#fanficnet

HEIR • Jeon Jungkook

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Summary: This story follows Elizabeth Baker, a business student with a complicated past, and Jungkook, the troubled heir of a global fried-chicken empire.

They marry too fast, hide too much, and try to survive a world built on power, money, and family politics.

No one here is perfect-every character is flawed, ambitious, and a little dangerous.

Episode Warnings: Workplace harassment • Sexual themes • Light NSFW (no smut) • Shower intimacy • Catcalling • Public harassment • Power imbalance • Toxic boss behavior • Non-consensual touching implied • Strong language • Minor injury • Alcohol/bartending • Financial stress • Fetishizing comments • Office stress• English is not my first language

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Episode One: Monster

~Just another lonely night, are you willing to sacrifice your life?~

The best way to create the color gray is by adding a little black into white. People are the same. Everyone is born good, but no one dies that way. As we move along this path we call life, sometimes we have to dirty our hands just to reach the place we’re trying to get to.

After all, doesn’t everyone deserve the very best?

“You’re heavy as hell, Jimin. Get off me.”

His weight pressed against me and I let out an irritated breath as I tried to push him off.

“Five more minutes,” he muttered, tightening his arms around me, brushing a lazy kiss onto the skin just below my collarbone.

My eyes drifted down to his peacefully sleeping silhouette, and I ran my fingers through his messy hair. He grumbled.

“I’m going to be late for work.”

He lifted his head off my chest, reaching toward his phone on the nightstand—only barely able to see it through the light filtering in from the window.

“Mmh, you’ve got time. Plenty,” he said, a half-smirk forming as his gaze dropped to my chest.

He pressed a kiss to each breast before resting his chin right between them and locking eyes with me.

“I don’t think it would hurt to go over last night one more time, don’t you think?

You still look like you’ve got a few questions left in that head of yours.”

I laughed, playing with his hair. “Shit— we didn’t do the assignment.”

He burst out laughing too.

“I’ll handle it while you’re at work. You were gonna make me do all of it anyway, right?

Might as well get… compensated for it.”

I rolled my eyes.

The second he realized how wrong it sounded, he pressed a quick kiss to the corner of my lips.

“I mean— only if you want to. Consent, and all that.”

I ruffled his hair.

“Good boy, Jimin. Keep it that way. Now, if you don’t mind, I need a shower. I feel gross.”

With a sigh through his nose, he finally rolled off me.

As he shifted, he tugged the blanket with him—exposing my bare body to the cold air.

Goosebumps rose over my skin instantly.

I sat up, grabbed my phone, checked the time. I still had some.

I stood, ignoring the eyes trailing down my back as I walked toward the door.

I grabbed the handle. Opened it.

Before stepping out, I turned back—feeling the heat of Jimin’s stare all over my body.

“Don’t you need a shower too, Jimin?”

I didn’t wait for his answer as I headed into the bathroom I’d been in countless times before.

Not even seconds after I turned on the water, I felt his arms slide around my waist.

I closed my eyes as he rested his head on my shoulder.

The hot water loosened both our tired muscles, and soon we were swaying slowly under the stream.

Like dancing. Without music.

“You know… I meant what I said last night.”

I stopped.

He did too—but his hands didn’t leave my waist.

I turned toward him. His palms stayed where they were.

Even though the water made it hard for either of us to keep our eyes fully open, I could see the insincerity in his.

“No, you didn’t.”

He tilted his head back and laughed.

“I could, though. There isn’t a single thing you couldn’t make a man do, Lilibeth.”

“That’s exactly why I prefer using them instead of being with them.”

He grimaced.

“I know you’re using me. But I still can’t resist you.”

His hands slid to my hips, squeezing lightly, pushing me toward the wall.

Just before my back touched the cold tiles, he bent his knees, gripped the backs of my thighs, and lifted me.

The heat of the water made the wall feel even colder when my back met it.

I wrapped my arms around his neck, my body fitting against his entirely.

He gave me a look—asking for permission.

I tugged on the hair at the nape of his neck.

“I could settle down for you.”

His words were meant to sound sincere, but the fact that he’d reminded me he was a playboy mere seconds before we got together… It made me laugh.

***

“I get off around six. The girls and I were talking about grabbing a drink or something. I haven’t seen them in ages. If you’ve got nothing to do, you can come.”

I glanced at Jimin, who was busy changing his sheets while I pulled on the clean underwear I’d brought.

“Thanks, but no. Every time I say hi to Ginny she looks at me like she wants to shove my dick in her mouth. Besides, I’ve got work. You’re not the only one who needs money, you know.”

I laughed and— “Can you help me put on my necklace?”

“If you’re really trying to settle down, you should give Ginny a chance. She’s a good person.”

After fastening the necklace, he ran his fingers through my hair.

“There’s a hairdryer under the sink. Don’t forget to dry your hair before you leave.”

He went back to stripping the sheets while I dug out my bra and kept getting dressed.

“This is too much even for us. Doesn’t Ginny know we’re fucking? I don’t know… It’s weird, you know?”

I put on my earrings.

“Not my problem, dude. It’s just sex and homework.”

After one last look in the mirror, I turned to him.

“Yeah, sure, but still…”

He exhaled deeply, hands on his hips. “Maybe it’d be good, actually?”

I gave him a look. He continued.

“Ginny. Maybe she’s good at… I don’t know, giving head. Maybe I should give her a chance.”

“I’m not discussing who’s good at what with you, Jimin. I’m going to work.”

He yelled after me as I stepped out of the room:

“Don’t forget to dry your hair! You’re unbearable when you get headaches!”

His snarky-but-concerned tone made me smile. I headed back to the bathroom, grabbed the hairdryer and turned it on. A moment later, the door opened.

“Also— wait—”

I frowned. I couldn’t hear him over the noise. He was holding the doorframe with one hand, the doorknob with the other.

“I said— god, can you turn that thing off for a second?!”

I switched the dryer off and looked at him.

“What is it?”

“I know you’re going out tonight, but… keep your phone on, okay? I’m working an event hosted by Korean businessmen, and they might need a bartender. I told them about you.”

“Without asking me?”

He avoided my eyes.

“Look, the pay’s good if that makes up for it. Yoongi got me the gig. He asked if I knew anyone and I mentioned you. You’re the only bartender I know, sorry.”

“I quit bartending two years ago. I don’t remember the last time I made a cocktail.”

“There’s nothing you can’t do.”

He kissed my cheek quickly—knowing I was about to get annoyed—and ran back to his room.

***

“Johnson, could you come to my office, please?”

When Mr. Lester called Steve in, I kept typing on my keyboard but followed him with my eyes as he got up from his desk and walked into Lester’s office. The door closed behind him, and I pushed my rolling chair back with enough force that I bumped into Michael’s seat behind me.

“Ouch! Watch it. I could’ve spilled my coffee.”

“But you didn’t. What’s going on? Why has Chester been calling everyone in since this morning? Heard anything?”

He only shook his head.

“Nope. And he hasn’t called me yet, anyway. Also, could you stop calling him Chester? He’s our boss.”

“Did you notice he hasn’t called a single woman? It’s all men. And come on, Chester Lester sounds great. I like it.”

“I never noticed. Hm. I guess he has no business with women.”

I scanned the room. Everyone was busy with their own work.

“Gaychester.”

He rolled his eyes, turned away from his monitor and looked directly at me.

“You are genuinely the most inconsiderate, emotionally detached woman I’ve ever met, Elizabeth. I’m actually curious—have you ever taken anyone seriously in your entire life? Maybe he just wants to talk to the men first and then the women.”

I paused, thought about it, and shrugged.

“Sorry, you’re right. I’m so sorry that I don’t respect my boss—the man who never raises my salary despite me doing the most work here, and who tries to grope me any chance he gets even though he’s married. My apologies for talking shit about him behind his back. It won’t happen again, dude.”

He exhaled sharply.

“You could report him, you know. We’d all back you up. But unless you file a complaint, none of us can do anything.”

Walking back to my desk, I answered him:

“No, you wouldn’t. No one in New York risks their three pennies’ paycheck to defend someone else. Smoke less weed, please. This is New York.”

I returned to my computer and didn’t lift my eyes from the screen for hours.

Around noon, the elevator doors opened and Seokjin walked in with a plastic bag in his hand.

“Hey everyone! What’s up? Hey, Tessa. You look even prettier than last time. Divorce looks good on you.”

He came to my desk, placed the bag on it, then turned and winked at Tessa.

“How do you even know Tessa’s divorced? You don’t even work here. Did your mom send you?”

He nodded, crossed his arms and leaned on the desk.

“They’re not just cockroaches you stomp over, Lilibeth—they’re your coworkers. You know that, right? Rabokki sent food and told you to eat it before it gets cold. She worries about your nutrition more than mine, honestly.”

“What can I say, dude? I’m more Korean than all of you.”

He laughed. “I’m serious. Anyway, I’ve got orders to deliver until the evening. See you, gorgeous.”

He licked his lips, winked, greeted a few others in the office, and then left the way he came.

“Thanks for the food—and go already, I’ve dealt with enough Korean men today. At this rate I actually will turn Korean.”

He smiled, leaned down, kissed the top of my head, waved at everyone and got into the elevator.

Steve, from the next desk, chimed in:

“Wasn’t your boyfriend’s name Jimin?”

“No, it wasn’t. And Jimin is not my boyfriend. I know Seokjin because we grew up together; we live in the same apartment complex. His mom’s my landlord but she loves me like her own daughter.”

“Hmm. Speaking of daughters—does she have one? Or like, do you know any Korean girls? You know… Asian.”

I put my food down and turned to him, staring at his face for a long moment. He didn’t seem to understand anything.

Men and their disgusting fantasies about women’s bodies had numbed my skin like scabs forming over old wounds, and yet every time, another one managed to stun me again.

“No, Steve, she doesn’t. Just because I live in a neighborhood doesn’t make me the Asian ambassador. Keep your gross fantasies to yourself, I’m eating.”

When lunch ended, I went back to work until Mr. Lester called me into his office, interrupting everything. The door was open, but I knocked anyway. He lifted his head from the papers and looked at me.

“Ah, come in, Baker. Close the door, please.”

I obeyed, walked over and stood in front of his desk. My stomach churned. I forced my face into a perfectly blank, emotionless expression.

“Please, sit.” I sat.

“Elizabeth, sweetheart, as you know, the company has been going through difficult times lately.”

Oh, fuck. He’s going to fire me.

My expression didn’t move an inch. I kept staring at him.

“As a country, as a world, and as a company—as I’ve just mentioned—we’re in a very tight economic spot.”

Since I didn’t respond, he kept talking.

“What I’m trying to say is… I’m sorry, but as a company we plan to announce our bankruptcy by Friday at the latest.”

I swallowed. Graduation was still months away.

“But I did so well last quarter, sir. My sales alone brought in a total of 6.9% profit. I am the best employee in this office.”

Now he stayed silent. I continued:

“You know how hard my life is. I live alone, I study and work at the same time. There were even times you had me working multiple positions at once. I want to grow in this field and I’m willing to do any—”

He lit a Chesterfield, blew smoke directly into my face, and cut me off. He stood up, switched seats to the chair across from me, flicked ashes into the tray, then placed his other hand on top of mine resting on my skirt—slowly stroking.

I held my breath. I had to stay calm. If I caused a scene, I might lose my severance too.

“What can a student like you even do, Lilibeth? Hm? What can you possibly do to keep this company standing? I’m sorry things work this way. But the decision isn’t mine. Submit your documents by Friday and collect your termination papers. Your severance will be deposited by the end of the month. You may go.”

I stood up without saying a word, left his office, went back to my desk, and continued working as if nothing had happened.

To: Park Jimin

Jimin, I think I’ll come bartend tonight. Can you send me the address?

It didn’t take long for a notification to appear on my phone.

From: Park Jimin

You’re coming?

To: Park Jimin

If you guys really need one, then yes, I’ll come. Could you send the address, please?

From: Park Jimin

I need to ask Min. I’ll be right back.

To: Park Jimin

Ok.

A couple of minutes later, two notifications lit up back-to-back.

From: Park Jimin

👌🏼

From: Park Jimin

Chrysler Building, Celestiel Observation Deck. Don’t forget to give Yoongi’s name at the entrance. It’s not open to the public.

Not open to the public…

Without replying to Jimin, I left our chat and opened Ginny’s.

To: Ginny🦢

Hey babe! My plans for tonight got canceled, I can’t make it. Have fun for me too. Tell the girls I’m really sorry.

I didn’t wait for her response. I just kept working and waited for my shift to end. I wanted to finish everything as fast as possible and get out of here before Friday came.

***

After work, since the building was close to any subway station, I pulled out my wallet and checked how much cash I had.

“Fuck this job,” I muttered to myself, staring at the pathetic amount inside. A man walking by flashed a wide smile.

“Hey, a pretty little thing like you shouldn’t be talking like that, sweetheart. I can take that anger off you.”

I froze from disgust, but tried not to show I was even slightly intimidated. I frowned and cleared my throat.

“Fuck off, you creep. Go to hell.”

He burst out laughing and kept walking. No one—literally no one—asked if I was okay. I kept going like nothing had happened.

My phone vibrating in my hand stole my attention.

Notification: CitiBank

Your credit card statement for 18.01.2024–18.02.2024 has been added to your balance. We wish you a pleasant day.

I exhaled deeply, shoved my phone back in my pocket, and tapped my card at the turnstile, praying there was enough balance.

It went through. The only thing going right today.

I hurried down the stairs, trying not to get swallowed by the never-ending New York crowd and to catch the train that was about to leave. On the last step, my ankle twisted and I hit the ground. No one helped—people simply rushed around me. So I ignored the pain, pushed myself up, and sprinted into the train just before the doors shut.

When I finally stood in front of the Chrysler Building, I realized it was my first time seeing it this close. People like me didn’t just stroll into places like this. Instinctively, I straightened my wrinkled clothes and ignored the heel that was on the verge of breaking. I forced a confident smile and walked in, heading straight for the elevators.

I stepped inside with a group of people and waited for everyone to say their floor to the elevator attendant. My turn came.

“Celestiel.”

Everyone paused and looked at me at once. Their confusion was obvious.

A young woman in worn-out clothes, someone who clearly didn’t belong, wanting to go to a floor like Celestiel—it was shocking to them.

I was the public, and Celestiel was not for the public.

The attendant gave me the same judgmental look the others did, but still pressed the button.

One by one, the people got off on their floors, and I was left more and more alone.

Finally, we reached my floor. I offered the attendant a small smile and stepped out when the doors opened.

Where the hell was this place?

Who lived like this? And more importantly—how could I ever have a life like this?

“Excuse me? Ma’am? Excuse me?”

A hand tapped my shoulder and I turned around. A woman holding a Samsung tablet was looking at me.

“Oh—sorry. I’m here for bartending. For tonight’s event.”

“Your name?”

“Baker. Elizabeth Baker.”

She tapped through a few pages. I added quickly,

“They told me to give Yoongi’s name at the entrance. Min Yoongi.”

She stopped searching, nodded once, and gestured toward the hallway.

“Go left, walk to the room at the end, and ask them for an apron, please. Then come find me again so we can register you for payment.”

I nodded and went where she directed. They made me wait for an apron, then made me change out of basically everything I had on.

Everyone needed to look uniform and invisible.

Nothing eye-catching.

They told me to remove my makeup. I did.

Remove my nail polish. I did.

Put my hair in a bun. I did.

Remove all jewelry. I removed my earrings.

“The necklace too.”

My hand went to my neck instinctively. I didn’t even feel it anymore, it was just part of me.

“I’ll button the shirt all the way up; it won’t show. Can I please keep the necklace?”

She thought for a moment, then nodded.

Once I was dressed and registered, I hurried to the bar and got a quick crash-course tour.

“You really came.”

I looked up from wiping the counter.

“Yeah, I came. How did you and Jimin even get this job?”

He gestured to himself dramatically.

“Is there a single person in this city I don’t know? No. That’s the power of Min Yoongi. Anyway, I’m heading to the kitchen. Jimin and I will check on you from time to time.”

***

The night was passing much faster and much more uneventfully than I’d expected. After the food was served and the speeches were over, everyone moved to the party area—where I’d be working—and the whole night went by with one rich person after another asking me to make them a drink and serve it.

“God, I think my back is going to snap.”

He placed the tray on the counter, straightened her back, and looked at me.

“Hey, what’s that?”

I turned around and followed his gaze.

“That? Tip jar. Bartenders work on tips, you know.”

“Damn it, Yoongi. I could’ve been a bartender too.”

Before I could respond, a hand reached in from the side and shoved the tray back into her hands. Yoongi answered first.

“No, you couldn’t. Now take your tray, walk around, and see if anyone needs anything.”

Not long after Yoongi and Jimin left, two men in tuxedos walked over and did what no one else had done all night—they pulled out the bar stools and sat down. No one had sat there before; I guess they wanted a break and some conversation. When they both loosened their bow ties at the exact same time, I couldn’t help but smile.

“What can I get you, gentlemen?”

The slimmer one brought a hand to his chin and stroked the imaginary stubble there.

“What do you recommend? I’m not much of a drinker, and honestly, I’m really bored back there. I think I want something… fun.”

I nodded.

“One Iced Summer Breeze for the bored gentleman. And you, sir?”

I shifted my body toward the other man. We locked eyes. His brows were slightly furrowed, but as he realized I was studying his face a little longer, he eased the tension in his forehead.

“Whiskey, please. On the rocks.” I turned to prepare their drinks, half-listening to their conversation as I worked.

“I don’t know, Hoseok. I’m not sure I can handle all this. You know how the markets are— the constant changes in the Central Bank make it nearly impossible to keep things moving. And with war and migration crises everywhere… it’s a lot. And the old woman wants things to grow while also refusing to let go of traditions. Remember how impossible it was to convince her expand internationally? I spent six months country-hopping to find a solid market.”

The man whose name I now knew was Hoseok laughed.

“You, of all people, know how grumpy Big Kim can be. You’re her son, after all.”

The other nodded. I placed their drinks in front of them. They thanked me. Without saying anything, I picked up a cloth and began drying the washed glasses.

After taking a sip of his whiskey, the broader one turned to his friend.

“Forget me— how’s married life? I still can’t believe you finally tied the knot.”

“I don’t know. It’s good, I guess… but also not? Sometimes I just don’t understand what she wants. Last night she was in a mood, so I asked if she was acting that way because she was on her period. That made her even angrier. I ended up sleeping in the guest suite of my own house.”

I debated jumping in or staying quiet, but Hoseok spoke first.

“You can’t blame every woman’s irritation on PMS, man. You’re in the wrong here. When you say things like that, it makes it feel like they have no right to be upset unless it’s hormonal. They feel belittled. Just apologize and get her some flowers. Ashley’s a good person. She loves you— she deserves the attention.”

I found myself staring at him. He stared right back.

“Sorry… was something wrong?” he asked when I didn’t stop looking.

I shook my head quickly. Too quickly.

“I just—”

Whatever I was going to say vanished. My vision went dark for a moment and I reached out blindly for something to grab. First one of them, then the other leaned over the counter to steady me.

“Are you alright?” the slender one asked. I nodded.

“My blood sugar must’ve dropped. I’m okay. Thank you for catching me.”

“Hoseok, can you find her something to eat? I’ll stay here in case she needs help.”

Hoseok stood and walked off.

“You didn’t have to. I could’ve found something myself. I just didn’t have time tonight— sorry for worrying you.”

Another customer approached the bar, so I didn’t wait for an answer. I turned to take his order. While I was mixing his drink, Hoseok returned with a plate of appetizers.

I dropped the tip someone had left into the jar and then looked down at the plate in front of me.

“That wasn’t necessary. Really. And employees aren’t allowed to eat on duty, sir.”

“What should we do then? Cancel the entire event because they’re overworking the bartender? You need to eat. So eat.”

He heard himself switch from formal to friendly and immediately corrected it.

“My apologies—”

“Elizabeth.” I smiled softly.

“My apologies, Miss Elizabeth. I just got worried about your health and spoke a bit too casually.”

I reached for a canapé, and Hoseok jumped in before the other could keep rambling.

“Dude, stop talking and let the girl eat.” I laughed. They laughed too.

“Thank you, Mr. Hoseok—”

He waved it off as if it was nothing. I turned to the other man.

“Thank you, Mr.—”

“Jungkook.”

End of Season 1, Episode 1

Fave ships are Jelsa, Eugenzel, Merricup (and I like Anna with Kristoff for what it matters), but I’m open to other ships as well! Just PLEASE send me some good fic recs (and maybe lmk if they’re finished cause that’d be preferable lol).

I’ve found a few good Jelsa and Merricup fics in my days but only like… 2? Rotbtfd fics and one of them is fairly new, so… yeah.

(Though if anyone has good fics that just focus on one of these ships, lmk as well! Would love that actually. Again, I’ll read anything that’s good :) )

Thanks y’all!

Finally!! I finished writing it! And what a rollercoaster of a chapter; I hope it makes your heart race like mine did while writing it!!

[Post season 2 angst-full with mysteries and adventures and having to stop metaturd, if you'd like to give it a try. Teen and up]

I've written this down on the notes as well, but basically, and I'm so so sorry, I'm going to have to go MIA writing and publishing-wise until at least June. (Nobody died, I just have to concentrate on my finals).

So, to be forgiven (and not having to dance for it), here's a 10k word chapter!!!! Yup, you did read that correctly! Plot heavy, prose heavy (hence why it took so long, dialogue is more my forte) and very, very crazy. Good Omens style. (If I did it right, that is)

<3

Warning: Obscenely badass Aziraphale below cut :)

And actual TW for the chapter: Weapons (swords, spears)

that said, i once was thrown in the hospital for over 2 months. when i came out, was so excited to see the comments on my fic, hoping they'd help warm my (at the time) very fragile heart. and they were all like "UPDATE", "UPDATE ALREADYYYYYY", "UGH NOT ANOTHER CANCELLED FIC THIS KEEPS HAPPENING TO MEEEEEE" "Please just UPDATTTTEEE" other than those types of comments, the only kind i got was hatred for the premise of the story (aka, my fic got its own harassment campaign...in hindsight, i'm quite proud of that).

i was already so low on myself, and that really made it so, so much worse. i never wound up finishing that fic (now clocks in at about 50k reads total) and i actually made the choice to leave the fandom for a while, which caused me to miss a lot of said fandom's prime.

now that i'm older, remembering the whole thing just really irritates me. not even because i went through it but because it took me way too long to figure out how obnoxiously bratty and nasty this behavior was and because i know other people go through the same hurt and self-loathing i did because of shit like this.

i almost fucking died. none of these people knew that. they knew nothing about me, yet felt perfectly within their rights to make demands. not one person hit up my inbox or comment section to ask if i was alright. even that would have been fine if i'd gotten a single, straight-up compliment that wasn't DEMANDING work from me when i was crying like a faucet 24/7, trying not to kill myself, and fainting anytime i was the least bit stressed.

but believe it or not, there wasn't ONE simply nice comment given to my fic, while i was getting bounced around hospitals and treated like shit by healthcare providers. not even something as simple and nice as "can't wait for the next chap!" this was a while ago, but still. these days, it boggles my fucking mind.

because i wasn't paid to give anyone a story. i don't think i should've been, but still, it took time and effort i got nothing in return for. i didn't gain anything from this; if anything, it just wound up hurting me even more than i already was, thanks to how people were about it. how do you feel when you're screamed at, judged, or patronized for "not getting enough done" after you've been through hell, with no one showing you any understanding?

It sucks being excited to see a reader left a new comment only for it to be your spam that we don’t give a shit about. 

- Sincerely,