[BAD DECISION #60] Obduracy
warnings: starlovers!!!! <33 i really luv jimin in this one hehehe, lots of callbacks to earlier chapters!! fingering, pretty tame by their standards!!! but kinda semi-public? i mean they're at home but like... kitchen?? i dunno up to you to decide!
a/n: this one doesnt have a little cover image :( had to make it fresh :( the first non wattpad chapter :( waaaa. im hoping to having something new ready for you tomorrow hehehehhe
wc: 8.3K
bd total wc: 540k (ongoing)
AO3 | MASTERLIST | MINORS DNI
Jeongguk wears his hangovers incredibly well. Like an oversized shirt draped over his broad shoulders, it billows down his body, leaving you to guess what's hidden underneath.
It's hard to tell if he's suffering like you are, for his face gives nothing but contentment away.
Hair messy and dishevelled, it sits like an unruly crown on his head as he washes dishes left from the evening before. A soft smile lingers on his lips as he hums along to the song quietly playing through the kitchen speaker, his voice far prettier than the original singer. The king of his very own kitchen, there's an innate flick to his wrists as he shakes water off steel bowls and pops them on the drying rack.
Chest bare, he pays it no mind when tiny flecks of warm water splash against his skin.
Vines of ink trail up his arm and onto his shoulder. His self-modification proves he wasn't born from gold but rather polished to resemble something like it.
In a way, it makes him so much more valuable. Or at least it does to you.
As you watch on from a bar stool on the opposite side of the kitchen island, chatting with him about the events of the night before, you wonder how it's possible for a man with a smile like his to have a body like that.
The maths just doesn't compute, but you've never been great with numbers. Have always been more drawn to art—and God, what a work Jeongguk is.
Quite the contrary, you wear your hangovers with far less grace.
There's glitter all over your skin, and your hair looks more like a bird's nest than a crown.
In front of you sits a barely touched glass of water and two Tylenol tablets yet to be taken. The thud in your head has only intensified since you woke up with a dry throat and achy body, but you're trying to push through it.
"You're only making it worse," Jeongguk softly scolds you when you whine and slump down to rest your head on the countertop. "Don't be so stubborn."
When he talks like that, all assertive and domineering, it only makes you wanna be even more stubborn. It's in part thanks to your defiant nature, but also in part due to your desperation to have him use that tone of voice with you again.
"I can defeat it," you whine against the cold stone, a pathetic moan humming in your throat.
With your hair still damp from your shower, you find yourself irritated by how quickly Jeongguk's hair dries compared to yours. It's your own fault, for you're the one who insists on changing its colour with the seasons, but it annoys you nonetheless.
Then again, everything irritates you when you're this hungover.
Truth be told, you'd happily get your hair wet all over again, if it meant you got to indulge in another shower with Jeongguk. Want nothing more than to relieve the way it feels for him to shampoo your hair, rubbing the pads of his fingers in circular motions against your scalp. If the restaurant doesn't work out, he could always opt to be a hairdresser, you think, then mentally reprimand yourself for daring to even think of a scenario in which the restaurant doesn't work out. Would never forgive yourself if you jinxed it.
Jeongguk doesn't mind the grouchiness that comes with your hangovers, 'cause they always come with an added side of clinginess, too. You had wrapped around him like a koala bear for that entire shower. Had your cheek to his chest, arms tightly locked around his back, eyes firmly closed as he washed your hair.
Gorgeous girl, he thinks to himself, then resumes the stern telling off he was giving you. Just wants you to feel okay, that's all. Knows you're too determined for your own good, sometimes.
"Clearly," he almost scoffs, not mean but definitely a little curt. His head's killing him, too. He just hides it better. Swinging open the fridge, he grabs a bottle of water—2 litres—and cracks open the seal. "Take your pills, or I won't get you anything when I order breakfast."
"Gguk," you whine, slowly sitting up straight to look at him with the biggest pout. Head tipped back, he's chugging on his water straight from the bottle at such a rate you're surprised he doesn't choke.
By the time he's finished, he's practically at the halfway point of the bottle. Shaking his head, he swallows his last mouthful down. Pants, a little. Says, "Water, pills, now."
Narrowing your eyes, you finally do as you're told, but make sure to say, "You're mean."
Jeongguk just shakes his head. "I love you."
With your eyes on his, you try your hardest not to show any sign of weakness—but when he presses his lips into a thin, curved line and smiles in a way that makes it impossible to fight, you can't help yourself.
"Fine," you strop regardless, tossing your pills back and swallowing them down with a chug of water.
"See," he softly says in a way that is both patronising yet ever so gentle.
He walks around the counter to stand beside you, and welcomes the innate way your hand reaches up to hold his waist. He's just the same in how his hand cradles your cheek, keeping your face angled to look up towards him.
"Wasn't so hard, was it, baby?" He gently toys.
"You're the worst," you assure him, 'cause he knows he's being a little git right now.
And so, just like the last incredibly soft insult thrown his way, he fends it off by saying, "I love you."
"If you really loved me, you would have let me stay in bed."
"We have shit to do today, B," he reminds you. "I forced you up because I love you. Now, don't be rude. Say it back."
Jeongguk's ability to demand you say such heavy, ardent words is nothing short of a miracle.
When you first met Jeongguk, the idea of him being so straightforward and forthcoming with his own feelings felt like an impossible task. Yet here he is, unafraid to tell you how much he cares for you, and unashamed to ask for reciprocation.
Tugging him a little closer, you rest your pointed chin against his sternum, and get him looking down towards you.
Quietly, you whisper, "You know I love you."
"Say it again," he demands once more, his heavy-lidded eyes trained on yours as he speaks.
"I love you."
He smiles, now. Nods.
"Good," he says, then pulls away to grab his phone and open up a delivery app. Has his favourite cafe pinned to the top. Clicks through to the menu without a second thought, muscle memory prevailing. "French toast? Iced coffee?"
"You know me so well," you hum with a pleasant smile, hopping off the bar stool and meandering over to Jeongguk's sofa.
He follows you without hesitation and tugs the blanket from the armchair as he does so. You're wearing one of his shirts, and he's just in a pair of sweats, so a blanket seems like a sensible choice for now.
Jimin still hasn't risen from his pit, and Nabi's clothes are still in the living room—just in a neat pile now, thanks to Jeongguk's innate need for a clean space to ensure he can power through his hangover.
"You reckon they're gonna wake up soon?" You ask Jeongguk as he snuggles in beside you, flicking on the television.
"Not a chance," he laughs. "Nabi's probably gonna escape out his bedroom window or something like that. Spent years denying there was anything going on, and I don't think her pride will be able to take the hit of being wrong."
"You never know," you begin to playfully theorise. "Maybe they're just friends."
"Have you forgotten getting home last night?"
"Well, yeah, but I mean, I shagged you plenty of times, and we've always just been friends."
"Oh, fuck off," he laughs. "We've never been just friends."
"No?"
"No," he says with a cocksure confidence that has been earned over many months of knowing you as intimately as he does. Smiling as you roll your eyes, you don't bother fighting back. It's a losing cause. "We're best friends. Duh."
If you could have it your way, the day would be spent exactly like this—cuddled up on Jeongguk's sofa without a care in the world—but you've got work to do.
The gallery needs to be cleaned up from the night before. It's not a huge amount of work, but still tedious labour that you'd rather not do with a raging headache. One of the reasons you're given such liberty with the gallery space is because you always make sure it's left without a trace, and so you know you need to get it sorted sooner rather than later.
Jeongguk's offered to help out, 'cause his day is empty. Other than discussing the business with Yoongi, his agenda is remarkably clear, and if he's being honest, the last thing he wants is to talk about the restaurant.
See, Jeongguk worries. He's got everything in the palm of his hand—his girl, his dreams, his future. All it takes is one misstep, and he could lose everything.
Comfort is found in you. Solace.
"Smell good," he mumbles, nuzzling his nose against the curve of your neck, sinking into a more comfortable position snuggled up against you. Doesn't kiss you, but he does let his lips trail up your skin in a way that promises he eventually will.
"Smell like you," you sweetly reply, 'cause none of your things have made their way into his home yet. The shampoo you use is his. The shower gel, the moisturiser, the suncream. It's all him—and you love nothing more than going home with such innocent reminders of him on your skin.
"Mhm," he confirms. That's exactly why he likes it so much. The silage of you is the signpost of him. "Mine."
Any gap between you (which admittedly isn't much at all) is eliminated with the way Jeongguk drags you into his embrace. It's the kind of hug that can only be described as acceptance: there is no you, nor him. Just the pair of you, together.
It's dangerous territory to embark upon, with such reliance on another person, but it's also a path that you just can't seem to resist.
Laced in berries, the hedgerows of this rambling walk you're strolling down together keep you going forward. Occasionally, you'll stop. Smell the roses. Pluck a berry here or there. Pause when you hear the noise of a wild beast in the forest that surrounds you, or the threatening echo of a farmer and his gun.
But then forwards, you'll go. Destination, unknown. Wherever you end up is exactly where you'll need to be.
The wait for food is wasted away together, dumb conversations about nothing and anything that comes to mind. Jeongguk toys with your fingers. Plays with your rings. Strokes the pad of his index finger over the small callous on your middle one.
"Used to be worse," you acknowledge, holding up your hand to study it. Back when you were in school, the amount of writing and doodling you did meant a callous was inevitable. Now that you're out of the habit of doodling, and far less likely to spend hours writing by hand, it's softened. Almost looks as if it wasn't even there to begin with. Part of your history that is slowly fading away.
One day, you won't be able to recall any part of your life that isn't inexplicitly saturated by him.
He holds up his own hands. Studies them against yours. It's like some juvenile flirt, comparing hand sizes, as if your legs aren't tangled with his, and his other hand isn't wedged between your thighs.
You're not learning anything new. Are revising, for a lack of a better term. Just like you used to do with the birds, when you wanted any excuse you could use to be intimate with one another.
It's different now, you suppose. Intimacy. How you view it. Just isn't what it once was.
Things that used to be sacred to you are now second nature.
Glancing across to Jeongguk as he natters on about the deep line that runs along his palm, and how it signals he's destined for greatness, you realise there's an ache blooming in your chest.
His pouty lips rabbit on, dark eyes occasionally fluttering across to you, then back to his hand.
There's a vulnerability to him. It's his eyes, you think, and their need to check in on you. He's making sure you're listening. Interested. Aren't bored or waiting for him to shut up. It's a somewhat nervous habit of his, stemming from the fact he doesn't ever really talk this much with anyone else.
In a way that no one else is lucky enough to experience, Jeongguk opens himself up to you. About the big and the bad, the emotional and the heavy, but also about the small, lovely, lightweight things, too. Weather talk, mindless chatter he'd never bother engaging in with other people.
He talks of superstitions and legends, movies he watched as a kid, and dreams he had overnight—a stream of consciousness, all for you.
See, Jeongguk talks.
Around you, he talks and talks and talks.
If his mother could see him like this, she'd be gobsmacked. He's always been the more quiet one of her sons. Reserved. Cautious to speak in fear of saying the wrong thing.
But he's childlike in his eagerness to share with you, Bambi eyes wide and sparkling, teeth nibbling down on his bottom lip whenever he leaves enough room for you to respond.
Time is lost in conversation until his doorbell chimes—a notice of food arriving.
"Go get changed," you say, tapping on his knee as you get to your feet. "I'll sort out breakfast."
Nodding, he does as he's told, lightly spanking your ass before heading to his room. Glancing over your shoulder, you feign a little hurt.
"I'll kiss it better," he promises, and you know he will.
The curse of his devotion to you means he can never lie.
He can, however, keep secrets. Small ones. Teeny tiny ones that will have no consequence other than to make you melt when he finally reveals them.
Checking his phone, Jeongguk smiles to himself when he notices a notification of confirmation—plans made now rolling into motion. You cope with surprises far better than he does. Appreciate the romanticism of it all. He's sure you'll like it.
When he comes back into the kitchen, you have to hold in a desperate groan. Who gave him the right to look like that? And how many cats did you save from trees in a previous life to deserve it?
Dressed for the gym, he's in a pair of dark shorts that sit on his hips as if they were made just for him. The contours of his upper body are on display for everyone to see, a tight black compression shirt outlining the ridges on his chest.
The silver chain he always wears is tucked outside of the shirt, 'cause he doesn't like the pressure of the fabric on top of it, and his hair lays flat against his head. He's perfectly undone.
As he's putting on a pair of socks by the sofa, he clocks you staring. Simply hums, "Hm?"
Eyes wide and unassuming, he's oblivious to the fact you feel like you might faint just by looking at him, even if the socks he's putting on have individual spaces for each of his toes.
We can't all be perfect, after all—though Jeongguk would argue his socks encourage correct toe alignment, which could only be a good thing.
"Anyone ever told you that you're a menace to society?" You painfully whine, the groan you were hiding making its presence known.
Almost bashful, Jeongguk tips his head to the side, eyes twinkling your reflection back at you.
"Flattery won't convince me to let you go back to bed," he teases, playing off the compliment. Socks on, he makes his way over to you without hesitation, his tattooed arm draping over your shoulders, as he presses a kiss to the side of your head.
"Was worth a try," you playfully tease him, even if you did mean it. Hooking your arm around his waist, you give him a squeeze and glance up towards him. A tender kiss is given and received, his lips softly curving into a smile against yours. "Eat up. Quicker we leave, the quicker you can get to the gym, and the quicker you can come back to mine afterwards."
The outline of your day is solid: go to the gallery and get it cleaned up, meander back to town with Jeongguk, send him on his way to the gym, pick up some groceries and then head home.
Small errands that will eat up most of the day, but an empty evening that can be spent exactly as you'd like: with him.
"We at yours tonight?" He hums, still getting used to just how easy it is to coexist next to you. Never in his wildest dreams could he have imagined a life like this.
"Feel like Jimin might need the privacy," you note, very much aware that he hasn't made a single appearance, which is very unlike him. He's normally reciting lines from The Notebook by this point in the morning.
You know he's fine, 'cause you heard the synthetic ding of his speaker being turned on a little while earlier, presumably to drown out any 'conversations' he might be having.
Jeongguk smirks, picking out a strawberry from the container next to the french toast, and says, "He never gave us privacy."
Tossing the strawberry to his back teeth, there's a smile on Jeongguk's lips that's impossible not to mirror. Turning slightly, you get yourself trapped between his body and the kitchen island. Wrap your arms around his neck. Encourage him down to nudge his nose against yours.
"Yeah, but he also never caught us having sex," you remind Jeongguk, lips brushing against his. Breakfast can wait. Or maybe the menu can just change. "We were incredibly well-behaved as far as he's concerned."
"We were?" Jeongguk quietly flirts, his hips pressing against your tummy, letting you know just how much he enjoys being with you. "I don't think you've ever been well behaved."
"Oh, but I am," you simper right back. Reaching down for his hands, you encourage them to roam your body. Squeeze them over your chest, then encourage them down to the tops of your thighs—or, more specifically, between them. "I'm such a good girl for you, aren't I?"
Pressing his fingers up against your thinly-covered cunt, Jeongguk smirks, the subtle markers of your arousal greeting him like they so often do.
"You are," he nods. "And you're gonna be good for me now aren't you?" His fingers hook the lace of your underwear to the side, and gently begin to tease your wet folds. "Gonna keep it nice and quiet for me, huh?"
Nodding, you let yourself succumb to your unbridled desire to have your lips on his as he sinks his middle finger into your cunt. With a small whine, you totally disregard the promise you've only just made.
And so Jeongguk shakes his head, still kissing you. Barely parts from your lips when he says, "Shush, shush, shush, baby. Quiet for me."
When he pushes a second finger into you, your brows furrow, but the whine you're dying to sound out just vibrates into his mouth.
"Attagirl," he praises as his fingers begin to pump inside of you. Deepening his kisses, Jeongguk strokes his tongue against yours, as if your body was just made for him to claim. Signed, sealed, delivered: his. Your hips roll into his movements, but it's not enough.
As much as he wants to keep you plugged, Jeongguk wants easy access more.
Pulling his fingers from your cunt, there's a satisfied grin on his pretty lips when you whine.
"Shush," he says with such affection it could make even the coldest heart thaw. Dipping slightly, he hooks his forearms just beneath your ass and swiftly lifts you up. Gets you perched up on the counter. Spreads your legs, and is pleased when you lift the hem of the baggy shirt you're wearing to fully reveal your pussy to him.
"Look at you, gorgeous," he husks. Genuinely thinks he might die just from looking at your cunt. Too perfect. Too fuckin' nice. Stroking his still-wet fingers up your folds, he wastes no time sinking two fingers into you once more. "Quiet, baby."
"Room," you breathlessly say, desperately trying not to make any sounds that could give yourselves away. "Don't wanna be quiet. Take me to your room."
Jeongguk just smirks. Looks in your pretty eyes and challenges you. "Say chess. I'm not going to my room, but you can say chess."
He knows there's absolutely no way in hell you're saying chess.
Narrowing your eyes, you reach to the front of his shorts, and stroke his hard cock through the fabric. If he's gonna make this hard for you, then you're gonna do it right back.
"If you're gonna torture me then you may as well do it right," you feign a little boredom, tugging his shorts down just enough to play with him over his boxers. "Your fingers are nothing, baby." A lie, but that's neither here nor there. "Make things difficult for me. Make it impossible for me to keep quiet."
"You really want Jimin to find out, huh?" Jeongguk teases, still playing on the idea that you've ever managed to convince anyone that you are, in fact, just friends. "You want him to know that we fuck?"
But then Jeongguk glances over your shoulder to the doorway that leads into Jimin's room, as the click of his latch goes. Jeongguk barely has enough time to pull his fingers from you, and definitely not enough time to pull his shorts back up over his boxer-covered boner, so instead, he presses up against you to keep himself covered. Thank God he's behind the island and not anywhere else.
If you thought it was torture before, then now must be a whole new level, just a few layers of fabric keeping you apart.
"It lingers, y'know," the grouchy voice of Jimin echoes from behind you.
Turning your head, thighs squeezing against Jeongguk's hips to keep his dignity protected, you try to hide your embarrassment.
Jeongguk's hands rest on your thighs, and the one that's out of sight to Jimin is being wiped against your skin to rid his fingers of your arousal. This could have been so much worse than what it is.
"The smell of sex," he adds with a little disdain. "I always knew."
As if the God of Thunder personally gave birth to him, Jimin's face is stormy as can be. His scowl is so deeply ingrained into his expression that you're certain the wind must have changed in his direction as he was first pulling the face. Whatever you drank last night, he must have had it too.
Hair all haphazard, face a little dewey from a warm slumber, there's an unusual dishevelled nature to Jimin. He's not even bothered to put on clothes. Is quite literally in just a pair of boxers.
It's quite unlike him. Then again, so are the hickies on his collarbones.
"Well, that's weird, 'cause me and Jeongguk have never had sex," you reply without even thinking, the lies ingrained into your reflexes at this point. Even Jeongguk looks at you with confusion this time.
"Firstly, we eat off that counter, sickos. And secondly, I heard," Jimin simply assures you both, walking to the counter and picking up a plastic fork. He sticks it into a chunk of the french toast, and doesn't ask permission. Just chows down on it. Speaks with his mouth full. "Like, so many times. In fact, I've heard you at it so many times I can almost predict what's happening when."
"Bullshit," Jeongguk laughs—and he'd be right. Jimin's never heard, not properly at least, unless you count the muffled groans in Pohang that put him off his food for an entire day. He just hates the embarrassment of being walked in upon by the pair of you. The one time he needed privacy the most and he didn't even think to bolt the door—or better yet, go to his own bloody bedroom. He wants you to know what his embarrassment feels like. Jeongguk is unphased, though. "Nabi still here?"
"Shut up," Jimin replies, pulling the rest of the french toast towards him, closing the lid. He narrows his eyes, then snatches the box right up. Holds it to his chest. Scowls at you both. Turns on his heel and returns to his room, grinning now that you can't see him, shutting the door behind himself.
Neither of you stop him.
"Is he…"
"Okay?" Jeongguk finishes off your query. "No idea."
But one thing for certain is that Nabi's possessions are still very much inside the apartment. She's still here, and you're willing to bet he shut the door with a smile, holding his stolen breakfast with all the triumph of a cat who got the cream.
"On that note," you begin to tangent off, knowing you've already wasted too much of the day. "You okay to drive? Or would you rather take the subway?"
"Subway," Jeongguk immediately responds, reaching over to take a sip of his coffee. "Don't wanna risk it."
And he also wants any excuse he can find to spend time with you. Takes three times as long to get to The Ryu on public transport than it does in his car, especially with how he drives.
"Alright," you don't argue against him or bother suggesting a taxi instead. "And am I cool to leave my things here? I'll pick them up next time—"
"You know you don't need to ask," Jeongguk grins, the ring in the corner of his mouth flipping ever so slightly in that heavenly way it so often does.
"Well, yeah, but—"
"Keep it here," he says. "Don't take your stuff home next time. Leave it. I'll clear a drawer. Some hangers."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah," he nudges his nose up against yours. "You've been leaving glitter here for months. May as well move onto something more substantial."
As if your heart isn't enough.
"Plus," he considers. "At least that way you can stop stealing all my favourite shirts."
"You love it when I wear your shirts."
"B, I love it when you wear nothing at all," he smirks. "Clothes have nothing to do with it. But on that note, go put some clothes on so we can actually do something with our day."
Reluctantly, you agree.
And just as reluctantly, he lets you go.
The subway is always crowded at this time of day. Jeongguk insists you sit while he stands in front of you, holding on to the railing that runs overhead. It's a small kindness—the kind you never really thought about until you met him and learned how lovely it is to have someone actually care about your comfort and well-being.
He doesn't spend the journey on his phone like so many of the other commuters. Instead, he focuses on the windows, and the small glimpses indicating where you are along the subway line. Occasionally he'll look down at you and smile. Though you're not sleeping, your eyes are closed, cutting out the harsh lights of the tin can you're situated inside. You've never been more desperate for your bed.
Once you reach your stop, Jeongguk tightly scoots in behind you on the escalators.
"We can have a quiet night in," he softly promises. His hand rubs at your waist, and the elevated position of your body allows him to press a kiss to your shoulder.
Even despite the fabric of your shirt—one that belongs to him, of course—it still feels like a star is burning through your very being.
Nodding, you place your hand over his and squeeze ever so gently. Reciprocate his warmth.
You don't mean to be so grouchy and unexpressive, the hangover just really is killing you. If it wasn't for the video Jeongguk insisted on assessing after waking you up this morning, you might not have even recalled exactly just how raunchy you'd been with him at Dionysus.
Fucking someone at work had always been one of his covert fantasies; the kind of thing he wanted to do just so he could say that he had. Wouldn't mind leaving the box next to it unchecked on his mental to-do list. Would happily do it all over again.
His notice has been handed in, though. Dionysus is no longer his place of work. His contract runs until the end of the month, but he saved up holiday time. Never has to go back, if he doesn't want to.
As his fingers squeeze a little tighter on your waist, he can't help but wonder if he's making the right choices. He's been comfortable at Dionysus. Wasn't making great money, but was making enough.
But when you squeeze your hand over his, he knows it doesn't matter. He can make all the bad decisions in the world as long as he doesn't make any that'd result in him losing you.
The weather's slowly been getting warmer over the past few weeks. As you exit the subway station, the sun confronts you with such aggression that you almost stumble from the impact of her punch.
"I'm never drinking again," you whine, bringing the hand of yours that's holding his up to cover your eyes a little. He lets you dictate his movement freely.
"You say that every time," Jeongguk reminds you, playfully nudging into your side, before rounding the corner up towards the gallery. "C'mon. Fake it till you make it. Pretend you don't have one."
"Impossible."
The remainder of the morning is slow. Every time you glance at the clock, it seems only a few minutes have passed.
Cataloguing and processing the sales of art from the night before is laborious. It takes a lot of mental energy that you can't seem to conjure up.
Jeongguk doesn't really know how to help, but he is far stronger than you. Does all the heavy lifting as you prepare various canvases for shipping.
Eventually, he's left twiddling his thumbs, so you insist he heads straight to the gym.
"I'll meet you after," you tell him, as you sit on the floor of the gallery, crossed-legged, a pencil behind your ear and a million documents scattered around you. Jeongguk has no idea how you can work in such chaos. Finds himself getting stressed out by it.
It takes a solid fifteen minutes of assuring him you'd be fine on your own, but eventually he leaves for the gym. The way you see it, the quicker you both get your tasks for the day done, the quicker you can go back to yours, make some dinner, and call it a night.
"Call me when you're done, yeah?" He says, lingering by the door because he just can't bear to leave you. As the sunlight peers in through the windows, small speckles of glitter sparkle on his skin. "I'll come meet you halfway."
With an ever-sincere smile, you just laugh. "Go."
Finally doing as he's told, Jeongguk walks backwards until you're out of sight. Feels his heart physically ache in his chest. Doesn't understand why he's so damn pathetic all of the time when it comes to you, just knows he wouldn't change it for the world.
Despite the solitude of an empty gallery, you're perfectly content. The lingering scent of paint and paper isn't too far removed from your place of work. Makes it easy to imagine a life where this could be your work.
Devoting yourself to this is easy. Passion has always yielded a higher reward for you than wages, so you don't mind burning the candle at both ends.
The situation is becoming strained at best, you know. Eventually, something will have to give.
For now, though, you finish off your jobs. Arrange couriers to pick up the artworks sold, and make sure the names and numbers match the deposits with a copy of Jeongguk's business account bank statement, of which you made him print out for you.
"I can just log into my bank on your phone," Jeongguk had shrugged when you'd first asked him for it, seemingly not realising just how insane he sounded. When he clocked your look of bewilderment, he laughed. "What? It's not like you're gonna run off with all the money."
While this is true, looking at the sheer amount of money in there could make you cry. It's all so attainable now; Jeongguk's dreams and a reality in which they come true.
So engrossed in your own thoughts, you almost jump out of your skin when a knock sounds at the doorway into the office.
"Sorry," Shinwon hums ever so pleasantly, a smile on his face, thoroughly bemused by how startled you look. "Didn't mean to scare you."
"No, no," you shake your head, endearingly playing off your embarrassment. "I just didn't expect to see you here! Or see anyone here, for that matter."
Between exhibitions, the gallery will be closed for the next couple of weeks. It's partially to allow for the staff to reset, but mainly to allow for careful considerations of how the space will be used.
As Jina's maternity leave cover, it's Shinwon's job, but you're yet to see any plans from him. You don't even know which artists are due to be showcased. She did say that a new vacancy would probably open up around this time, and if Shinwon doesn't start putting some tangible hard work in, you wouldn't be surprised if it's sooner rather than later.
There's been no mention of it, though. The big bosses don't seem to care about his underperformance, probably 'cause they know he's temporary.
"Just coming by to drop something off," he explains, holding up a small white envelope. Pressing it down on the desk, he looks uncertain, as if there are words dancing on the tip of his tongue. "It went well last night, didn't it?"
With a tight-lipped smile, you nod. Feel your cheeks swell. "Yeah. Went really well."
"Good," he nods. Is about to leave. Pauses when he reaches the door, and awkwardly turns to face you. Nods towards the letter on the desk. "There's gonna be a position opening up soon. You should apply. I'll put in a good word."
Furrowing your brows, you glance over the white envelope, then back to Shinwon. "But they're not hiring any—"
"Letter of resignation," he concedes with a tight-lipped smile. "I've got an overseas opportunity that I don't wanna pass on. I'll work my two weeks, but then there'll be a position to fill until Jina is back from maternity."
By overseas opportunity, he really means that some of his private school buddies are going travelling, and he wants in on the fun. This was always an opportunity of convenience for Shinwon. He was never passionate about it. Not like you are.
"Apply," he encourages. "You basically do my job as it is for free, anyway. May as well get paid for it if you can."
He doesn't stay to chitchat. Probably won't even remember your existence once he heads off on his trip. Was never in this for the right reasons.
You've resented him on plenty of occasions. Been annoyed at the fact he does fuck all and gets paid for it. Yet the idea of actually filling his (albeit incredibly small) shoes is fear-inducing.
A job at the gallery would be the first step to actually doing what you love for a living—being around art and artists. Sure, you could argue that the art cafe gives you that, but a highschooler nervously painting by numbers on a first date has nothing on the works that you see here.
There's joy to be found in your current job, though. Fun. Safety. Home.
But nothing remarkable ever happened to people who choose to remain comfortable.
Quickly finishing your to-do list, all you want to do is speak to Jeongguk about it. See what he thinks. You know it's a no-brainer. You have nothing to lose. You just want him to give you the green light that you're making the right choices.
The headache you've been battling is weak in comparison to your racing thoughts, now. You're thinking of the possibilities—of all of your hard work actually being for something. You've proven to the gallery that you can bring in punters, and that you can utilise their resources for profit.
It's always been a case of who you know, not what you know, but you know the gallery, now. They know you.
It could really happen.
By the time you reach the gym, fantasies of a life with a staff ID card and access to the archives, you can't stop smiling. It'd change your life. Flip it upside down in the best of ways.
The gym is just the same as it always has been. There's a new girl behind the front desk. Not someone you recognise. Smiling as she greets you, she's keen to help, long dark hair tied into a ponytail, her branded shirt tight to her curves. You're reminded that the gym is a breeding ground for beauty, but it doesn't matter. You'll get your cardio in later beneath your sheets.
She's also got the kind of smile that you just can't help but reciprocate.
"I don't have a membership," you begin to explain, knowing just how troublesome it was on your first ever visit and not wanting a repeat of it. There's no way you're paying for a month, 'cause now you don't need it as an excuse just to see Jeongguk. You also can't help but overcompensate, and give far too many details in an awkward, endearing mess of an explanation. "Well, I mean, I used to have one so my details are probably on the system. Sorry, not important. I know you guys don't do day passes—"
Furrowing her brows, she kindly interrupts. "We do."
"Oh?"
"Yeah," she says, nodding towards a sign in the corner of the countertop. Clear as day, daily and weekly memberships are listed. "We've done them for as long as I've been here. Don't think it's a new policy. Anyway, happy to help—just a day membership?"
Jiyeong might be a distant memory now, but thoughts of her will never fail to irritate you.
"Yeah please," you smile regardless, sliding your card out from your pocket—and then you're over explaining again. Probably habit from the Jiyeong era. Is also probably why you make a point to mention Jeongguk by a title only you have the privilege to use. "I'm just joining my boyfriend for a session. He's—"
"Oh, he's a member?" she chirps, not rude in her interruption but efficient.
"Yeah," you nod, and are about to mention him by name, but the girl speaks too quickly again.
"Oh, you should have said! Members get a monthly plus one. It's not a free session, but it's half price, so better than nothing," she smiles. "I'll just need his gym ID—or name, I can search the system—so I can put it through."
You know she really ought to ask Jeongguk's permission. You could be any random woman.
But you're not, and so you tell her. "Jeon Jeongguk?"
"Ah," she nods, vaguely aware of his existence. Unlike Jiyeong, she hasn't spent a substantial amount of time fawning over Jeongguk. To her, he's just another dude who comes in and leaves her alone. She appreciates it, given how some guys can be, but she also doesn't care to reward bare minimum.
She asks you to confirm his phone number, which you can do without issue, so at least there's some level of security in place.
It's a perfectly pleasant exchange, and it thankfully rids you of woes you didn't even realise you had. The Jieyong debacle had left a mark on you, but it feels like it's been rubbed clean. Your mind tends to jump to thoughts of her whenever he goes to the gym, and so at least you can sleep well knowing that the new girl isn't interested in any way shape or form.
Buzzing you through, she tells you to enjoy yourself—but as you start heading up the stairs to the main gym section, you already feel your regret looming. A hangover is still a hangover.
You clock Jeon Jeongguk almost immediately. How anyone isn't immediately drawn to him, you'll never understand. Just finishing up with some weights, he's re-racking the ones he's used, skin glowing with sweat.
There's a beauty to seeing him like this. Primal desires.
Glancing up to the mirrored wall behind the rack, Jeongguk eyes are on yours just as quickly. It's like you're magnets, destined to meet.
A confused smile etches into his exhausted face, brows furrowing as he turns to face you.
"What are you doing here?" He mouths, head puppy-like in the way it tilts.
Shrugging your shoulders, you walk towards him. Mouth, "I just love the gym."
"Liar," he simpers when you're within earshot, reaching his hand out for you to take so he can pull you closer, of which he immediately does.
One hand clasped in his, your other hand rests on his still-heaving torso. He's gone hard today, to make up for the night before. His compression shirt is silky beneath the palms of your hands, the strong ridges and contours of his body yours to hold. Other people can look all they like. None of them get to feel. Not like you do.
As he looks down at you, there's a softness to his gaze. A smile that he doesn't care to hide. A sparkle in his eyes that shines even out of direct light. Just a consequence of looking at a star.
"You shouldn't be here," he quietly hums. "We both know you hate it."
"I can go, if you like?"
Jeongguk just shakes his head. Smiles as he turns you both around and begins to walk backwards, pulling you with him.
"You're the one who hated being here," he reminds you. "I loved you being here."
"Obsessed," you grin, gingerly letting him drag you anywhere he likes. "And good, 'cause I used your monthly plus one."
"Yeah," he confirms, ignoring the curious glances of other people in the room as he leads you back to your old 'spot'. "Thought we'd established that already? And that's fine. Use it every month."
Funny, how you used to hypothesise over the lives of other people in this very room, and how you know others must be doing the same for you now. You hope they all think you're besotted with him.
When you look at him like that, all love drunk and starry-eyed, how could they not?
"Was just about to finish up, anyway," Jeongguk tells you, heading in the direction of the treadmills. Glances back to you, then nods in their direction. "For old times sake?"
"For old times sake," you beam, following his lead, stepping up onto the treadmill closest to you. They're all vacant, but Jeongguk steps up on the one beside yours, 'cause of course he does. He'd go on the same one as you, if it were possible.
God, he loves you being here. Can't stop smiling.
You don't mention the potential job opening. For old times sake.
Instead, you revel in what it used to be like whenever you came to the gym, 'cause it just makes you so much more grateful for what you've become. Like Dionysus, these four walls saw the groundwork of your relationship being laid.
You've already lost access to one of the most important places to you both with Jeongguk leaving the club.
If you change jobs, you'll lose the art cafe, too. The lease is coming up soon on your place, and if Danbi chooses to just move in with Tae, that'll be another safe haven gone. One by one, places of your past are closing their doors to usher you forward into new spaces.
Life can't always stay the same. Change is needed. Necessary.
You've changed. So has Jeongguk. You'll continue to change for years to come.
The difference now is that you'll change together. Adapt. Merge, in some ways, just like a pair of orbiting stars so often do.
On the way home, Jeongguk picks up a bunch of wildflowers from the market stall he once bought you apology flowers from. His fingers are intertwined with yours as he pays, hands lightly swinging.
It dawns on you all rather quickly, as Jeongguk nibbles on his bottom lip and waits for the payment to go through, that maybe this is a change that you needn't fight. Perhaps it's okay to look forward to your future instead of being hung up on the past.
"C'mon," he tugs on your hand as you leave the market stall, encouraging you to gain a little momentum. "I'm starving. If we don't get me food soon, I'll turn into you with a hangover."
"Cute?"
"Oh, so close," he grins, then shakes his head. "But no. Grouchy and unbearable."
"You were practically begging to shag me," you remind him. "Can't have minded that much."
Jeongguk can't argue against this one. "I didn't—but working out increases like… all the hormones that were working overtime this morning. If I don't eat soon I might die, but if I don't shag you soon, I also might die. Honestly it's a lose-lose situation, B. There's only one solution."
"Sixty-nine?" You offer, 'cause it's perfectly logical. He gets to eat while you get him off. A win-win, you'd argue.
"You're a disgusting pervert," he tells you with stern sharpness, paired with a smirk he just can't help, as if he totally wasn't angling for you to say it. "But now that you mention it, yes. That'd be ideal."
"I don't shag boys who call me disgusting," you reply, knowing that he absolutely didn't mean it like that. You just like winding him up.
"I'm pretty sure I've called you worse before," he reminds you, then holds the flowers out in front of you both. "These can double as apology flowers instead of just my-girlfriend-is-really-pretty-and-I-love-her flowers."
You narrow your eyes as you look across to him, but the smile on his face is just too hard to resist. Thin lipped, his dimples are present, lip ring flipping in the corner of his mouth.
It's like his lip ring does the thing and you're reduced to jelly.
"Lucky you're cute," you grumble.
"You can thank my mum for that one," he offers, fully aware of how often people would coo over his cuteness as a child and then proceed to tell his mum how similar they are. "And for how pretty I am, too."
Though he's just joking, he's right. He really is the prettiest man you've ever known, inside and out.
You won't tell him this, though. Would give him far too much negotiation power.
"Who do I thank for how annoying you are?"
“Jimin,” Jeongguk says. "That's a learned behaviour. Nurture over nature."
"Figures," you accept, before tugging on Jeongguk's hand to lead him into a grocery store. "I've got nothing in. Need to pick up food or else you'll be going hungry."
"I thought we already agreed on six—"
"A little decorum please," you cut him off. "We're in a public space."
"You said it first!"
Playfully shrugging, you let go of his hand and grab a basket as you enter. "Watcha fancy?"
"You."
"For dinner, idiot."
"B," Jeongguk sighs as if he really is hard done by. "We've already discussed this. Literally, you."
"Shut up," you laugh, and let the shopping trip descend into chaos.
Jeongguk just puts whatever catches his eyes into the basket. Gets a kinder egg and a hot wheels car. Will surely just run it over the curves of your body when you're in bed later that evening. Also gets an entire pineapple, and when you raise an eyebrow, he just shrugs.
"If I don't have a snack before I shower I will die," he assures you. "I'm craving a burger, so you should really be thanking me for the noble sacrifice I'm making. It benefits us both."
"You're an idiot."
"Fine, I'll get a burger."
But when he goes to put the pineapple back, you stop him. Smile. Say, "Pineapple is good."
"That's what I thought," he stands tall and proud, chest puffed, head tilted back. He looks like an asshole but god damn, does he look good doing so. As he peers down at you, you know it'll be a miracle if you even make it to the shower by the time you get home. Want him too bad.
"Stop bickering," you tell him. "Quicker we get home, the quicker we can—"
"Say no more," he nods, taking the basket from you, then zooming off up the aisle. "C'mon, B! Places to be! People to see!"
As he darts off to the next aisle, all you can do is wonder how on earth this is your life.
But it is—and when you finally find him again, standing in line to pay, basket full to the brim from his supermarket sweep, you know that all these changes happening around you really don't matter as long as you have him.
"Alright," you quietly say as you stand beside him, flicking open your phone and heading for your taxi hailing app. "I'll order a taxi. Don't want you to die on the way home."
"Teamwork," Jeongguk smiles.
"It makes the dream work, or so I heard," you hum with a somewhat smug smile, pleased to be getting exactly what you want: time spent with Jeongguk away from the prying eyes of the three fates.
"Yeah," he quietly says, leaning over to press a kiss against the side of your head. "It sure does."
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Spectre - Yandere!Wraith!Hyunjin
Yandere AU & Wraith AU - First Person POV
Genre: Mature, Smutty Themes, Monologue
Pairing: Hyunjin X Implied Chubby!Reader
Words: 1,630
Warnings: Implied stalking and murder, talk of self-mutilation and dirty thoughts. This is a Yandere story, it will contain themes such as stalking, violence, obsession, possessive natures, and just general overall creepiness and swearing. You have been warned.
A/n: This one is meant to be read as if he's talking directly to you. Think "Meant To Be Yours" from the musical Heathers, just less intense anger. Hehehe, I hope you like it! Feedback is greatly appreciated! Enjoy!~
The Fifth of The Feral Drabbles
“Don’t be scared, Pretty. You know I would never hurt you.
Just let me in. Don’t you want me to take care of you?
Ignoring me won’t make me go away; you can’t get rid of me that easily. I’m attached to you now, whether you like it or not. Our bond can never be broken. You’re mine and I’m yours, and I will do everything in my power to make sure that you are never taken away from me again.
Pretty, why are you crying? You should be overjoyed! I’m not going to leave you ever again!
Oh, I get it! They’re tears of joy, aren’t they? You’re just as ecstatic as I am to know we’ll no longer be apart, and now with this newfound bond, I’ll be able to touch you! Isn’t that exciting?
I’ll be honest, Pretty, I’ve longed to know what your skin feels like beneath my fingertips. For too long my gentle brushes have simply passed right through you. I want to feel you pressed against me. I want to hold you in my arms both in the most innocent of ways, and also in the most intimate. I’ll finally be able to make you feel so good.
You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Now, I’ll no longer have to stand by and watch those others who have been ridiculously unworthy of you touch you. No one will ever lay their filthy hands on you again. No one but me is allowed to touch you.
I’d do anything you’d want. I’ll admit, when I still drew breath, I was quite a selfish lover, but I’ve learned from my mistakes. I’ve spent too long fantasizing about burying my face between those plush thighs of yours to not want to take my time with you, and indulge in every desire you’ve ever had. I’ve seen how frustrated the others always leave you, and I’ll make sure that you’re satisfied in every way I can.
All you have to do is let me in…
I already told you, I’m not going anywhere. I’m not going to leave you alone. You mean too much to me.
Wait! I know! I’ll prove to you how well I know you! Then, you’ll have to let me in. Or maybe, I could try seducing you with my words? Would you like that, Pretty? For me to delve deeply into your soul and caress you with the romantic tenderness you have always craved to hear from your lovers?
I know my visage is usually meant to bring death and terror, but there is nothing more that I long to do than breathe into you the vibrance of life. You’re so beautiful, and you deserve only the best. You deserve someone to laugh at all of your corny jokes with. You deserve someone who will cherish you like you are the most delicate flower in the garden of the universe, of which you are. You deserve to be loved how you’ve always wanted, and I am more than willing to give that to you.
In fact, do you remember that day you were out with that- that- thing.
Forgive me, I dare not speak that bastard’s name. I honestly don’t know what you saw in him. He was a good for nothing, ugly, vile, piece of-
Sorry, Pretty. I guess I just got too carried away…
You can’t blame me. That’s just what you do to me. Picturing you with anyone else… well, I’m not a wraith for nothing.
Anyways, as I was saying, do you remember that day? How certain things started happening when he dared to get close to you?
Yes, that was me. I couldn’t stand the sight of him touching what’s mine. He never deserved you. Besides, you didn’t know what he was like when you weren’t around.
I took the liberty to follow him. I just had to know why you preferred his company, and seriously Pretty, you should have heard the shit he would talk about with his friends behind your back. It’s a shame someone seemed to pick them off one by one…
Yes, Pretty, that was also my doing. I couldn’t have scum walking this earth who could so easily disrespect My Pretty, now could I? Sometimes being what I am has its perks.
No, don’t cry harder! I promise I’ll never hurt you! I love you!
I- I- I don’t want you to be scared of me.
I know! Would hurting me make you feel better?
I mean, you locking me out like this already hurts me, but I’ll gladly let you do whatever you want to me. Now that we’re bonded, I’m susceptible to more things than before, but the regular stuff still works, too. Iron, salt, fire: pick your poison, I’ll suffer through it all. Though, if you’d prefer something more substantial, like a blade, I’ll gladly bleed for you. After all, only you can touch me now.
…Is it that surprising that I would want to bleed for you? After I already told you that I would do absolutely anything and everything for you?
Carve your fucking name into my skin. I don’t care. In fact, I’ll gladly do it for you.
Just please, won’t you let me in? I want to see your pretty face again; it’s been too long since I’ve last gazed upon you.
I don’t care if I appeared to you only an hour ago! It’s been too long!
You know, this isn’t how I pictured this going…
I won’t lie to you pretty, I had hoped we would be in the midst of making love right now.
It’s you who makes me so crazy, you know. You seriously have no idea what you do to me…
Long have I since desired to worship you. I mean, I already worship the very ground you walk on, but you’ve never seemed to notice. I honestly hated knowing how you thought those roses I always left for you every week were from that bastard.
Selfishly, I wanted to show up with those red flowers, litter your bed in their petals, and then make love to you like you’ve never been loved before. Until you were shaking from a single touch. Until you were dripping down my face from the amount of times I would make you come from my tongue alone. Until the only thing your hoarse voice could utter, the only thing that you could think of, would be my name.
Don’t you want me, too? I’ve been with you this whole time, but now that you can actually see me, you don’t-
It’s my appearance, isn’t it? I’m not desirable to you.
It’s okay, Pretty. I can handle the truth. You don’t find me attractive, do you? That’s why you’re so scared right now. You’re terrified of how I might react.
I can change, you know. I’ll change for you. Whatever you want from me, know that it’s yours. I’ll figure everything out, just as long as I get to have you in the end. You already own all of me, and you know I’m willing to give my everything for you.
I am a little shocked, though. I have always been told that I’m quite handsome, especially when I was alive, but I guess I don’t suit everyone’s tastes. Unfortunate that I only care about yours, but you don’t seem to desire my looks.
You’ve gone awfully silent all of a sudden. That means I’m right, doesn’t it? You aren’t attracted to me like I thought you would be.
Your breathing just picked up when you said that. Are you, perchance, lying?
Oh, Pretty, it’s okay. I’m so in tune with your body and your every reaction, I can tell when you’re being dishonest with yourself. I’m just happy to know that my theory is wrong. You do find me attractive, don’t you?
I’m all yours, Pretty. You know that? Everything that I am, belongs to you. I just want to take my time loving you, and getting to cherish you like you’ve always wanted. Like you’ve always deserved.
So, please, won’t you open the door?
What do you mean, ‘no’?
I’m getting tired of these games, Pretty. I’ve tried playing nice, but the way you’re hiding from me is getting on my every last nerve. I’ve already waited years for this moment, and now that it’s here, you’re pushing me away? I don’t think so.
I’ll give you five seconds, and if you don’t open this fucking door before the time is up, I will smash through it without a second thought. Even you can’t keep me away forever. I won’t let you.
One.
Two.
You’re really testing my patience, Pretty. You know that, right?
Three.
Four.
Five.
That’s it, I warned you. I’m coming in whether you like it or not.
Wait, why can’t I get through your door? Pretty, did you do something?
Answer me, Pretty.
Pretty…
I know you’re scared, Pretty, but just let me in. Open the door, and let me in. I’m starting to get really angry, and I would hate to have to do something that I might come to regret. You can’t hide from me forever.
I’m fucking done waiting for you. You’re mine, whether you like it or not. I don’t care what it takes, I’m going to bust this fucking door down and find you. I’ll drag you out of that room if I have to; you’re not going anywhere without me. You can’t. You better be prepared for that, Pretty.
After all, this salt line will only protect you for so long, and once I’m through… Once I’m through, I’ll make you feel my love. It’s the only thing my spirit still lives on to do.”
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