genre: established relationship, work au, smut 18+
summary: Another day off spent at Jungkook's side, a few months later.
wc: 3.9k
warnings: shared shower, choking, unprotected sex, car sex, fingering (f. receiving), spanking, rimming (f. receiving), degradation, biting, multiple orgasms, creampie, cigarettes, alcohol mention
date: May 17, 2025
sunday, monday... masterlist
Thursday
Jungkook’s snores woke you. You groan as you try to stretch your arms mid-yawn. However, your sweet boyfriend is nestled under your chin, breathing you in.
“Koo,” You whisper as you try to move him off you gently. He grunts, stirring for a moment before you sigh. You’d get some more sleep then.
The next time you wake up, the birds are chirping outside, and Jungkook’s chest is pressed to your back. He’s stopped snoring.
“Morning,” His raspy voice greets you.
“Good morning,” you respond as you yawn and roll over to face him. He smiles, kissing your cheek.
“I missed you,” He admits bashfully.
“I’ve been right here, babe,” You remind him, but he pouts.
“But I was asleep. I didn’t get to appreciate you,” He states, and you roll your eyes playfully.
“Come on, Romeo. Let’s get some breakfast and figure out what we’re doing today.” You push the covers off you, and Jungkook whines when the chill of the room hits his warm body.
“Babe,” he frowns as he shivers, tugging the covers back over him.
“Guess I’m showering alone,” You sing as you take off the oversized shirt you stole from him and head to the shower.
Jungkook curses as he gets tangled in the sheets in his hurry to join you.
Laundry was done, dishes were done, breakfast was eaten, and groceries had been ordered to be delivered at Jungkook’s place later this evening.
Jungkook laced his fingers with yours the moment you walked into the aquarium. His nose wrinkled when he got a whiff of the fishy scent but you were excited to see all the sea animals, so he kept his mouth shut.
Grinning, he holds his phone out to the ticket taker. They scan his phone twice and point to the entrance behind them.
“Where to first?” Jungkook asks as he pockets his phone. You can go straight or go left. You hum as you decide to go straight and follow the crowd.
For a Thursday, it’s pretty empty. There are a few families and children about, but no school field trips or large groups. You relax, grateful you won’t have to crowd around others like at work.
Jungkook lets you lead him to the large tank with one huge fish swimming about. You read the information card aloud, and Jungkook listens attentively. He steps back to admire the brown fish, but soon screams with you when the fish swims upward, splashing in his tank and spraying the two of you.
“Yeah,” the nearby worker says. “He does that.”
“Good to know,” you utter as you wipe water off your arms. “Off we go.”
Chuckling, Jungkook follows you to the next tank and so forth until you reach a dark passageway that leads to a ginormous tank with a rainbow of fish swimming in schools or by themselves.
“Make way! Make way!” A loud voice shouts as people part ways, some across from you and some beside. There’s a worker with a flashlight walking backwards as a parade of penguins passes by.
You grab Jungkook’s arm in excitement, grinning when they waddle past you with the staff. In a little wagon, baby penguins sit with curious eyes as they’re led past you to continue the parade.
You hug Jungkook, kissing his cheek. “They were so cute!”
Jungkook nods in agreement, his hand finding yours as you watch the tail-end of the Penguin Parade before you continue on your way.
After a snack break, Jungkook leads you to the shark tank.
Scared, you clutch his hand as a hammerhead shark swims over your heads before it rests on the glass.
“That’s sturdy, right?” You ask Jungkook with wide eyes as the shark remains in place.
“Should be,” Jungkook responds, but his arm drapes over your shoulders to pull you away from it. “But let's go over here just in case.”
The both of you continue on your path, learning about all the animals you can see. When you arrive at the penguins, you get excited.
“Think I can sneak in the tunnel to get a picture?” You ask Jungkook as a parent and their child exit the tunnel.
“Go for it, babe!” Jungkook encourages you to hand him your purse and phone, so he can take a picture of you in the clear circle right by the penguin habitat.
Jungkook watches as you drop to your knees, your skirt covering your ass and thighs, but he glares when he sees one of the father’s trying to look up your skirt.
Jungkook easily moves to the entrance of the tunnel to cover your behind, a dark brow raised in the direction of the father, who has the sense to flush and look away.
He could be pretty intimidating if he wanted to.
“Kook!” You wave from the penguins’ habitat.
“So pretty, love! Smile!” Jungkook instructs, though he doubts you could smile any wider whilst being surrounded by penguins. When you’ve had your fill, you crawl out and encourage Jungkook to have a turn.
“This looked easier when you did it,” Jungkook groans as his shoulders threaten to get stuck in the tunnel.
Giggling, you tell him to keep going until his head pops up.
“Smile!”
Jungkook does as he’s told, posing before he crawls out of the end of the tunnel. You show him the pictures, grinning madly as you take his hand.
Nearing the end of your excursion, you spot a pool with stingrays. You lean in close to watch them, a few kids feed them and a few of the stingrays splash you as they swim by to the feeding hands.
“Today was wonderful,” You tell Jungkook as you cling to his side. His cologne fills your nostrils, and you inhale him deeply as you shop around the gift shop. You find a small turtle magnet that you love, and Jungkook purchases it for you.
“A reminder of our date,” he says as he hands the tiny turtle to you.
“Thanks, baby,” You kiss his cheek before you head out the doors towards his SUV.
You’re not entirely sure how you ended up in this position. One moment, you were teasing Jungkook about his proposition, and now he was in the process of rearranging your insides… not that you were complaining.
“Jungkook,” you gasp as his hand wraps around your throat. Your back is pressed to his sculpted chest, his lips on your jaw as he pounds into you.
“Come on, babe. You can moan louder than that,” He laughs as he grips your hip with his other hand, squeezing to make your curse.
“Jungkook,” you repeat, eyes closed as pleasure courses through every inch of your body. Your tits bounce with each of his thrusts, your moans filling his bedroom as he gently squeezes the sides of your throat.
“Just say you’ll think about it,” he whispers as he nips your earlobe. “Just think about it.”
“Fuck, yes! Okay? Yes,” you moan as you turn to kiss him before he can say something sarcastic.
Instead of responding, his tongue meets yours as he slows the pounding of his hips, grinding against you instead.
His hand moves from your hip to your breast, a moan of your name muffled by your lips.
Jungkook’s forehead rests against yours, ignoring the way you push back on him, trying to fuck yourself on his thick cock.
“Really?” He asks with confirmation, his eyes displaying his apprehension.
“Really,” you take a moment to cup his face. “I want to move in, and not just because one rent payment is better than two.”
“I was trying to be convincing!” He protests, giggling as he pushes his hair out of his eyes.
“Yeah, babe,” You mock his voice dramatically. “You should move in, we’d save on rent and bills.”
“I don’t sound like that,” he snorts before he releases your throat. His lips meet yours again, easily weaving his tongue with yours as he holds you to him. Your back is arched in a ridiculous angle that will make you sore tomorrow, but you couldn’t care less as he kisses you as if his life depended on it.
“You do so,” you joke, and he easily pulls out of you.
Your back meets the pillows as you laugh.
Jungkook hovers over you, his broad chest obscuring what little purple light he had allowed in his bedroom.
Quickly, Jungkook plants sloppy, wet kisses on your face, neck, and chest until your laughter mixes with his.
“Fuck, I love you,” He breathes, eyes sparkling with stars and hearts.
You pause, eyes wide, before you kiss him.
“I love you more,” you whisper as you caress his face. Jungkook stares down at you, ignoring the somersaults in his chest from his heart.
“Knew it,” he smirks before you grab his pillow and hit his shoulder with it.
Jungkook cackles as he takes the pillow from you, settling between your legs. You moan when his cock rubs against your thigh.
“So easily distracted by my dick,” He coos sardonically.
“Shut up!”
“Gladly,” Jungkook replies before he captures your lips with his, your moan swallowed by his mouth as your legs wrap around his waist and he slides home once again.
Fuck, you love him.
Friday
Sleep clung to you as you parked in the lot. Jungkook chugged his energy drink, setting the empty can in the cup holder.
His long hair curled at the ends. His half-ponytail looked so hot on him. You would ruin it before you even made it into the building.
“Tonight should be good for tips,” he states as he looks at you. You don’t respond, just undo your seatbelt, ignoring the annoying dinging of the SUV as you move over the center console to climb onto Jungkook’s lap.
“Hello,” he giggles as his hands grip your hips.
Your hand finds the lever to move the seat back as your lips meet his. Jungkook moans as your tongue meets his. Fuck, you need him.
“Whoa!” he chuckles. “What’s got into you?”
“You, hopefully,” you giggle as you kiss him again, your hands going straight for his hair. Jungkook moans when you tug it, his hips rocking against yours.
“Good boy,” you praise, and he groans gutturally.
“Baby,” he whines, hiding his face in your chest. You laugh softly as you card your fingers through his hair.
“No need to be shy with me,” you remind him, kissing his cheek. “After all, you did ask me to move in with you.”
Jungkook can’t contain the grin that appears on his pretty pink lips. It had been a few months since he’d gotten his bottom lip pierced again. The silver hoops always got your attention when you’d look at him, and it made your heart flutter as you leaned in closer to kiss him.
Tonight was one of the busier nights this week. The air was balmy for late spring, which meant more customers would be out and about in the streets. You have been carpooling with Jungkook for a while now. He had more patience for the after-club traffic than you did. Trying to maneuver your way through cop cars, (hopefully) sober drivers, and rideshares made your head nearly pop. If Jungkook wanted to take on the horrific task of getting you both home safe, you’d let him.
Slowly, his hands move to your hips, his gaze locked on yours. “I can’t wait to wake up next to you every day.”
“You do that already, you clingy fuck,” You retort and he rolls his eyes before smacking your thigh sharply.
“But now you won’t have to leave me at night or for a few days to get more clothes.”
“True,” you nod as your hands move to his shoulders. You wanted to keep Jungkook all to yourself. He looked too damn fine to go to the bar and sell drinks to others.
Without another word, your lips meet as his hands hike up your skirt to rest on your upper thighs. You undo the button of his pants, wishing he’d worn sweatpants instead for easier access.
“Again?” he asks with a silly smile.
“You look too good to not fuck before work,” You admit as you palm him over his pants. “Besides, if you weren’t expecting it, why did you get the backseat ready?”
Jungkook chuckles, shaking his head. “Fair enough. Why don’t you get your pretty ass back there so I can fuck you?”
Smiling, you nod as you carefully climb off Jungkook. His hand is at your hip as you take one step over the center console and fall hands-first onto the backseat that’s been pulled down and covered with soft blankets and a pile of pillows to keep you comfy.
You get on your knees to crawl forward, but Jungkook is on you before you can roll onto your back. He chuckles when you push back onto him, feeling the rough denim against your thighs.
“So needy,” Jungkook teases as his hand moves to your thighs, easily finding its home between them.
“Jungkook,” you try (and fail) to scold him while pushing back onto him. “Don’t tease me.”
“It’s so easy, though,” He pouts in that cute way you love. It makes you rock your hips harder, growing needier as your shirt bunches up at your neck. You easily rip it off your body, tossing it into the blankets where you’ll regret it when your alarm goes off fifteen minutes later.
“We don’t have time,” you remind him as his fingertips brush your clit, and you bite back a moan as he dips his fingers into you. “Fuck.”
“We have all the time in the world, babe. There’s always time to get you creaming my fingers… or my cock.”
“Fuck, Kook,” you moan as he rubs your clit in the way you like. It has you seeing stars when your eyes shut, and his cologne and soft floral scent hit you. You want to breathe him in, make him one with you… if he’d just fuck you already!
Jungkook laughs, his head thrown back, cursing when he bumps the light overhead. You giggle in response, earning another spank before his hands grip your skirt, nearly tearing it as he pushes it out of the way.
“Finally stopped wearing panties to work,” He praises you as his hand caresses your behind. You roll your eyes.
“You kept ripping them or losing them,” you huff as he moves his hand upward, past your stomach and straight to your tits.
“Mhmm,” he hums in response, only half listening now that your body is exposed to him. He only pauses to remove his shirt, carefully folding it onto the driver’s seat for work. Not that the ‘just fucked my girl in the backseat’ stink would lift off it.
Oh, well.
“Please, Kookie,” you whine when his hands are off your body for a moment too long. Jungkook smirks. He loves when you’re so wet and needy for him, begging for his cock, his fingers or his tongue.
One hand grips you, spreading you open for him, and you bury your face in a pillow, your cheeks hot as he exposes you to him. It’s not like he hadn’t been in every hole, devoured every bit of you entirely, but being so exposed and knowing he loved seeing you so, made your heart jump.
Jungkook eases two of his fingers into your cunt, groaning when you moan his name so sweetly. It goes straight to his cock.
“Jungkook!” you exclaim when his tongue circles your tightest hole. You press back into him, cursing when he continues to fuck his fingers inside you, his thumb rubbing your clit while his tongue works wonders behind you.
When it comes to your body, Jungkook is an expert and it only takes a few moments to have you cumming, loudly.
You pant as your thighs shake from the orgasm. Jungkook smiles, pride fills his chest as he admires your body before he palms his cock over his boxers. At this point, he wondered why he bothered with underwear at all when things always ended with you bouncing on his cock, creaming him so good each time, it felt like an out-of-body experience.
“Want you,” you admit when you finally catch your breath. Your body craves him, needs him to fill you so good you’ll see stars, maybe even Heaven.
Jungkook doesn’t make you wait much longer; he lines himself up at your entrance and easily slides in.
He curses, his hands gripping your hips to steady himself. Pure pleasure and satisfaction overcame him, his face the picture of sin.
The SUV rocks with his thrusts, the windows are fogged, and the playlist he made for car fucks fades into the background. Your sanchrine moans are all he needs as he sets a steady pace. His hands are greedy, needy as they palm your breasts, hips, and ass.
You fuck back into him, pleasure overriding every other emotion as he hits that one spot that makes you empty headed and nearly loopy. Fuck, how blessed were you to have an Adonis breaking you in half at any given moment.
You knew Yoongi would lose his shit again when he pulls into the parking lot and sees Jungkook’s car rocking, windows fogged, and a slight creak. Maybe he’ll spot Jungkook’s hand as it drags down the window as he readjusts—Titanic style.
Jungkook goes slow, grinding against you before you grab his hand, lacing your fingers with his. You kiss his hand, moaning his name as you arch further.
“Fuck, just like that,” Jungkook growls. “Such a good girl for me, huh? Take every inch of my dick like a good slut.”
“Yes,” you respond, cursing when he hauls you to him, mindful of your head as he kisses you messily before his other hand moves between your legs to rub your clit.
“Can’t get enough of this dick,” He chuckles, eyes hooded and filled with lust. “Can’t get enough of me.”
You cling to his hand, nodding like a bobblehead as he fucks you harder, deeper until you cum on his cock, screadming his name until your voice grows hoarse.
“Fuck, baby,” he grunts as he holds you to him. A few more deep thrursts is all it takes for him to cum, his teeth biting your shoulder, causing you to cum again from the pain.
When he pulls out of you, you collapse onto the pillows with him at your side. Both of you stare at each other before smiling through your heavy breaths.
“Want to go again?” Jungkook asks with a smirk.
You playfully slap his chest, and he laughs, the sound music to your ears as you kiss him again.
“We should call in sick,” Jungkook jokes as your alarm goes off.
“Don’t even think about it,” Yoongi’s voice startles the two of you as he knocks on the window with Jungkook’s handprint.
You groan as you scramble for your top while Jungkook pulls his boxers and pants over his thick, muscular thighs.
“What are you doing here?” You huff as your head pops through the neck hole of your shirt.
“Having a smoke,” Yoongi answers nonchalantly as he leans against the car door. You roll your eyes as Jungkook climbs over the center console into his seat after picking up his folded shirt. You wiggle your skirt down, hoping Jungkook has a pair of your panties in his pant pocket.
Slyly, Jungkook hands you a pair of folded pink panties and you put them on under your skirt before you settle into the passenger seat.
Jungkook shuts off the SUV before he opens his door, then jogs to your side to open yours.
Yoongi takes another drag, shaking his head. “You two are nasty.”
“You’re the one watching us!”
“Wasn’t watching,” Yoongi shrugs as the smell hits him and he takes another deep drag. “Was waiting for you to finish so we can go in.”
“Hoseok, know you’re smoking again?” Jungkook asks, seeing right through his friend.
“Shut up,” Yoongi retorts as he finishes his cigarette.
“That’s a no,” you chime as you hand Jungkook your bag with your clothes.
“Can you stop fucking in my parking lot?” Yoongi asks as he lights another cigarette, playing with his lighter before putting it away.
“Probably not,” You shrug as Jungkook locks the doors and sets the car alarm.
Yoongi sighs heavily, “I didn’t think so.”
Friday nights were awful.
The tips were good, the ambience was great, but fuck you were busy as you tried to scoot past Jimin to grab a bottle of liquor off the wall to pour into a shot glass.
“Behind you,” you warn as you step behind Taehyung, who is now a bartender and no longer a barback.
Jungkook is at the end of the bar, smiling and flirting with a group of women here for a bachelorette party. They laugh at something he says before bills end up in his overflowing tip jar.
He thanks them with a wink before he gets their drinks.
Across the bar, Joon tries to politely decline one of the stragglers from the bachelorette party. When you squint, you see the white sash on her chest that reads ‘Bride-to-be’. Whoop! That is none of your business.
You turn to the next customer, leaning over the bar to hear them better.
A ghost of a touch is on your thigh, and you immediately know it’s Jungkook’s way of checking in on you.
Beside you, Jimin is dancing to the music, drawing attention and tips from the customers as the song ends and another one begins.
You rest against the bar during a lull in the crowd. Jimin pushes into your side playfully with a smile.
“Heard your man finally popped the question,” Jimin wiggles his eyebrows.
“We’re just moving in together,” You respond with a curious gaze.
“That’s what I meant,” Jimin nods as he grabs a water bottle and downs half of it.
“That’s not what pop the question means,” You roll your eyes at him, and he shrugs.
“What the hell do I know?”
“Anyway,” you grin. “He did ask, and I said yes.”
“Good,” Jimin smiles warmly. “The two of you are perfect together.”
“You think so?”
“Definitely,” Jimin answers before someone comes to the bar to ask for a shot and a mixed drink.
Midnight arrives faster than you think.
“Take a break with Kook,” Yoongi says as he appears beside you behind the bar.
“What? You’re actually letting us take a break together?” you ask, incredulously.
“I heard he asked you to move in. I’m in a romantic mood,” Yoongi shrugs. “Don’t make me regret it.”
“Aye, aye, boss!” You salute him, and he flips you off.
Laughing, you stand beside Jungkook as he places a cap on a bottle of liquor.
“Break time!” You shout over the music.
Jungkook looks past you at Yoongi, who nods.
The two of you slip away from the bar, heading upstairs to the breakroom. You fan yourself as Jungkook gets you water.
“What’s got Yoongi in a giving mood?” Jungkook asks as he sits beside you on the couch.
“Heard you asked me to move in,” You explain as you hand him the bottle of water. Jungkook sips it before handing it back to you.
“Didn’t think it made headlines,” He laughs as he pulls you to his side. You lean into him, your hand on his thigh, until he laces his fingers with yours.
“Wait till they hear about our wedding,” You tease with a giggle. Jungkook kisses your forehead, grinning from ear to ear.
“I haven’t even proposed yet,” He giggles, his pretty eyes shining like the stars in the sky.
“But you will,” You state, and he kisses you.
“I want it all,” Jungkook tells you as he brings your joined hands to his lips.
"Don't think of it as a bad decision. Think of it as a lesson learned. Something to remember for next time."
The way Hoseok looks at you is borderline comical - face all scrunched up, mouth hanging ajar. He's scowling, but it isn't new. He's had a face like a slapped arse all evening. Kinda goes with the territory of a fresh break-up, mind you.
"You don't seriously believe that?" He scoffs, before swallowing his words down with the rum and coke that he's been nursing for the past fifteen minutes. It tastes like shit, and is far too strong - but he's the one who asked for a triple. No one else to blame
The bartender had raised his pierced brow, told Hoseok that he's "not allowed to do that" - but had offered to make him a double and pour a separate shot, instead. "What you do with that shot is up to you," the bartender had shrugged - and so Hoseok had poured it straight on in.
You finish your own drink with a roll of your eyes and shake of your head. "What I believe is that she wasn't 'the one', Hobes. Was a lucky escape, if you ask me. She was fucking vile to me and Danbi."
"You guys just didn't get to know her proper-"
"Hobi, she wore white to Jungmi's wedding," Danbi interrupted. Truthfully, she could not have cared less for how badly Hoseok's ex had treated her - it was when she started behaving badly around other people, embarrassing them in the process, that she started to take offence. If there was one thing Danbi had, it was pride. "WHITE! Who does that?! Poor Jungmi. She's a better woman than me. I'd have fought that bitch on the spot, right in the aisle. Don't care if it's my wedding day, when bitches deserve a slap-"
"Dan," you laugh but try and get her to quiet down, knowing that Hoseok is still reeling from the break-up. As true as her words are, he doesn't need to hear them right now. Turning to Hoseok, you stroke up his shoulder tenderly, with a soft smile on your glossy lips.
You didn't cover yourself head to toe in glitter just to sit in the smoking area of a shitty club all night. There's fun to be had.
"Look, Hobes, it sucks that things ended the way they did -" a screaming match over the price of asparagus in the middle of a supermarket, that was totally an argument about something more than that, but Hoseok is still in denial - "but not everything we lose is a loss. Okay? You've still got us."
Which is admittedly more than he deserves after how much of a shitbag he'd turned into during the relationship. He'd go days, weeks - hell - sometimes months, without getting back to you. You and Dan had been fine - you had each other after all - but it still sucked not having your third musketeer with you.
"Now c'mon," you smile. "Get that drink down you, and get that pretty ass of yours on the floor. We both know you're dying for a good dance."
"I don't feel like it," he groans - but he downs his drink regardless, and is dancing to a noughties classic within five minutes.
You think it's Nelly Furtado - it is - but you're so drunk that you can't really place it. It's the kind of song that everyone knows; the kind of song that gets everyone's hips moving just right. Bodies are hot and sweaty, the clammy dancefloor a pit of sin. To you, though, it feels like heaven at that moment. This is all you've wanted for months. You're holding Danbi's hands, Hoseok between the pair of you, unable to escape and not really wanting to, either. He's smiling, and it's the best thing you've seen all night.
The lights of the club beam down on you, pinks and blues reflecting the satin dress you're wearing. It's short, barely covering your ass, and silver. Picked out especially for a night like this; when attention is welcome, but not necessarily encouraged. You think you look like a trophy. Maybe someone will be lucky enough to win you. Maybe not.
From the bar, Jeon Jeongguk thinks you look like a little disco ball.
He's wiping a tumbler dry, fresh from the glass washer, making most of the lull in customers coming to the bar. There are only three of them behind it, and it always makes Friday shifts feel that little bit more hectic.
Dionysus, a club just on the outskirts of the party district, is always busier on a Saturday, so he prefers Friday shifts. A relatively small club, it has only a single dancefloor and a bar area with a few seats. The back entrance leads to the smoking area, which is where he'd first noticed you coming from with your friends. There's nowhere to hide, really, in a club like this. If you're in Dionysus, everyone knows about it.
Especially the bartenders.
"What do we reckon," Yeonjun, the youngest of the crew, smirks at Jeongguk as he nods towards you and your friends. "They all going home together, or what?"
A little air squeaks through Jeongguk's lips as he purses them, trying to get a read on your little trio. The way you're moving your hips towards the dude in the middle certainly seems a little more than friendly. At least, if a girl he'd never met before was dancing with him like that, he'd take it as a good sign he was getting laid.
What makes it interesting is the fact that there are two of you. You in silver, another girl in black. Both pretty. Both incredibly different, but both captivating nonetheless. Like a pair of shooting stars, he thinks, cracking through the crowd at a vibrancy that could blind. Is a little confused as to how the fuck you aren't being pestered by other guys - doesn't complain though. Makes for a clear line of vision.
It's nights like these which make Jeongguk wish he worked a normal job. He misses out on all the fun always being behind the bar, he thinks. Does also save him from making some bad decisions that he knows would surely haunt him. If anything, he should be thankful.
"Fuck knows," he simply says, closing the glasswasher and whipping the towel over his shoulder. "10,000 won says he's going home alone."
Yeonjun smirks. "You're on."
It's less of a bet for Jeongguk. More of a manifestation. He likes watching you dance. Doesn't like the thought of you dancing with the dude by yourself. Doesn't like the idea of you leaving with him, either. Considers the fact that maybe you're not even interested in dudes, and that it's the girl you're holding hands with who you'll be leaving with instead. He's less intimidated by that - at least your disinterest in him would be preference based - but it's still not his favourite scenario.
It's not like he knows you, nor will he ever know you. He just likes to live in the what-ifs. They're always so much safer. Can't get rejected if you don't put yourself out there.
And so he carries on with work just like he should, serving the next punters who stumble to the bar. He pours them a water with their order, because lord knows they need it, and laughs when someone tries to pay for it thinking it's a vodka lemonade.
"On the house," he shrugs, letting their drunk minds believe it really is a vodka lemonade. Easier that way. Will get them drinking water, at least, even if just for a sip or so before they clock on.
You're laughing, a little out of breath and not entirely steady on your feet, as you head to the bar.
He'd been so busy with the last customers that he didn't even notice until he saw you using the bar to help steady yourself. You aren't looking in his direction, but up at the row of spirits behind him, trying to sus out what you fancy.
Your hair is dark, up in a ponytail with grown-out bangs framing your face. The makeup you've been wearing has faded, melted off from the heat of the club, but the glitter remains. You really do look like a disco ball, he thinks. It makes him smile.
"Hey, sorry," you beam towards him, eyes just as sparkling at the glitter dusted on your collarbones. He raises his brows, expression open, receptive, as he moves closer to the bar. "What's something that can get me fucked up but also tastes delicious?"
Oh, how he loves a challenge. He licks his lips and tilts his head to the side. "What do you qualify as delicious?"
"No passionfruit," you say almost instantly. "So no pornstars." And then you gag a little, to emphasise just how much you hate passionfruit.
"No pornstars, noted," Jeongguk says as he pulls an imaginary pencil from behind his ear and pretends to jot it down on his palm. He looks back up at you, and doesn't bother fighting the way his teeth bite down on his bottom lip - why would he? You're giggling. He likes it. And he also knows you're probably drunk, so won't remember this interaction in the morning.
"Well, I mean, none of the drinking variety," you grin, tongue in cheek. "If you happen to know any of the human variety, send them my way."
He almost chokes on his own spit. The shock in his eyes has you laughing again.
"I'm joking, you idiot."
Although you kind of totally aren't. You haven't been laid in a while. You'll take anything with a pulse who is interested at this point.
"I knew that," he bluffs, and looks back down at his palm as if he's reading again. "Okay, so no pornstars - pornstar martinis. What else?"
"Don't like orange juice."
"Do you like anything?"
You like lots of things. So many things that your brain can't think straight, actually.
You like the way a tattoo is peaking out of his shirt sleeve. You like dancing with your friends. Being drunk. His smile. The way he's joking with you. The knowledge that Hoseok is probably doing the robot as you speak. Sunsets. The chain around the neck of the man in front of you. Those cute tiny straws he puts in some of the cocktails. Him.
But you narrow your eyes, and ignore your brain. "Alcohol."
He narrows his eyes right back. Purses his lips. Looks down at his fake notepad, then back up at you. "I think I have just the thing for you."
Reaching for the plastic cups which you know are reserved for water, you almost look offended. Does he not think you have eyes? Are too drunk to know he's giving you water?
He places it in front of you and smiles, lips together, eyes round - but still challenging you.
"It's water," you tell him, and he nods. No denial.
"Uh-huh. Cleanse your palette first."
"Are we fine dining?"
"We aren't doing anything," he assures you. He's on the clock. "But everything tastes like shit after a smoke, so if you wanna enjoy it, have some water."
Your brows furrow together, head tilting and then you're self-conscious. "Do I smell like smoke?"
You'd doused yourself in perfume and had been chewing on gum to hide it, but apparently not well enough.
Jeongguk shakes his head, realising how much wider your eyes are. You don't seem as confident. You're not smiling anymore.
"No, no," he says quickly and nods toward your clutch, which is propped open on the side of the bar. A packet of cigarettes are sticking out slightly, a lighter tucked into the side. "I just guessed - sorry. I didn't mean to- I mean, no. You don't. Not at all."
You follow his gaze, and find yourself smiling. Small misunderstanding. That's all. But he seems just as panicked as you had been. It's sweet.
"Fine," you elongate your response and let your eyes narrow again, to let him know you're ready to banter again. "I'll drink it - but whatever you're making better be good."
"If you hate it, it's on the house," he says, knowing that you won't hate it. He sets about making your drink as you sip on the water, not really watching him because you're trying to focus on not falling over. Water actually seems like a great idea. You're thankful for it.
When Jeongguk returns to your spot by the bar, he can't stop blinking. The glass of water - an entire pint - is finished. You're smiling, lips a little wet, eyes a little hazy.
"Thirsty," you shrug.
He checks your jaw to make sure it's not grinding, but it's perfectly still. Not a gram of MD - the drug of choice in Dionysus circles - in your system. You just really are thirsty - had been dancing all bloody night. He knows this, but he's naive to how hot it is down there. Hasn't actually been on the dancefloor himself in a while. Always working.
He accepts your defence, and holds up the shot in front of you. It's tiny, and pretty, all purple and shimmery.
Jeongguk smiles. "Purple Starfucker."
The water you've just finished almost comes back up through your system. "Sorry?!"
"Purple Starfucker," Jeongguk simply repeats. "Amaretto, peach schnapps, a little curacao and cranberry juice. Fucking delicious."
You do love all of those. It's the ideal drink for you. You've never had it before, but you know it's gonna be good. He places it down in front of you, but that challenging look is still in your eye.
He laughs a little. Can't figure you out. Has no idea what you're thinking. "What are you waiting for?"
"Nothing," you grin, picking the shot glass up by the rim, raising it with a nod. "To Purple Starfuckers."
Jeongguk nods back. Toys with his lip piercing, the tip of his tongue peeking out ever so slightly before he bites down on his lip. "To Purple Starfuckers."
From his peripherals, Jeongguk can see Yeonjun leaning against the countertop at the back of the bar, watching him with a curious smirk.
Un-fucking-believable, Yeonjun thinks. Reckons Jeongguk is trying to fuck with the bet. Trying to lure Disco Ball away. He doesn't hear the conversation, but he can read your lips - 'Holy shit? That's fucking delicious? How much do I owe you?' - and watches the way Jeongguk shakes his head. Hands too. Shrugs. Bloody git is giving it to you on the house.
10,000 won ain't that much, but Yeonjun doesn't like losing. "Oi, Disco Ball. Get your friends"- he nods towards Hoseok and Danbi. -"We'll make you a round."
He ignores the way Jeongguk's eyes burn into him, knowing that his shit-eating grin is enough to wind Jeongguk up. They love each other really, but in a way you'd love a sibling. Fully capable of hating one another, too.
You glance up to Jeongguk, almost as if you're asking his permission. You kind of are. You trust him. He's been kind. This other bartender? He's a bit louder. Far brasher. And he'd called you Disco Ball? The fuck?
Jeongguk nods. Doesn't want you to leave, but equally knows the only reason you're looking at him like that - eyes all wide and innocent - is 'cause you're drunk. Doubts it would be the same if you were sober. When he comes to think of it, he'd rather you were with your friends. Safer that way. "Hurry. Before we get really busy."
And so you scurry off, running on the balls of your feet to avoid awkward heel mishaps. There's something endearing about it and it's almost enough to distract him from Yeonjun's taunts.
"If he doesn't take her home, I will."
"She's fucked," Jeongguk tells him, voice stern, eyes still on you. Fucking around with punters isn't against the rules, but taking advantage of drunk girls? Yeah, not on his watch. Doesn't matter who it is. He's seen enough creeps and enough girls in tears because of them to know when to step in. "You're going nowhere near her."
"I clock off in an hour," Yeonjun reminds him. Jeongguk the one who's closing the bar tonight. "Plenty of time to play catch up."
Yeonjun - brilliant, blue-haired, and with enough boyish charm to seduce almost anyone - isn't a creep. He looks up to Jeongguk. Respects him. Follows his lead. Would never take advantage of a punter. He just likes winding Jeongguk up a little too much.
Jeongguk ignores him. Doesn't put it past him. While Yeonjun likes to think he has values, Jeongguk knows he's just as horny and desperate as the rest of the fuckers in the bar.
That's not to say Jeongguk is discounting himself from the generalisation - he just actually does have morals. To some degree, at least.
You're on the dancefloor for no more than thirty seconds, dragging Hoseok and Danbi with you to the bar. They complain and moan - "but I love that song!" - though as soon as they're faced with a tray of shots, their moods shoot up. You go to pay Jeongguk, but he shakes his head.
"On the house."
"You're trying to get me drunk," you accuse with a knowing smile.
"You're already drunk," he smiles right back. It's not his goal. It's a fairly quiet night. If anything, this is entertainment. Not like there's much better for him to be doing. Not until his friends drop by later, at least. "I'm just a nice barman."
Part of you wants to protest. He's covered in tattoos - his hands, the ones peaking from his shirt at the wrist and the neck - and has more piercing in his ears than you do. There's a stud in his brow, and a ring on his lip. It's his eyes though, that you think scream danger the most. They're deep and they're dark, and you know better than to trust them.
And yet when he smiles like that, your tummy feels all fuzzy in the same way that your head does.
"Well thank you Mr Nice Barman," you nod and curtsey, because that somehow feels appropriate.
"Jeongguk," he corrects, before knocking his head to the side and nodding towards the dancefloor. "Go enjoy your night, trouble."
Not too much, though, he thinks to himself, but watches as you bounce back to the dancefloor with your friends.
The drinks were a small gesture, but one that he knows will have made a difference to their night. No skin off his back. He likes doing things like this. You're not the first, likely won't be the last - but he spends a lot longer than usual quietly observing you as you get on with your night. Doesn't notice the smile on his face.
Yeonjun does, though. Chooses not to say anything. Knows when to pick his battles.
Does warn him when he sees Jeongguk's friends bundle in through the door, though. "Watch out boss. Same as usual?"
Jeongguk nods, and Yeonjun sets about making a round of drinks for the usual suspects. Three malibu and cokes, one rum and lemonade and four purple starfuckers. Jeongguk'll make those. They're his signature.
"Look what the cat dragged in," he grins towards his friends, all a little worse for wear. Bleary-eyed, they're smiling and joking, having come from dinner - which turned into drinks, and then more drinks and then - fuck it - clubs. Dionysus is always the final stop. They like the atmosphere; like the free drinks even more.
"You know us," Park Jimin grins at him in the sleazy way he so often does, which lets Jeongguk knows he's up to no good. "Where the pussy goes, we surely follow."
"Speak for yourself," Namjoon snorts beside him, a little more sober than the others. Taehyung and Yoongi are engaged in their own conversation - something about the Samsung Lions and baseball strategy that Jeongguk doesn't care much for. "Quiet night?"
"Fairly," Jeongguk nods - which can only mean one thing. Same thing it means every week.
He'd always thought that by the time they hit their mid-twenties, they'd be over this lifestyle by now - but his friends like to make just as many bad decisions as he does.
"Round up boys," Jimin cheers, his voice booming above the bass of whatever noughties classic is on. "Purple Starkfucker time!"
Jeongguk laughs. Shakes his head, rolls his eyes. Unfolds his defensive arms. Glances up to the crowd - but you're lost to the night. Maybe not forever, but for now, at least.
Description: Part of the summer #btswritingbingo, hosted by @bangtanwritingbingo! For sweet drinks. Your friends decide you need to find a new favorite drink to get over your ex.
Warnings: casual drinking until drunk
Posted: 08/08/2021
Tags: jin x reader, jinminkook, bar owner seokjin, bartender jimin, bartender Jungkook
idk what genre this is: 1,036 words
A/N: I struggled a bit with this one, but once I started it wasn’t too bad. Hopefully you enjoy it
“Alright. The only thing to do is find you a new favorite drink!” Jin said confidently, going behind the bar with Jimin.
Taehyung nodded. “He’s right. It’s the best way to get over your ex.”
“But...we’re all supposed to go to the beach tomorrow. I don’t want to be hungover,” You argued weakly, taking a seat at the bar with the others.
“She’s right,” Hoseok agreed, watching with growing concern as Jungkook also joined the other two behind the bar--all three mixing drinks to tempt you.
“Then we’ll put off going to the beach. It’s supposed to rain tomorrow, anyway,” Jimin said flippantly. “The best way to get over an ex-boyfriend is to get drunk with your friends and pick a new favorite drink.”
“Why does his way of thinking not surprise me?” You murmured, concerned at the combination of ingredients before you.
Jin slid a glass in front of you. “Mudslide.”
You regarded it with caution. “Which is…?”
“Just try it,” Jimin ordered, rolling his eyes.
You did, a little surprised. “Hmm. It’s good, but it also tastes like something I would sneak into the office on a rough day.”
“Pina colada?” Jungkook asked.
“Boring?” You answered snarkily.
He nodded agreement. “True. Alright. You do prefer sweet drinks, right?”
“I do.”
He gave you a dramatic thumb’s up.
“Ugh, how girly,” Jimin teased, smirking at you. “Your regular is a cosmo, so you actually tend toward tangy flavors. But I get the gist of what you’re saying. You’d rather be sweet than sour or burn-y.”
You nodded.
Hoseok had tasted the mudslide as well, passing it on to Yoongi, who appeared happy with it.
“Strawberry Daiquiri,” Jungkook said, sliding it over to you.
You took a sip. “Mmm, I do like that.”
“Aperol Spritz,” Jimin countered, a competitive look in his eyes.
You nodded. “I like the tones in this….”
“Hurricane,” Jin announced.
You glanced toward Taehyung. “Why do I feel like I’m going to die from mixing alcohol?”
Taehyung just shook his head a bit, sipping the Daiquiri.
“They’re really trying to get you drunk,” Hoseok murmured, making a curious face as he tasted the spritz.
You sipped the Hurricane and felt your eyes get huge. “Whoa.”
“Mai Tai!” Jungkook slid it to you with a flourish.
You sighed, shaking your head and tasting it.
Drink after drink set before you and you took small sips of most of them, your head already a little static, until finally you held up your hands.
“Enough, I surrender. I’ll tell you what drink I want as my new regular.”
All three bartenders turned, awaiting your final appraisal.
You took a breath. “My new regular drink...will be….”
A glance down told you exactly what was missing, and you were actually kind of happy that they hadn’t hit upon this drink.
“The classic French Martini,” You said, letting your hands drop.
They stared at you quietly for a long while.
“Classy,” Jimin finally whispered, awestruck.
Jin slid a glass down the counter to you, a look of quiet satisfaction on his face.
Jimin’s eyes practically bugged out of his head. “How….”
“I saw her drink it at a party once,” Jin answered, smiling smugly. “It took me a while to remember it.”
You took a sip and smiled. “Very nice. After I finish this, I’m done for the night, though. I shouldn’t be allowed to mix alcohol.”
Jungkook looked disappointed.
“Cheer up, Jungkookie, it’s just a drink. It’s not like I said anything before-hand.”
“She doesn’t get it,” Yoongi chuckled. “She’s too drunk.”
You looked down at him, then back at the sullen bartender boys.
“It’s not like Jin picked out my drink, he just happened to have the right answer after the test was over,” You said.
They looked even more upset by that.
Yeah, you were definitely missing something.
Jin started clearing drinks from in front of you, giving a few to each of the boys. “Forget them, y/n. Just enjoy your chosen drink. Forget about the past. Tomorrow is a new day and a new sort of hangover.”
You giggled a bit, definitely looser. “Alright. But I should really drink some water.”
“You have been,” Taehyung said lightly, laughing a bit and handing you the almost-empty water bottle. “And you’ve been eating.”
You stared at the empty bowl beside you. “Oh. Okay then.”
“She’s really drunk,” Namjoon muttered.
“Yeah. I’ll get her settled in the room upstairs. The rest of us should crash here. I’ll bring blankets and pillows down with me.” Jin stretched.
“Why can’t I stay down here?”
“Because Jimin is well on his way past tipsy, and drunk Jimin is a touchy-feely Jimin.”
“I like touchy-feely….”
“No, not his kind, you don’t.” Jin gently guided you to the back stairs, and up to the apartment above his bar. “Besides, you’ll get your own bathroom.”
“That’s nice.”
“Yes it is.”
You made a soft sound of regret. “Too many sweet drinks.”
“Yeah, sorry to put you through that.”
“Beach tomorrow?”
“Beach the day after tomorrow,” He corrected softly, helping you in the door and guiding you to the bedroom, making sure you drank more water and took some medicine before turning on the light in the bathroom. “Alright. If you need anything, just call my phone. Your phone is right here.”
You met his gaze, wondering how someone managed to glow. “I like summer.”
“I know,” He replied, smiling.
“It’s so bright and you guys all have more free-time and you close your bar early on the weekdays so we can spend time together….” You sighed and let your head fall forward onto his shoulder. “You’re so much fun.”
He laughed softly and then gently lay you back. “Try to sleep, y/n. It will help you feel better.”
You sighed softly and let yourself relax, licking your lips because there was still a hint of raspberry on your lips. “Don’t like being drunk.”
“I know. It’s okay. You’re safe here. I’m going downstairs now,” He whispered, kissing your forehead and then the warmth he radiated seemed to seep away as he left you.
You pouted in the ensuing silence, wishing you’d been bequeathed a different sort of sweet drink.
warnings: jaykay discovers boobs! we rejoice! wahooo!! okay so this entire chapter is basically titty worship (no titty sucking (sad)). lots of paint. curious art. shower (again) mutual masturbation (for realsies this time) jaykayyy aka my dream man. the chess plot device is born! the mirror kink is also born! WE THRIVE!! Still one of my fave chapters, some would argue we peaked early!!
soundtrack: vibez- zayn
wc: 11.8k
bd total wc: 540k (ongoing)
AO3 | MASTERLIST | MINORS DNI
"Why did you write it like that?"
"Like what?" you say, coming to sit beside Jeongguk at a pair of easels towards the back of the room. The last few tasks were carried out by the pair of you, Jeongguk insisting on helping despite the fact he had no clue really what to do. You'd ended up asking him to move a couple of boxes you couldn't reach just to appease his need to lend a hand.
He looks at your bird once more, and holds it open for you to read again. You knock your head to the side and shrug.
"Guess it's just how I feel about it."
"Like screaming?"
"Kind of," you laugh. It's written in just the same way as the last one - full capital letters, zero context, and more exclamation points than any one person should use. "I guess it's like... a big one for me?"
"How big are we talking?" Jeongguk asks as he looks at it again. It's just a single word, but he knows there's more to it than meets the eye. There always is with you.
You pull one of your feet up to the chair and wrap your arms around your knee. The apron you'd been wearing earlier is up on a hook, and Jeongguk finds the simplicity of your outfit all very intriguing. You're monochromatic, which isn't much of a surprise, in a large white shirt and black slacks. The caps of your hightops peek out from the hem of your trousers, and a satin scrunchie is around your wrist instead of in your hair.
You're lacking a little sparkle. There's still some across your lashline, and little specks on your skin that your makeup remover hadn't managed to get, but what with the paint and the two showers you've had since the paint party, there's really not all that much left.
He wonders if there's any glitter glue in the art supplies. Thinks you should just use that instead. You're really not quite yourself without it.
"My ex was a tittie guy," you say, and Jeongguk's eyes widen as if he'd forgotten the topic of conversation. You laugh. "Is it really that much of a surprise? Ass guys are hardly gonna go for me."
"Your ass is fine," Jeongguk says. He means it as a compliment, but realises 'fine' isn't the way to ever really describe a woman's assets - and so he corrects himself. "Good, I mean. Your ass is good."
There's a look of disgust on your face as you question why on earth he's been looking at your ass, which causes him to roll his eyes. There really is no winning with you.
"I'm an ass guy," he shrugs.
"Doesn't give you any right to look at it."
"Oh give over," he laughs. "It's literally just a body part. No different to me looking at, I don't know... your wrist. Something like that."
"Well, it depends," you argue back. "Are you into wrists?"
Regretfully, the answer is yes .
"I don't know!" Jeongguk protests when you grill him for how the fuck he can be 'into' wrists. "They're just dainty! And pretty! I don't know! It's not my fault."
You narrow your eyes, and hide your exposed wrist behind your knee. He looks at you with a poorly hidden smile, running his tongue along the inside of his cheek. His lip ring always dances along his peachy bottom lip when he does so, and it makes you laugh - but you're still feigning disgust.
In all honestly, you like your wrists. Would put them in your top five for your physical attributes. Completely understand why he would be into wrists, just like you're into forearms. You like arms that feel safe.
Kind of like his.
But still, he's an ass guy.
"See, this is why you and I would never work," you tell him, and nod to the piece of paper he's still holding, adorned with a singular scribble:
!!!!! TITS !!!!!
"We want different things," you clarify. "You're after a good ass, I'm after a guy who knows how to handle a pair of tits."
"Hey! That's not fair. I never said I didn't know how to handle them," he scoffs - although now he comes to think about it, he's not sure he actually does. "Like, sure, maybe my exes have all had great asses, but they all had a pair of tits, too. I'm not opposed to a pair of tits."
"Yeah, but there's a pair of tits, and a pair of tits , yanno?" You say, using your hands to really emphasise the point. "Anyway my ex really liked them."
"So?"
"So, I really liked that he really liked them," you shrug. It's painfully obvious to you, but Jeongguk is still a little confused. "I just... The idea of someone else doing what he did to them just... makes me wanna run, yanno?"
"The fuck did he do them?" Jeongguk laughs.
"Nothing obscene," you smile, though when you think about it, perhaps 'obscene' is the only way to describe how much he enjoyed them. "I guess it's more so that it was always a part of sex? Most guys I've been with pick and choose whenever they want to deal with them, but with him..."
You don't mean to trail off, but fuck. You're thinking about Seokjin, how his plump lips would trail down your throat. He'd inhale the scent of your perfume and fucking whine, only stopping to latch himself to your nipples. Would spend more time on your tits than he would any other part of your body. Spent so long once that he made you orgasm from the simulation of it all alone.
And so now they're off limits. It doesn't matter who it is. The second someone reaches for your bra, you shake your head, reposition their hands, and pretend you hate your tits being touched. It's not like it's an unreasonable lie. You know it's one of Danbi's least favourite forms of foreplay. If anything, she'd be a good match for Jeongguk. In fact, now you come to think about it, she's got a cracking ass from all of her dog-walking.
Maybe you should cool the deal off. It's highly likely they're compatible. Fucking around with Jeongguk would only complicate things in the future if they discovered that themselves - but you know Taehyung's interested in her, and Jeongguk hasn't given any indication of interest further than friendship with her.
It's not like this is anything beyond friendship, you reason with yourself.
Jeongguk stays quiet as you work through your thought process. Assumes you're skimming through traumatic memories. Doesn't realise you're actually playing matchmaker in your head for him and your best friend.
"But with him?" He asks.
You're drawn from your thoughts. Feel a little guilty. Wonder if you should really be doing this - not for your sake, but for his.
"Are you sure about this?" You ask, ignoring his question entirely.
"About?"
"Doing my birds?"
He purses his lips - and now he feels guilty, too. Funny, how you're both more concerned about one another than yourselves.
"It's entirely your choice," he says. Doesn't want you to feel pressured into it - but it just makes you feel like he feels pressured into it.
"No, but, that just feels to me as if you don't want to," you tell him. "And like, that's totally fine, if you don't, but-"
"Byeol," he says all rather plainly. "I'm the one who suggested it. If I didn't want to I wouldn't be here right now, would I? I sought you out. I came here. This is all on me."
The worry on your features softens, and he's pleased to see you smile again no matter how subtle it may be.
"Only thing I will say is that I don't actually know what 'exclamation point, exclamation point, exclamation point, exclamation point, exclamation point, tits, excla-' "
"Gguk, you don't have to say every single exclamation point."
"Right," he nods. "Well, that. I don't know what that exactly entails."
And truth be told, nor do you. So you just sigh. Press your lips together a little tighter than usual. Think about it for a moment. Draw a blank. Furrow your brows.
Jeongguk looks just as perplexed as you. He's looking away, trying to find inspiration in the room around him - and when his eyes land on the 'gallery' wall where there are imitations of famous works, an idea comes to mind.
"So this is all about separating physical acts from emotional intimacy, right?" He says, and when you nod, he continues. "So what if we do something that involves-" he laughs, because he's a child. "-touching your tits-"
"Real mature."
"Shut up. We'll do something that involves touching your tits," he has to pause so that he doesn't laugh, but you're grinning too. Just as immature as he is. "But something that isn't sexual at all."
"Alright," you muse. "I'm listening."
"You got any black paint?"
You narrow your eyes. Turn your nose up a little. Question if he's lost all of his brain cells. "Jeongguk, this is an art cafe."
"I didn't wanna just assume," he feigns offence. "Are there security cameras in this place?"
"Only by the front entrance. None into the studio area."
"Okay, good. Go get some black paint and I'll get the blinds."
"No blinds," you say, nodding over the windows. "Chiffon curtains. If we turn the main lights off and just keep the lamps on, it should all be obscured. Let's just... not be too close to the windows - and what's the paint for?"
"Will tell you in a bit," he says as he heads to the windows. "Chop, chop, Byeol. We've got a fear to overcome."
You stay as you are for a moment, watching him with unrivalled wonder. There's an enigmatic energy to him that makes it seem as if he's the one constantly covered in glitter, not you. It's quite alarming that this is Jeongguk operating at half capacity. His confidence was knocked quite considerably after his heart was broken, and he's yet to recover. You know this. Know that's what his birds are all about. Know that once you've worked through them with him, he'll be an unstoppable force of nature.
In the time you've known him, he's been nothing but an angel. Cocky? Yes. A little petulant? Make that incredibly petulant. And yet he's a joy to be around. Shines without the need for artificial sparkles. You envy it. Wish you could emulate it.
It's as you're getting the paint, and a few extra supplies that you'll figure you'll need - some brushes, some washcloths - that Jeongguk begins to explain himself. He's drawing the curtains shut, glancing over at you every few words just to check you're paying attention.
"So I saw a video the other day - something to do with easy Halloween crafts, don't ask - and there are two options for you. One of them is quite literally painting your tits and pressing it against a canvas-"
"You are not painting my tits."
"Noted. The other one was way more family-friendly," he says, before he mulls it over and changes his mind. "Kinda. Maybe. It's a skeleton hand shirt."
"Okay..."
"It's super simple, one person covers their hands in paint and basically just grabs the other persons tits-"
"Does that mean I can grab yours too?"
"I don't have tits, I have incredibly defined pecks," he states rather sharply. "Please rephrase the question, Byeol."
You just grin. "Can I grab your tits?"
"No."
"Boring."
"Look," he smiles as he walks over to the easels where you'd been sat before. He turns the chair and sits on it backwards, arms resting over the back of it. There's a casualness to the way in which he carries himself. One that you quite enjoy. "This is a quick, easy and totally platonic way for you to have your tits touched, and it not be sexual at all."
"It'll just ruin my shirt."
"Or not," he says as he nods up to the wall where canvas sizes are displayed. There's also a plain tote bag and white tee pinned to the wall, still up from a promotion put on during the back-to-school season. It had been Hoseok's job to take them down, but he'd just broken up with his girlfriend at the time and had spent the entire week face down in the back room - getting him to do anything had been impossible - and so they remain as they were. "Would your boss notice if one went missing?"
You shake your head. Your boss really has no clue about the day-to-day goings on.
Still, you're hesitant. "If I get fired-"
"Then I'll fire Yeonjun and you can have his job," Jeongguk bullshits. If he was gonna fire anyone, Yeonjun would be the last to go. "C'mon, you gotta stop stressing the small stuff, Byeol."
You're making excuses. You know you are, and so does he.
"Can we at least do it at your place?" You ask. It feels rude to invite yourself to his apartment, but it's honestly probably where you feel most comfortable. It's where the birds are, and it feels like a sanctuary for your fears. When done in the confines of his room, you're able to shut them away and never think about them again - at least not until you return.
Jeongguk thinks it over. He's got no problem with it, just isn't sure if Jimin is in. He tells you as such and is met with a shrug.
"If he's in, he's in," you say. "We can just say we're working on planning an event for Tae's exhibition, say that I'm using you for cheap labour."
"Oh shit yeah," Jeongguk gasps, suddenly reminded of the fact Taehyung had been here with a purpose. "How did it go? You think your boss will approve."
You nod. "Don't see why not. It's a solid pitch and we haven't held an exhibition in a while. I have some contacts saved up from our last couple of shows so can get together a guest list for the opening night."
It's more than Taehyung would have hoped for. The painting cafe is unassuming, in a way, which makes it a great underdog location for hosting such events.
"Sorry to have sent him here without warning," Jeongguk adds. "I wasn't even sure if you did things like that."
"Not often," you admit. "I really enjoy them, though. I'm always keen for more."
The pair of you gather up your things and head back to Jeongguk's place, talking about his friends, and their careers. You learn Taehyung is an artist by night, but a teaching assistant by day, which makes his love for arts and crafts all the more sweeter, you decide. Jimin works at a local interior design firm, which suddenly makes so much sense considering the books you remember being on his desk when you were bent over it.
Namjoon works at the local off-branch of the national paper, with a focus on environmental reporting, which is how he'd met Yoongi, who works as a sustainable carpenter, specialising in local woods and materials. Running his own studio, Mins , he'd done a promotional interview a few years back around the time it opened, and had then introduced Namjoon to the rest of the boys.
Their friendships run deep, and it's nice that Jeongguk is so willing to share that part of his life with you. The way he sees it, you're well on your way to becoming a part of the group, too.
When you arrive at Jeongguk's place, he enters first.
The shower is running, loud enough to obscure any noise of his arrival, so he ushers you in and straight to his room. The sneaking around is getting a little old already, but he figures soon enough it will be commonplace for you to hang out with the both of them.
Jimin isn't naive to your friendship, he just isn't aware quite how friendly you've become.
And so you keep your voices down, even when the pair of you are trying your hardest not to laugh, hands covered in paint, neither of you wanting to be the one who goes first. He's in a black shirt, so your hands are covered in white paint. You're in white, so his hands are coated in a layer of black paint instead.
It's stupid and it's juvenile, but also incredibly sweet. You appreciate how much Jeongguk tries to ease you into things. Baby steps.
"No, no," you whisper. "I'll go first. On you. Easier that way."
He knows it will make it no more difficult nor easy no matter who goes when, but he understands what you're saying. It will make you feel more comfortable. Of course, he obliges.
"Stand behind me," he says quietly. "Can you see in the mirror?"
"Not really," you say. His back is broad and he's obviously far taller than you, which pretty much obscures the entire mirror. If you lean around, you can see part of it, but it makes it harder for your to get an equal placement on his chest.
"Okay, just stand straight. I'll guide you."
The way he knocks your hands into position, mostly because his are also covered in paint, is just as gentle as the tone of his voice is.
"Three, two, one," he counts down. "Now press."
You do as you're told and are confronted with potentially the firmest pecks you've ever laid your hands upon. Sure, Seokjin had a body built like a God, but Jeongguk? Jesus Christ. He must be something entirely... unhuman.
"Anddd pull away," he whispers. The shirt sticks a little bit, but as your hands peel off, Jeongguk smirks. "Your hands are so small."
You take great offence to this for absolutely no reason other than to bicker with him. "Says you!"
"Sorry?"
"You don't exactly have massive hands," you goad him, seeing if you can get a rise out of him, and as if by magic -
"Turn the fuck around, Byeol," he says, almost forgetting the volume control. You do as you're told, grinning like the smug little bitch you are. "Don't have massive hands? I swear you say shit just to piss me off."
"Who me?" You feign innocence. " Never ."
"Yes, you," he laughs, but he makes no attempt to reciprocate the shirt creation. Instead, he holds back. Wants to make sure you're okay with it. You tell him you are, but he still doubles down on confirmation. "If it's too much at any point, just say."
You nod. Wonder if he can see the beat of your heart running through your veins. He can't. But he can see your eyes in the mirror, and recognise the trepidation they're drowning in.
"You ready?"
And again, you nod. Exhale. "Ready."
He's tentative in his approach, palms wide, fingers outstretched. He lets his palms rest on the sides of your chest first. You stop breathing for a moment.
"You okay?" He checks, to which you nod. "Okay, Byeol. We're going at your pace. The second it's too much, you let me know, okay?"
He waits for your go-ahead, and then lets his fingers squeeze into the softness of your chest. He sort of assumed he'd eclipse them like he always has done with his former partners, but he doesn't quite manage it with you. It takes him by surprise. Stops him in his tracks. Makes you nervous.
"Gguk?"
Whatever trance he's in, he snaps out of it. Realigns his focus. "You okay?"
"Yeah, yeah," you nod. "Are you?"
"Yeah, yeah," he parrots back. "Just being careful."
"It's fine," you smile. "I'm not a porcelain doll - and this is fine, actually."
"It is?"
"Mhmm. This isn't half as bad as I thought it would be."
"You're welcome."
You laugh, and tell him to shut up. He squeezes ever so gently around your chest, and as much as you hate to admit it, a fucking moan is lodged in your throat. You don't let it out. Don't want him to know it feels electric having his hands on you like this. God, it's nice . It's good . Comforting. That's what surprises you the most.
You've spent so long avoiding contact like this, that you had forgotten why you liked it so much in the first place.
In fact, you find yourself pouting ever so slightly when he pulls away, revealing two black handprints cradling your tits. His is the reverse, white paint on a black shirt.
"See," he smiles. "Told you it was cool. When they're dry, we can go in with markers and outline the skeleton shapes."
The pout on your lips as you look at him is sweet, eyes full of wonder. He thinks he's only ever seen you like this when you're drunk. It's all hazy, and it's like the glitter that's normally on your cheeks is in your pupils instead.
Silence resumes in his room, both of you conscious of Jimin milling around in the kitchen. Jeongguk tells you to take the shirt off - "be careful, don't let the paint touch anywhere else" - so that it can dry properly.
It's as you're both standing there half naked with your backs to one another, that he's caught off guard.
"Let's do it."
"Hmm?"
"Let's do it," you repeat. "That first idea. The canvas. I packed one just in case and I... I didn't think we'd need it - but it wasn't entirely horrible, and-I-think-I-wanna-see-if-maybe-"
"Byeol," Jeongguk laughs, cutting you off, but doesn't turn around to face you. He's still trying to be as respectful as he can be. "Breathe. If you wanna do it, we can. No biggie on my part."
"It's a biggie on my part," you say quietly.
Jeongguk frowns. Doesn't like how vulnerable you sound. "I know. It's okay. We can make it not a biggie."
Your mind races at a mile a minute. You've not let anyone other than Seokjin touch your bare chest in such a long time. The idea of Jeongguk doing it now makes you feel nervous, but you're ready for it. Ready to feel renewed. Ready to finally fucking let go.
"How do you want to do this?" You ask, because one decision is enough for you. You'd rather let him be in the driver's seat, now. Leave your destination unknown. Leave it up to him. You're just here for the journey. Here for the ride.
"Can I turn around?"
"Yeah," you say. You don't mind him seeing you like this - you're shirtless, but you still have a bra on. He takes a second to look at your back; how your spine trails down it. Wonders if there are dimples at the bottom of it. They'd be hidden by your trousers now, and he doesn't really remember checking after the paint party.
He shakes his head, ridding himself of the thoughts, as he heads to the curtains and draws one of them shut. The other curtain remains open, but neither of you will be standing in front of it, so he doesn't think it matters all that much.
Jeongguk comes to stand behind you, turning you to face the mirror. His hands are on your shoulders, still a little paint-ridden, but nothing that bothers you.
"So I'm thinking," he says quietly, eyes on yours in the reflection as he toys slightly with the bra straps over your shoulders. "That this comes off."
You swallow so hard that Jeongguk thinks you might choke. You don't.
But you also nod.
"Is that a yes?" He checks for consent.
"It's a yes."
His hands are slow as they stroke down your back. He's not really thinking. Just working on auto-pilot. This isn't about him. It's all about you. What you need. What you want.
"Then, I think we need more paint," he says, his fingers working to unclasp your bra. You feel the tension ping and release, and you think you might have a heart attack. He notices the change in your breathing. "If you need to stop, you just say, okay? Tell me okay?"
"Okay," you nod, knowing you're in the safest hands you possibly could be.
"What will you say? Give me a word. Something obscure. A safe word."
You shake your head and shrug, trying to think. "I don't know - chess?"
Jeongguk laughs, knowing exactly where your eyes must have been focused - on the shelf by his desk, where his chess set sits undisturbed. "Okay. Chess."
"Chess."
"Just say it, and I'll stop."
You're silent as he reaches over for the paint, and tells you to toss your bra on his bed. The click of the acrylic bottle opening and closing beats in time with your heart. Jeongguk's warming the paint between his hands, trying to make this as comfortable for you as he possibly can.
You're entirely bare from the waist up, and don't take much comfort in the fact that he is too. It feels a hell of a lot scarier for you, and you both know it.
"I'm gonna touch you now," he says, and waits for you to nod. You close your eyes. Bite on your lip. Wait for the contact - and when his palms softly connect, your brows knit together. Jeongguk watches on, apprehensive. It almost looks like you're in pain, but as he begins to spread the paint over your breasts, they ease. "That okay?"
You nod. "It's okay."
When you open your eyes, you avoid looking towards the mirror. You look down, look away - and Jeongguk notices. He nudges the side of your head with his own. Realigns it. Encourages. "Watch."
He speaks quietly, the dulcet tone of his purr just loud enough for you, but untraceable to anyone outside the room. He doesn't want Jimin to hear. Doesn't want Jimin to know.
It's not that he was lying when he said Jimin wouldn't care - he genuinely believes it'd be no issue, especially with context provided - it's just that he hasn't figured out how to explain it. The girl you shagged a few months ago? We're friends. Pretty good friends, actually. And I'm touching her boobs to help her get over a fear. Totally normal.
Jimin's fully aware of the friendship. Knows you've been in the apartment a handful of times. Jeongguk never hides it from it; just tells him after the occasion. He doesn't mind.
In fact, Jimin quite likes your company whenever he bumps into you. Is quite glad you're not weird around him just because you've had sex. If anything, it gives him high hopes that maybe you'll be up for round two on the nights he can't find anyone else. To be honest, it'd make you the perfect candidate for a friends-with-benefits type situation with him. He hasn't had one of those in a while.
He doesn't share this thought process with Jeongguk. Isn't sure how well received it would be. See, Jeongguk's been incredibly vocal about how embarking on a friends-with-benefits situation is potentially the stupidest thing a person can do.
He'd lost his best friend - the girl he could have spent his life with - that way. Hasn't spoken to his favourite person in months because her new boyfriend doesn't like her hanging out with people she used to fuck. Makes sense. He can't argue against it.
He can think about it in the quiet hours of the early mornings, though, and weep a little out of frustration with how fucked up the best thing in life became.
There's a naive hope within him now that thinks he's fixing his previous wrongs with you. Doing things he's already done, without taking it too far, this time. A broken heart can't fall in love, after all. It's different.
Your eyes land on his; dark and frightfully deep. He's not sure what you're thinking. Tells himself it's better that way.
"My hands," he corrects. "Eyes on my hands, Byeol. Watch what I'm doing."
It takes you a moment to pull your eyes from his - and when you do, something about it feels catastrophic . Paint covers the skin of your chest; only a few small gaps of exposed skin are still on display. He squeezes. Moves his fingers. Doesn't specifically aim to cover those spots, but know it's the end goal.
There's a muffled moan hiding in your throat; revelations of a lost pleasure that you've refused to let yourself indulge in.
"Gguk-" you begin, but he hushes you.
"Just feel it. Watch it."
And so you do. His chin rests on your shoulder, watching your body, keeping an eye on the way your heartbeat begins to calm, yet races all the same. The ink on his hand is hidden by the paint, his forearms just as much of a mess as your chest. You fight your instincts which tell you to close your eyes; to lean into his touch.
The moan that's made it home in your throat decides it's been trapped for too long. It tickles at your lips, vibrates into the room. You catch it with a gasp, and Jeongguk can't help but let an airy smirk fall from his lips.
He never thought you were kidding about how much you liked it, but it's different seeing it in the flesh. There's an insolent nature to his teasing, and it makes you want to fucking whine.
"How does it feel, Byeol?"
Your eyes flick up to his, your lips resting ajar. The heaving of your chest is far easier to see when he stops massaging your chest. You smirk back at him. Roll your eyes.
"You don't wanna know," you tell him, because as much as he tried to make out that none of this would be sexual, your body doesn't agree.
And honestly, nor does his.
"No," he says, closing the minuscule gap he's been keeping between his crotch and your ass. The corners of his lips twitch upwards when you feel it - feel him - press against you. "I think I do wanna know."
His smirk is laced in sin, dark eyes hazy, as your chest begins to stutter all over again. You bring your hand to rest over one of his. Encourage his movements. Let your eyes close. Don't hide the moan that travels through you.
"I thought you said this wasn't gonna be sexual," you eventually say a little breathlessly. You encourage his movements still, just to let him know you're not entirely opposed to it.
"It's not," he purrs against your ear, and presses himself against you again, a little firmer this time. His breath is hot against your skin as you lean your head back, a laboured grunt stuck now in his throat. You can feel his heartbeat against your back.
You let your eyes rest on him in the reflection. Take a moment to read his face, and decide you've no idea what this man is thinking.
Truth be told, he's not really having any cognitive thoughts.
"You're hard," you tell him.
His eyes rest shut, a bashful smile on his giddy lips, neck turning ever so slightly to rest his forehead against your hair. And then he whispers, "Don't tell me you're not wet, Byeol."
"Mhhm," you moan with a little humour. "Dry as the Sahara, buddy."
"God, if my hands weren't covered in paint-"
"You'd what?" you interrupt with a sardonic smile. "This isn't sexual, remember?"
He scrunches his face up. Looks at you. Looks at your chest. Looks away from the mirror, and down to watch his movements. He alters his pace, playing with your tits just for the fun of it, seeing how he can toy with them. It might not be what usually gets him keen, but he can see why you attract boob guys; can also understand why your ex would keep coming back if he is a boob guy.
"You ever do this to yourself? Like, for fun?" He asks, ignoring your last question, seemingly hypnotised by the overspill between his fingers, and the way it jiggles for him.
"Like non-sexually?"
"Mhhm," he says as he repositions himself. Cups the undersides of your boobs. Lets his thumbs flick against your nipples. You moan in a way he hasn't heard before. Does it again. Same result.
"Fuck," you hiss. "Yeah, I do it - fuck, Gguk - for fun. Not like this though. This is-"
"Just for getting you wet?"
Yes.
"I'm not wet."
"Such a liar, Byeol."
His fingers pinch, gently clasping at your nipples. Has you mewling. Has you amazed you haven't been letting anyone do this during sex. You've been making yourself suffer to solidify your heartbreak. Maybe if you'd have been fucking people how you like to be fucked, instead of using it as a tool of validation, you'd have found the whole thing a bit easier. Or perhaps not. Perhaps you'll never know.
"Are you trying to make me wet?" You challenge, eyes on him, watching the way he's watching himself.
He shakes his head. Nestles it against your hair. Likes the scent of your shampoo. Inhales a little deeper. Is breathless when he rasps, "just helping out a friend. How your body reacts to me is its own problem."
You scoff. "My body's reaction has got nothing to do with you."
"No?" His grip tightens. You whine.
"Gguk-" is all you can manage, chest heaving, heart in your throat. Your back is arching, pushing your chest further into his grasp.
He's about to mock you; about to tease you a little more. Make some dumb remark, you sure, something that will have you fighting back against him - but it's interrupted.
"Hey, Jeongguk?" A voice shouts from the living room. "You in?"
The way Jeongguk pulls away from you is so abrupt you almost lose balance. He pulls a shirt from his chair, chucks it in your direction without looking back and darts for the door at such speed, you wouldn't be surprised to see him in a comic book like one of his damn figurines.
He opens the door just a crack, keeping you hidden, ignoring the fact his door handle is now slathered in black paint - the corner of his pristine white wall, too.
"Hey," he squeaks as Jimin stops in his tracks. He'd just been about to reach for Jeongguk's doorhandle to invite himself in, but the look on Jeongguk's face tells him to stay away.
Jimin raises an eyebrow. "This isn't suspicious at all."
Behind Jeongguk's head, Jimin can see his bed. It's made, not disturbed in the slightest, but the way Jeongguk is guarding the room makes it incredibly clear he was up to no good. It's all very amusing. Just out of his eye line is your bra.
"Was just letting you know I'm off out," he smirks. "But I'll leave you to it. Don't think I'll be back till morning, so stay safe, young padawan."
"Right," Jeongguk purses his lips, not wanting to give Jimin the satisfaction of confirming nor denying anything.
Jimin doesn't care to watch Jeongguk squirm. Would rather let him get back to whoever it is with him in his room. The kid's been out of action for so long that he's frankly pleased to see him acting so shifty. He's never known anyone who needs to get laid as much as Jeongguk does. Hopes this means he's finally over the last girl.
He turns on his heel, but calls back, "don't forget to wrap it up! Can't be arsed with baby-proofing the apartment."
"Jesus Christ," Jeongguk mutters as he closed his door. He rests his head on the frame for a moment, before turning his head to find you in a state of absolute horror.
"Gguk!" You whisper, eyes wide, heart thumping into your chest. The shirt he'd thrown at you is still on the floor because it's a white shirt, and you weren't stupid enough to actually pick it up. You kick back across to his chair, hands covering your chest without touching them. You don't want to end up as messy as he is.
Jeongguk strides across to you with a scrunched-up face and just moves your arms, laughing to himself slightly as he cups your breasts in his hands. He holds them firmly. Squeezes an apology. Admittedly, you do feel more protected like this.
"Shush, shush," he coos quietly, a stupid smile plastered all over his face. His hands are temperate, but they squeeze at you a little as his shoulders lift ever so slightly. "He's not out the door yet."
There's a pause as you both wait with bated breath. There's a faint click, which Jeongguk knows is the front door going, so he nods. A second click follows.
"You're safe," he laughs, and you can't help but laugh, too. Your hands instinctively come up to cover your chest, but his hands are already there, so you drop them again. His forehead rests against yours. His frivolous energy is contagious, the pair of you breathlessly giggling at the weird fucking situation you're in. "I'm sorry."
"It's okay," you shake your head, keeping your forehead against his, almost brushing your nose with his. "Not your fault."
"Got a little carried away, though," he whispers, his smile fading as he harshly swallows back. "Should've tapped out. I should have said chess."
You shrug. Whisper, "takes two to tango."
The moment lingers. Wraps you both up in a ribbon, and ties a bow where his hands meet your chest. Safe and secure. A memory to be tucked away under your list of bad decisions, but for the moment, you'll convince yourself it was a good idea. You're not thinking of Seokjin, at least, and that was the real goal.
"Let's finish this off," he says, nodding over to the canvas. "We need more paint, though. I'm pretty sure I've literally, like, moisturised it into your skin. I don't think that's a good thing."
"It's definitely not a good thing," you cringe, knowing that your pores must be screaming beneath the acrylic. You wait for his grip to leave your chest, but it doesn't. It's only when you raise a brow and shake your head at him that he realises.
"Oh, right, yeah, yeah."
It's a lot more clumsy this time round. Jeongguk's second-guessing himself, almost as if he hasn't just spent God knows how long grappling with your tits. He laughs, and so do you, the pair of you finding every little thing hilarious. Perhaps it's nerves, or perhaps you're trying to play this off as something totally normal between friends, but either way, you think you're glad you're with him. Glad he took a chance on your birds.
"How do we even do this?" Jeongguk hums in confusion when he holds up the canvas. He puts it in all kinds of positions, but can't seem to figure out the best course of action. You tilt your head and mull it over.
"Gimmie it," you say softly, holding your hands out to retrieve it from him. His palms have left prints on the edges, but it doesn't matter. Turning to the mirror, you can't help but smile at how much of a mess you are. Such a stupid idea, and yet it's worked perfectly. "Okay, stand behind me again - keep your boner away from me this time, though."
"My God, I don't even have one anymore," he whines, and it's true. It's just a semi.
"Sure," you tease, but begin to instruct him further. "Hold them, like, underneath. How you did earlier. Yeah, yeah, that's it," you nod.
His long fingers support the base of your breasts, his thumbs resting on the sides. Chin on the top of your head, it's a lot less intimate than it had been. This, you think, could be argued as non-sexual.
A momentary lapse in judgement is fine, and that's what you'll chalk earlier up to.
It's not like there are set rules to this whole arrangement. Mistakes will be made; bad decisions, too. What matters is that you don't make the same ones twice.
"Okay," you muse quietly, holding the canvas up to your chest, trying to line it up perfectly. "I'm gonna press down. Keep still."
Jeongguk doesn't dare move. Too scared you'll notice his semi and tell him off for being a randy bastard. It's circumstantial. He's never spent so long holding a pair of tits. It's just... hormones. Maybe. He isn't really sure.
Pressing the canvas against your poised chest, you apply as much pressure as you can, trying to get the imprint. You're mumbling affirmations of a good job to yourself - "Okay, good. Just a little more. Little more pressure, c'mon." - before pulling it away.
It almost peels, the paint a little tacky, but sure enough, the imprint is there, and pretty damn perfect if you do say so yourself. A pleased, albeit a little surprised, laugh escapes your lips.
"Oh, that's fucking cool," Jeongguk beams. "Looks like one of those inkblot tests."
He's not wrong. There are two well-defined black circles, the imprints differing ever so slightly, smudging outwards. To you, it's plainly obvious it's a pair of tits - but then again, they are your tits. It's a lived, breathed experience of yours. Anyone else looking might mistake them for something else.
"Mmm," you agree. "What do you see?"
You're holding it up in front of you, blocking the mirror from your view. Jeongguk's head dips to your shoulder, where his pointy chin rests but you don't complain. One of his structured hands eases, slipping to a more natural grasp on your boob, while the other drops. It slinks around the front of your waist, his forearm keeping your back pressed against his chest.
"Big ol' pair of titties," he says in potentially the most childish voice he could have chosen. You pull away from his grasp and give him a look of disgust. "Sorry, I mean... not a pair of tits?"
"You're a fucking child, Jeon," you scold, to which he tells you that he's actually very mature and you're just being a boring old bint. Turning back around to study it a little more, you tilt your head. It's missing something. Jeongguk's grasp on you had never fully eased, but both of his hands rest now at the dips of your waist. You pay it no mind. "I think we should add to it."
"Watcha thinking?"
"Not sure," you muse. "It is a little bit too obvious."
"So you're saying it does look like a big pair of-"
"Oh my God," you groan, walking away from him and to where the paint is sitting pretty. "Lie down."
"Sorry?"
"You heard me. Lie down."
You don't look at him as you say your commands, instead you spend your time picking between the paints. The silver is your favourite, but as much as he likes to wear it in the form of jewellery, you know that gold is his colour. It's the one that suits him best - or at least, suits who he is.
He's hesitant, but he does as you say. He lies on his back horizontally across the bed, like how the pair of you do when you look at the birds, one of his arms resting over his stomach. He looks up to them now, no smile on his lips, but an overwhelming sense of contentedness.
Before you, he used to look at the birds and feel guilt. Was harbouring feelings that he'd told everyone he had let go of. They're still there, but they're diluted. Too much of you filling the empty spaces for him to dwell on the birds made for her instead.
You come to perch next to him on the bed, sat on your ankles as his gaze falls to yours with great curiosity.
"What are you doing, Byeol?"
With a smile, you say nothing - just uncap the paint lid, and turn it on its end over the top of his chest. He doesn't object. Just watches you quietly. Patiently. Hisses when the chill of the paint comes into contact with his skin, but lets you do as you please.
Capping it shut with a click, you reach over to put the paint on his bedside table. Still shirtless, Jeongguk watches the way your tits move, and doesn't even try to hide it.
"Eyes up here," you say as you regain full posture, but he keeps his eyes on your tits.
"Can't. Hypnotised."
You're laughing as you roll your eyes. "Such a liar, Mr 'I'm an Ass Guy' ."
He finally looks at you, almost in horror, thanks to the accent you just did impersonate him. "Is that how you think I sound?!"
"It is how you sound," you tell him, knowing that you should have deepened your voice. Instead, you'd deliberately raised it a few octaves. "I'm a voice actress in my spare time," you lie. "I've been told I have perfect pitch on many occasions. That was an exact replica of your voice."
It's said with such a straight face that it would be believable if it wasn't for the fact that Jeongguk does have perfect pitch. His music teacher always tried to make him pursue a musical career, but he was fearful of failure. Didn't want to put himself out there just to get rejected.
"I can't believe I'm friends with you," he mutters as your finger begins to draw over his chest with the paint. "Most annoying girl I've ever met - shit -" he winces as you flick his nipple, his hand coming to rub at it almost immediately. "Byeol!"
"Hmm?" you smile. "Sorry were you saying something?"
He says nothing, just narrows his eyes at you as you get back to work, spreading the paint over his chest.
"We've already got an imprint of my tits," you muse, pressing the metallic gold into his muscles, quietly in awe over his physique. "And now I wanna get an imprint of your tits, too. Over the top of mine. I think it'll look cool."
"You mean my pecks?"
"Yeah, sure," you say. "Your tits."
"They're pecks!"
"Okay?"
"One of those birds better have 'fixing my attitude problem' on them," Jeongguk huffs, but it's all in good humour. You tell him your attitude is golden - just like his tits are. "They're fucking pecks!"
Reaching over for the canvas, your golden palms are just clumsy as his had been, leaving little marks on the edge of the canvas. Laughter fills his room as you try and decide how to place it, with the pair of your twisting and turning the canvas to try and figure out your best bet. You don't want to obscure your tits entirely, but his chest is broad.
"Don't think you thought this through," Jeongguk teases. "You just wanted an excuse to touch my chest."
You flick his nipple again.
"Jesus Christ! One more time and I'll-"
Oh , how you love a threat. Can't wait to see if it's a promise.
And so you flick the other.
"Right, that's it."
It'd be a lie if you said you knew exactly where he flung the canvas - you were too busy trying to avoid his grasp as he got to his feet - but there are only so many places you can run to in his room.
In fact, you only actually get about three steps away by the time his arm wraps around your waist, pulling you into his grasp. The paint on his chest is slick against your back, but he doesn't really think about it as he turns you around, pressing you up against the window that doesn't have the curtain pulled shut.
His large hand clasps both of your wrists, holding them above your head just to keep them away from his damn nipples. The chase was minimal, the catch far too easy - and yet you're both breathless. Chests heaving. Your nipples are gilded in gold. He's far too fucking close.
"Gguk-"
"What did I say about flicking my nipples?" He looks down at you, desperately trying not to smirk. The anger he's feigning is convincing, but even if he was furious, he's painted like a chryselephantine statue. In all fairness, he's got the body to match. A Greecian God if you ever did see one.
"Can't help it," you pout. "Your tits are just so perky."
He doesn't even insist on the fact they're pecks this time. Just lets his eyes drop to your tits, then back to your eyes. Repeats this four or five times. Shakes his head.
"If that's the metric we're going with, Byeol, then you're well overdue half a dozen nipple flicks."
"Nooo," you whine, squirming to get out of his grasp. He doesn't let you immediately, but ultimately decides it's for the best. Needs to calm himself down. Can't be having another repeat of the night before.
As soon as his grasp eases, you bolt away from him, and retrieve the canvas from the foot of his bed. He notices the gold on his window, and ignores it. Will deal with it later. It's an easy fix. A logical one.
For now, he's got a half-naked force of a woman in his room that he doesn't know how the fuck to deal with. No logic, no reason, no rhyme seems to help him figure you out.
"Please can we finish the canvas?" you say sweetly, as if you haven't been the one derailing things every single step of the way.
He says nothing. Spread his arms wide. Beckons you forward.
Pressing the canvas to his chest, you throw all of your deliberations out of the window. You don't really care for the outcome, now. Just know that the pair of you need to not be topless anymore.
It's platonic, yeah, but it is tempting.
The canvas peels much like it did when your impression was made, the paint tacky on his skin. The pair of you are dumbfounded as you take in the result for the first time.
It's fucking beautiful .
Metallic gold weaves around the black, overlaying ever so serenely, creating an abstract interaction between the shapes.
"What do you see now?" you ask softly, quietly proud of your creation together.
"I see a masterpiece," he grins, and that arm of his that likes hooking around your waist so much finds its favourite spot once more. His chin is on your head. "And you know what else?"
"What?"
"Look there -" he points to a small 'v' shape, just above the imprint of your chest that's free of gold. "Looks to me like a bird."
"Holy shit."
"A fear set free," he muses.
"Well done us," you beam, holding your hand up for him to high-five. He does so with ease, before reaching for the canvas and propping it up on his desk.
"C'mon," he grips onto your shoulders. Eases you forward and to his bedroom door. Reaching round to open it, he lets his hands fall to your waist, and then back up to cup your tits as you walk together. "Shower."
"Are you ever gonna let go of them now?" You laugh, finally pointing out just how bloody handsy he is.
"Don't think so."
"Brilliant."
He eventually does let them go as you're both washing your hands beneath the tap of his bathroom sink.
"Got a little paint in your hair," Jeongguk says as you're drying your hands. He goes to twiddle at it in an attempt the break the dry paint down. It's not a lot, but it does mean you'll need to wash your hair to avoid the bleached strands from staining.
"Shit," you curse, knowing that Jeongguk definitely won't have any silver shampoo, nor will he have anything more than a bog-standard conditioner.
"Hold on," he says, moving you to the side to rummage in the cupboard beneath the sink. There's a small clatter of bottles as he pulls a basket from the back of the shelf with a triumphant smile.
It's a grin that's quietly pleased, lips thin, pressed together, lip ring flipping in that way which always makes you smile. The basket itself is just as interesting as Jeongguk's face - a myriad of coloured tubes, and lo-and-behold, the same brand of silver shampoo you use.
"Jimin had a phase," he explains. "Well, no actually, he's had a few - but this is from the coloured hair phase. You need the purple shit, right?"
You nod. "The purple shit."
"Take what you need," he says as he gets back to his full posture, leaving the room only to return a moment later with a bottle of conditioner in hand. You know the brand. It's pricey. You only buy it when it's on sale. You furrow your brows, and he just shrugs. "I keep my good towels out of the bathroom, Jimin keeps his good conditioner out of it instead."
It's funny, 'cause you do exactly the same. Danbi has been blessed with hair from the Gods, so never has to pay much attention to what she uses. A string of bad dye jobs and unhealthy heat habits have left you with a deep conditioning complex, and there's nothing worse than going for a shower and realising the conditioner you paid and an arm and a leg for is all gone.
Will this stop you from using Jimin's special conditioner? No, absolutely not. You care more about your hair than you do about his annoyance.
"How are we doing this?" You ask casually as Jeongguk starts the shower up.
"Well," he contemplates far too hard for the sentence that follows. "I think we get in the shower, and then I think we... shower?"
"Right," you nod, as he grins, clearly pleased with himself. "Silly me. Of course it's that simple."
"Well it can be," he shrugs. "We both know we didn't really do the shower bird to completion, and aren't we saying 'fuck it', now? So why not?"
He's got a point. You feel far less on edge about the whole showering thing since the last time. It's like you've been working through it in stages, and it's helped.
"So..." you say quietly. "I don't know about you, Gguk, but I normally shower naked."
He just shrugs. "Really, Byeol? Do you not think we've already crossed that boundary? I'm quite literally staring at your tits right now."
You look down to your exposed chest, and suppose he's right.
"Just... don't look, okay? You get in the shower first and like, face the wall or something."
As much as he thinks you're being ridiculous and that it really doesn't matter, he agrees. Your birds are, after all, all about you, and what you're comfortable with. Just because he is doesn't mean you will be.
He strips down, and discards his clothes into a pile. He'd be lying if he said he was entirely confident, but he definitely feels the pressure a lot less than you do.
"I'm in," he says encouraging you to follow suit.
Against your better judgement, you do.
You toss you trousers on top of his, panties too, and make your way into his shower. It's warm, just the right temperature, still set to Jimin's preference from earlier.
"Now was that so hard?" Jeongguk asks, still facing the wall.
"No," you say airily. "I can see why you're an ass guy."
He turns his head, and sure enough, your eyes are on his ass. "Double standards."
"It's really good," you say, a little in shock at just how toned it is; how you'd kill for yours to be as peachy as his. "But you're right, you're right - I'm sorry."
"Can I at least turn around now?" He asks. "Seeing as you've already broken rule number one."
"What rule?!"
"Looking! You set the bloody rule!"
"Oh yeah," you grimace. Part of you considers turning around, but in all honesty, you don't want his ass-loving eyes to fall on yours and be disappointed. "Um, yeah. Sure. You can turn."
He's cupping his balls as he does so, hiding himself. It's sort of sweet in a way, and matches your own awkward stance.
"C'mon," he says, knocking his head back, encouraging you further into the stream of water. "Need to wash you off."
"You need to?"
"Well, yeah? Only fair. I'm the one who got you like that." He senses your hesitation, and offers you an out. "Or you can do it. I don't mind either way."
And for some reason, you don't actually seem to mind the suggestion. "Go for it."
He steps a little closer. "Say the word and I'll stop."
You reach for his hands. Lift them to your chest. "I don't think I'll say it."
He begins to massage at them, easing the paint off ever so gently, but it's stubborn. "Could do with some shower gel. Scent preference?"
"Hmm, strawberry?"
"Great choice."
You still find the fact he has more than one shower gel on the go hilarious, but you enjoy having a choice. It's one of the fantastic things about Jeongguk; you're never backed into a corner. He'll always give you an option. A way out.
And yet as he gets reacquainted with your chest, you don't think you want one. The things that scared you before - forgetting Seokjin, losing his touch - seem like a world away. Yes, it's different with Jeongguk, but it doesn't mean that it erases what you had with Seokjin. It also doesn't mean that you have to subject yourself to a life of boring sex just because you're harbouring guilt from a relationship breakdown that really wasn't your fault at all.
Seokjin had strayed, though. Made you feel like there was something wrong with you. Had you questioning the things you thought he'd loved about you - your tits included.
Seeing how Jeongguk - a self-professed ass guy - reacts to them has been so validating. So needed. Will do you wonders in the future, you're sure.
It's as he's kneading at your tits that you notice he's becoming a little moany, too. A little unstrained. God, it's so satisfying.
He closes his eyes. Rests his forehead on yours. Squeezes around your tits as he swallows so harshly you think you can almost hear it. Nods, and then says, "Still an ass guy - but fucking hell, Byeol. You might convert me."
You laugh now, and Jeongguk is obsessed with the way your boobs slide beneath his fingers, sopping wet and moving in time with your body. He still doesn't open his eyes.
"Fun aren't they?"
Again, he just nods. Doesn't wanna think about anything too hard.
If he does, he knows he'll have to deal with the fact his cock is now hard, too.
He thanks the high heavens that you just aren't mentioning it, because there's no way you haven't noticed.
It's not like he meant for it to happen. One moment he was trying to be respectful, and the next all he could think about it how soft and warm they are in his grasp. Was all beyond his control.
Thing is, Jeongguk has no idea how hard it is for you to resist reaching down for it. It feels like second nature; like it's what you should do.
But it's a boundary that's still intact, and you'd like to keep as many of those as possible.
So would he - but he's fucking solid , throbbing, balls tight. Can't remember the last time he got like this. Sure he's been hard. Been horny. But this is on another level.
And so he just says fuck it.
Tells you so.
"Byeol if I don't cum in the next five minutes I think I'm gonna die."
His admission takes you by surprise. You want to laugh, but remain deadly serious as you say, "I think you'll be fine."
"No," he insists. "I will actually die."
"How?"
"Ruptured ballsack?" He grimaces. "I don't know, but I do know that my life is quite literally flashing before my eyes right now."
"Poor baby," you pout, and stroke at his hair just to wind him up a little bit more.
"Don't," he whines. "I'm one more sarcastic comment away from sucking your tits just to shut you up. You know how many pairs of tits I've sucked?" He doesn't wait for an answer. " None . Always thought it was weird. But now? I'm so horny I'm literally delirious. Willing to do anything ."
Yeah right, you think.
"That's not very platonic of you," you state, using the exact tone of voice you know is winding him up.
"Byeol, I said one more."
"One more what?"
"God," he lets out a tortured sob. "It's like you want me to suck your tits."
"Me? Want that? Never ."
"But it wasn't on the bird," he says, as if the birds really do dictate every single one of his actions. "Can't do it."
"In all fairness, Gguk, nor was anything else that happened tonight. It was literally just the word ' tits '."
He tries to think straight, but he really can't. Doesn't know what's come over him. Maybe he's just tired. Maybe he just never knew how much he liked tits. Either way, he's absolutely done for.
He runs his thumbs over your nipples, and - fuck - the way you moan really does have him wanting to take them in his mouth. It's always been a no-go for him. Always thought the concept was a bit weird.
But it's all he can think about, now.
All he wants.
"Oh my god," he whines, again, obviously going through a little inner turmoil. His forehead drops to your shoulder. "Why do I want it? Why do I wanna suck your tits?"
"Mummy issues."
"Byeol! You're not helping."
"Just get yourself off," you laugh. "Once you get the orgasm out of you, you'll be able to think straight."
He nods. Knows you're right. "What about you? Do you need to?"
You've a much better grasp on your desperation than he does. You're a brat through and through, and find it hilarious that men seem to think they 'tame' you. In reality, you're the one who calls the shots. You're always in control. Just let them think they are.
With Jeongguk, you've not needed to play up for him, so you don't realise how unaware he is of the fact your inner thighs are coated in your slickness.
"Can do," you shrug.
"That's not a yes."
You roll your eyes. "Look at me."
He does as he's told, and you decide very quickly that he would be so incredibly easy to turn into your bitch if you wanted him to be. It's cute. His lips are parted, brows pushed together, a crease forming above his nose. He really does look like he might die. Poor baby.
Dipping your hands to where your legs part, you run two fingers along your folds, and hold them up for Jeongguk to see. You separate your fingers, the clear fluid suspended between the two of them. He whines again. Rests his head on your shoulder.
"The bird," he says. "The bird that we kinda did, but didn't do."
"What of it?" you toy, knowing exactly what he wants.
"Can we?" He rasps, unable to get his sentence out. One of his hands is on your chest, the other pressed flat to the tiles beside your head. His cock is desperate for contact. His hips are pulsing against nothing. If he doesn't grip onto it soon, he's gonna rut too far and end up touching you.
"You wanna get off together?"
He just nods. Mewls. "Please just give me the green light, Byeol. Please ."
And as much as you want to keep fucking with him, it feels cruel now. His veins are engorged, flooded with blood, in desperate need of him to do something - anything - to have his heart beating normally again.
"Okay," you whisper. "Get yourself off."
He doesn't waste a second. Has his hand around his cock by the time you've finished the sentence. The change in his breathing is stark. There's a moan caught with every tug on his cock, his hand moving at a speed you didn't was humanely possible.
And it excites you.
Has you clasping the tit that he isn't currently holding onto for dear life, while your other hand sinks to your folds. You're soaked , clit throbbing, begging for even the faintest bit of attention. When Jeongguk hears you moan too, he thinks he's done for. Holds his cock so tight he's scared he'll ruin his orgasm.
You know your body though. Know how to get yourself off within a minute when duty calls.
"Keep going," you tell him. "I can get close."
"That quickly?" he asked, genuinely surprised.
"Women are magic," you say between pants, dipping your fingers into your entrance for a little bit of fiction to your g-spot, just enough to really get you there.
"Fucking magic," he husks, his body edging a little closer to yours. You don't mind. In fact, you think you'll prefer it, so you let go of your chest and encourage him to close the gap. Your hand is on his waist, pulling him closer. He looks up. Regrets it, 'cause he never needed to see you looking like this. Doesn't ever wanna fuckin' look away. "Sure?"
"Mhhm," you moan, unable to get a word out because of how close you are - and then you can feel the tip of his cock press against your stomach, just below your ribcage. His movements are frantic.
"I'm not gonna last."
"Then don't."
His forehead rests on yours, the pair of you breathing so heavily that you're basically surviving on one another. Inhale, exhale. You're one and the same.
"Oh, fuck," you mewl, so incredibly close. Your fingers massage at your pussy just how you like it; spank against your clit a little, tease it to the near point of no return. "Gguk, I'm about to-"
"Me too," he chokes. "Where?"
"It's fine," you husk, knowing he's asking where to cum. "It's okay. I don't mind."
"Sure?"
"Just cum, Gguk."
"Shit."
The release is just as undignified as the build. The pair of you are messes, whining as you come undone together. The voltage runs from the tips of your toes to the tops of your fingers, so intense that they go fucking numb for a moment. You're overstimulated almost as soon as it hits, unable to do anything but pant against his shoulder.
The tip of Jeongguk's cock is pressed against your skin, his release painting you in the most glorious sin. He cums, but it feels like it never stops. Every time you think it has, he whines again, wanks a little more, unloads another spurt onto your torso. It trails down your hip, to your thigh and then sinks to the shower floor; washed away like a bad decision never to be repeated.
Breathlessness overcomes the pair of you, remaining as you are for a few moments, until Jeongguk finally breaks it.
"I swear I never usually cum that fast."
You just laugh. Pat his head. "Sure."
"Fuck off, I don't," he says, laughing now too. "Christ. What the fuck was that, Byeol?"
He lifts his posture from how it's rested against you, turning to press his shoulders to the tiles beside you. The shower is still running, so he reaches over to turn it off. Neither of you are fully clean yet, but you'll get back to it in a moment. No point in running his water bill up just because he can.
"Well," you exhale. "I think you just discovered boobs."
He laughs. Tilts his head back against the tiles. Bites his lips as he shakes his head. "To be fair, I think you might be right."
You laugh now too, and that's how the evening remains; full of laughter. Jokes about how platonic and totally friendly the entire exchange has been. There's no weirdness, but in all honesty, you never thought there would be.
Jeongguk lends you a pair of sweats and one of his shirts after the shower, your hair air drying beautifully thanks to Jimins oh-so-expensive conditioner. You feel a little bad for using it now, but you made him cum once, so you think you're even.
"And when Jimin asks where it's come from?" You question as you watch from Jeongguk's sofa while he hangs your artwork up on the wall. It's next to the television. Really fucking hard to miss. Will be the first thing he notices.
"I'll just say it's one of Tae's," Jeongguk shrugs.
"And when Tae comes round?"
"I'll... think of another lie?"
"Sounds foolproof," you muse, sipping on your glass of water, thinking that he's possibly the biggest idiot you know.
"Either way, neither of them will know what it is, or who made it. It'll be a mystery. Wait, unless," he stops himself. Furrows his brows together. Tries to join dots in his head. Even uses his hands to help with the mental work. "Would Jimin be able to tell?"
Your lips purse up, forming a thin line between your cheeks. You shake your head.
"No?"
"No," you say. "He never... Well, I meant what I said about them. Keeping them off limits. Or at least, kept."
"Yeah," Jeongguk nods, accepting your truth, but thinking of hypotheticals. "Did he not see them, like, at all?"
"Um," you say to buy time, questioning how much you should divulge. "You really wanna know?"
Jeongguk shrugs. Nods his head again. Makes no difference to him.
You adjust in your seat, trying to think of how to phrase the events of your night with Jimin, and finally settle on, "Well, I was fully clothed -"
"What?"
"- And we did it from behind." You watch as Jeongguk stays silent for a moment. He's doing that thinking face of his again. The hand is moving. Figuring things out. And then you realise what he's doing. "No! Gross! Don't imagine it!"
"I'm just trying to get a visual!" He protests with a small pout. "Just trying to understand how!"
"My god," you cringe, hiding your head in your hands. "Never should have done that bird with you."
Jeongguk rolls his eyes as he comes to sit beside you, admiring his handiwork. He actually really likes the painting. Is glad you added him to it, too.
"Yes, you should have," he says. "You admitted it yourself, you kept your tits off-limits, but it's clearly a big part of sex for you, right?"
You nod, not looking at him, but up at the canvas. It really is pretty. "Right."
"If you could do all that with me, you can do it with anyone else. It'll make a huge difference to how satisfying you find casual sex, which is like, the whole goal, right?"
And again, you nod.
"Exactly," he beams. "Now, say 'thank you Jeongguk'."
"I'm not saying thank you," you laugh. "You literally got cum on my feet. You should be thanking me."
"Oh my god," he groans. "I'm never showering with you again."
"It wasn't the shower that was the issue!"
The pair of you bicker a little more, until the reality of it being the early hours of the morning kicks in. You're both yawning, hardly able to keep your eyes open. He offers up his bed, but you'd feel guilty taking it two nights in a row, so call for a taxi instead.
You're still in his clothes, but you'll just return them the inevitable next time.
He tells you to let him know when you get home safe, and you do, only for him to reply a few minutes later with a message that makes you consider blocking him.
warnings: i like to call this a montage chapter - it gets us through the entire summer :) gym trips! dionysus nights! jaykay being sexy in the gym! dynamic and friendship solidified!
soundtrack: c'est la vie - ethan surman; my type - brb.; happiness - the 1975
wc: 6k
bd total wc: 540k (on-going)
minors dni | AO3 | series masterlist
The scowl on your face as you reach the gym prevails. You've a coffee in one hand - ice americano, double shot - and the hood of your sweater is bunching around your shoulders. You lift it over your head, and push the swing door of the gym open with your shoulder, wanting to avoid the unwanted eyes of Jiyeong, just in case she's working.
You don't look over to the reception, but the lobby is empty, regardless. It's quiet, always a little less busy in the morning than it is in the evening.
You make your way to the gate of the gym. Punch in the code. Get it wrong. Tell the keypad to 'stop being a prick'.
You try again, exhaling a weighty sigh as you do so.
There's a whir as it works this time, hinges clicking open for you. The metallic clang of gym equipment and grunts of burly men cloud the air, battling with the voice in your head for the title of most annoying sound. Always have to win, don't you? Couldn't just take a loss!
It's a flaw; one that you'll admit to, but one that you wouldn't change for the world. A little bit of drive is good, even if you do drive yourself up the wall more often than not.
Hood up, a pair of leggings and a sweater on, black high-tops tied in bows around your ankles, you look like death warmed up. There's glitter caught in your lashline, and your hair is still damp from your quick shower, but you've a point to prove.
And so, just shy of midday, your feet stomp heavily up the stairs, as thunderous as the look on your face.
It's not that you're actually mardy or moody at all - you're just hanging like an absolute bitch.
Whatever Jeongguk puts in those tiny purple shots is lethal. Writes you off every single time.
Admittedly, you had gone a little harder last night knowing that you didn't have work the following day, but that's beyond the point. Normally your hangovers aren't so bad, especially not when you drink water throughout the night - which, thanks to Jeongguk, you had been.
Jeongguk doesn't notice your arrival until you roll down onto the bench behind him. You're on your side, legs tucked up, just like you had been in your bed when his message had arrived in your inbox.
He's in shorts - black, finishing midway down his thigh - and a big baggy t-shirt. On his feet, he's matching with you. Black Chucks. The only difference is that he ties his around the front. His bows are double knotted and little lopsided, the white trims on the soles scuffed and well worn. He's got history in his hi-tops, and you wonder how it compares to yours.
There's a girl in the city who matches him, and it isn't you. You don't have the tiny 'J' scrawled into the rubber of your soles like she does. He's scratched out her initial on his sole.
Takes a little longer to erase it from his other soul, mind you. It's still there. Only faintly, but enough to make him trip over himself from time to time. S'why he always double knots. Harder to fall, that way.
There's concentration on his face, features perplexed as the weight he lifts forces him to exert more energy than he's fully ready for. His teeth are bared, face tight, brows tied in a pretty knot between his eyes. You can see why Jiyeong is so territorial. He's not a bad-looking bloke. Quite handsome, actually.
He exhales as he brings the weight down, resting it on the ground, chest heaving ever so slightly before he turns to look at you. His brows are still furrowed, but his eyes are soft as his body gets more comfortable and settles into a state of rest.
A breathly laugh graces his lips as he reaches for the towel by your head. He pays no mind to the fact your crown is resting upon it, whipping it from beneath you to dab at the sweat gathering on the back of his neck.
"I said bright and early," he smirks, knowing that you must be hating everything about this interaction.
"It's before twelve," you mumble, eyes closed, knowing that watching his dimples form would only make your tummy feel all light and vomit-inducing. You're too hungover for anything other than neutral sensations. "It is bright and early."
"You're basically asleep."
"The bet was that I'd be here, Jeon," you remind him, voice a grumble as you shuffle deeper into your position. "Not that I'd be doing anything useful."
You've a point. It's not one that he can argue against, and so instead he just shrugs and picks his water bottle up from beside the bench. He tosses a little back into his mouth, the stream of water running from the plastic opening and into his mouth with such precision that you're sure he must be an asshole deep down.
You don't buy the nice guy front. Only assholes look that good doing the bare minimum. You'll get to the bottom of his assholeness eventually, but not now. Not when you're this grouchy, and everything feels a little biased.
"C'mon," he says as he knocks his head to the side. "Treadmill. Walk with me. You'll feel better for it."
"I think I'll die," you tell him with so much certainty he can't help but laugh at you.
Still, he stands in front of you and waits for you to join him. Knocks his knee against yours. Kicks your shoe with his own.
He's patient, his eyes soft as they look down at what a sorry state you are. There's something about the way his lips purse gently that makes him feel like a safe bet.
You've no regrets for tumbling out of bed and catching the subway to meet him at the gym. Your head is killing, granted, but it would have been killing you at home, too. At least this way you can feel like you've actually done something productive despite the hangover.
"Trust me," he insists, holding out his palm. "It really will help."
And so you take his hand, letting him pull you up. They warm, and a little clammy, but you don't mind.
When you're finally on your feet, your eyes are level with his chest. He's broad, chest well defined even beneath the shirt. You try not to think about the fact you've seen him shirtless, but you can smell the scent of his laundry detergent, and it adds a whole new element to the enigma the Jeon Jeongguk is. Looking at him, you'd imagine a scent of musk - something woody, maybe. Instead, he smells like fresh blooms, sweet peas under summer sun.
You don't let yourself linger for too long, fearful of him reading into the way you can't seem to keep your eyes off him. He's just new. Something shiny. Fresh. Excitement amongst the mundane of a city you've grown tired of.
He reaches down to pick up your half empty coffee and takes a sip as he begins to walk away. "Tastes like shit."
You pull it back from him, and nudge his side. "Feels like crack cocaine. The Purple Starfuckers, man... they actually kill me."
"You're welcome."
Small talk peppers the walk down the steps - How are your friends? Get home alright? How was Jimin feeling in the morning? How long do you have to stay after closing time? - and flitters around the pair of you as you set your inclines. His is noticeably higher than yours, but you're not here to work out. You're here to win a bet - of which he keeps reminding you that you lost, and that you are, in fact, a 'loser'.
You just tell him to 'fuck off' in return.
He never does. Just smiles, beams all wide, teeth on display, nose a little scrunched, and says "sounds like something a loser would say."
Jeongguk is easy to be around. His company, his humour, the anecdotes he tells. They're delivered freely, revealed without pressure. No diamonds are being formed, but there's enough of them in your eyes when you laugh with him, regardless.
You reduce the ease of your interactions to your perceived lack of expectations he has of you.
There's security that comes with fucking someone's housemate. You're no longer a viable sexual conquest, and therefore you don't have to worry about an ulterior motive for your exchanges with Jeongguk. Jimin's been there, done that.
For Jeongguk to be hanging out with you, you think he must actually like your company. It's mutual. Reciprocal. Nothing ventured, nothing gained.
There's a clear line drawn in the sand between the two of you, as you walk forward on separate treadmills. He matches your speed - slow and lethargic - despite his marginally higher incline, before offering you his water.
You hold up your coffee, but he shakes his head. "It'll dehydrate you."
You'd left in such a rush (and without any intent on actually working out) so had neglected to bring any water with you. Never mind the fact you stopped by the coffee place inside the subway station. Force of habit.
You're chronically dehydrated as it is. Danbi has to remind you that you need water, not just iced americanos to get you through the day. Sometimes you listen. More often than not, you don't.
"Sure?" you ask, aware that you don't really know each other well enough to be sharing drinks yet (despite the fact he'd already helped himself to your coffee) but he just nods. Doesn't really see it as a big deal.
"Don't backwash," he tells you as you're mid-sip, and it almost makes you choke the water straight back into the bottle. You refrain, swallowing it down, coughing slightly as you recover from your shock.
"Christ. Too late," you joke as you pass it back, before he makes some crude remark about how you've basically kissed now, and that 'you can't have your way' with both him and Jimin.
"Fuck off," you laugh. "For starters, Jimin and I aren't like, a thing. It was a one-time hook-up."
"Sure."
"Well, I mean, he tried last night," you shrug, looking up to the mirror ahead, finding Jeongguk's dark eyes already on you.
He doesn't look away as he says, "he did?"
"You served us, Jeongguk," you remind him. Your memories of last night are far clearer than they were of the night you'd actually hooked up with Jimin. "He wasn't getting me drinks just to be kind."
"You don't know that," Jeongguk pouts, though he's not sure why. He knows Jimin. He was definitely trying to get laid - but he's also his best friend, so he says, "he's a good guy."
"I don't doubt that," you agree, not wanting it to appear as if you're being over-critical of Jimin. You're the one who fucked him, after all. He's incredibly attractive, and you know that many people would consider themselves lucky to end their night with him, but you've fucked handsome men before. It doesn't really couldn't for all that much.
A fuck is just a fuck.
What we do in the dark has no bearing on who we are in the light of day.
"Sounds like you do," he assesses, but you dismiss it.
"Sounds like you're reading into it a little too much," you banter back, slowly learning that Jeongguk likes to do that. He overanalyses. You do quite the opposite.
Jimin could have a noble peace prize for all you care. Doesn't mean you've any interest in fucking him again.
The conversation dwindles on, you gradually upping the pace of your treadmill to the point where Jeongguk might consider it a brisk walk (though you'd argue it's a jog).
He's kind in the way he takes a second to think before he speaks, conscious of letting you finish your sentences, and also wanting to be sure of the words he articulates. Thoughtful. Mild-mannered. Nice, but not in a way that boring. Nice, in a way that feels safe.
By the time your legs begin to ache, the treadmills have been running for over forty-five minutes.
You've been too busy guessing the conversations between other strangers in the gym. Who they are; where they're going after their sessions. What they'd had for breakfast (and for some reason, Jeongguk would guess 'egg whites' without fail for every single person) and what they'd be having for dinner.
He mimics their voices, and you laugh along, adding a narrative. So many lives have been lived by the people around you, and not single one you get even remotely correct.
There's a burly man, bearded and broad, with a petite girl hanging on every word he says towards the far corner, and you decide that they're a couple.
Jeongguk thinks they're siblings.
Makes it a little awkward when the guy starts squeezing the girls ass mid-squat.
"Yep, no, maybe you're right," he cringes, face scrunching up, lip ring almost disappearing into his mouth as he does so. Unfortunately, he does also then begin to debate the prospect of them maybe being stepsiblings, at which point you threaten to push him off his treadmill.
"You watch too much porn," you tell him, and he can't even argue against it.
It's been a little while since his last situationship ended, and he's been avoiding bedding anyone new like the plague. Been keeping girls he thinks he could grow to like at arm's length. Safer that way.
"I watch a perfectly healthy amount of porn," he scoffs, but then bunches his face up, clearly not proud of himself for making such a declaration. He chooses to not share the fact that he and Jimin split a VPN bill for that purpose exactly.
You laugh with him, the topic moving along to the PG shows he watches instead, the Netflix shows you're both hooked on, and what you'd each chosen for your Vecna song (which also leads to him helplessly defending all of his Spotify playlists from your gruelling judgement ( Justin Bieber defined a generation and I won't listen to you talk shit about him.... And fuck off, Mad at Disney is cute! Cute! I'm never showing you my Spotify ever again. EVER.))
He mirrors you as you slow the pace of your treadmill, looking over to you after checking the time on the clock - 58:23. Longer than he'd expected you'd last. "Done?"
"Done," you nod.
"How are you feeling?"
"Like death?"
"Still?"
"Still," you nod. "Need a Vita500 and a nap."
"There's CU round the corner," he notes. "I'm now about to leave anyways. I'll come with you. You can get your vitamins, I'm gonna grab something to eat."
You nod, not minding in the slightest - but he mentioned food, and your stomach begins to grumble like King Kong atop the Empire State.
"Would die for convenience store ramyeon," you sigh, musing over one of the finest delicacies in life. Nothing beats instant jjajangmyeon, not even a home-cooked meal.
"Wanna grab some?" Jeongguk asks a little mindlessly, not thinking much of the offer. "I'll eat with you."
And so he does. The comfort born in the confines of the gym is nurtured over cheap food and even cheaper shots at one another in the form of banter. He's a lot of fun, you think. It's a shame he's always stuck behind the bar and never able to let loose with you in the club.
He texts you midweek to let you know he can put you on the club guest list, if you want. Save paying entry and queueing. You'd be mad to say no - and so you spend the next few days convincing your friends that another night out is a good idea.
It's not. Hoseok somehow ends the night without his shoes, and you wake up with an ache in your lower back from a guy who'd tried to be all sexy in his bedroom last night, failing miserably. Human bodies aren't supposed to bend in the way he insisted on positioning you in.
You ignore the slight burn as you head to the gym though, ready to pretend like Jeongguk's the bane of your life once more.
A routine is forming.
What started as a bet becomes a weekend guarantee: you will get shitfaced at Dionysus on a Saturday, and then you will chat shit with Jeongguk on the treadmills for the duration of your Sunday morning.
He never lets you off the machines until the scowl that you inevitably arrive with transforms into a subtle smile. Some weeks it's quicker than others, but one thing is for certain; your scowl will always fade.
By week three, he's already by the treadmills when you arrive.
"No napping today," he teases with a soft smile, making light of the way you always curl up on the bench behind him as he does his final few reps. He's already done with them. Got to the the gym fifteen minutes early to make sure he would be.
"Gguk," you groan, dragging your feet a little and yet still heading in his direction towards the cardio area.
The way his body swings around to look at you, a single brow raised, is like something out of a kid's cartoon. He's so animated and full of energy that it's hard to believe he was at work until five that morning. "What did you just call me?"
"Shut up," you mumble, crossing your legs and sitting down on the treadmill belt. It's quiet - this time of day is never busy - so you don't feel bad for hogging a machine that no one would be using regardless. "Everyone calls you that."
He hops up on his treadmill and sets an incline, while you let your body flop down on yours.
"You're not everyone."
"Be impossible to be everyone," you mumble, eyes closed, body shuffling into a more comfortable position - until the treadmill jolts, moving ever so slowly beneath you. The way you get up is akin to a cat being confronted with a cucumber, a small yelp leaving your lips. "Jesus, Jeongguk!"
He's smirking, as if hadn't been tampering with the buttons, shrugging. "Started by itself."
"You could have killed me."
"What a shame that would have been." He grins at you like a kid who just found a stash of candy. "C'mon! Up you get. I've got places to be. A life to live."
You scoff as you begin to walk forward, lowering the incline that he'd set it to. "You? A life? Seems unlikely."
"You know, you're incredibly hard to like," he assures you. You catch the challenge of his gaze in the mirror and simply shrug.
"Yet here you are, still trying to be my friend."
"Can't shake you off."
"You force me to come."
"I do no such thing."
"Ohhhh, disco baaaaall," you begin to imitate him, bringing your clasped hands to your heart as if you really are begging. You sound nothing like him, but it's kind of deliberate. The more ridiculous you sound, the more he'll laugh. "Pwetty pwease come to the gym and keep me company."
"I don't talk like that," he laughs at how whiney you sound. "And fuck off, I've never said that."
"So you don't mind if I leave?"
His hand reaches over and hooks into the hood of your sweater, as if you're a dog on a leash. His grip is tight. Ain't no way you're going nowhere.
"No, you're not allowed," he says sternly, but there's a smile on his face, voice dulcet as the command rolls off his tongue and sinks into your ear. "I'll get bored."
"See!" You laugh, and pay no notice to the fact his hand stays with an iron grip on the fabric of your sweater even after the joke has been made. He keeps it there.
"It's either I have you keep me company, or Jimin keep me company," he says with a shrug. "I've always got a second choice."
"Aw, but I'm your first choice. How cute."
"My god, I hate you," he says as he finally drops his grip on your hoodie, nudging your shoulder as you walk. He busies his hand, tampering with his incline, trying to make it seem like the touch was casual. Nothing to read into.
It's a debate the pair of you are able to have for hours; who hates who more, who hated who first, who's gonna hate who for longer.
It's not flirting as such, but it is a ruse. You deflect the fact that you actually really enjoy each other's company, using hatred as a measure of just how much you like one another. It's all very juvenile.
He tells you he hates you when you steal half of the cheese he buys for his instant ramyeon after the gym, and you tell him that you hate him every single time you show up at the gym. It's a win-win.
By the time week four comes around, you're surprised to find yourself considering signing up for another month.
You rarely use your membership - once a week, to be precise, and only for about an hour at a time. It does give you a luxury of freedom, though. Chances are you'll be able to find Jeongguk there, no matter what time of day it is.
You'd swung by one evening that week after work just to show him the painting someone did of breadfish, knowing that he'd be the only other person in the city who remembered something so ridiculous.
He'd been deadlifting at the time, a thick leather belt cinching the baggy shirt he'd been wearing, stopping you quite suddenly in your tracks.
Hands covered in paint, hair up, a pencil still tucked behind your ear, you're the most 'you' he thinks he's ever seen you.
Sure, he's seen you with your makeup all smudged after a night out, and he's seen you after far too many drinks deep, but he's never really had the luxury of a totally sober 'you'. The 'you' that other people get to indulge in.
The glitter on your lids is a little more subtle than he's used to - it's thinner, finer, a little pink in its hue - but still prettily in place. Sparkling under the harsh gym bulbs. It's nice to know you're a disco even in the daylight.
He finds himself holding the bar he's lifting for a little longer than expected. His eyes are on yours in the mirror. You've paused by the top of the stairs, eyes on his.
It had been the shock of how bloody tiny his waist is that had startled you first, the look in his eyes, second.
And it's that second surprise - a pleasant one - which stops you from doing anything else but staring. He's got car crash eyes, and you can't help but watch the disaster of the wreckage burn.
You can't even really take in the rest of his face, and it's a shame, for he's a sight to behold; lips ajar, the freckle beneath them covered by the shadow of his pout, brows furrowing together slowly.
The longer he looks at you, the more strained his expression becomes - until his eyes close, teeth clenching, body holding the weight until he can't support it for much longer. It drops, his body shaking as his chest heaves, the sound shattering the tension between the pair of you.
You feel bad for intruding; as if you've seen him in a way you were never supposed to. It's not like you walked in on him showering or anything as intimate as that, but it's been a while since a man has looked at you like, well, that.
Desire, passion? Sure, whatever. They'd looked at you with those in their eyes.
But Jeongguk hadn't been looking at you with either of those wants. At least, not a want for you.
He'd been pushing himself. Proving himself.
And while he hadn't been proving himself to you, you're reminded why you don't fuck anyone face-to-face these days. Eye-contact. It's too much. Gets you all hot and bothered.
And so while his chest heaves, eyes looking you up and down, a little unsure of what the fuck just happened, you do the only thing you can: distract him.
Behind your back is the breadfish canvas, so you bring it around, hold it in the air and smile as brightly as you possibly can. "Please tell me you know what this is."
He takes a second. Tilts his head, and then realises exactly what it's meant to be - a loaf of bread with a fish head and tail tacked onto the end. He's not seen it since middle school. Was the only one of his friends who found it fucking hilarious - and the way you're beaming makes him think that you were probably just as strange as he was, growing up.
Your mutual childhood strangeness is proven right. Transcends in adulthood, apparently. He sends you voice notes of him singing the breadfish song on loop for three days straight. You block him on 4 separate occasions.
Doesn't stop him from making sure the DJ plays the song on Saturday night. He'll take the blocking if it means he gets to see your smile just as bright as your disco ball eyes.
When Sunday comes, the look on Jeongguk's face as you tell him your membership is due to expire is hard to read.
His eyes, for once, don't give much away.
He's forbearing as he says, "you can't use your memberships expiring as an excuse not to hang out anymore. I'll still force you on hangover walks."
His stoicism fades as he tries to hide a smile when you ask him to wait by the door of the gym lobby. You renew your membership. Just for another month - just enough to keep him happy.
And so the routine continues. Saturday nights are reserved for Dionysus; Sunday mornings for the boy from behind the bar.
There's normally a gap of five or so hours between you saying goodbye at the club and hello at the gym.
Sometimes you go home from Dionysus with Hoseok and Danbi.
Other times, you end up in an apartment that's unfamiliar, with a man who's equally as unknown.
They're always nice enough.
Never nice enough to make you wanna stay the night.
On one occasion, you end up going home with another woman, instead. It's not unheard of, for you, just harder to come by. Your first experiences had been with women, and your dating history is littered with as many women as it is men. You don't subscribe to the idea of sexuality being a linear thing, far more content with just going with who feels right, not what feels right.
Naively, you'd put her on a pedestal, thinking you'd finally get a decent lay - but a drunk shag is a drunk shag. You still ended up leaving as soon as you could, orgasm not quite reached.
At this point, you figure it's a mental block. You never used to have this issue, but you also used to only fuck people you loved.
When the people you loved began to fuck you over, things changed.
You've too many rules now. Too many restrictions on yourself. You can never fully relax and actually enjoy sex for what it is.
The rules are never set in stone, but they always follow the same pattern.
Don't let yourself be vulnerable. Don't get fully naked. No kissing during sex. Absolutely no face-to-face fucking - taken from behind, or not at all. You'll give oral, but the second someone tries to reciprocate, you move it along.
How can you enjoy intimacy with another person when you won't let yourself be intimate?
There are just too many things that remind you still of him; things that will hurt your heart more than it already does when someone else takes his place.
And so sex isn't really sex anymore. It's a tool.
You use it to pretend like you're over everything that happened with your ex; as if you're in control of a situation that he created.
And so that's why Saturday nights are reserved for Dionysus: they're filling the space of date night. Sunday mornings in the gym? Filling the space of lazy morning fucks and brunch down by the lake near Hoseok's place.
Being busy with the gym stops you from making 11:11 wishes for him to show up at your door, and the nights in Dionysus stop you from looking for shooting stars to wish upon instead.
Instant noodles with a guy you barely know don't quite manage to make you forget about eggs benedict with the man you thought you might one day marry, but hey - it's something at least.
On the nights that Jeongguk knows you don't go straight home, he checks up on you; will text when his shift is up, again when he gets home, and one final time when he wakes up. He doesn't care for the semantics that come with double messaging. He isn't trying to impress you.
He knows what you get up to in the dark. What you do is your prerogative. He's more concerned about the lack of trust and faith he has in the people you do it with. Despite this, not once does he berate you for it.
Even Hoseok's made a dumb remark here and there about the fact you're 'getting around', but if Jeongguk's thought similar things, he doesn't let you know it. He's a good friend. One that you're lucky to have. Thank God you fucked his flatmate and not him, instead.
The illusion of you has slipped by this point, for Jeongguk. He knows you too well to toy with what-ifs.
You feel secure in the fact he's not trying to get into your pants; a rarity for dudes these days.
Even Jimin took the hint after you turned him down, and has become a welcome addition to your nights out. He's fun to flirt with, but he knows nothing will happen, so he never pushes it too far - but is also happy to be your cover when another bloke is getting too touchy with you for your liking. He's been your 'boyfriend' a grand total of three times, now - only ever for a night.
You're not too familiar with Jeongguk's other friends yet, but you sometimes get in on a round of shots with them. There are four usual suspects: Jimin, Taehyung, Namjoon and Yoongi. All handsome, all perfectly nice. None of them stick to you like glue, though. Not Jeongguk did.
Hoseok and Danbi have followed your lead, and consider the boys casual acquaintances; drinking partners for when they happen to be at the bar at the same time.
A dog walker by profession, Danbi always finds herself flirting with Taehyung, who tries his hardest to get a discount on her services. She always refuses.
Jeongguk and Yeonjun have a running bet going to see how long it takes until he's paying full price, just for an excuse to see her outside of a club setting. They've had to reset the bet twice, because Danbi might just be the most stubborn woman to have ever graced the planet.
Summer is spent in a technicolour haze of Purple Starfuckers, club lights, unorthodox gym routines and enough glitter to open a craft shop.
Jeongguk didn't quite know how, but he was always finding flecks of the metallic warpaint on his gym gear. He always has a little laugh to himself whenever he does the laundry. "Fucking Disco Ball."
It's early autumn by the time Hoseok and Danbi make their first appearance at the club without you.
He texts you - boo, you whore - and waits in the backroom of the bar until he sees a reply come through.
Busy tonight, your reply reads. It feels a little cold, but you don't mean for it to be. You're just a rush, and Jeongguk nagging you is the last thing you need.
JK: Busy doing what?
You: none of your business x
Despite the kiss you end your sentence with (he can hear the way you say 'mwah' the same way you do whenever you know you're being a little cheeky), it still feels... off.
JK: Oddly defensive.
You: i'm always defensive :)
You: lemme know when you get home safe
It's a simple role reversal, but Jeongguk isn't sure what to make of it. He's normally the one making sure you get home safe. Not the other way around. It's not a 'what-if' scenario that he's run through in his head before. He doesn't like it.
He likes being depended on. Has gotten used to you depending on him.
Pushing it to the back of his mind, he makes orders without much thought, too busy letting himself indulge in what-ifs. It's been a while since he's thought of any regarding you, but he's consumed by them, now. Where you are, who you're with. Why Danbi and Hoseok won't give him a straight answer when he asks. They say it's not their business, but the way Danbi gives Hoseok a grimace whenever the topic is mentioned would suggest she doesn't approve.
It's probably why you haven't told him. He wonders how bad it must be. Secrets aren't something really kept between the pair of you.
There are things he hasn't told you - parts of his past he'd rather keep buried - but he doesn't actively hide himself from you. He thought you did the same.
Apparently not.
He arrives home with no new message from you. It's five thirty, and even though he's a little pissed with the sudden change in your attitude towards him, he can't bring himself to take it out on you.
JK: I'm home, asshole.
JK: Dionysus ain't the same without a disco ball.
Tossing his phone down onto his sheets, Jeongguk stares up at his ceiling. There's never been a complicated weight to your friendship, but he's also never been in the dark before.
Above him, origami birds dance in the light breeze coming from his aircon unit.
There's a dozen strung up from his paper folding phase six months ago, when he was trying to get his mind off of the girl whose initial had been scratched out of the soles of his shoes. Thought that if she came back, she'd find the birds endearing.
Kept them up just in case. Now, he just keeps them up as a reminder: You've gotta let wild birds fly away. Can't keep them caged up.
And it's funny, cause the strings the birds hang from feel like a cage for his thoughts, now. They get tangled in the spokes, your name wrapping around the bars. He can't keep you in a cage, either. Can't expect you to be as you always have been with him, just because it's the 'norm'; can't expect you not to have a life without him.
You: does your apartment need one?
JK: A disco ball? Don't think so?
Truthfully, he thinks a little disco ball would be fitting strung up with all of his birds.
You: gaaawd, ur such a boy
You: i'm asking if i can come over :(
He tries not to read into the unhappy face, but it has him sitting up, replying just as quickly as his heart is beating. There's something amiss, and he doesn't like it.
JK: Oh. Now?
You: no, next week
You: yes now, doofus
JK: It's 5am?
He doesn't know why he's being like this. Difficult. Perhaps he is a bit bitter. Petty.
You: this isn't a booty call lmao, chill out
You: i'll be there in 15
JK: Do I get a choice?
He's smiling as he sends the message, and hopes you'll read it in the tone he intends. He's bantering, trying to deflect from the heaviness he can feel in your text thread.
He's relieved when you reply just how he hoped you would.
warnings: a gym. no further warning. oh and jk is sexy but what’s new?
soundtrack: 20 something - sza, angostura - keshi
wc: 4.1k
bd total wc: 540k (on-going)
minors dni | AO3 | series masterlist
Glancing down to the address that Hoseok had hastily scribbled on a piece of scrap paper, you sigh. It's a hearty one. Clears your lungs. Gets your blood pumping a little swifter. There's a weight to staying alive, and it feels like it might just crush down on your windpipe and suffocate you altogether.
Okay, so maybe you're being dramatic. Maybe this is fine. You tell yourself to 'get a grip', but you know it's useless.
It's not that you're nervous - except for the fact you completely are - you just don't like the idea of gyms. They remind you of your ex a little too much.
More specifically, how he'd force you to go along with him, and how you'd whine and moan, but spend the entire time laughing with him. How he'd lift you instead of weights. How he'd tell you that you look 'far too hot' in a pair of leggings and sports bra, and the way you'd keep them on until you got home just for the simple pleasure of him being the one to take them off.
So, yeah. You don't like gyms. Avoid them when you can.
Partially because you don't know which one he goes to anymore, but mainly because it feels like you can't breathe whenever you see a pair of shoulders almost broad enough to be his. There tend to be a lot of jacked guys in gyms. Makes it a more common occurrence.
Still, you've been trying to remedy that. Trying to face fears. Failing, but trying at least.
You swallow back the lump in your throat. Bite the bullet. Open the door. Easy.
The girl at the front desk is potentially the most drop-dead gorgeous woman you've ever seen. Blonde, petite, a smile that could end wars. She's laughing with another member of staff - a trainer, you think - before he goes into a backroom.
You're a little unsure of yourself still, but she's glowing in such a way that it feels like maybe this could be okay. Nothing to fear. Plus who would even bother looking at a man's shoulders when someone who looks like she does is around? Far more captivating. Endlessly more appealing.
Her smile focuses on you as you walk towards her, brows lifted, eyes wide and open as if to say 'hiya! welcome!'. Her voice is just as chirpy as you imagine when she greets you.
"I don't think I recognise you," she says, questioning herself before she makes an introduction. "My name's Jiyeong, I'm a trainer here. Are looking to sign up for a membership?"
You shake your head and laugh a little awkwardly. You're not really dressed for the gym - a pair of sweats and a slouchy Carhartt tee. It's not sports gear appropriate for a place like this. Everyone's in skin-tight lycra, and they all look great wearing it. Makes you think that maybe you should try and get over this fear for good. Become one of those people.
"No, actually," you grimace a little awkward, voice sweet. You know you're gonna be asking for a favour, so try and fail to keep it short. Instead, you ramble a little. "I'm meeting someone here, but I don't have my phone - he's got it actually. Dumb accident. Long story actually, completely my fault - anyways, I was wondering if you'd be able to buzz me through so I could just grab it quickly? I'll be five seconds, in and out. Please."
It's at this point the corners of her mouth drop a little. Her lips press together. She's still smiling, but it doesn't reach her eyes anymore. "Hmm?"
"His name is Jeongguk," you begin to explain further - but then she smiles again and cuts you off.
"Oh, I don't think I know a Jeongguk?" She pouts a little. "Anyways, I'm really sorry but I can't let you through without a membership. Company policy. I really wish it wasn't the case, but they track the entry process."
You don't want to put her out. You've worked in customer service for long enough to know not to push company protocol. It's not worth getting fired over just to make a customer's life a tiny bit easier - and so you nod.
"Of course, totally understand," you say as you glance over to the gate that allows access into the workout area. It needs a passcode. Can't even make a dash for it - although you're half tempted to when you see a couple come through the gate without a care in the world. It takes an absolute age to shut. "Do you guys do day memberships here? I literally just need to get in and out, but I'll pay for a day pass if I need to."
Something about Jiyeong is really throwing you off. She's smiling, and she looks like butter wouldn't melt, but there's a sourness to it all. There's no butter. Just curdled milk.
She winces apologetically. Shrugs. Brings her shoulders to her ears in a way you would have found sweet maybe five minutes ago. Shakes her head.
"They're referral only. You'll need someone with a preexisting membership with you. But!" She chirps up. "We have a month pass you can purchase instead."
For all of your common sense faux pas, and the bad decisions that have led you here, you're not actually stupid. No gym in their right mind would actively try and sabotage their own earnings. She's spewing bullshit, but is somehow managing to make it smell like roses.
"A month?" You question, trying not to let your frustration show.
"Mhhm," she nods.
Her beauty seems to fade with every smile. Ironic, really. Her friendly demeanour is what had made her so attractive, and now it's shattering the illusion.
In any other circumstance, you'd say fuck it, and head home - but Jeongguk has your phone.
You said you'd meet him here. You could wait until he finishes his workout but you have no idea when that will be, and you're still suffering from your hangover. You just want to get it over and done with, so you say, "Alright, I'll sign up for a month. No rolling contract."
"No rolling contract," she nods. "Okay. Just need a few details from you."
There's a form to fill out; payment details to be given. A box to tick: which trainer helped you sign-up? Small print: Trainers earn a small commission for every sign-up. Please ask for their name.
You're half tempted to check another trainer's name, but she's watching you like a fucking hawk.
Should have just chosen the club. Would have been easier. Could have even made a night of it - it's a Saturday after all. But no, you and your tiny marble brain thought that the gym would be easier? Better?
Ridiculous. Hoseok had been right all along. It was the worst choice you'd made all week.
"You're all ready," she smiles as you lament the choices of your past self. She says a goodbye that sounds friendly but feels like a fuck you. You're not sure what exactly you've done to rub her up the wrong way, but you'd quite like it if you never rubbed shoulders with her again.
There's a mechanical whir as you enter a pin into the gate. It opens for you with a small beep, and you feel like your throat is closing up a little bit. There's a wrought iron staircase leading up to the weight area, the bottom level focused more on machines and cardio. A third floor is reserved for studios and private classes according to the signage, so you decide he's probably not there.
You don't know much about this man, but you have seen him without a shirt on. The weight area seems like a safe bet.
There's an uncomfortable discord in your chest as you head up to the second floor, your black high-top chucks padding against the metal gently. Hair up, not even trying to pretend like you're not still hanging, part of you regrets dressing so casually.
Your skin feels all hot and clammy, and you know exactly why, but you try and convince yourself that it's just the hangover. That's all it is.
It'll pass, you tell yourself. In and out. You're alright.
Jeongguk notices you before you notice him. He's by the mirrors. Caught sight of you, your eyes all wide and worried - presumably in search of him - as he was checking his form. Putting his weight down, he turns to face you a little more straight on, which is what draws your focus to him.
"Hey," he says a little breathlessly, a tone of surprise evident. He whips a towel over his shoulder, and you're reminded of how he looked behind the bar of Dionysus. Dabs at his face a little. Shakes his head to adjust the hair that is stuck to his forehead from his workout.
"What are you doing up here?" He asks tenderly, conscious of the fact you look like you've seen a ghost. He's aware he probably doesn't look his best, but he didn't think he looked that bad. "I told Jiyeong to let me know when you arrived. Was just gonna bring it down, save you the hassle."
"Oh," you reply, a little stuck on your words. The burning in your throat is subduing. The pressure on your chest feels a little lighter.
"Sorry, I -" you begin, and then you remember who the fuck you are. You hate being like this. Hate when you get panicked. Hate that he seems to be looking at you with concern. Also hate that Jiyeong is apparently a massive dick, but you'll choose to be frustrated about that later. "I actually have a membership here."
Joy.
Jeongguk hums in surprise, head tilting, mouth forming a cute little 'o'. "You do? Never seen you here before."
Wonder why.
"Oh yeah, here all the time," you nod, because apparently Jiyeong isn't the only one who fancies being a big old liar today. And then you smile. Flirt. "Like, maybe even more than you."
Now, this he does raise a brow at. Smirks. Picks up his weight as he moves to straddle the bench beside him. He sits down and places the weight beneath his arms for something to lean on. "Not so sure about that."
He's wearing black chucks, too. Slouchy black tee. The only real difference is that he's in shorts. Your lips curve upwards, but you catch them before he notices.
"I'm just always downstairs," you shrug, playing off your little white lie like it's no biggie. "Surprised I haven't seen you about here, either."
You don't mean to be such an egregious liar, you're just embarrassed. Ashamed. Disconcerted by the fact you know you looked like a lost puppy when you arrived, and also how you know Jiyeong totally played some weird power move on you. You're not sure what to make of it. Don't like it, but also will likely never see her again. Not worth it. Not over some guy you don't intend on ever seeing again, either.
The logical assumption to be made is that she's involved with him in some capacity. Makes sense. He doesn't seem like the kind of guy to get lonely in the early hours.
Jeongguk accepts your bullshit. He knows it's bullshit because he does cardio as much as he does weights - anyone with an inkling of gym knowledge would be able to tell. He's sure you have your own niche, things that would win you points on a pub quiz, but the gym? Doesn't seem likely.
"Phones just in my locker," he tells you as he gets to his feet again, lifting his weight like it's a cup of coffee. You've no idea how much it weighs. Doubt you'd be able to make it look that effortless. "I'm just finishing up. Can you wait, like, five minutes? Or do you have places to be?"
His skin is dappled in rivulets of sweat. There's too much to take in visually, so you focus on his voice, instead. It's soft. Tender. Kind, you think.
And so despite the fact there's no place you'd rather be less, you smile. Nod. "I can wait."
He nods back, says thank you, and gets back to his weights. He does a few more reps just to get to his daily goal, and then sets about clearing his area; puts the weights back on the rack, wipes down his bench. Runs his hand through his damp hair. Exhales a deep breath before turning to face you with a smile.
You wonder if he can notice the drool you've been trying not to let slip.
He can't - but finds it curious how he didn't catch your gaze a single time during his final few reps. The gym is relatively quiet at this time of day, so there's no one in the immediate vicinity. Whenever he'd glanced in the mirror, your eyes were elsewhere.
One place in particular.
The other mirror; one that's angled in such a way you can see his side profile. Jeongguk's aware of it. Had kind of positioned himself in line with it on purpose.
"What's so interesting?" he asks and is met with a confused hum. Does he really think you're gonna admit to checking him out? Dream on. "You were just like... absorbed by that mirror. Good reflection?"
"Oh," you mumble, cheeks deepening in tone - and yet your poker face is just so good. "Was zoned out. Didn't notice."
He doesn't call you out on it any further. For all he knows, you could be telling the truth.
You wait for him by the entryway gate as he gets changed. Jiyeong watches you from the corner of her eye, being as discreet as she possibly can - but you can feel her eyes on you. In fact, she's as good at discretion as you were when you were watching Jeongguk work out.
When he finally emerges in a pair of grey shorts and hoodie, you smile. So does Jiyeong.
He greets you. Ushers you through the gate. Says hi and bye to Jiyeong. Puts a hand on the top of your back as he opens the front door of the gym, but insists you walk through first.
"How are you feeling today?" He asks as you make your way down the path that leads to the subway station. "Still rough?"
"That obvious?" You laugh. "Ouch. Thanks, dude."
"No," he laughs back. "You're forgetting I was the only sober person in my apartment last night. You drank enough to kill a person."
"That's not true," you accuse, before deflecting the blame. "Was all you and your Purple Starfuckers. Bloody lethal."
"Bloody brilliant," he counters. There's an ease as you walk side by side. You chalk it up to finally being out of the gym. Feels like you can breathe again. "Tell me you didn't keep coming back for more."
He has a point. You're surprised you didn't all drink the bar dry. But you simply laugh. Tap the crease of his elbow lightly with the back of your hand.
He's smiling, too.
"Tell me you didn't keep giving me them for free! On the house! What kind of maniac turns down free drinks?!"
You've got a point. He can't argue against it - so instead he just gets a little argumentative. It's all in good fun. Shared humour.
"Well then next time, you'll get nothing on the house, how about that? Not even water."
You snort a little, pushing your head back as you do so. You pass the first subway exit, with no idea if you're heading in the right direction for one another. Neither of you asks; neither of you declares.
"Next time?" You scoff, still hanging. "I'm never drinking again."
"Heard that one before."
"I mean it. This hangover has written me off. Work almost killed me."
He wonders where you work. Wonders if the work is gruelling, or if you'd been able to recover in peace. He hopes for the latter. Would tease you if it's the former.
"You working tomorrow?" he pipes up. There's curiosity in his tone, but not enough for you to realise just how intrigued he is by you.
He's never seen a girl walk out on Jimin before. Ever. It's kind of remarkable. He wants to know why. Doesn't want to ask why, though.
You shake your head. "Day off."
Thank god.
Jeongguk considers his options. He knows full well, walk-out or not, that you fucked Jimin last night. It adds complexity. Makes him unsure of his next steps.
It's not like he's trying to get in your pants - he'd never hear the end of it from the boys if he went for Jimin's leftovers - but he'd be a liar if he said he didn't like your presence at the bar last night.
Not just you. All three of you. You've good energy. He enjoys the nights when punters are actually fun. If tonight is gonna be busy, he'd rather it be busy on his own terms.
"DJ's are doing a throwback theme tonight," he hums, and the way you stop in your tracks is beyond satisfying for him. He loves it when a plan comes together.
"Throwbacks, you say?"
He stops too, and turns to look at you with a slight air of nonchalance. There's a shrug to his broad shoulders, which remarkably don't remind you of your exes, his wide eyes soft as a subtle smile graces his lips. "All bangers."
"Define bangers," you challenge.
And oh, how Jeon Jeongguk loves a challenge.
"Well," he says as he begins walking again. You follow. "Last time there were a LOT of old-school Taylor Swift songs."
"-Kanye, Mika, you name it. One Direction, fuckin' anything. They'll play it."
"Do they take requests?"
"Well, no I didn't mean they'll literally play anything you name," he laughs. "But you've got an in." He points at himself, seemingly proud of that fact. "I can get them to play whatever you want."
"Offt, I love having friends in high places," you muse, to which he tells you to 'fuck off' with the biggest grin on his face you've seen all day. "I'll think about it. You on the bar?"
He nods. "I am indeed."
"Hmm. Makes it less tempting."
Jeongguk wants to fight back, but knows that he'd probably end up flirting, and it's not his intention - so he changes the topic.
"Jimin might be there, too. A friendly face."
He doesn't notice the way your face scrunches up a little uncomfortably.
"I'm not really sure that'll sway me," you tell him. "Was a one-time thing. Sorry about that, again. Waking you, I mean. Not cool."
You really do believe your words - after all, Jeongguk had been the one to return your phone, not Jimin. Chivalry is dead, and apparently men get their housemates to return glass slippers, these days.
It's kind of Jeongguk's own fault.
Jimin doesn't know you've lost it. Jeongguk hasn't told him. Isn't sure why. Didn't really think about it at the time.
"It's fine, really. And I've lived with Jimin long enough to know it's never just a one-time thing."
"I'm an exception."
"Believe it when I see it."
And suddenly you feel challenged now - but you're by the final subway entrance. You've walked past three exits already. Should have really taken the first. Couldn't bring yourself to end the conversation earlier.
However, now that the conversation has turned towards the topic of Jimin, you find yourself less inclined to continue it. You'd rather not be reminded of your questionable drunk decisions in the cold, sober light of day.
"This is me," you tell him.
"Ah." He stops walking. Pauses. Looks at his Chuck Taylor-clad feet as he stands in front of you. He's holding onto the strap of his rucksack as he asks, "So you'll be at the club tonight?"
When he looks up, he's nibbling down on his bottom lip—toying with his lip ring. There's a hesitancy to his words, as if he's afraid you might say no.
You pretend as if you're weighing up your options, shifting your weight from foot to foot, lips pursed. You know if you propose the idea to Hoseok he'll jump at the chance to get shitfaced again, and where the pair of you venture, Danbi will surely follow. It's inevitable that you will end up at Dionysus tonight.
But you simply smile and say, "Maybe."
He rolls his eyes, and it makes you laugh. He laughs, too. It's sweet, the way his energy matches yours. There's an ease to your rapport. You think it must be incredibly easy to be his friend.
"Promise me a free Purple Starfucker, and I'll consider it a little bit more," you bargain.
He runs his tongue along the inside of his cheek, as he readjusts his bag over his shoulder, shaking his head a little. His eyes are glossy, and dark, and you think they look just like black treacle.
"Maybe."
"Okay then," you nod. "See you maybe, Jeongguk."
He nods back. "See you maybe, Disco Ball."
"I won't come if you call me a disco ball again," you shout back as you descend down the stairs, leaving him by the exit.
He chooses not to banter back, scared he could ruin the moment; make things awkward, somehow. Instead, he turns on his heel, and begins retracing his steps.
His turning was three junctions ago. He'd carried on walking just to talk bullshit with you. He chalks it up to him being too awkward to cut the conversation off.
See, he might like a challenge, but he's plagued by the realities of them, too. Hates the idea of people not liking him. Wants to be loved universally, so refuses to embark on endeavours that could prove otherwise. He's Mr What If, and he's quite content that way.
Jeongguk's nearly by the first crossing when he hears you shouting after him. You're a little breathless. Panting. He knows there's absolutely no way you do cardio.
"Wait, wait!" You call all flustered and hurried. "Jeongguk! Wait!"
He's already waiting. The lights are still red. You're too concerned by your own internal panic to notice.
"Phone!" You almost wail, before you laugh. Inhale. Rest your palms on your knees. Exhale. Look up towards him. "My phone, Jeongguk! You still have my phone."
"Oh, shit," he laughs, pulling off his rucksack and fishing about for it. Seems so stupid to have forgotten about it. His cheeks are hot.
It's returned promptly, apologies tumbling from his lips like laughter is falling from yours.
"This was all part of your plan, wasn't it?" You narrow your eyes accusingly. "Was gonna keep it so I had to go to the club."
He raises his arms, hands next to his ears, palms spread open, as if he's holding a white flag. "You caught me."
But it'll be Jeongguk catching you later - or at least your gaze, as he reciprocates a knowing smile when you inevitably end up in Dionysus, ready to make all the wrong choices all over again.
warnings: sad girl hours!! backstory!! wahoo!! reader gets a nickname (byeol (means star in korean)). enter stage left: KIM SEOKJIN. no smut but references back to things said mid-shag. first mention of jk’s lip ring flipping (i think (first of MANY)). very emotionally hurt reader :(
soundtrack:don’t know how to keep loving you - julia jacklin; 3:00 am - finding hope; blender - 5sos
wc: 6k
bd total wc: 540k (on-going)
minors dni | AO3 | series masterlist
A frigid early morning breeze dances around Jeongguk's bare legs. The hairs stand on end, in protest of the fact he's elected to wait downstairs by the entrance of his apartment.
He knows you're in a taxi - had sent you his address, and had been sent a message back a few moments later saying 'omw', but he isn't sure if you remember which floor he's on, nor which apartment is his. It's almost as if he didn't put a decal sticker that resembles Iron Man's Arc Reactor on their doorbell.
Jimin is yet to notice it.
You had giggled, still tipsy, when you'd spotted it on the night that Jimin had taken you back to their place, but can barely remember it, now.
And so, Jeongguk waits for you in the cold, hands bunched into the pockets of his shorts, a white shirt hanging off his broad shoulders, which are slightly hunched over. He's trying to preserve heat. Wishes he was wearing socks. Will blame you if he gets sick.
Yet when your taxi rolls up - and he's squinting from the headlights, eyes a little puffy from his lack of sleep - he knows that you're not in the mood to be blamed for anything. There seems like there's a weight on your shoulders as you thank your driver, making sure the door is shut before turning to face Jeongguk.
Posture sloped, you don't carry yourself like you usually do. Normally spritely, you seem quite the opposite now.
Your lips are thin as you smile.
He reciprocates a similar countenance, his lip ring flipping up ever so gently as he does it. There's something sweet about it, and it always makes you feel a little warm, normally, but you can't bring yourself to be endeared by it right now.
He walks to meet you - just a few steps across the ground floor parking lot - and wraps his arms around your shoulders. Doesn't let the hug linger for too long. Isn't entirely certain it won't make you cry.
"You're missing your disco, Byeol," Jeongguk says tenderly as he looks down at you, taking note of the fact you're without your signature makeup. He's so close he can count your lashes, and not a single one has a trace of glitter. You ignore the connotations of how he replaces ball with byeol. You're not sure how deliberate it is.
A familiar heat tickles at your lash line. With a sigh, you shrug. Look down at Jeongguk's hands, which are picking loose hairs from your shirt.
They're so acquainted with you now that you notice a graze on his finger that wasn't there the last time you'd hung out. Wonder how he got it. Hope he's okay, and that it didn't hurt. It's just a scrape from an awkward bottle cap. Nothing to worry about.
When your eyes finally meet his, you're surprised by how brutal his stare is. Eyes dark, there's no stars in them. His sharp jaw seems particularly tense, nose pointed and dewy beneath the moonlight. Behind him, the lobby light cuts out.
He swallows, dropping his hands from your shirt as his body turns to set the motion detector off again.
"Can we go inside?" you ask, quiet as a mouse.
Jeongguk doesn't understand why you're being so timid with him. He's not a fucking cat. You aren't his prey.
He just nods, though. "Of course."
The shrill beep of his entryway door code being punched in makes you feel like heaving. Everything is a little too much - which is why, when Jeongguk presses the button for the elevator, you ask if you can take the stairs instead.
"Sure," he says, a little taken aback. He normally takes the stairs himself, but thought you wouldn't want to walk up twelve flights of stairs. "We're pretty high up."
"S'fine," you say as you head towards the staircase. It's dimly lit, motion sensor lights flickering alight as you approach them. "Need the walk."
He chooses not to engage in conversation. Your words feel coded, and he isn't sure he's able to decipher them. Doesn't wanna risk saying the wrong thing when you're in a mood that feels so unfamiliar to him.
He's seen grouchy. Seen you unhappy. This isn't like that.
This is something different entirely.
He doesn't speak until you're on the staircase that exits on his floor, but his tone is gentle. "This one."
You nod, as if you knew.
Truth is you didn't. In fact, you kind of wish he'd just let you walk up to the roof. It'd be impossible to see the stars this close to the heart of the city, but at least you could pretend that the planes were cosmic calamities; shooting stars to make new wishes upon.
The lead is taken by Jeongguk until you reach his apartment.
He tells you Jimin is asleep, but that his room is at the opposite end of the apartment, so you can talk in there. He takes your silence as agreement, and holds the door open for you.
Shoes off by the entrance, he rests his palm on the top of your back to guide you through the dark apartment. It's how you remember it, the only difference is that Jeongguk's wearing a shirt this time.
When you reach his bedroom door, he pauses.
"If you say one mean thing about my sculpture collection, I'm throwing you out the window," he whispers, which does admittedly make a laugh stammer in your chest.
Makes you curious, too.
Hadn't envisaged him as a fine art type of guy.
He'd look good in your cafe, you think, in the corner with the clay, dried grey specs on his honey skin. You'd give him the olive-coloured apron, if he ever visited, because you think it'd suit him. Would watch with a lazy grin from the counter as he got to work on his project. Would sit with him during his breaks and colour in his tattoos with posca pens. Would be nice, you think.
But those thoughts are washed away like heat in a summer rain when his door opens and you see what he really means.
You don't mean it to be, but the laugh you let out is so fucking obnoxious. Jeongguk's hands go to shush you, one on the back of your head, the other over your mouth - but he's giggling, too.
"I told you not to be mean!"
You can feel him grin against your hair, keeping close so that he can keep his voice down. He doubts Jimin will stir, but it's worth it to hear your happiness. Jeongguk loosens his grip on you, turning back to click his door shut, and lets you meander over to his collection of-
"These are action figures, Gguk."
"They're sculptures."
"Toys."
"Collectibles."
"Collectible toys."
He purses his lips as you turn around to look at him. His arms are folded, nose a little scrunched, desperately not wanting to admit defeat.
"Look, they're really fucking expensive!"
And then you're laughing again, at how bloody ridiculous he is.
It somehow comes as no surprise that Jeongguk would have comic book figurines in perspex boxes, neatly stacked like a museum exhibition in the corner of his bedroom - just like it makes perfect sense that there's a chess set next to a computer that looks like it's worth your monthly salary.
"Can I-?" You cut yourself off as you gesture around the room.
"Go for it," Jeongguk says as he takes a seat on his bed, letting you wonder freely, taking in all that he is. He thinks you need a distraction, and he's to provide that. Knows you'd do the same if roles were reversed. In fact, it gets him wondering what your bedroom is like. He'll consider the what-ifs later. Too busy watching you, now.
A reed diffuser sits atop a pile of unread books on his bedside table - ones he swears to Namjoon that he'll read, but never seems to get around to doing so. The scent is black cherry, but there's another on the far side of the room which is fresh cotton. Nothing is ever entirely straightforward with him, but it's kind of why you like his company.
"This one is good," you muse, tapping the spine of one of your favourites - Cho Nam-Joo's Kim Ji-Young, Born 1982. You've the same book on your shelf at home. There are a few you don't recognise, so make a note to ask him about those another time.
His bed is made, but it's just as ruffled as his dark hair, which sticks out a little on end. You meet his eyes as you scan the room, and find that there's a small smile on his lips. You reciprocate it, hoping it's enough to distract him from the fact you're not quite yourself.
"Wanna sit?" he asks, knocking his head to the space beside him.
You don't think you do. You don't want to really be close to another person, not physically.
Something about him makes it hard to refuse such an offer, though. You find yourself nodding, even when you don't mean to.
He shuffles a little further up his bed, falling down onto his back to stare at his ceiling again. His legs hang off the side of his bed, hands intertwined across his chest.
You follow suit. Legs up, knees bent, feet by your ass, you copy his hands as you stare at his ceiling, too. Above you, his origami birds flutter gently in the aircon breeze.
"You make them?"
"Mhmm."
"They're pretty."
"Pretty lame," he snorts, very much aware that it's not the coolest thing to have in your bedroom as a twenty-five year old man, almost forgetting his glorified doll collection.
His sheets are soft, but there's still a slight crinkle as he turns his head to look at you. Though you feel his gaze, you don't look back.
"No disco balls tonight?"
The question is expressed so tenderly that you can't help but swallow back the flounder in your diaphragm. Your head slowly shakes, but you're still looking up at the birds. Part of you hates that he associates you so damn closely with that fucking glitter. Part of you quite likes it, too. Makes you feel seen. Makes you feel vulnerable.
"Why not?" He asks.
"Just 'cause," you whisper, not intending on giving an answer of substance - but you're upset, and it's a topic of contention that has been eating away at you for so long now that you can't help yourself from biting a little bit. "Sometimes it's just not very mature."
Jeongguk snorts. "You're talking to the guy with a figurine collection."
And then you're smiling, because his self-awareness is not only refreshing but incredibly endearing. He doesn't take himself seriously, and it's why you like his company. One of the reasons, at least.
But then you're thinking about how nice it is to laugh with someone for the simplicity of feeling a shared happiness, and you can't help but let the truth slip out.
"I used to date a guy," your voice lingers on your words, before you sigh and continue. "And he was so cool, yanno? So smart, and mature-"
The emphasis on the word, and the fact you're repeating it, tells Jeongguk all he needs to know about exactly what's happened tonight. Not once have you ever cared for looking older than you are, content with having fun thanks to the freedom of your twenties. In the time that he's known you, the topic of maturity has only ever been mentioned when you berate each other for being stupid.
Your compulsion to seem mature now is telling. He knows where you've been. Who you've been with, even if he doesn't know exactly who he is.
"- and he was just... you know people who have shit figured out? He's like that. He's older. Wiser." You pause, but Jeongguk lets you keep talking. His eyes are on the ceiling now, too. "Anyways, glitter annoys him. Gets on his clothes and then apparently it's a bitch to get out but I'm so used to it that I never notice it-"
"It's not a bitch to get out."
"And like, he's just, mature, yanno?"
"Yeah, you said that."
"So," you shrug your shoulders into the mattress. "He doesn't like glitter."
There's silence as Jeongguk thinks about what the fuck he's supposed to say to that.
In his eyes, you are glitter. Called you Byeol earlier 'cause you remind him of fucking stars. Feels a bit stupid for it now, but he's hoping you misheard.
He has to bite on his cheeks to stop himself from saying some scathing remark. 'So he doesn't like you, then?' reverberates in his head. It's harsh, he knows, but he wants to say it because he wants you to realise how terrible it is to change yourself for someone like that. And for what? It obviously didn't go well if you've ended up here.
But you are here. And he knows he's right - things can't have gone well. You're probably already feeling like shit, and who is he to make you feel even worse?
He can't be putting you through the wringer like that, but he's perplexed at the idea of you being so invested in someone who is quite clearly unbelievably wrong for you.
He's been in your position before.
Knows that him being a prick will only cause more damage.
And so he's kind, instead.
"I think it suits you," he says. "The glitter, I mean. You look fine without it, but it does really suit you."
You lean your head to the side, trying to get a read on his face. He just keeps on looking at the birds.
There's a harshness to the shadows on his face, painting him in greys. You don't realise it, but you're just the same - shrouded in the darkness of the night. His bedroom curtains are open, but the city lights aren't that bright at this time in the morning. Without the glitter to catch in what little light there is, your spark is dulled.
"You're just not used to seeing me without it," you say with a smile, but it doesn't reach your eyes.
He lets his head fall to the side, mirroring you. Strands of hair fall over his forehead, obscuring his eyes, tickling at his lashes. You reach over and knock a couple out of the way, trying to disregard the weight of his gaze. Deciding it's impossible, you look back up to the ceiling.
"You saw him tonight?" Jeongguk asks.
All you do is nod, because you're pretty sure you'll cry if you try and speak. The way your lips press together, brows tight above your pitiful eyes is painful to watch. You take a second. Take a breath. Wait for the next question.
"You slept with him?"
Jeongguk feels bad for the leap in questions, but he knows he's getting nods or shakes, and he want to get to the root of why the fuck you're ending your night in his room instead of with the guy you've been hung up on for months. Doesn't know his name. Doesn't care to know it. Thinks he's a prick.
A wallowing sadness sits in his chest when you nod your head, not for himself, but for you. He's never seen you like this. Never knew someone could have so much power over you.
Headstrong is all he's ever known you to be, but he feels like one of the King's men trying to put bloody Humpty Dumpty back together again.
You swallow back the sob that's causing a commotion in your oesophagus, as if the movement doesn't remind you of his hand on your throat.
God, you wish you could just stop thinking about him.
You think it would have hurt less if he'd have taken a knife to it.
Instead, his hands had been so warm and gentle, that you thought it meant he was trying to reclaim the space that used to hold a necklace with his initial.
Jeongguk doesn't want to ask the next question, but knows that as your friend - as a duty of care - he has to.
"Did he..." Jeongguk pauses, unsure of how to phrase in a delicate way.
"No," you finally, say, because you know where it's going. "He didn't hurt me."
"You've been crying," Jeongguk objects.
"Didn't hurt me like that."
He nods, accepting your response. Still has no idea what to fucking say, but he never does around you. S'why he always takes a moment or so. Brain just doesn't work when you're around.
"You wanna talk about it?"
To talk means to cry, and you don't really wanna do that. You glance over to him, and watch the way he's nibbling on his bottom lip, toying with his ring. Eyes still on the ceiling, Jeongguk pretends not to notice. You're both good at that. Pretending.
The silver of his jewellery - his piercings, his thick bracelets, the chain around his neck - just reminds you of the earrings that you're wearing.
They're dainty. Pretty little hoops. Intricate leaves trail around the smooth shape, tiny sparkling stones catching in the light. You'd worn them deliberately. Had hoped he'd notice.
Not Jeongguk. You couldn't really care less for what he did or didn't notice about you.
You'd worn them for Seokjin.
Had been wearing them since he messaged you midweek - I'm in town at the weekend. Will you be around? - and now you kind of want to rip them out.
You'd hoped he would remember the trip you took together to Gyeongju. Your third time visiting the city together; just before autumn was about to settle into the earth, rusted leaves sinking to the ground, like the blossoms during the spring. The cyclic nature of the seasons used to make you smile.
Just like he did, in the old Hanok where a silversmith crafted twisted hoops in front of your very eyes. He told you he'd buy you the entire store when he finally became a big shot. Settled for a tiny pair of silver hoops, instead.
They're the ones you're wearing now. The ones you hoped he would notice.
But he didn't notice. Not tonight. Not once. Not even when his lips were on your lobes, nor when his hands were on your body, his voice quiet in your ear as he'd told you tall tales about how much he'd missed you.
His voice had been so soothing at the time - "still take me so well, darling" - like aloe on sunburn - "like that. Fuck, darlin', like that" - but you realise now he was just covering you in deep heat. "Uh- shit. You always been this tight? Fuck. You're gonna make me cum so fucking hard."
Only a matter of time until he was scalding your skin all over again. "Shit." Scorching. "I'm there." Tarnishing. "Take it all for me, take it- ugh. Yeah, that's it. Good girl. Good fuckin' girl." Destroying. "Fuck."
And oh, what a scar Kim Seokjin leaves on your skin.
His handprints are warped all over your body. You're red in the wake of his touch, sandpaper palms scrubbing away at the efforts you've made to heal yourself in the past few months. Your cracks are showing again, and you're not wearing any glitter to fill the gaps.
You're broken, and it shows.
You swallow a little harshly, tongue licking your dry lips before biting down on them. Lashline warming again, you simply shrug. His duvet rustles beneath you. "Not much to talk about."
"We both know you wouldn't be here if that was true."
"But it is," you say with a fragile laugh. "He came over, and then-" Your voice cracks. "And then he left."
Should have seen it coming, really. You reap what you sow.
Jeongguk knows you never stay. Learnt it pretty quickly. Didn't ask too many questions about it. Never occurred to him that maybe you'd ever want someone else to stay, instead.
"I... ," you mumble as you try and think of the right words to say. Your cheeks are a little damp, and you know that Jeongguk knows you're crying, even if he isn't looking at you, but what's the point in pretending anymore? "I really thought that it wasn't me, yanno? I thought other people were the issue."
One of the birds he's watching catches on the wings of its neighbour, awkwardly straggling before falling back into position. Jeongguk thinks he should cut them all down.
"What do you mean?"
"The whole..."
When you pause, Jeongguk looks over to you. Your face is a little scrunched up, feeling awkward about such an admission. It makes him laugh how you can appear so pitiful and yet still so classically you. You laugh too, stuttering on your breath, using the back of your palm to dust away some of your tears.
"The whole intimacy thing," you finally continue with a small smile - because if you don't laugh, you will cry. "I thought that other people were the issue; that they didn't compel me to stay. I never once thought that it was me. That I was the issue - but I can't even fucking compel the guy I thought I'd marry one day to stay. It's me. I'm the fucking problem."
You're smiling as you finish talking, but it fades quickly. Withers like the flowers Seokjin had bought you on the evening he'd broken up with you. There's still one pressed between the pages in your journal. Petals plucked. He loves me, he loves me not. He loves me, he loves me not. He loves-
"You're not a problem," Jeongguk says, eyes hard as they look to his ceiling. His hands are still linked over his stomach, but he's resisting the urge to pace the room. He needs to wrap his head around what you're saying, but can't do it when he's sitting still. Needs to walk in a circle to try and find where the fuck it starts. Doesn't make sense to him how you're blaming yourself for your ex not staying. He chooses not to speak about him, instead trying to help you make sense of why you leave. "You don't stay at the end of your hook-ups 'cause a purpose is served. It's like how you don't stay in a restaurant after you eat your dinner."
"But you do," you say, as you cross your legs and clamber to a seated position. Jeongguk remains in place, and you notice just how perplexed he seems. "You have your dinner, maybe even dessert, and then what? You talk. Enjoy other's company."
He sits now, too. "Okay, maybe it was the wrong analogy-"
"It's not. It's entirely correct. Gguk, I-" you sigh, shoulders lifting to your ears and falling again. Exasperation pollutes your features.
You've given the topic a lot of thought, but never shared your conclusions. It's all a bit daunting.
"You...?" He encourages.
"I never stay, because I never want to give anyone the same power that he had over me. Never want anything more than casual sex, cause it can't hurt me." You voice is bereft, a small pitiful laugh punctuating your words. "How fucking sad is that?"
You're speaking so quietly that all Jeongguk can do is listen as your words slip into in ears and get all jumbled about inside his head. He needs time to reorganise them; to understand what you actually mean.
"I have so many rules and restrictions that it's barely even sex these days, more... a transaction? And yet when Jin messaged me, I fucking folded. Yes sir, no sir, three bags full sir. I..." you tail off, but Jeongguk doesn't push for more.
Just waits till you're ready - and when you are, you speak at such a speed it's almost hard to understand a single thing you're saying.
"I let him fuck me like he still loves me. Do you have any idea what that does to a person? How much it can fuck with their head? I broke down all of my walls, because he used to make me feel so safe and for some reason, I told myself it would be okay - but then you messaged and - fuck."
You look down at your thumbs and shrug, a deep sigh exhaling from your very soul, as if your bones are creaking beneath your skin.
"When you messaged, I woke up and he wasn't fucking there. He'd left. Treated me like how I treat my transactional shags. And I mean, maybe it's my own fault, maybe I deserved it, but fuck. I let him kiss me. I let him... I let him fuck me like he meant it, and then he left as if I meant nothing to him."
By the time you finish venting, Jeongguk looks so bewildered that he actually seems scared. You look back down to where your thumbs are twiddling, shameful of your own emotions. A pitter-patter of tears hit his duvet, and you just let them. You're not crying. Not sobbing, at least. Just tearful. Bamboozled by your own feelings.
Jeongguk's at a loss for what the fuck he's supposed to do.
He's never been the kind to comfort his friends. Isn't really sure how the fuck he's supposed to comfort you. He's no stranger to crying girlfriends - he's had a few of those - but this isn't like that. He can't just kiss it better, not that he'd want to. Be like kissing Jimin at this point, he tells himself.
And either way, it's so unbelievably inappropriate to even think of something like that when you're literally in front of him in tears over another bloke. His mind is just wandering because he's panicking, but oh god, you're crying still and how the fuck do you have so much liquid in your face? Surely you'll wither up? He's not sure he's ever seen a pair of cheeks so wet.
But then you shrug, and sniff back the tears. Purse your lips. Press them together so tight you can't make a sound. And then you look at him and say, "I'm sorry. This is, like, so much. I didn't mean to be such a big fucking cry baby I just-"
"Hey, no," he protests, face contorted with a little disgust. He can't believe you're apologising for this.
Jeongguk's no stranger to a complex. He's got one wrapped around his pretty pink brain like a metal chain, padlocked where his desire to take chances should be. The fear of rejection outweighs any possible good that could come from going after the things he wants - and as he watches the way your smile quivers before it falls into a quiet sob, he knows exactly what his fear is trying to save himself from.
And so he just gently smiles, and says, "it really fucking sucks when the people we love don't love us back."
You nod. "Fucking sucks."
He's only known you for a couple of months. Doesn't know who you were before your ex; only the after. But he quite likes who you are now. Thinks that whatever the fuck that prick put you through is undeserved. Is actually quite angry that he'd fuck you over like that.
"I'm sorry," you whisper, as you dab your face with sweater paws, trying to get rid of the remains of your tears.
He hates that you're apologising again, but he lets you. Knows you'll just say sorry again if he tells you to stop.
"I just didn't wanna be in my room, yanno?" A sob tries to escape, but you catch it just in time. Attagirl. "Fucking smells like him. I'd forgotten about his aftershave -" This is a lie. "- and now I can't get it out of my fucking nose."
Jeongguk grins, and tries a little banter. "Probably a good thing if it masks the way you smell."
"Fuck off," you smile back at him, biting down on your lip to stop it from shaking. "Now's not the time."
And yet you're so glad he's still being normal with you. Not so glad for his next question, but glad for the perspective he's trying to give to the situation.
"Did you at least... yanno?"
Your eyes roll so far back that you can basically see your frontal lobe. Jeongguk is a little horrified by the fact your entire eyeball is bloodshot, and doesn't hide his disgust very well. He tries. Just looks a little constipated when you refocus on him. Makes you laugh.
"Pretended," you admit a little awkwardly, and when Jeongguk's jaw drops, you reach over to close it. "My god, shut up! I didn't want to make him feel bad. If I knew then what I know now-"
"That he's a cunt?"
"-Then maybe I wouldn't have."
You would have. You'd turn water into wine if Seokjin asked you to. Let him drink your blood if a drought pilfered his water supply. Would sacrifice everything to just give him a measly something.
You'll never admit to any of that, though.
Silence simmers between the pair of you. There's not much left to say.
"I'm sorry he left," Jeongguk says, because you deserve an apology and knows you'll never get one from the person who owes it.
"Me too."
He reaches over and ruffles your hair, smiling in that way he does when his dimples form and his lip ring does a little dance. It curves upwards, smiling too.
"You wanna get a shower?" He offers. He's terrible at comforting people, granted, but he's good at thinking of solutions. "Everything here smells different to your apartment. You can get rid of whatever's haunting your nose with my incredibly manly strawberry shower gel."
You laugh, and Jeongguk feels himself relax. Hadn't realised his back had been so tense as he twists his waist to click it. You let yourself fall onto your back again, and into his duvet. "God, how on earth do the girls resist you?"
"They can't. Get a shower, Byeol. I'll make up somewhere for you to sleep, alright?"
You don't question the way he calls you Byeol again. Just let him. Think it's nice, actually.
And like the girls that apparently can't resist him, you can't say no to his instructions.
He shows you to the bathroom, and when you whisper about being worried you'll wake Jimin, Jeongguk shakes his head. "Sleeps like a log after a night out."
There's something incredibly kind about how he shows you which shower gels are his (because apparently he needs three in the shower at all times), and how to change the temperature (but leaves it on his favourite setting because he thinks you'll like it, too). He tells you to wait before you get in, because he's coming back with something - and when he does, you pout.
"So, this is like, my good towel. I don't keep it in here 'cause Jimin'll use it for god knows what, but it's really fluffy," he says, and then insists that you rub it against your cheek. He's not wrong. Might just be the fluffiest towel you've ever encountered. "Unreal, right? Like an actual cloud."
And then despite how gentle he's been, he reverts back to his typical self when he throws a shirt in your face. "For afterwards."
He shuts the door before you can say anything else in response. You just kind of stand there, his shirt looped over your shoulders, laughing softly to yourself, face furrowed in confusion. Jeon Jeongguk might just be the strangest human you've ever met.
But you're also the girl who took a canvas painting of breadfish to his gym, just to get a laugh out of him, so maybe you're well-suited in that regard.
Their shower is far nicer than yours, the water pressure frankly wasted on two boys. Though you wouldn't trade your apartment with Danbi for the world, you considering making future five AM pity calls just for the luxury of a waterfall showerhead.
You use the strawberry shower gel, not because you like it any better than citrus fruits or fresh pine, but mainly because it's the one Jeongguk first mentioned. It's sweet - almost as sweet as your own vanilla one - but still fresh enough to make you feel a little brand new. There's an ache in your heart as you wash your ex's touch from you, and you find yourself sniffing again - but you don't let yourself fall into that trap.
You've cried enough.
And so wrap yourself in Jeongguk's towel, close the lid of their toilet and sit for a while. The clock reads twelve minutes past six. Guilt simmers in your chest, knowing that Jeongguk didn't need to be dealing with you at such a ridiculous time in the morning - but when you reach his bedroom, knocking before you enter to find him organising a mountain of pillows on his floor, you can't help but feel thankful he's the person you reached out to.
It's kinda his fault for texting you at five AM and waking you up, but that's neither here nor there.
"Hey," he smiles as he turns to face you, and tries his hardest to avoid staring at your legs. Your hair is bundled up into his towel, and his shirt fits you like a dress, cutting off midway down your thighs. "Sorry, I just didn't know how many pillows you like? So I just got them all?"
"One is normally fine," you laugh, as you begin to tease your hair through the towel. "Thank you for this, by the way. Incredible towel."
"I told you so," he grins. "Curtains open or closed?"
"Closed?" You question, confused at how it's not an obvious answer - but you don't know that Jeongguk sleeps with them open on Saturday nights to make it easier for him to wake for the gym in the morning.
"Sure you're gonna be comfortable on the floor?" He asks as he reaches over to close the curtains. "I really don't mind taking the floor."
"I'm sure," you nod. "Hardly looks like a floor anymore."
You've a point. He really did it overdo it - but he's not had a sleepover since he was about fourteen. Isn't really sure what the protocol is.
At least, not a sleepover like this.
Nor have you. No time for braiding each other's hair and gossiping about your favourite celebrities, though. You find yourself drifting off almost as soon as you curl up into Jeongguk's expertly crafted pile of pillows. You don't realise, 'cause he doesn't tell you, but he's given you the pillows from his bed, too. They're a little more expensive, better for a good night's sleep.
He reaches to the end of the bed for his good towel. It's a little damp, but not too wet that it would cause any issues as he rolls it up and sticks it beneath his head. Isn't the first time he's used a towel for a pillow, and likely won't be the last. He just kind of thought you needed the comfort of expensive cushions more than he did.
"Sweet dreams, Byeol," he whispers, knowing you're out like a light, but wanting to wish you well regardless. You deserve that at the very least, he thinks.
Unlocking his phone, he cancels his gym alarm, and tosses his phone back down onto his mattress. His room is dark, but he can see the outline of your body, the curve of your hip and the dip of your waist as you adjust ever so slightly.
He's sure that when the morning comes, you'll be a bit embarrassed about it all - but for now, he settles into how comfortable it feels to have you around.
There's nothing intimate about the situation between the pair of you (which is probably why you don't mind staying over) - but when he hears you squeak a little in your sleep, pillows rustling as you move, he kind of gets it. Understands why you wouldn't trust just anyone with your most vulnerable state.
He's just the same; except his fears come in the form of rejection. He never makes it to the intimacy part, because he never deals with the stuff that needs to precede it.
And as he stares up at the shadows of his origami birds, a frown framing his pretty features, he decides you're both absolutely fucked.
