catch me if you love me
pairing: choi yeonjun x f!reader
genre: humor, action, secret marriage, domestic chaos
warnings: light cursing, gun mention (comedic), mob/criminal themes
summary: the chief of police is married to the city’s most wanted mob boss. they “accidentally” keep missing each other during missions—until someone actually gets shot. love, bullets, and bad timing.
txt masterlist | main masterlist | junwritten mafia writing event.
choi yeonjun was many things. chief of police. local heartthrob. law school dropout turned academy prodigy. suspiciously good at diffusing bombs and tying a tie one-handed.
he was also, inconveniently, your husband.
you, on the other hand, were not a law-abiding citizen. you were the city’s most wanted mob boss, the deluna name whispered like a curse through dark alleys and interrogation rooms. everyone wanted your head on a silver platter. and yeonjun?
well. yeonjun kissed that head goodnight every evening before pretending to file new warrants for your arrest.
the whole thing was insane, but it worked. kind of.
until tonight.
“you fucking shot me,” he said the moment you walked into the bathroom, his uniform jacket bloodied and half off, shoulder slick with red.
you blinked. “i grazed you.”
“you shot me,” he repeated, wincing as he yanked the fabric away. “i was hiding behind a car, minding my own business, and you—bam—shoulder full of lead.”
you stepped around him to grab the tweezers from the cabinet. “i was aiming for your leg.”
“oh, good,” he deadpanned. “then i guess i should be grateful.”
you crouched beside him, tilting your head as you inspected the wound. “you’ll live. besides, you shouldn’t have been at the warehouse tonight.”
“you were doing an illegal weapons deal,” he hissed. “i had to show up.”
“and you just happened to miss arresting me again?”
“i tripped.”
“on what?”
“my morals.”
you snorted, fishing the bullet fragment out with practiced ease while he hissed again. “baby,” you cooed, voice mock-sweet, “don’t be dramatic.”
“you grazed an artery!”
“i kissed it better.”
“you did not—”
you leaned in and kissed the side of his neck. “there. happy?”
he gave you the most betrayed look you’d seen since the last time you finished the ice cream without telling him.
“you owe me,” he said flatly
“i saved your ass last month.”
“you blew up a rival gang’s car and blamed it on me.”
“and? it worked.”
he rolled his eyes and winced again. “this is so toxic.”
you pressed a clean gauze pad to the wound, letting your hand linger. “so divorce me.”
he looked at you for a long second.
“can’t,” he muttered, voice quieter now. “you’d probably kill the judge.”
“only if they rule against me.”
a silence passed between you as you taped the gauze down and helped him out of the rest of his ruined jacket. his skin was warm under your fingertips, taut with tension, and you didn’t miss the way his breath hitched as your hands lingered.
“so,” you said eventually, grabbing a clean shirt from the hamper and tossing it at him. “how was your day at work?”
he stared at you like he couldn’t believe the words just came out of your mouth.
“how was my day?” he echoed.
you blinked innocently. “yeah.”
“you fucking shot me. that was my day at work.”
you tried not to laugh, really, you did. but the sound slipped out anyway—short, breathy, helpless.
“you're never gonna hear the end of this,” he muttered, pulling the shirt over his head one-handed while still glaring at you.
“probably not,” you said cheerfully. “but to be fair, i wasn’t trying to shoot you. i was aiming for that absolute dickhead from vice.”
“you mean the one you also set on fire last month?”
“no, that was narcotics.”
“i hate this marriage,” he sighed.
you patted his cheek. “you love me.”
“unfortunately.”
“you wanna kiss me so bad it makes you look stupid.”
“you shot me.”
“you’re not over it yet?”
he gave you a flat stare. “you literally told the entire SWAT team i had hemorrhoids just to avoid getting arrested.”
“was that last week?” you mused. “time flies.”
he swore under his breath, finally standing and flexing his arm with a grimace.
“baby,” you said, following him into the kitchen. “do you want tea? i’ll make you that peppermint one you like.”
“do you hear yourself?”
“i patched you up. kissed your neck. offered you tea. i think i’m being very romantic considering you showed up uninvited and ruined my arms deal.”
“oh my god.”
you poured water into the kettle and turned to face him, arms crossed, expression softening just a little.
“i didn’t mean to hit you,” you said, quieter this time. “i promise. you just popped out of nowhere like some kind of undercover jack-in-the-box.”
his lips twitched.
“you gonna cry about it?” you added.
“you’re the worst woman alive.”
“yet here you are. bleeding in my kitchen. again.”
he leaned back against the counter, eyes scanning your face.
“one of these days,” he said slowly, “someone’s gonna catch on.”
you shrugged. “then we run.”
“you gonna retire from crime?”
“you gonna retire from the force?”
“…touché.”
the kettle whistled. you poured the water and handed him the mug, fingers brushing his as he took it.
despite the bullet wound and the mutual felony count, the moment was quiet. almost soft.
“next time,” he said after a beat, “try aiming two inches lower.”
“baby,” you said, pressing a kiss to his jaw. “next time, wear a vest.”
