to sink his cock inside of you to relieve the ache. “It hurts,” you murmur.
What else is Jeongguk supposed to do when his baby is aching, begging and pleading for his help? So he pulls his cock out of his boxers, tossing the offensive material out of the way. Your mouth waters as your eyes meet his length.
“It’s not gonna fit,” you shake your head. Surely, he could split you open with his sheer girth. “You’re too big.”
Jeongguk wraps his hand around his length, jerking himself off before pressing the length of his thick cock onto your stomach, measuring how deep he could possibly go. The pretty tip rests against your belly button. Jeon Jeongguk could actually break you, and you would let him.
“Are you sure you want to do this? We can stop-”
You shake your head with desperate vigor, and your imploring hands reach for his broad shoulders. “Just- just go slow, okay?”
Jeongguk pairs his lips with yours in a sweet kiss, “I’ll take care of you. I promise.” He releases a thick glob of spit onto your cunt before rubbing the tip of his cock against your core, spreading the sloppy mess across your mound. He drags his tip against your lips before slowly pushing into your soaked cunt.
You gasp upon feeling the intrusion, squeezing your eyes shut.
Jeongguk nibbles the column of your neck, whispering quiet praises against your skin to distract you from the discomfort. He looks down to see barely half of his length tucked inside of you, yet your walls are stretched to accommodate him. At the pit of your stomach, there’s a bulge where the tip of his cock prods against your cunt. It protrudes against your tummy, leaving an indentation. He can quite literally watch his dick plow into you.
“Angel, look at how well you take me,” he groans.
You will yourself to open your eyes, seeing how he stuffs you to the brim. The visual is so filthy.
“God, I’ve been dreaming of this.” Jeongguk drops another glob of spit where his length meets your cunt, allowing the glide to be more effortless. The way that your pretty pussy struggles to make room for him is the hottest thing he’s ever seen. His eyes roll back as he squeezes your waist, trying to regain an ounce of composure.
“You’ve been thinking about this? About us?” You clench upon hearing his deepest desires.
He curses under his breath, not knowing how much longer he’d last if you’re already this tight wrapped around his cock. “You have no idea-” When he rests his head against your shoulder, panting, another inch sinks inside of you. “Sorry, ‘m sorry. You just feel so fucking good.”
His rough hands wander across your body, mapping every inch of your skin, committing it to memory. Jeongguk taps his fingers against your lips as he requests you to ‘open up.’ As obedient as you are, you part your lips, allowing him to slip his digits inside.
“Suck on my fingers,” he coos as he pushes himself further into your sweet pussy. “That’s my good girl.” He pulls his calloused fingers out of your mouth, and they find home onto your clit as he rubs figure eights onto your bundle of nerves. It serves as a distraction from the slight sting of resistance where his cock stretches your walls.
But for Jeongguk, this feels like heaven. He resists the urge to sheathe himself into your virgin cunt, down to the hilt. “Can’t believe that I get to see you like this.”
Jeongguk seriously can’t believe how fortunate he is that he’s your first. Nobody has ever touched you the way that Jeongguk does. Nobody will ever fuck you or make you come the way that he will. And certainly, nobody will ever get to see you act like a desperate little slut. You belong to Jeongguk just as he belongs to you. And this is the privilege he gets when you’re his wife.
You watch his face twist in concentration as he works himself into you. His biceps bulge, and his skin dimples beneath the pressure of your fingers when you squeeze his arm. They feel so rock solid beneath your touch. So strong and so, so reliable like the Jeongguk you know and love. You whimper simply because he’s hot, and you could never resist him.
“S- something wrong?” He stills his hips inside of you, and his cock pulses.
“N- no,” you whine, shaking your head. “Just wanna hold your hand.” You scratch down his biceps as you paw at his chest. Even when he’s buried inside of you, it’s still not enough. You need him, and you need all of him.
He grabs both of your hands, softly squeezing them as he pins them on either side of your head. Jeongguk cages you against the mattress as he presses his body weight against yours, plunging his cock deeper and deeper between your walls, inch by inch.
Your chest heaves when his hips press against yours, completely buried inside of you, and a silent cry slips past your lips. Tears begin to form in the corner of your eyes.
“Just breathe for me, angel, okay? Relax, ease up for me. I know it’s uncomfortable now, but you’ll feel so good, I swear.”
You nod your head, and you can’t help but cry. You just feel so full. Two twin tears trail down your cheeks, and Jeongguk is quick to kiss them away.
He soothes his thumb over the back of your hand as he praises you. “You’re doing so well for me. Such a good girl. You can take it, right? You can take it all for me.”
You nod your head, letting the tears fall down like summer rain. “I can take it, I swear-” You sound so choked up, and it’s probably due to the fact that Jeongguk is so fucking deep, you can practically feel him in your throat.
“Move, please, I need you so bad.” The broken sob rips out of your throat as you cry in desperation.
He pulls out with a shallow thrust, wanting to be as close to you as possible. Looking down, he can see where his cock fucks into you, where there’s a bulge that shadows every single one of his thrusts. He takes your hand down to rub over the protrusion.
“Can you feel me? Right here?” He quickly slides out of you before pressing his hips flush against yours in one swift motion.
A deep groan rumbles through his chest, sending a deep vibration through your body. His breath is hot against your lips, and you can actually feel him in your tummy. You can feel him everywhere.
“How’s it, angel?”
“Feels full-” you manage to choke the words out of your mouth.
“Too much?” Jeongguk asks. His breath is shaky as he plows his hips against yours. His cock twitches inside of you, and he really doesn’t want to pull out. But if you had asked, he wouldn’t hesitate to do so.
Thank God for your insatiability because you shake your head as you bring your intertwined hand to your lips, pressing a kiss to his skin. “Feels good- keep going, please,” you beg.
“See? I knew you could take it like a good girl.”
Soon enough, the discomfort subsides, and all you can feel is pleasure in the pit of your stomach. Jeongguk fucks into you until he bottoms out, prodding at the spot that has you seeing stars. Your eyes begin to cross, obsessed with the way he fills you up, turning you into a stuttering mess.
“Oh my god, feels s’ good, Guk- Don’t stop,” you cry, wrapping your legs tightly around his waist to keep him close.
Your mouth falls open and drool begins to slip from the corner of your lips. Jeongguk wedges his tongue into your mouth, swirling your spit and saliva together into one hungry mess.
He shifts his attention to your sensitive neck as he sucks on the column of your throat. A mark begins to bloom above your collarbone. If anyone were to doubt your marriage and the fact that you belonged to Jeongguk, there would be no reason to do so now.
The only thing you can focus on is the way that Jeongguk pokes your cervix, and you want nothing more but for him to flood your womb. Your heavy lidded eyes fall shut, your head lolls, and your cheek rests against the pillow.
But Jeongguk refuses to let you look away. His hand hooks around your jaw, and his fingers dig into your cheek. “Look at me,” he demands. “Want to see you when you come.” He lifts your face off the pillow and presses his lips against yours.
Jeongguk gives deep and pointed thrusts into your cunt. He grips your hands so tightly, but you welcome the embrace. His hips snap against yours, rutting into your battered hole as you desperately chase your high.
“‘m sorry, princess, am I too rough?” He mouths against your lips. “Just f- feels so good around me. So tight n’ warm. You’re s’ perfect.”
You shake your head in desperation. “N- no, I love it-” You love him. “I’m close,” you cry, overwhelmed with emotions.
“Come for me, angel,” he groans into your ear, pressing kisses against your nose, your cheek, your lips. He squeezes your hands, never letting you go.
He pounds into you once, twice, three-four times, bullying his cock into you, and you come undone with the rough snap of his hips. You tremble in his arms, feeling this orgasm tenfold compared to the last. Cum begins to seep out of your cunt, drenching Jeongguk’s cock until there’s a ring of cream at the base of his length.
You tight little cunt clenches around him as if you never want him to leave. He finds it hard to breathe when you look so beautiful, so pretty, and just so cute caged beneath him. As much as he wants to come inside of you and stuff you full, Jeongguk is quick to pull out when he feels his climax approach. He glides his cock against your cunt, rutting against your lips. He paints your stomach with ribbons of white cum, groaning at the lewdness of it all.
Thoughts of Jeongguk breeding your cunt flashes through your mind ー having him flood you with cum round after round until you can have a happy little family of four.
Obscene images of you doing this again and again in different positions send your mind racing. You want him to bury himself to the hilt with your knees pinned against your chest. If only he could flood your womb as he holds you by the back of your thighs in a mating press. Maybe you can come when you’re on all fours, on your hands and knees. Or you could take him down your throat as deep as you can go, choking and gagging on his length with saliva dribbling out of your lips. Although you’re certain that you could barely take half of him considering his size and your inexperience. But Jeongguk can teach you, and you can practice night after night until he absolutely ruins you.
“So much cum,” you murmur, admiring the liquid that rests on your tummy. You swipe your fingers across your stomach before sticking them in your mouth. Jeongguk’s cock twitches at the sight of you so desperate for a taste.
He presses a kiss to your forehead, “How was it?”
“Can we do it again?” Your eyes glimmer with wishful thinking. It’s safe to say that you had the best night of your life.
Jeongguk sputters a laugh, shaking his head. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”
He carries you to the bathroom, making sure you use the toilet to prevent UTIs. Meanwhile, he runs a bath for you where he lathers lavender shampoo in your hair and rubs the knots from your sore shoulders, down to your hips and legs. Between soft giggles and splashes of water, you share sweet kisses and loving stares. Before your fingers can prune, Jeongguk lifts you out of the tub and dries you off with a warm towel.
The two of you tangle beneath the sheets. But before you fall asleep to the sound of one another’s heartbeat, you ask Jeongguk the question that’s been on your mind.
“I was just wondering… Do you like to be called daddy?”
His lips meet your forehead before tucking you closer to his chest. “Go to sleep, angel. We’ll talk about it tomorrow.”
Jeongguk, in fact, does like to be called daddy among a plethora of other vulgar words. This vital piece of information is not necessary for the Hwa Yang interview, but you tuck that specific fact into the recesses of your brain for future reference.
Because the truth is, you don’t have enough time to memorize Jeongguk’s life story. You can save that for another day. The Hwa Yang interview is in less than a week, and you have to save all of your brain space for relevant ー appropriate information. Such as the values of your family and the importance of education in your lives.
Thankfully, as Jeongguk’s informant, Seokjin managed to snag sample questions that the interviewers are likely to ask: What type of person do you want your child to grow up to be? What is your child’s school experience like thus far? What are some habits you practice to help your child acclimate to the academic rigor of this school?
So Jeongguk, Minji, and you work tirelessly to come up with the perfect answers that give the impression that you are a family exuding elegance. In the eyes of the admissions director, it basically means that you have to rival the royal family.
Minji should have interests beyond her plushies and her manhwas, something along the lines of tennis, horseback riding, or crossword puzzles. She has to continue with her studies ー global history, foreign affairs, music theory, and yes, even her sworn enemy, mathematics. At the mere age of five, she should obtain fluency in a second language (which is apparently really impressive if you’re the royal heir to the British empire).
All of this preparation proves to be handy because at the academy, the board of interviewers ask about Minji’s interests and her hobbies. They want to know what type of learner she is and how she can contribute to the fast paced learning environment.
Although Minji is exceptional as she is, you can’t help but wonder why a child has to be a prodigy to be deemed as someone worthy of a good education. What’s wrong with simply existing? What’s wrong with being average? Because if the price of being average is being a decent human being, you would rather take your chances at a different school.
The sound of the headmaster’s voice breaks you out of your reverie. “I want to ask Minji what a typical day in the household looks like.”
She straightens her posture upon hearing her name. “I start the day when eomma wakes me up and helps me get ready for kindergarten. She double checks to make sure my homework and my school supplies are in my bag. She also packs extra clothes for me just in case. Appa makes breakfast in the kitchen, and when we finish eating, they walk me to school-”
The headmaster crinkles his brows. A look of confusion crosses his features. “Does your father always cook for the family?”
“Yes, appa usually cooks because eomma works really hard. Sometimes, she comes home with aches and pains because of all the energy she uses.” Minji shifts her gaze to her father, trying to gauge whether her answer is acceptable. Meanwhile, your eyes are filled with concern, worried she’ll somehow expose your criminal history. “But eomma always helps when she can. She goes to the market, and she does the laundry. She also makes tea for appa and hot chocolate for me. She helps me with my homework even if I don’t like fractions.” Minji says the last part in a hushed whisper.
“Really? Is your mother someone you aspire to be? Despite your father being the one to prepare your meals? It’s rather untraditional.”
“I don’t believe that question is pertinent to the interview. It’s quite leading,” Jeongguk states. His voice doesn’t falter, but there’s animosity in every breath that he takes. “I can assure you that my wife is a wonderful mother and role model to our daughter. Now may we please refocus our attention on Minji and her academics?” Jeongguk’s eyebrows furrow, and he is seething. He balls his hands into fists, resisting the urge to throw a right hook at the man across the table.
Instinctually, your fingers inch across the settee, reaching for Jeongguk’s hand in order to soothe his nerves. His shoulders relax upon feeling the heat of your skin as if to quietly remind him that everything is okay.
“Of course, I apologize.” The headmaster says diplomatically before jotting down a few words into his notebook. He raises his nose in the air as if he’s on some high horse.
The interview persists until the end of the hour, and Jeongguk remains at the edge of his seat. He holds his hand in yours to keep his composure intact. Thankfully, the dean of admissions and the executive advisor have more tasteful questions to ask.
However, it doesn’t last long. The headmaster intercepts once again. “Mrs. Jeon, I noticed that your documents indicate you are Minji’s stepmother, correct? Do you ever feel some kind of disconnect considering that you are not her biological mother?”
You’re taken aback by this impromptu question. You didn’t prepare an answer for this, although your natural response would be to wrap your hands around this man’s bare neck, wringing it dry. Yet you remain composed for the sake of Jeongguk and Minji. You can feel Jeongguk hold your hand tighter in his. But you pat his wrist, serving as both a warning and a comforting acknowledgement.
“I love Minji as a daughter, just as any other mother. To me, it doesn’t matter if she’s not my blood relative. We’ve grown really close ever since we’ve met. I admit that I have never been a mom myself, and I’m faced with a new learning curve every single day. But isn’t that what motherhood is? It’s nothing I’m not used to. Growing up, I raised my younger brother. At work, I take care of children from all different backgrounds. Surely, I make mistakes, but I think every parent leaves a mark on their child no matter what they do. Sometimes it’s a stain. Other times it’s a break, a bend, or a crack. Other parents can splinter their kids, but I hope that I never get to that point. I’m not perfect, but I’m constantly trying to be better. I love Minji more than anything.”
“So you never feel any sense of inadequacy or resentment?” The headmaster has the audacity to question your parenting skills.
Jeongguk cannot stand to hear the headmaster criticize you anymore. In a blink of an eye, he slams his fist against the coffee table. The wood splits in half beneath the brute force of his hand, and you’re quite impressed by the display of action.
“This is wildly inappropriate for an interview. This entire time, you’ve done nothing but berate my wife because we do not have a conventional family. We’re not wealthy people. We work hard for what we do. We take care of one another in a way that only we know and understand. If you can’t accept that, then maybe this is not the school that we want our child to be enrolled in.” Jeongguk’s chest heaves as he says his peace.
He doesn’t even take another moment to listen to the headmaster. There’s nothing he could say that could warrant forgiveness. So Jeongguk picks up his daughter, and he grabs your hand before storming out of the interview room.
Jeongguk is going to have a difficult time explaining to his boss why he’s failed his mission.
“I’m sorry I messed up Minji’s chance of going to Hwa Yang.” You tug at the sleeves of your dress as you stare at the floor.
Back at Jeongguk’s apartment, you sink into the couch, allowing the weight of the situation to finally settle.
Jeongguk rests his hand on your shoulders, turning you so that you can meet his gaze. “You didn’t mess up anything.” His eyes are filled with warmth, but you feel as if you don’t deserve it.
“We worked so hard for this, and it was all for nothing.”
There’s still residual rage that flows through his veins. “Nothing? Don’t say that. Don’t you know that I lo-”
Your heart lurches out of your chest as you stare at him in awe. He loves you?
Jeongguk’s hands shift to hold your cheeks, running his calloused thumb against the edge of your jaw. He sighs, trying to collect his thoughts. “We have each other, and that’s all that matters at the end of the day, okay? We couldn’t anticipate that they’d be so cruel. I would defend you over anything in this world. So don’t you dare say that this was all for nothing.”
He pulls you into a tight hug, tucking your head beneath his chin. You can hear the sound of his heart beat, beating only for you. It’s distracting enough for you to miss his whispered declaration: “I’m seriously gonna marry you someday.”
Minji climbs onto the couch, wedging herself between her parents. “If I don’t get accepted, I don’t have to go to school, right?”
The two of you peel away from the embrace, glaring at Minji, shaking your heads. “No, you have to go,” you simultaneously declare with stern conviction.
Minji huffs a sigh, looking downcast. But when her stomach grumbles, you effectively put an end to your pity party. You and Jeongguk drop everything, scurrying into the kitchen to prepare dinner for your precious daughter. She worked hard, and she did her very best. You all did.
…
Tucked away into the busy streets of Seoul, there’s a tiny little apartment on the second story filled with music and laughter.
While the water boils for the buckwheat noodles, Jeongguk watches over his precious family, reading the instructions for the sauce. All you need is a mixture of perilla oil, cham sauce, buldak sauce, buldak mayo, egg yolk, and a generous amount of furikake. But when you and Minji measure out everything to perfection, you cheer for one another as if you’ve made a meal worthy of praise from the world renown Gordon Ramsey.
When the noodles are ready, you all gather around the table and laugh to your heart's content. You fill your stomachs with starch, a heavy amount of spice, and plenty of love. You dote on one another, too distracted with the loving family you’ve created to notice anything outside of your little bubble.
This moment is yours, and yours alone. This is your happy place, and nobody can take it away from you. Not even the sound of the answering machine, echoing from the quaint living room.
“Due to your family’s impressive display of integrity at the institution’s interview, I would like to extend an offer to enroll Jeon Minji into the prestigious Hwa Yang Academy. Congratulations, and we hope to hear from you soon.”
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—college nights, diner fights | jjk
pairing: waiter!jungkook x waitress!reader
au/genre: diner au, e2l, angst, smut, fluff
rating: M
wc: 9,664
warnings: POV switches (obvious, tho) mentions of domestic abuse and alluded infidelity (parents not pairing), JK's mom has terrible boyfriends and his dad is a petty "Disney" dad, Reader's parents are better but not around often, mentions of Jungkook having to protect his mom from the bad boyfriends, mean teachers, enemiesssssss, triggering middle school memories can be brought up upon reading the banter of middle school JK and reader LOL but also not LOL, swearing, vulgar statements, forced proximity, secret mutual pining, a drunken physical altercation/assault at work (mild), mentions of blood, minor cuts/scrapes, kissing, tattoo tracing SMUT warnings: oral (f receiving), praise
an: shoutout to my beta readers @colormepurplex2 @downbad4yoongi @mrsparkjimin18 @peachiilovesot7 for helping me get this thing done in time despite me being on vacation and dragging my feet! thank you all so much for the motivation, for brainstorming, and just all around positive feedback!
summary: If you can't stand the heat, get out of the kitchen! You and Jungkook have been enemies for as long as you can remember—elementary school even—and when Seokjin hires him despite knowing this, you have to call a truce during working hours. When an incident at work leads Jungkook, and you, to put things into a different perspective, will the heated diner fights become a passionate college night? Or will it fizzle before it can start?
Bangtanstrology Writing Event hosted by ME of @bangtanwritershq
My Big 3 are: Sun (Member): Gemini- Jungkook, Moon (How They Met): Scorpio- Late Night Diner, Rising (Trope): Libra- Enemies to Lovers
Part 1: Elementary School
Elementary school is supposed to be fun. For you, 11 years old and in the fifth grade, elementary school is perhaps the best time of your life so far. Your dad signed up for career day, and you are excited beyond measure for him to come in and meet with your class to talk about his job.
It’s rare that you get to spend time with your dad, as his job keeps him pretty busy. The fact that he was able to show up today was a miracle in and of itself, but he negotiated presenting first so that he could leave first to get to work.
“Everyone, please welcome our first parent speaker, Mr. Cha.”
Your classmates applaud as your dad steps forward to the podium in the front center of the classroom and you beam from ear to ear. He looks all spiffy—hair styled well, suit pressed, and shoes shined.
“Good morning, boys and girls, I am Mr. Cha, and I am here to speak to you about my career. To be honest, I have two jobs,” he pauses as the kids, including you, look at him in both awe and confusion, “I am the father to that little girl right there,” he points to you and you giggle. “That is a full time job all on its own, but for the other time spent working, I am a plastic surgeon.”
You can’t help the pride you feel from your classmates clapping as your dad shares. He talks about the schooling needed to get to his position, shares study tips for the transition to middle and high school, which—while still some time away—will be good to begin practicing even now.
“You’re so handsome, Mr. Cha! Have you ever had any work done yourself?” one of the students asks during the question time.
“Ah, great question! I have tried some of the treatments that we offer at my clinic, because if I don’t believe in it, why should others have faith in me and the services I offer?” he explains. “I had a colleague of mine fix my deviated nose bridge, which I injured playing basketball in college, and I maintain my skin with various anti-aging treatments as well. It’s important to start taking care of your skin even at this age! Princess, come help me please.” Your dad gestures to you, and you rise from the chair, only a little embarrassed at him using your nickname. “Help me pass these out to your classmates.”
You begin walking around the room, placing the small cardstock printouts on each of your classmates’ desks as your dad continues speaking.
“These are coupons for my office. You can give these to a family member, or if your parents will allow you to come in, we offer a free consultation to check your skin, and a reduced rate for any skin care products or procedures for any of my princess’s classmates and their family.” He wraps up his presentation there, pulling you into him for a side hug as he smiles at your classmates and the other parents waiting in the wings to present. “Thank you for letting me present, I’ve got to run because I have a rhinoplasty scheduled today, and I need to prepare, but I had a lot of fun talking with you all today!” As your dad kisses your forehead, he whispers a quick goodbye as he leaves your classroom. You’ve never felt so proud.
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“Okay, everyone, let’s line up for P.E.,” Ms. Kim directs, and you jump in line with your peers to walk down to the field. Your classroom teacher disappears for his break as Ms. Kim takes over, and thus ensues a battle between your class as you play ‘Capture the Flag’.
“The rules are simple,” Ms. Kim explains, “a ball is placed on each side of the field in that box.” She points at the four cones creating a safe zone with a kickball inside of it. “Once the game begins, players have to cross the midline into ‘enemy’ territory to try and capture the ball and bring it back to their side. The other team has to stop you from stealing the ball by pulling the flags to remove your waistband—no tackling! Understand?”
“Yes, Ms. Kim!”
“Good. If your belt is pulled off, you stand off to the side at the cone here, okay? That’s the jail. To rescue your teammates from jail, you have to high five them. You must return to your side before attempting to go after the ball again. Once a player enters the box, they are safe, but they cannot stay in there forever…”
You tune out Ms. Kim because you already know how to play, and instead busy yourself with wrapping the tan belt around your waist, adjusting the position of the three blue flags hanging from it. The red team moves to their side of the midline, and you stretch your legs idly as you wait for the teacher to blow her whistle.
🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️
Huffing, you pout as you walk to the jail cone, re-attaching the waistband that your classmate pulled off. He’s put you in jail several times now, almost as if he’s targeting only you during the game. It’s getting a little irritating, since Jeon Jungkook is the fastest boy in the fifth grade, but he’s spending all of his time chasing you instead of helping his team win. Even now, he’s guarding the jail so your best friend can’t come to save you again.
“Dang, JK, you pulled her flag again?” Kim Taehyung snickers loudly as he jogs over to where you’re held captive.
“Can’t let the princess get everything, now can we?” he taunts, a sarcastic tone to his words.
Kim Taehyung, unable to whisper to save his life, leans into Jungkook and asks, “Do you think her dad worked on her face? No way she’s that pretty on her own.”
Your feelings are split between irritated and pleased at the backhanded compliment.
“She’s not that pretty, it looks more like her dad messed up her face, ‘cause she’s so ugly,” Jungkook counters, and it’s hard to decipher if his cheeks are red from playing or from talking about your looks.
“But, you said last week that she was—”
Ms. Kim’s whistle blows to end the game, and you miss the end of Taehyung’s statement. Walking away from the two fools, you barely get a foot outside of the jail zone when a sharp tug at your waist stops you in your tracks. You look down and see your belt missing, and hear a soft thud a few moments later as it hits the grass in the opposite direction several yards away.
Taehyung is laughing, his large boxy grin behind his hand as Jungkook smirks at you.
“You lost.”
The two then take off towards where your teacher is collecting the game belts, leaving you to backtrack to get yours.
“What took you so long? Everyone else has already returned to the building. Taking your time to head back to class is not good sportsmanship.”
“But, Jungkook—”
“No excuses. Hurry up and get inside.”
Jogging back to the building, you get another scolding when you reach the classroom, with your teacher telling you that just because your dad is a surgeon and came for Career Day does not mean you get to behave this way. From the corner of your eye, you watch as Jungkook eats up every second of the scolding, seeming to enjoy the way you wilt as it continues. As you walk back to your seat, you don’t see Jungkook stick out his foot, and you trip loudly as the desks and chairs nearest you clatter and clang as you try to regain your footing.
As the boys snicker at your forced clumsiness, you vow to yourself that Jeon Jungkook is the worst person to exist, and you will hate him for as long as you live.
Part 2: Middle School
Jungkook’s had a hard week. Chuseok just ended, and he had to spend it with his dad’s family instead of with his mom this year, per their divorce agreement. He’s partially thankful because it allowed him a moment to rest. His hypervigilance with his mom’s new boyfriend is tiring, and his grades are suffering for it. But Jungkook is tired of these men sniffing around for a piece of the ‘supposed’ alimony his mom receives from his dad, because everyone was aware when the CEO of Jeon Industries divorced his wife and married his secretary. Jungkook begged to switch schools, but his parents refused, despite it being reported on several news outlets for a month in sixth grade.
Eighth grade hasn’t been so bad for him though, no one talks about the divorce anymore, and Jungkook is able to be just Jungkook, known for his athletic abilities and gaming. He was able to guilt his dad into a new gaming computer, since he forgot to take him back to school shopping, and Jungkook is able to help his mom pay the bills each month with the earnings he makes betting on Overwatch.
So when he returns back home, tired of hearing tales and seeing pictures of the trip to Cancun with the new baby that conveniently interrupted the planned shopping trip, to see his bed holding a Nike box with the shoes Jungkook begged his mom to get at the start of the year, he’s elated. He erupts into shouts and whoops of excitement, running to the kitchen to hug his mom.
“Ouch!” she can’t hide the wince as Jungkook pulls back from the embrace.
“I didn’t even squeeze you that tightly, Mom. Are you okay?”
“Yeah, it’s nothing, you know how clumsy I am, I ran into the dining room table the other night—”
Jungkook doesn’t even think as he reaches for the hem of her shirt, barely lifting it to see an ugly burgundy bruise spreading across her abdomen.
“Mom! Did he do this to you?” Jungkook demands, fury building in his body.
“N-no, honey, you know how I c-can be,” she stutters through the lie, but they both know the truth.
“Mom, if he did this because of money, just return the shoes, it’s fine.”
“No. I bought those for you. You deserve them.” His mom is resolute, turning away and adjusting her shirt as she goes back to cooking dinner. “Plus, we broke up. He won’t be back.”
Up in his room, Jungkook readies the shoes for school tomorrow. He has a few nice things, his dad is a CEO after all, but after the divorce, Jungkook chose his mom, and his dad took it personally. His dad didn’t understand, but the choice was clear to Jungkook. His dad had a new wife, but his mom had no one. Jungkook couldn't leave her too. But his dad became spiteful after that, and so Jungkook can’t take most things his dad buys him to his mom’s house, including certain clothes and shoes.
It’s why he’s so upset about his dad missing back-to-school shopping, because those were usually the only things he was allowed to take to his mom’s, but this year he has nothing new. Not until his mom bought him the Nike Dunks he’s been coveting. Jungkook is happy, proud of his mom for choosing him over the newest boyfriend, and lying in bed, he finally feels like maybe his life isn’t so bad. He hears a knock at the door, and his mom’s tired feet shuffling to answer it.
“Please, Jongyeon-ah, I promise, it won’t happen again.”
Jungkook rolls over, grabbing his headphones to drown out the sounds of the pleading, good for nothing, weaseling himself back into his mom’s life.
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“Yo, Jungkook, those dunks are fly!”
Jungkook props his shoes up on the desk next to his in class, showing off the brand-new kicks to Taehyung.
“Yeah, they're limited edition.” Jungkook knows his response is a little douchebag-esque, but he doesn’t care. He’s wanted these shoes for the longest time, and after all of the bullshit he dealt with during Chuseok and now waking up to see that greasy slimeball his mom said she was done with shirtless at the table for breakfast, he just wants to pretend for once that his life is perfect.
“Take your crusty shoes off my desk,” you scoff. Jungkook ignores you for a few seconds, leaving his feet where he has them propped on your desk. He hates that you called his shoes crusty, knowing that they’re not. They don’t even have a speck of dirt on them! He made sure of that upon his arrival, being overly cautious with each step and wiping away any blemish he perceived to be there.
“Awe, is the princess jealous she doesn’t have the limited edition dunks?” Jungkook can’t pinpoint when this rivalry started, he just knows that for as long as he can remember, the two of you have been enemies.
“There’s a reason the supply is limited. It’s because they’re ugly and they stopped making them once they realized someone would have to be an idiot to wear them. You sitting here with them just proves this point.” You push his crossed feet off your desk and he lets you, but Jungkook holds you in his glare.
“One day you’ll stop being a hater, drowning in all that Haterade you’ve been drinking,” Jungkook makes a play on words, and his friends ‘ooooh’ and high five at his middle school burn.
🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️
At lunch, Jungkook precariously steps between the seats to avoid damaging his shoes. His shins are starting to hurt from how he’s walking to avoid creasing his sneakers, but it’s worth the pain to him. He’s successfully avoided getting any food on his shoes from the sloppy eaters, and as he makes the last stretch to the door, a loud yell catches him off guard.
“Watch it!”
Nayeon, one of your lackeys, warns everyone as she’s bumped by you and her red sports drink goes flying. Jungkook is stuck between tables, backpacks cluttering the aisle and Nayeon’s body flailing taking up all of the space. It all happens in seconds—a hip check, a flying drink, and the contents now strewn across the floor and Jungkook’s new sneakers and laces now stained a bright red, dripping across the leather and fabric of his brand new, limited edition Nike Dunks.
“Oh my god, Nayeon, you are so clumsy!”
Jungkook gawps at you, unbelieving, as your annoying voice fills the silence that took over the room only moments before.
“So sorry, Jungkook. Nayeon bumped into me and then she spilled her haterade—I mean Gatorade—all over your new shoes! I hope those weren’t hard to get or anything! I’m sure your CEO daddy can get you a new pair.”
Jungkook storms from the room, seething at your audacity. If you had any idea about his life, would you treat him this way? He wishes you could walk a day in his shoes, maybe you would realize that life outside your perfect, princess bubble is not always sweet, and would think twice before being a bitch to him, but it’s too late for him to change his view of you. You are the devil’s spawn and Jungkook has never hated someone as much as he hates you.
Part 3: High School
Getting into BTS-U should be easy for you, what with your dad being an alumnus, but you don’t want to rely on nepotism. You’ve been working your ass off for good grades all four years of high school, and the final determination of your competency is about to start. Only one student can represent your high school as the Youth of the Year, winning prestige and honor by being granted early admission into any four-year university in the country of their choice without needing CSAT scores.
The last of the trials, the oral interview, is scheduled for today and as you sit outside the room in the creaky, overly hard chair, your heart pounds. Of course, the final two students competing for this merit would be the two students who despise each other the most in the school, making the competition that much more important to you.
You cannot lose to fucking Jeon Jungkook.
“We’re ready for you!”
The chipper voice startles you from your thoughts as you steel yourself to go into the final challenge.
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“Thank you all for your participation in the Youth of the Year program. As you know, the contenders were all very high achieving and will have plenty of options available to you for your future. Do not let not being named deter you from the future awaiting you all. Now, today, we interviewed the two finalists from this wonderful school, and while both were outstanding, one student really opened up and shared a vulnerable side to him that inspired us. He has already begun an incredible journey in his young life, showcasing a will to succeed. Jeon Jungkook, please stand.”
The crowd in the auditorium bursts into applause as you burst into tears. The one good thing about this ceremony is that the finalists do not sit on stage, so in the chaos and celebration, you are able to sneak away to the bathroom. Jeon Jungkook looked so shocked to have been chosen, but you knew that he couldn’t actually be shocked. His mom stood up with him, hugging him with pride, and your parents couldn’t even be bothered to show up for such an important moment.
You tell yourself it’s not a big deal, that you have done well and will most likely have the same options for college as Jungkook does, but being a Youth of the Year finalist is not the same as being the Youth of the Year. What really hurts you the most is that if the roles were switched, Jungkook’s mom would be there to hug him and tell him he did great and fought hard. If you had been chosen, you still would’ve been alone, but at least the loneliness wouldn’t have hurt as much.
The judges who interviewed you must think you don’t need the help, that you have everything you could ever want, so why would they choose the spoiled little rich girl? Why would they choose the girl who eats dinner with the maids, who read bedtime stories to herself growing up, the girl who has everything—everything except a family that loves her more than their careers and supports her unfailingly?
Facing the mirror, you reach for your purse and pull out the small makeup pouch so that you can erase any evidence of the sadness you feel today, brimming with the unshed tears of yesterday, and prepare your battle face to go back out there and be cordial as the runner up. Another battle you’ll face alone.
Part 4: College at BTS-U
“Welcome to Jin’s Diner, have a seat wherever you’d—what the fuck are you doing here?”
The chiming of the door opening caught your ear, so you’d turned to greet the newest customer, except instead of an overly tired trucker or a group of post-clubbing college students, you’re faced with one Jeon Jungkook.
“You kiss your mother with that mouth?” he asks, eyebrow pitched and smirk full of snark.
“No, I kiss your father with this mouth. Now get out.” You go back to wiping down the counters, ignoring the stare of your arch-nemesis as you finish cleaning.
“Now, now, Baby Cakes, let your new coworker into the diner so you can finally get the help you've been asking for.”
You turn to the owner’s son, Kim Seokjin, mouth gaping open in confusion. “Coworker? I thought you read through the notes I made on all of the applicants?”
“Yes, I did, and they were very helpful. He’ll be working nights with you, so show him to the back while I grab a lock for his locker and a uniform.”
“Sir—”
“Now, Cakes.”
Seokjin disappears into the hallway towards his office, and you turn back to Jungkook, who’s standing smugly with his arms crossed watching you.
“Ugh, keep up, small fry.”
Jungkook’s black boots squeak along the freshly mopped floor as he hustles to catch up with you. The doorway behind the counter opens into the kitchen, where the two line cooks, Hoseok and Yoongi, work diligently. Hoseok is sitting next to the recently delivered products with a clipboard in hand as he counts the items, while Yoongi is wiping down his area before the rush begins. You clear your throat loudly to gather their attention.
“We have a new waiter, his name is Jeon Jungkook, but he shall go by Small Fry, I think.” The smile on your face is devilish, and the two men snicker as they take in the newbie rushing in behind you.
“Wait, why am I ‘Small Fry’?” he asks, only a little out of breath from having to round the counter and catch up to you.
“Because everyone who works here gets called a food nickname, helps with the creeps, especially on nights.”
“I’m Suga,” Yoongi greets, “and this here is Hobi-Honey, but we just call him Hobi for short.”
“And I’m Baby Cakes, as you heard bossman say.”
“What’s your real name again, Small Fry?” Yoongi asks, his platinum hair shining in the fluorescent kitchen lights.
“It’s Jungkook,” he answers, emphasizing his name as he glares at you.
“Hmm, Baby Cakes, I think he might be better suited to Cooky…”
“Isn’t that too close to his name?” you argue, hoping to keep Small Fry, but when you see Hobi shake his head, you know you’ve lost.
“Fine, Cooky it is then! Next new hire will be called Small Fry no matter what!” you concede, waving Jungkook to follow you towards the back of the kitchen.
He trails you quietly as you push a swinging wooden door with a circular window in it and lead him into the employee lounge. Seokjin is whistling to himself as you enter, twirling a metal lock around his finger. You look around the room, surprised at how quickly he had everything ready.
“Great, you met Suga and Hobi then?” he asks, nodding at the door you just entered.
“Yes, I figured it would be best to do that first on the way here.”
“So, Jungkook—”
“He’s Cooky,” you interrupt, but Seokjin just shakes your rudeness off.
“—Cooky, this here’s the lounge. The door you just entered is used while you’re on shift for breaks and such. When you arrive for your shift and leave for the night, it should always be through the door behind me.” He gestures to a purple-handled door. “To the left are the employee cubbies, and to the right, we have the laundry station, small kitchenette, and door to the staff bathroom.”
You nod at the TV mounted on the wall next to the swinging door. “The remote always stays on this table,” you tap the main table in the room that seats six, “and we typically keep the TV on ESPN, MTV, or my personal favorite, HGTV.”
“Thank you, Cakes. Now, your Jin’s Diner gear stays here, we’ll wash it for you after each shift you work.” Seokjin points to a stacked washer and dryer in the corner. “Just throw it in the wash after your shift each night. We’ll put it back in your cubby for you once dry.”
Jungkook nods, but he looks a bit overwhelmed from all of the information. You take the lead and sit down first hoping he’ll follow you. You know Seokjin talks fast and moves through the employee information even faster, and despite not liking Jeon Jungkook, you need the help on your shift since Mochi quit to focus on his last semester.
You grab a permanent marker and white label from the center of the table, tossing it across to Jungkook with a little more force than necessary.
“We each have a cubby, with a small locker inside. Use this to write your name and then claim an empty spot, and you can also write your name on the tags of your uniform.”
Seokjin grabs plastic-wrapped clothing articles from the cabinet next to the laundry station and approaches the table, too, tossing down the new clothing.
“Your gear. Shirt, apron, and a ballcap. If you want a visor instead, let me know. Black, khaki, or blue jeans, black non-slip shoes, keep the blingy jewelry at home.”
“Dammit, I was planning to choke him with his chain after the first shift.”
Seokjin levels his gaze at you, and you know you’re pushing your limits with him.
“I’ll have you follow Baby Cakes around to learn the drill for taking orders, but mostly you’ll be bussing tables tonight. I’ll work on the final processing of your paperwork in the meantime. Cakes, come with me while he changes.”
You follow Seokjin out of the lounge and back towards the office. He opens the door and steps back to allow you to enter first, shutting the door behind him as he follows you into the room.
“You need to tone it down. I know you said that you and he have some bad blood, but we need the help and he’s the best applicant we have.”
“It’s deeper than that, Jinnie, he’s literally been tormenting me since elementary school. We work with heavy-duty machinery and cutlery. You might come in one morning to find that one of us has stabbed the other to death.” You push out your bottom lip and give him your best, roundest, watery puppy eyes. “Is that what you really want?”
“What I want is to have a fully staffed evening shift so that my best girl can stop having bags under her eyes and complaining about her feet hurting every shift.” Seokjin smiles teasingly at you. “Plus, you need a good annual review to get a raise, and training new employees looks good to the owner.”
“Your dad is the owner! You can just tell him to give me a raise!”
“I could…but this is so much more fun. Who knows, he’s kinda hot…maybe you find out that the reason he’s picked on you your whole life is because he has a crush on you.”
“That fallacy is just a way for the patriarchy to continue to push abuse acceptance and the ‘boys will be boys’ agenda.” You cross your arms, but overall you know Seokjin is right. You’ve always prided yourself on being able to adapt well to situations, put a fake smile on when you need to deal with rude customers or your parents missing another monumental event in your life. “But fine. At work, it’ll be a ceasefire. That’s about all I can promise you.”
“I thought you said there would be a ceasefire!” Seokjin yells at you from where you sit in his office. Jungkook is seated next to you, slouching in the chair with his head turned away towards the wall. You can see his jaw clenching every few seconds as Seokjin continues berating you. “Instead, I got a call from a family friend that you two were so busy yelling at each other for not doing your jobs that you effectively stopped doing your job!”
You huff as you roll your eyes, turning away from Jungkook’s severely hot—no—aggravating jawline, (where did that thought even come from?) to respond to Seokjin.
“That’s not even what happened last night! This idiot decided to fuck with the seating and of course, since the big game is tomorrow, we had a lot of people stop in and it was noisy. I was trying to seat the guests who were being louder and rowdier on one side so that our regulars,” you glare at Jungkook, who’s still refusing to look at either you or Seokjin, “could dine in peace, but when I ran to the back to restock the napkins for the bar top, he seated people himself. He’s not the host. He’s still a newbie! It’s been, what? Three, four months?”
“...Four,” Jungkook mumbles, but you ignore it.
“And so then poor Mrs. Hana ended up dealing with the hooligans who disrupted her meal, and yes, it was when I was trying to explain to him how seating works—”
“I know how seating works, it’s not rocket science!”
“So then why would you mess with the flow of the diner and seat them there?!”
“Because you,” Jungkook finally breaks the stoic act and turns to face you abruptly, so much so you almost visibly jump, “kept seating the large groups in your sections, which meant that you were giving yourself the better tips and leaving me with the geriatrics who barely leave anything!”
“Are you serious? You think I was trying to take tips from you? I hate dealing with the sports crowd! I would have gladly traded with you if you had said something to me, but you were too busy ignoring me when I was trying to talk to you about dividing up the floor—”
“—you talk to me like I’m a child, so of course I was ignoring you, you dolt—”
“—really piss me off, you think I would stoop so low, probably because it’s what you would do—”
“Shut up, both of you!” Seokjin’s eyes have a hardness to them you are not used to seeing. He’s usually laid back, but the stress lines on his face speak to an underlying tension you aren’t aware of. “Look,” he takes a deep breath, rubbing his hand over his eyes briefly, “this can’t happen again. Mrs. Hana could’ve broken her hip slipping on the spilled soda, and her son is debating suing us. My dad is obviously handling this situation, but that means your jobs are on the table. If her son demands it in exchange to avoid a lawsuit, I can’t stop it.”
It settles on you at that moment, how severe this is. You know that the little, old lady regular slipped and fell, but both you and Jungkook rushed over to help her up, comping her meal and walking her outside to sit quietly and assess how she was feeling while waiting for her son to arrive. Not only that, but he didn’t seem mad when he picked her up—just worried about if she was in pain and if she needed to go see a doctor. Apparently, after the shock wore off, his anger set in.
“I’m sorry, Seokjin. It won’t happen again.”
“Get to your shift, I’m sure Nam—I mean Porkchop—is ready to go. Remember, Suga will be late today, the championship game is tonight. So no more ignoring the hooligans and Cooky,” Seokjin gives his leveled glare to Jungkook this time, “Baby Cakes is in charge. I know you’re eager to prove yourself, and you’ve done well so far, but she’s worked the aftermath of championship games before.”
Jungkook stares back at Seokjin, a low humming tension filling the room before he answers with a “Yes, sir.”
The diner is louder than Jungkook’s ever heard before as he goes around clearing tables now that the game is over. His coworker, Yoongi, did amazing from what he saw on the screen. BTS-U wore their white home jerseys with purple and black lettering, so it was easy to see when number 3 hit the game-winning three-pointer.
Now, as the same white jersey is stepping into the diner, all of the fans cheer and bang their cups and silverware to congratulate the MBC Cup National University Basketball Championship’s MVP for the win tonight.
Jungkook looks across the dining area, where he sees you kneeling on the countertop clapping your hands above your head. The uniform dress that you chose for tonight has risen higher up your thigh than normal—probably from the way you climbed up onto the counter—giving Jungkook a pretty good view of the skin leading up to what he’s sure are lace panties. He’s walked in on you changing one too many times to not know your preference.
He can’t look away from you; something about the sheer energy radiating off of you is magnetic, as if you’re lit from within, and before he knows it, he’s moving closer to you. Jungkook knows he can’t stand you personally, but physically? He’ll never admit this aloud—not since Taehyung almost told you the truth back in elementary school— but you’re the prettiest girl he’s ever seen.
He doesn’t have much time to ponder your looks as you bring two fingers to your lips and let out a loud wolf whistle, setting you off balance with the action. Luckily he’s already been pulled into your orbit, because he catches you with two strong hands on your waist before you can fall off the counter.
“Thanks, Cooky!” you say, eyes alight and voice pleasant, as if you’ve forgotten who Jungkook is to you, and who you are to him.
“No problem, Baby Cakes.” Jungkook helps you climb down, and when you bend forward to place your palms on the counter to dismount, he sees his hypothesis on your panties is right. His eyes remain on your ass as you extend a leg to the floor, and despite the trouble the two of you got into before your shift, Jungkook can’t seem to care to remember why he shouldn’t be enjoying the view.
“Congrats, Suga!” Jungkook watches as you launch yourself into Yoongi’s arms, giving him a loud smooch on the cheek.
“Thanks, Cakes, that last shot was for you.” He winks, and Jungkook doesn’t understand why he’s feeling so affected, but he wants to blame it on those panties you unknowingly flashed for the irritation he feels toward his friend for flirting with you. She’s your enemy, Kook, get it the fuck together.
Jungkook stalks away, grabbing his bussing bin and rag so he can clean up the table of the group in line to pay.
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“Fuck you and your sorry-ass school!”
Jungkook turns his head to see you standing feet shoulder-width apart with your arms crossed, looking so much like the evil bitch he’s come to know. Only this time, it’s directed towards an EXO-U fan, by the looks of the silver and black shirt he’s sporting.
“Sir, I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”
You command the space well, and had the man been sober, he probably would have listened to you when you gave him the polite option to leave on his own two feet. As luck would have it, the man grew more belligerent with each passing moment, causing Jungkook to run and grab Yoongi from the back to help handle the situation. Jungkook doesn’t like what he’s hearing when he returns to the front.
“You dumb cunt, we don’t have to leave! Come over here, baby, suck my cock like you suck their players, bet that’s why they won, huh? Saw you all over their star player earlier, let me get a piece, bitch.”
Jungkook wants to lunge at the man, but Yoongi beats him to the table, effortlessly grabbing the man by his arm and neck to yank him from his booth seat.
Jungkook gets to his other side, helping the man walk towards the double glass doors as Yoongi mutters menacingly at the patron.
“Best not show your face around here again, if you know what’s good for you. Find another place to eat, and we won’t beat your ass.”
Yoongi lets go of the man once they clear the sidewalk into the parking lot, the man’s friends stumble out behind, but Jungkook shoves the man hard, and he falls to the ground. He feels no remorse for the man; he reminds him too much of the creeps his mom dealt with: stench of alcohol on their breath that grew with each vulgar word that rolled out of their mouths, animosity leeching from their greasy skin—Jungkook needs to wash his hands and splash his face.
Fleeing inside, he bypasses you cleaning up the mess the rowdy table left behind, unable to hear the words you say clearly enough to decipher them. He knows that it’s almost time to close up and he has a few tasks to do to help speed up the process, but he’ll get to them in a minute. He just needs a minute to shake off this feeling, and then he’ll be okay to do the final cleaning for the evening, and find out what you said.
You’ve always hated dealing with the championship game guests, but always loved being with the crowd because of the thrill and your love for the game. The shift wasn’t terrible work-wise, as Jungkook really pulled his weight throughout the shift, allowing you to be in charge as the hostess and main waitress, filling in where you needed and bussing tables as the guests rotated through the double doors.
And you can’t lie, when you almost lost your balance on the counter, it was kind of hot that he was there to catch you, and help you down safely. With his jawline that can cut glass and his warm hands sitting large on your hips, you were a little sad to have them drop away, but you hid your disappointment in congratulating Suga and then moved on with the shift.
Of course, such a perfectly good shift had to end with a douchebag. To your surprise, when you turn to look to Jungkook for help, he’s already approaching with Suga in tow. And damn your worst enemy if he doesn’t do the second hottest thing of the night, vanquishing the drunkard with the sailor’s mouth from your sight, his foul friends trailing behind.
You clear off the table, the half-eaten food discarded in the trash and you realize that it needs to be taken out now before the last of the tables are done. Jungkook speed walks past you, so you call out to him, “Cooky, take the trash out, please!”
You finish sweeping under the table, then wipe down the booth’s table as Suga also returns inside, pausing to check on you.
“Everything good, Cakes?”
You nod, placing a hand on your hip as you reflect on the incident. “Yeah, he was a real fuck boy, but you and Cooky saved me just in time.”
“Always…I’m surprised Cooky was so worked up when he called me from the kitchen. Usually you two are at each other’s throats, I would’ve thought he’d enjoy seeing you deal with a rude customer.”
“Well, we did get yelled at earlier by Jin for last night, so we promised to work together and drop whatever rivalry we have during working hours. So maybe that’s it.”
“Mmm…maybe. Well, let me go help Hobi, this last wave will keep us later if I don’t.” Yoongi takes a few steps to round the counter, then calls back out to you, “The trash is about to overflow, Cakes!”
Frowning, you notice that Jungkook has yet to return to take out the trash. Glancing around the room, you see most of the tables are in stages of eating or waiting for their food. They all seem well and distracted with clips from the post-game coverage, so you decide to take out the trash yourself. Maybe the truce between you and Jungkook isn’t as intact as you think.
Grumbling to yourself, you tie off the bag and lift it from the bin, foot angled to keep the wheels from sliding across the floor from the tug. You eye the replacement black bag, but decide to put it in once you return from the dumpster.
You hate taking out the trash; you love feminism but some tasks are just made for men. You refuse to use the loud trolley with the janky wheel, so you carry the bag gingerly, resting it down every few steps as you make your way across the sparsely lit back parking lot.
“Well, if it isn’t the bitch who didn’t let me finish my meal.”
You snap your head around, eyes roving for the source of the raspy words, finally landing on the douchebag discharged from the diner only 10 minutes ago.
“We didn’t charge you for it, so I suggest you leave before this turns into a real problem.” You keep your eyes on him, watching as he shifts around on his feet, inching closer to you. You hold your stance, refusing to look weak in case he decides you’d make a good target.
“Maybe if you come suck me off like a good girl, I won’t leave a bad review online about how much of a cunt you’re being. Matter of fact, throw in some pussy, let me fuck you properly and I bet all that attitude will drop. You just need someone to tame you.”
The man lunges for your left arm, his meaty fist closing around your wrist and you pull back to break the contact but he’s strong. You yell out, stumbling back away from the trash bag and he follows, heavy footfalls adding to the sounds of the evening.
“Let go, you freak!”
You jolt your arm, wrenching it in as many directions as you can to try and relax his grip but he pulls you closer to him until you can smell the ethanol on his breath as he places his other hand forcefully on your shoulder.
“I said I wanted you on your knees, stupid bitch,” he utters, and reflexively you punch him in his dick. He groans and releases you, hunching over in pain. You make out a figure stepping through the service door, and you call out for help. Attempting to step around the man, you only make it a few steps before you feel the weight of the man bearing down on you again.
“You stupid bitch!”
You try to run, but the man has the back of your dress in his grip so instead, your shoes scrape the asphalt in the same place repeatedly. A loud thwack of flesh on flesh sounds right before you’re released, dropping the short distance to the concrete. Your palms and knees feel the sting of the gravel but the relief of being out of the man’s hold overpowers any lingering pain as you scramble to your feet.
Behind you, Jungkook is pummeling the man in the face, and you pause for a moment in shock before you rush back to him, grabbing his bicep to stop him from swinging again.
“Cooky, stop, I’m okay! Jungkook!”
He freezes, turning to look at you as if to see if your statement is true, and seeing that you’re serious, he appears to deflate a bit, no longer an attacking watchdog but a protective knight, making sure his charge is unscathed.
“Let’s go.” He gestures for your hand and you place yours in his, letting him guide you away from the groaning sack of trash and the garbage bag on the ground.
The fluorescent lights of the break room are blinding after the darkness of outside. Vaguely you hear Jungkook yelling at the others working, followed by the clattering of kitchen items, but you’re so out of sorts you don’t even realize that Jungkook has maneuvered you into a chair and is gently checking your knees, palms, and arms. He brushes off the remaining dirt from your skin.
“Are you hurt anywhere?”
His voice sounds pained, and this pulls you from your thoughts and back to the present with him.
“Um, I don’t think so.”
“Where all did he touch you? It might not hurt now, but once the adrenaline dies off, you might feel it.”
“Um, my arm, my shoulder, I can’t…I don’t know.”
“It’s okay, let me check your neck…he grabbed your dress and pulled you, so I wanna make sure it won’t bruise.”
He takes your face in his hands delicately, tilting your head to expose your neck to his view. The proximity has your head spinning, his cologne enveloping you as he leans closer, a hand leaving your cheek to allow a finger to trail across your neckline. You know he’s just checking to make sure that there’s no lingering marks, but you don’t think that the after effects of tonight will be anything anyone can see. He grabs a glass of water for you, and you sit quietly while he tends to the minor cuts on your palms from the jagged gravel in the parking lot.
Time seems to pass as you’re deep in thought, but you’re not sure how much until Seokjin appears, his purple and white painted face replacing the doe eyes and clenched jaw. He looks frazzled, as if he just left an after-party for the championship and was pulled into work. You realize after a moment that that’s actually what happened, and chuckle at yourself. He says your real name, pulling you out of your laughter.
“I’m so sorry this happened, luckily Jungkook was there. I don’t know what I would've done if something happened to you.” Seokjin pulls you into a hug, and you reciprocate, squeezing him tighter as the feeling of being held feels good. He pulls away sooner than you like, but he continues talking to you about what’s been going on since you’ve been sitting in the employee lounge.
“Look, don’t worry about staying and cleaning up tonight, okay? We’ve got everything under control. Hobi called the cops and Yoongi made sure the guy didn’t flee before they came. He’s in their custody now.”
“What about Jungkook?” you ask, uncharacteristically using his given name.
“He’s giving his statement to the police now. They’ll want to talk to you too, but I can put it off for tonight if you need,” Seokjin offers kindly, but you want to get it over with.
“It’s okay, I’ll speak to them now.”
“If you’re sure. I’ll grab one of the detectives now and they can take your statement, and then I’m sending you home. Jungkook will drive you, okay? You’re still a bit shaky.”
You look down at your hands, seeing the tremble Seokjin is referencing and nod. There’s no use in putting up a fight. All of the men you work with have now proven that you’re safe with them. Seokjin walks over to the door, popping his head out to call for an officer, and he paces quietly as you recount what happened, starting with the attacker growing belligerent in the dining area. Once finished, Seokjin grabs Jungkook from where he’s talking with Yoongi outside the door, ushering him to take your belongings and get you home.
You follow along, compliant, waving goodbye to the others as Jungkook pulls off into the main road back towards campus.
“You live by BTS-U, right?”
“Yeah, at Omelas, next to the train tracks.”
Neither of you speak again until he parks, turning off the engine to his jeep.
“Here, let me help you.” Jungkook grabs your backpack and climbs out of the SUV, coming around to the passenger side door to open it for you. You jump out and lead the way to your first -floor apartment. Unlocking the door, you flip on the lights as you toe off your non-slip work shoes.
“My roommate is out of town visiting her parents this weekend.”
Dumping your purse onto the kitchen counter, you walk further into your home, Jungkook trailing you slowly. He kicks off his shoes, socks shuffling quietly along the carpet as he enters your living room after closing and securing the front door lock. He places your backpack on the couch, and the two of you stand there awkwardly.
“Um, do you want some water or something? I have juice, milk, beer…” you trail off, uncertain.
“Water is fine, thanks.”
You grab a glass from the cupboard, filling it with ice water to return the favor from earlier as you bolster your courage to thank him. You hand him the glass and before you can think too hard, you just start speaking.
“Jungkook, I just wanted to thank you, for coming out there and, you know, saving me. I know we don’t get along much, but you really came through and I appreciate it.”
Jungkook’s eyes widen, blinking up at you from where he’s sitting on your couch. He takes a long sip from the glass, and he seems uncertain if he wants to speak but does so anyway.
“It was nothing, really.”
“Why, um, why did you help me, I mean—I’m just saying, oh this is coming out wrong—”
“Look, I’ve had a lot of practice dealing with creeps like him. I’ve had to do it plenty for my mom, and I just don’t like to see anyone getting hurt, not even my arch nemesis.” Jungkook tries to joke it off at the end, but his tone reveals so much more to you about what he’s not saying.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t know it was like that for you back in high school.” You sit down next to him, closer than you normally would with your backpack taking up part of the seat, but you don’t mind it. You feel safer being closer to him.
“I mean, why would you know?” he asks, leaning back into the couch and taking another sip. “You have a perfect family, I’m sure nothing like this happened on the weekly at your place.”
“No, but like, my perfect family isn’t what everyone thinks it is, either. My parents didn’t pay attention to me, always busy working and what not. Honestly career day, back in like fifth grade was the only time one of my parents made it to something, and even then, it was so my dad could advertise his business. I felt so sheltered growing up, like I had no life skills. It’s why I work at the diner.”
Jungkook digests your words, understanding blooming through his chest.
“I get that. It’s funny, I remember that day so well, I was so jealous of you, because your dad showed up for you. I guess our dads are the same though…I think if I had grown up with my parents still together, I would’ve felt like you do. My dad kind of left me behind when he remarried, you know? In a way, that made me less sheltered, because when I was with my mom, I had to grow up fast. I couldn’t always have the nicest things because she couldn’t always afford them.”
“I didn’t realize that you had to split time between them. One of my friends, Jimin? He told me about how your dad wouldn’t let you take things back and forth between houses.”
“Why did he do that?” Jungkook looks a little scandalized, and you’re sure it’s because Jimin is one of his best friends. He’s the one who recommended that he apply to Jin’s Diner in the first place, and how you knew to warn Jin to not hire Jungkook, not that it worked. “I didn’t know you were close with Jimin!”
“We used to work together…you actually replaced him. It’s why we were hiring in the first place. But, he told me that because he was trying to get me to ease up on you one day. I was complaining about something and he was trying to make you more human, I guess.”
Jungkook just nods. You know he probably realizes there’s no reason to be mad, it was all in the past and Jimin was coming from a good place when he revealed that.
“Well, it’s true. My dad is kind of the worst. My mom saved up to get me some Dunks back in middle school because my dad couldn’t be bothered to take me back to school shopping. As if I didn’t grow a foot and 3 shoe sizes.”
“Oh fuck, you know, I’m sorry for making Nayeon spill her drink on your shoes. That was really evil of me.”
“We were like 13? 14? All middle school girls are evil.” Jungkook chuckles. You’re relieved at how gracious he’s being, but a little annoyed. You turn to him to say as much, but he continues to speak. “Honestly, I don’t even know why we went toe to toe like that. We probably would’ve been best friends if we had combined our smarts. You were really great during the Youth of the Year competition. I’m sorry that you didn’t win, I think you deserved to.”
Jungkook is looking back at you now, with his pretty doe eyes, sitting so close to you. You don’t know what to say so you don’t say anything, instead focusing on his star-filled eyes and the way they’re staring into your own. His arm moves slowly, lifting to bring his hand to your face, curling a tendril of hair behind your ear.
“It’s getting pretty late now, I should get home,” he starts, but his eyes speak volumes and it doesn’t seem like he wants to leave just yet. “But there’s still one more thing I need to apologize for.”
Your eyebrows furrow, confused as to what incident it could be when his lips meet yours in a tender kiss, not too forceful but not shy either—just the right amount to let you know this isn’t a mistake. It takes you a few seconds to respond, but when you sense Jungkook about to move away you pull him in closer, keeping his lips where you can access them. It’s not enough though, so throwing caution to the wind, you straddle him as your tongue swipes for entry, pushing him further into the couch as you lean into his fit body. He groans at your boldness, large hands planted firmly on your ass as the kiss deepens. You feel dangerously high, lacking oxygen, but you can’t stop—you don’t want to stop. He’s intoxicating.
His fingers tighten imperceptibly, and you know he, too, is at the end of his air, so you break apart, chest heaving as you stare at his lips, red and plump from the kiss.
“That was your…apology for? Or you were…apologizing for…kissing me?” you pant, trying to catch your breath.
“Both?” he says with a cute, bunny-like smile, “one, for hating you all these years, and two, for kissing you out of the blue.”
“And if I want you to apologize to me more?” you half-question, half-goad, and Jungkook gives the right answer, leaning into you once more so he can kiss you hard, teeth nipping at your bottom lip before pulling away.
“That’s something I can do.” Jungkook uses his strength to flip you onto your back on the couch, knocking your backpack out of the way and onto the floor. “Is this okay?” He searches your eyes for your consent to his hands on your thighs, fingertips skimming the hem of your dress.
You nod, and he trails them higher until he’s grasping the band of your panties and sliding them down without haste. You enjoy the commanding presence he takes on, unlike the people you deal with on a daily at work, indecisive with what to order, he knows exactly what he wants, and when Jungkook pushes up your dress and buries his face between your thighs, it takes everything in you not to climax right then. His tongue flits around your clit, teasing you as his hands massage your thighs while keeping them wide for him.
“Jungkook,” his name is a breathy whisper in the air as your fingers curl around his locks, tightening your grip when he flicks closer to where you need him. “Please.”
You wiggle your hips, searching for more friction from his tongue but he just pulls away, tutting his tongue at you for being bad. You sit up slightly to glare at him.
“Patience, baby.”
Whining, you lay back on the couch with a huff. “This is why we hated each other bac—oh, fuck me,” you finish with a moan as he flattens his tongue across your pussy and stimulates every nerve he can cover. Wrapping his lips around your clit, he begins to suck, gently flicking his tongue every few seconds as he positions two fingers at your dripping center. Delving inside of you, the plunge of his fingers reaches the ache inside of you, causing your legs to tremble as he fine-tunes your body like an instrument.
“Feels so good, mmph, fuck,” is all you can manage to say as he continues to pump his fingers, the squelching of your walls suctioning them back in with every tug out only making you wetter. Jungkook hums, and the thrumming sensation curls your toes. Arching your back, you tug his hair hard as you mewl loudly from the impending orgasm.
“You can do it, baby, cum for me,” Jungkook praises, “you’re doing so well, squeezing my fingers so tight, watch me.”
When his mouth once again finds its rhythm on your core, it takes just a few seconds of making eye contact with Jungkook, doe-eyes wide as he watches you enjoy his tongue, before you shiver and melt into the euphoria he’s bringing to your body.
“That’s it, fuck—you look so pretty, baby.”Body spent, you stare up at the ceiling blinking as you come back to earth. Jungkook tucks himself behind you, holding you in his arms. You look down at the arm over your waist, your fingers lightly tracing the tattoos on his exposed full sleeve. You can feel his bulge, know that there’s so much more…apologizing you both need to do after years of being enemies, but you have all night for that. And in the morning, you don’t know what will happen, if there will be more to come after tonight, but what you do know is that at this moment you don’t hate Jungkook; not even a little bit, not even at all.
🍽️🍽️🍽️
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thank you for reading!!!
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