The Devil Wears Calvin Klein | JK One
Pairing: Miranda!Jungkook x Andy!reader
Description: You don't know anything about fashion. You've never read runway, you can't name a single designer, and you showed up to the most prestigious magazine in New York City in a thrifted blazer and a watch you got off fucking Depop. Jeon Jeongguk looked at you like you were a piece of lint on his suit and dismissed you in under five minutes.
And then he hired you anyway. This is either the luckiest or the most catastrophic thing that has ever happened to you. You're starting to think it might be both.
Genre: slow burn, enemies to lovers, smut, angst, PLOT HEAVY, evil jungkook, why is he so hot tho, reheated nachos, i uploaded this like a year or two ago before deleting my blog
PLEASE READ ME (IMPORTANT): hey loves !! so this fic has an interactive reading experience, if you click THIS link, you'll be redirected to my neocities site where the full story lives and will continue to be updated with every new chapter.
i have worked so hard on this and i'm genuinely really proud of it, the site has little easter eggs, interactive elements, and just makes the whole reading experience so much more fun and immersive than a regular post. i really really recommend checking it out. there's a portion of the fic included here on tumblr, but the full story, all future updates, and all the fun stuff lives over there. i hope you love it as much as i loved making it (ps will be updating it/making tweaks so if it changes a bit im sorry)!!!
WC: current wc is 15k
Before starting here, please re-read the note titled please read me. The full interactive work is on my website via this link.
You knew nothing as you entered the infamous Jeon Publicationâs building for your first interview. You had no idea that the cityâs most well-known and connected socialists and media executives obsessed over every single detail the magazine had to offer. For the first time in your life, you were met with identical copies of the girls you saw on Instagram, and Pinterest. You had never seen a real pair of designer shoes in your life, shoes that you could bet cost more than your monthly rent.Â
You had never laid your eyes on such beautiful men. Perfectly tonedâ but not overly muscular, the type that resembled the male models you saw on magazine covers when you stood in a checkout line.Â
You check your phone, it was exactly eleven A.M. You stand in line to board the elevators, taking in a deep breath. The variety of women you encounter remind you of runway models: skinny and poised. Their lips never stopped moving, and their gossip was punctuated by the sound of their stilettos clacking on the floor. You were sporting an unflattering âguestâ sticker on your thrifted black blazer as you boarded the elevator.
You allow yourself to relax for a moment during the swift, quiet ride. Deep, sultry, and most important of allâ expensive perfume mixed with leather fills the metal box encompassing you all. The doors opened silently, reverently to a variety of stark white reception areas. All filled with chic furniture and slim bodies.
âI canât believe heâs actually dating Suzy. She. Is. Such. A Bitch. I mean, reallyâ how can he put up with her?â Chattered a twenty-something girl in a leather blazer and thigh high heels sprinkled with Louis-Vuitton symbols, looking more suited for a late night in Soho than a day at the office. Â
âI know. Total bitch. Sheâs not even that pretty,â agreed her friend, with an empathetic shake of her head.
By the will of whomever, you arrived at the sixteenth floor and the elevator slid open. You were on time. Interesting. If youâre comparing your potential work environment to an average day at a high school, that is. When you slither out the elevator, youâre presented with a sign that reads âJeon Human Resources Officeâ in glowing white letters.Â
The human resources receptionist eyes you carefully as you saunter closer to her desk. She introduces herself as Jennie and without another word she points toward a space encompassed by chairs and scattered magazines. You sit down, eyeing the pieces that are closest to you.Â
You look down at your cheap, mismatched suit and very wrong shoes and wonder why you even bothered. âSo dear, youâre looking to break into magazines, are you?â The woman from the desk asked, eyeing the magazines beside you.Â
You nod, rubbing your sweaty palms against the rough texture of your worn out pants.
âDear, can you tell me the name of the editor in chief of Runway?â She begins, looking pointedly at you for the first time since you sat down.
Nothing. Completely and totally blank, you couldnât remember a thing. Youâd never read an issue of Runway in your life. Who cared about fucking Runway besides supermodels and people who can flush one-hundred dollar bills in the toilet? It was a fashion magazine for fucksake, you werenât even sure if it even had any writing in it at all.Â
You stammered for a brief moment, different names of editors you just forced yourself to remember moments ago all swirling in your head, dancing in mismatched pairs. Somewhere deep in the recesses of your mind, you were sure you knew his nameâ after all, who didnât? There was only one man as prominent in this industry as him.
âUh, I canât quite remember the name. But I know I know it, of course I know it.â Your hands flapped around in an attempt to make your words more believable. âI mean, everyone knows his name, I just, I canât recall-â
The receptionist stared at you for a moment, her dark eyes fixated on your reddening face. âJeon Jeongguk,â she near-whispered, with a mixture of reverence and fear. âHis name is Jeon Jeongguk.âÂ
Silence ensured. For what felt like hours, neither of you spoke, but then, Jennie must have made a decision to overlook your crucial fuckup. You didnât know then that she was desperate, aching, to hire another assistant for Jeongguk. Desperate to stop him from calling her day and night, grilling her about potential candidates, schedules and quite literally everything else.Â
Jennie was tired, overworked, and desperate to find someone, anyone, who Jeongguk wouldnât reject. And if that meant in the tiniest near-impossible possibility that you would get hired, itâs a chance she would take.Â
Jennie smiled tersely and told you that you were going to meet with Jeonggukâs two assistants. Two? Who needs two assistants?
 âYup,â she confirmed as if she read your thoughts with an exasperated look. âOf course Jeongguk needs two assistants. His current, senior assistant, Namjoon has been promoted to be Runwayâs beauty editor, and Irene, the junior assistant, now has Namjoonâs old position. Which means, the junior position is open for someone!â Her pointer finger lightly poked your chest, âSomeone like you.â
âListen, __, I know youâre fresh out of college and probably not completely familiar with the inner workings of the magazine world.â She paused dramatically, searching for the right words to not offend you with. âBut, I feel itâs my duty, my obligation to tell you what an incredibly magnificent opportunity this is. Jeon JeonggukâŚâÂ
She paused again, just as dramatically, as if she were mentally bowing to the man. âJeon Jeongguk is single handedly the most influential person in the fashion industry, and, obviously, one of the most prominent magazine editors in the world.â She ecstatically flailed her arms around the office. âAs you can clearly see.â
âThe chance to work for him, to watch him edit and meet the famous writers and models, to help him achieve all he does each and every day, well, itâs a job million girls would die for.âÂ
Jennie was now grinning ear to ear, her hands found their way into a death grip around your shoulders. âNot to mention, heâs gorgeous.â She finished her monologue with a wink, releasing you.Â
âWell- I mean, yes, it sounds wonderful.â You expressed, briefly wondering why Jennie was trying so diligently to talk you into something that a million other girls were apparently dying for. However, there wasnât time to think about it. She picked up her phone and sang a few words, and within minutes she was escorting you to the elevators to begin your interviews with Jeonggukâs two assistants.Â
You were beginning to think Jennie was starting to sound a bit like a robot, but then came your meeting with Irene. You were now on the seventeenth floor, waiting in Runwayâs unnervingly white reception area.Â
It took exactly forty five minutes, you were counting, before a tall, thin girl emerged from being one of the glass doors. A calf-length tight black skirt hung from her hips, and her long black hair was curled and completed with a pearled pin that read âDiorâ attached near her temple. Her skin was flawless, even from where you were sitting you could tell there wasnât as much as a single blemish on it. She didnât smile.Â
She sat beside you, looking you over, earnestly but with little actual interest. Then, unprompted, whom you presumed to be Irene launched into a description of the job. Her voice monotone as if sheâs gone through this a dozen times already. As if she had little faith that you were any different from the rest, and as a result wasnât planning on wasting much time on you.Â
âItâll be hard, no doubt about it. There will be fourteen-hour days, you knowâ not often, but often enough,â she rattled on, not looking at you. âPlus, itâll be important for you to understand there will be no editorial work. As Jeonggukâs junior assistant, your only responsibility is to accommodate his needs. From ordering his favorite coffee to going on shopping trips with him. Which are, always fun. I mean, youâll get to spent time with this marvelous and gorgeous man. And gorgeous he is,â she breathed, looking as if she was in a daze, staring at the ceiling in awe.Â
âSounds great,â You said and meant it. Half of your friends immediately began working after graduation and had already clocked in half a years worth into their entry-level jobs. It didnât matter what they were doing, banks, advertising firms, it all sounded like shit to you. And on the slim chance they had free time to meet up all they would do is whine about their long days, their coworkers, and above all, their utter boredom.Â
While you werenât particularly ecstatic about fashion, youâd rather do something you loosely deemed âfunâ than get sucked into the life all your friends were dealing with.
âYeah, it is great. Like really great. Anyway, nice to meet you. Iâll get Namjoon for you to meet, heâs amazing.â As quickly as she finished and departed behind the glass, another figure appeared.
The striking man introduced himself as Namjoon, Jeonggukâs senior assistant whoâd just been promoted. But you couldnât focus at all, why did everyone who worked here look like supermodels? Namjoon was wearing a tailored black suit, from the shirt underneath to the blazer that hugged his muscles as if it was destined for him. His dyed-grey hair was parted to the side, combed but not completely slicked down with gel. Black rimmed glasses that had âPradaâ engraved onto the side of them rested on his soft nose bridge. To say you were in awe of the man was an understatement.Â
âIâm Namjoon, as youâve probably already been told,â he started, pushing his glasses upwards with his middle finger. âNice to meet you, I was just promoted to an editor position, which is one of the bonuses of working for Jeongguk.â Namjoonâs lip quirked up, eyes bright with adoration.Â
âDonât get me wrong, the hours are long, and the work is tough, but Jeongguk is amazing. Youâll get to skip years and years of working your way up the ladder with just one year for him; if youâre talented, heâll send you straight to the top.â Namjoon rambled on. You were beginning to get the impression that everyone here had a hard on for Jeongguk.
âWe probably wonât see each other often, but, feel free to stop by my office if you need any assistance.â His eyes loosely scanned over your attire, not in a demonizing way but with pity?
When Namjoon wrapped things up he went to notify yet another interviewer. So what if you didnât know who Jeon Jeongguk was? Everyone else certainly seemed impressed enough. You figured having the prestige of Runway on your resume was sure to give you more than enough credibility when you eventually applied to work for other companies. Besides, werenât millions of girls dying to get this job?
After another half an hour of ruminations, a slender woman came into the reception area. She said her name, but it didnât register in your brain. You were busy trying to process the abundance of information that's been lodged in your brain within these few hours.Â
After another look-over, the girl led you to Kim Taehyungâs office, Runwayâs executive editor and an office favorite, apparently. Your first thought upon meeting Taehyung wasâ why was he working in an editorial magazine when he could very clearly be on the actual Runway. He was tanned, brown hair covering his eyebrows, yet, his face didnât lose itâs expressiveness. Taehyung sported a deep crimson suit with a white button up underneath, and a black vest on top of it.
Taehyung talked to you for hours. When you werenât busy drooling over how gorgeous he was, you listened to what he was saying. Taehyung seemed like he genuinely loved his job, excitedly speaking about the âwordâ aspect of the magazine.Â
âI know it's surprising but, I have nothing to do with the fashion side of this place,â he declared proudly, winking at you, âcrazy I know. So, save those questions for someone else.â
When you told him this job sounded appealing, and that you had no particular interest or any background in fashion, Taehyungâs smile only grew wider. âIn that case, __. You might just be what we need around here. I think itâs time for you to meet Jeongguk, and if I may offer a piece of advice? Look him straight in the fucking eye and sell yourself. Sell yourself hard and heâll respect you.â
Taehyung bent forward, âJeongguk is hard to please, but he respects honesty. Just make sure you donât pass out, he has that affect on people.â
As if on cue, the nameless girl from before swept in and escorted you to Jeonggukâs office. It was exactly a forty-second-walk from Taehyungâs, but you could sense all the eyes on you. They peered at you from behind the frosted glass of the editorsâ office and from the open space of the assistantsâ cubicles. You didnât want to imagine what they were thinking of you. How you had the balls to saunter into the worlds most prestige fashion magazineâs building in your thrifted, non-designer clothes: expecting to be hired.
And then you were standing in his office, a wide-open space of huge windows and bright light encompassing it. No other details made an impression that day; you couldnât take your eyes off of him.Â
Youâd never seen a picture of Jeon Jeongguk, you didnât know he even existed till a couple hours ago. But, fuck, was he a looker. Jeongguk was wearing an off-white cream colored suit. Unlike Namjoon, who had a vest and tie underneath, Jeongguk wore a button-up that matched the color of his blazer exactly, no vest or tie in sight.Â
The first two buttons of his shirt were unbuttoned, leaving glistening collar bones for you to ogle at. A variety of rings covered his hands, you noted briefly that his right hand was covered in what appeared like tattoos. When your eyes moved upward, you sharply breathed in.Â
Jeonggukâs hair was jet black, parted similarly to Namjoonâs, but much longer. His bangs were curved, giving the appearance of volume in his hair. While the other side was slicked back, tucked behind a pierced ear. Is that an eyebrow and lip piercing?
Jeon Jeongguk was fucking gorgeous, and that was putting it lightly.Â
He had turned his heard upward to look you in the eye, but he did not stand to greet you. Jeongguk did not smile, and your brain was finally beginning to register why Taehyung warned you to not pass out in his presence.Â
Jeonggukâs eyebrows were lightly knitted, and thatâs when you noticed: he was staring at you, intently, mentally noting your mortifying attempt at grace with what seemed like amusement. Condescending and awkward, yes, but, not, particularly mean-spirited. He spoke first.
âWho are you?âÂ
Your name stammered out of your mouth.
âAnd what brings you to Runway, __?â He asked, dragging out the ending syllables of your name, never taking his eyes away from yours.Â
âWell,â you stammered, awkwardly moving your legs to cross the other, âI interviewed with Jennie and she told me that youâre looking for an assistant.â You began, voice shaky. When he nodded, your confidence increased slightly. âAnd now, after meeting with Irene, Namjoon, and Taehyung, I feel like I have a clear understanding of what youâre looking for in an assistant, Iâm confident Iâll be perfect for the job.â Jeongguk looked amused for a moment but continued to seem unfazed.Â
It was in this exact moment you realized you desperately wanted this job, in the way people yearn for things they know are unattainable. It might not be law or doctoral school, but fuck, it felt like a challengeâ a real challenge. Because you were an imposter here, you knew you didnât belong, had known that from the moment you stepped onto the Runway floor.
âYet, you donât read Runway?â Jeongguk leaned over his desk, peering at you even more intently than before.
âNo.â
âAnd before today, you had never heard of me?âÂ
You bit your lip, the confidence you boasted minutes ago diminishing into nothingness. He had set you up with the first question, elevating your confidence just to crush it with the reality that you were nothing more than a phony.Â
âUh, well, no.â
âAnd you have no style or sense of fashion.â Jeongguk was no longer looking in your direction, eyes focused back on whatever catalog he was looking at before you barged into his office.
âWellâ that depends on-â
âThat wasnât a question.â Jeonggukâs eyes bounced from the model on the paper to you, then back toÂ
the paper.
âAs I said before, Iâm confident that I can be-â
Jeongguk released the magazine from his fingers, letting one side flap back onto the desk. He widened his legs and leaned back into his chair, elbow resting on the arm rest. He then raised his pointer and middle fingers in the air, and with an unchanged expression, he spoke, âThatâll be all.âÂ
You blinked, mind drawing a blank. Did he just kick me out? That easily? Thatâs it? You lightly scoffed, taking one last good look at Jeongguk before turning around, heading for the door. What a fucking asshole. Sure, you didnât fit in. Fuck, you really didnât fit in. But, to not give you a chance? You just wasted god knows how many hours talking to everyone around here, essentially being taught how to work the damn job before you even got it. Just for him to dismiss you like a piece of lint on his designer suit.Â
You stop. Might as well give him a piece of my fucking mind.
âListen, youâre right. I donât fit in here. Iâm not glamorous, covered in designer from head to toe. Fuck, I bought this watch off of Depop.â You lift your arm, pointing at the Seiko watch you haggled off a teenager on Depop. âAnd as youâve so generously mentioned, I clearly donât know anything about fashion.âÂ
You take a hesitant step forward, this is depressing. You were begging at this point, for an ounce of recognition from a man you knew nothing of hours ago. From a fucking stranger. âBut, Iâm smart. I learn fast and if you hire me, I will work hard.âÂ
Jeongguk doesnât respond, but you notice the quirk in his brow. His eyes dismiss you when you hear a voice drawing closer from the hall.Â
âJeongguk, we got the exclusive on the red silk for Seokjin, the piece with the huge feathered arm.â
 You donât hear the remainder of the unknown person's sentence because you bolted through Jeonggukâs glass doors and toward the elevator without a glance back.
What the fuck?
Nothing. Completely and totally blank, you couldnât remember a thing. Youâd never read an issue of Runway in your life. Who cared about fucking Runway besides supermodels and people who can flush one-hundred dollar bills in the toilet? It was a fashion magazine for fucksake, you werenât even sure if it even had any writing in it at all.Â
You stammered for a brief moment, different names of editors you just forced yourself to remember moments ago all swirling in your head, dancing in mismatched pairs. Somewhere deep in the recesses of your mind, you were sure you knew his nameâ after all, who didnât? There was only one man as prominent in this industry as him.
âUh, I canât quite remember the name. But I know I know it, of course I know it.â Your hands flapped around in an attempt to make your words more believable. âI mean, everyone knows his name, I just, I canât recall-â
The receptionist stared at you for a moment, her dark eyes fixated on your reddening face. âJeon Jeongguk,â she near-whispered, with a mixture of reverence and fear. âHis name is Jeon Jeongguk.âÂ
Silence ensured. For what felt like hours, neither of you spoke, but then, Jennie must have made a decision to overlook your crucial fuckup. You didnât know then that she was desperate, aching, to hire another assistant for Jeongguk. Desperate to stop him from calling her day and night, grilling her about potential candidates, schedules and quite literally everything else.Â
Jennie was tired, overworked, and desperate to find someone, anyone, who Jeongguk wouldnât reject. And if that meant in the tiniest near-impossible possibility that you would get hired, itâs a chance she would take.Â
Jennie smiled tersely and told you that you were going to meet with Jeonggukâs two assistants. Two? Who needs two assistants?
 âYup,â she confirmed as if she read your thoughts with an exasperated look. âOf course Jeongguk needs two assistants. His current, senior assistant, Namjoon has been promoted to be Runwayâs beauty editor, and Irene, the junior assistant, now has Namjoonâs old position. Which means, the junior position is open for someone!â Her pointer finger lightly poked your chest, âSomeone like you.â
âListen, __, I know youâre fresh out of college and probably not completely familiar with the inner workings of the magazine world.â She paused dramatically, searching for the right words to not offend you with. âBut, I feel itâs my duty, my obligation to tell you what an incredibly magnificent opportunity this is. Jeon JeonggukâŚâÂ
She paused again, just as dramatically, as if she were mentally bowing to the man. âJeon Jeongguk is single handedly the most influential person in the fashion industry, and, obviously, one of the most prominent magazine editors in the world.â She ecstatically flailed her arms around the office. âAs you can clearly see.â
âThe chance to work for him, to watch him edit and meet the famous writers and models, to help him achieve all he does each and every day, well, itâs a job million girls would die for.âÂ
Jennie was now grinning ear to ear, her hands found their way into a death grip around your shoulders. âNot to mention, heâs gorgeous.â She finished her monologue with a wink, releasing you.Â
âWell- I mean, yes, it sounds wonderful.â You expressed, briefly wondering why Jennie was trying so diligently to talk you into something that a million other girls were apparently dying for. However, there wasnât time to think about it. She picked up her phone and sang a few words, and within minutes she was escorting you to the elevators to begin your interviews with Jeonggukâs two assistants.Â
You were beginning to think Jennie was starting to sound a bit like a robot, but then came your meeting with Irene. You were now on the seventeenth floor, waiting in Runwayâs unnervingly white reception area.Â
It took exactly forty five minutes, you were counting, before a tall, thin girl emerged from being one of the glass doors. A calf-length tight black skirt hung from her hips, and her long black hair was curled and completed with a pearled pin that read âDiorâ attached near her temple. Her skin was flawless, even from where you were sitting you could tell there wasnât as much as a single blemish on it. She didnât smile.Â
She sat beside you, looking you over, earnestly but with little actual interest. Then, unprompted, whom you presumed to be Irene launched into a description of the job. Her voice monotone as if sheâs gone through this a dozen times already. As if she had little faith that you were any different from the rest, and as a result wasnât planning on wasting much time on you.Â
âItâll be hard, no doubt about it. There will be fourteen-hour days, you knowâ not often, but often enough,â she rattled on, not looking at you. âPlus, itâll be important for you to understand there will be no editorial work. As Jeonggukâs junior assistant, your only responsibility is to accommodate his needs. From ordering his favorite coffee to going on shopping trips with him. Which are, always fun. I mean, youâll get to spent time with this marvelous and gorgeous man. And gorgeous he is,â she breathed, looking as if she was in a daze, staring at the ceiling in awe.Â
âSounds great,â You said and meant it. Half of your friends immediately began working after graduation and had already clocked in half a years worth into their entry-level jobs. It didnât matter what they were doing, banks, advertising firms, it all sounded like shit to you. And on the slim chance they had free time to meet up all they would do is whine about their long days, their coworkers, and above all, their utter boredom.Â
While you werenât particularly ecstatic about fashion, youâd rather do something you loosely deemed âfunâ than get sucked into the life all your friends were dealing with.
âYeah, it is great. Like really great. Anyway, nice to meet you. Iâll get Namjoon for you to meet, heâs amazing.â As quickly as she finished and departed behind the glass, another figure appeared.
The striking man introduced himself as Namjoon, Jeonggukâs senior assistant whoâd just been promoted. But you couldnât focus at all, why did everyone who worked here look like supermodels? Namjoon was wearing a tailored black suit, from the shirt underneath to the blazer that hugged his muscles as if it was destined for him. His dyed-grey hair was parted to the side, combed but not completely slicked down with gel. Black rimmed glasses that had âPradaâ engraved onto the side of them rested on his soft nose bridge. To say you were in awe of the man was an understatement.Â
âIâm Namjoon, as youâve probably already been told,â he started, pushing his glasses upwards with his middle finger. âNice to meet you, I was just promoted to an editor position, which is one of the bonuses of working for Jeongguk.â Namjoonâs lip quirked up, eyes bright with adoration.Â
âDonât get me wrong, the hours are long, and the work is tough, but Jeongguk is amazing. Youâll get to skip years and years of working your way up the ladder with just one year for him; if youâre talented, heâll send you straight to the top.â Namjoon rambled on. You were beginning to get the impression that everyone here had a hard on for Jeongguk.
âWe probably wonât see each other often, but, feel free to stop by my office if you need any assistance.â His eyes loosely scanned over your attire, not in a demonizing way but with pity?
When Namjoon wrapped things up he went to notify yet another interviewer. So what if you didnât know who Jeon Jeongguk was? Everyone else certainly seemed impressed enough. You figured having the prestige of Runway on your resume was sure to give you more than enough credibility when you eventually applied to work for other companies. Besides, werenât millions of girls dying to get this job?
After another half an hour of ruminations, a slender woman came into the reception area. She said her name, but it didnât register in your brain. You were busy trying to process the abundance of information that's been lodged in your brain within these few hours.Â
After another look-over, the girl led you to Kim Taehyungâs office, Runwayâs executive editor and an office favorite, apparently. Your first thought upon meeting Taehyung wasâ why was he working in an editorial magazine when he could very clearly be on the actual Runway. He was tanned, brown hair covering his eyebrows, yet, his face didnât lose itâs expressiveness. Taehyung sported a deep crimson suit with a white button up underneath, and a black vest on top of it.
Taehyung talked to you for hours. When you werenât busy drooling over how gorgeous he was, you listened to what he was saying. Taehyung seemed like he genuinely loved his job, excitedly speaking about the âwordâ aspect of the magazine.Â
âI know it's surprising but, I have nothing to do with the fashion side of this place,â he declared proudly, winking at you, âcrazy I know. So, save those questions for someone else.â
When you told him this job sounded appealing, and that you had no particular interest or any background in fashion, Taehyungâs smile only grew wider. âIn that case, __. You might just be what we need around here. I think itâs time for you to meet Jeongguk, and if I may offer a piece of advice? Look him straight in the fucking eye and sell yourself. Sell yourself hard and heâll respect you.â
Taehyung bent forward, âJeongguk is hard to please, but he respects honesty. Just make sure you donât pass out, he has that affect on people.â
As if on cue, the nameless girl from before swept in and escorted you to Jeonggukâs office. It was exactly a forty-second-walk from Taehyungâs, but you could sense all the eyes on you. They peered at you from behind the frosted glass of the editorsâ office and from the open space of the assistantsâ cubicles. You didnât want to imagine what they were thinking of you. How you had the balls to saunter into the worlds most prestige fashion magazineâs building in your thrifted, non-designer clothes: expecting to be hired.
And then you were standing in his office, a wide-open space of huge windows and bright light encompassing it. No other details made an impression that day; you couldnât take your eyes off of him.Â
Youâd never seen a picture of Jeon Jeongguk, you didnât know he even existed till a couple hours ago. But, fuck, was he a looker. Jeongguk was wearing an off-white cream colored suit. Unlike Namjoon, who had a vest and tie underneath, Jeongguk wore a button-up that matched the color of his blazer exactly, no vest or tie in sight.Â
The first two buttons of his shirt were unbuttoned, leaving glistening collar bones for you to ogle at. A variety of rings covered his hands, you noted briefly that his right hand was covered in what appeared like tattoos. When your eyes moved upward, you sharply breathed in.Â
Jeonggukâs hair was jet black, parted similarly to Namjoonâs, but much longer. His bangs were curved, giving the appearance of volume in his hair. While the other side was slicked back, tucked behind a pierced ear. Is that an eyebrow and lip piercing?
Jeon Jeongguk was fucking gorgeous, and that was putting it lightly.Â
He had turned his heard upward to look you in the eye, but he did not stand to greet you. Jeongguk did not smile, and your brain was finally beginning to register why Taehyung warned you to not pass out in his presence.Â
Jeonggukâs eyebrows were lightly knitted, and thatâs when you noticed: he was staring at you, intently, mentally noting your mortifying attempt at grace with what seemed like amusement. Condescending and awkward, yes, but, not, particularly mean-spirited. He spoke first.
âWho are you?âÂ
Your name stammered out of your mouth.
âAnd what brings you to Runway, __?â He asked, dragging out the ending syllables of your name, never taking his eyes away from yours.Â
âWell,â you stammered, awkwardly moving your legs to cross the other, âI interviewed with Jennie and she told me that youâre looking for an assistant.â You began, voice shaky. When he nodded, your confidence increased slightly. âAnd now, after meeting with Irene, Namjoon, and Taehyung, I feel like I have a clear understanding of what youâre looking for in an assistant, Iâm confident Iâll be perfect for the job.â Jeongguk looked amused for a moment but continued to seem unfazed.Â
It was in this exact moment you realized you desperately wanted this job, in the way people yearn for things they know are unattainable. It might not be law or doctoral school, but fuck, it felt like a challengeâ a real challenge. Because you were an imposter here, you knew you didnât belong, had known that from the moment you stepped onto the Runway floor.
âYet, you donât read Runway?â Jeongguk leaned over his desk, peering at you even more intently than before.
âNo.â
âAnd before today, you had never heard of me?âÂ
You bit your lip, the confidence you boasted minutes ago diminishing into nothingness. He had set you up with the first question, elevating your confidence just to crush it with the reality that you were nothing more than a phony.Â
âUh, well, no.â
âAnd you have no style or sense of fashion.â Jeongguk was no longer looking in your direction, eyes focused back on whatever catalog he was looking at before you barged into his office.
âWellâ that depends on-â
âThat wasnât a question.â Jeonggukâs eyes bounced from the model on the paper to you, then back toÂ
the paper.
âAs I said before, Iâm confident that I can be-â
Jeongguk released the magazine from his fingers, letting one side flap back onto the desk. He widened his legs and leaned back into his chair, elbow resting on the arm rest. He then raised his pointer and middle fingers in the air, and with an unchanged expression, he spoke, âThatâll be all.âÂ
You blinked, mind drawing a blank. Did he just kick me out? That easily? Thatâs it? You lightly scoffed, taking one last good look at Jeongguk before turning around, heading for the door. What a fucking asshole. Sure, you didnât fit in. Fuck, you really didnât fit in. But, to not give you a chance? You just wasted god knows how many hours talking to everyone around here, essentially being taught how to work the damn job before you even got it. Just for him to dismiss you like a piece of lint on his designer suit.Â
You stop. Might as well give him a piece of my fucking mind.
âListen, youâre right. I donât fit in here. Iâm not glamorous, covered in designer from head to toe. Fuck, I bought this watch off of Depop.â You lift your arm, pointing at the Seiko watch you haggled off a teenager on Depop. âAnd as youâve so generously mentioned, I clearly donât know anything about fashion.âÂ
You take a hesitant step forward, this is depressing. You were begging at this point, for an ounce of recognition from a man you knew nothing of hours ago. From a fucking stranger. âBut, Iâm smart. I learn fast and if you hire me, I will work hard.âÂ
Jeongguk doesnât respond, but you notice the quirk in his brow. His eyes dismiss you when you hear a voice drawing closer from the hall.Â
âJeongguk, we got the exclusive on the red silk for Seokjin, the piece with the huge feathered arm.â
 You donât hear the remainder of the unknown person's sentence because you bolted through Jeonggukâs glass doors and toward the elevator without a glance back.
What the fuck?















