Summary: Being clueless to the fact that your best friend has feelings for you has you questioning everything...
Pairing: Clueless f!reader x Best friend Jungkook | f2l
Word Count: 7.6k
Warnings: Just a whole lot of fluff
a/n: Here it is! Thank you to everyone who supported my random post I made about this fic which was just a brain child at that point lol. I hope it was worth the wait 🤍
p.s. I never use dividers so lemme know what you think haha
p.p.s. Dedicating this to my love Massi because she really hyped me up throughout the whole process and helped me see this through to completion! Love you endlessly @taevescence
I look up when I hear the door to my apartment open, a lopsided smile on my best friend's face is the first thing I see as he walks in, plopping on the couch next to me.
"Hey, I didn't know you were coming over," I chuckle, leaning into him when he tucks me into his side and places a kiss on my temple.
"Finished up work early and wanted to see my girl" he mumbles against my hair, his words kicking my heartbeat into overdrive.
'My girl'
That phrase slips past his lips more times than I can count most days, and he knows it gets to me. Always smiling at the way my features soften and lashes flutter, his smile getting goofier by the second.
I don't deny I'm his girl because...I guess you could say I am.
We talk all the time, go out to eat, cook, watch movies, spend the night.
The list goes on and on and on.
Plus, I've never heard him talk about other girls. At least not for a couple years. So I guess there isn't anyone else around to fill that role.
And I can't deny I'm selfishly happy that's the case.
I don't know what I'd do if he got into a relationship.
He's been single for almost the entire time we've known each other, so having to share him with someone would be difficult.
Or worse, having to part ways out of respect for his girlfriend...his girl.
I shake off the thought and he notices how silent I've become.
"You listening, Baby?" he asks, tracing my cheekbone lightly.
"Hm? Sorry. What were you saying?" I apologize, knowing there's no use in denying I wasn't since I don't have the slightest of ideas as to what he was saying.
He hums, "What were you thinking about?" his thumb having moved down to trace my jaw, looking at me with his undivided attention.
"You," I admit and he smiles, pressing another kiss on my forehead.
"Wanna talk about it?" he asks, rubbing his thumb between the crease in my brows.
"No," he nods, not pushing too much although I know he wants to.
"Were you planning on doing anything before I crashed the party?" he smiles, his bunny teeth looking particularly adorable tonight.
"It's not much of a party with one person," I roll my eyes, his toothy grin only growing wider.
"I'll take that as a no." Sounding victorious he gets up and grabs his backpack, placing it at his feet.
"I was thinking I could spend the night tonight...if that's okay?" he asks, his ears turning pink, making me want to say yes even more.
"Of course. What's mine is yours-"
"And what's mine is mine" he cuts me off, his possessive and mock selfish nature always coming out when I use phrases like that, although we're one in the same.
Always letting me sleep in his bed, leaving a tooth brush for me in his bathroom along with my shower things, not so secretly loving it when I run out of mine and have to use his.
Whereas I scold him half the time since he always uses too much.
"Those are expensive Koo!" I huff, looking at the bottle that's lost half it's volume since the last time I saw it. "That's not even for your hair."
"You know I'll buy you more," his sultry tone and bedroom eyes are enough to make me shut up, jumping when his hands reach for my hips to pull me closer, dodging his grasp and hightailing it out of there.
Every room always seems so much smaller when he's by my side.
"What cha' got in there?" I ask, focusing to the way he's digging in his bag, lips set in a pout, hair falling in his eyes and his glasses sliding down the bridge of his nose as he looks in all of the various compartments and bags he has.
One of which is mine.
A pretty sparkly one with a pink bunny.
Something he knew would make me smile every time he pulled it out of his very big very black and very scary backpack.
It's a pouch full of little things like a mini period rescue kit, lip balm, band aids, hair ties, sunglasses and my favorite flavor of gum.
I've added and subtracted a few things here and there...so yes, the current bag is one he bought me, and when I forget to top it up I always find it full again whenever I reach for it.
"Here it is!" he sighs, happy he didn't forget it...whatever it is.
I try to peek inside before he's able to pull it out but he scoots the whole backpack away from me.
"Nu uh, no peeking. Close your pretty eyes and don't open them until I say so," giving me a pointed look to which I sigh and close them, gaining me a hum of approval.
I hear him shuffling and scooting closer, the couch cushions dipping with his weight, freezing when I feel his breath fanning my face.
My brows furrow the next second when I feel a cool touch around my neck, the ticklish sensation making me shiver, an amused chuckle sneaking past his lips.
"Almost done" he says, leaning closer to close the clasp on what I know to be a necklace now and before I can ask when I can open my eyes I feel a featherlight kiss on my cheek.
"Okay, open," he whispers before leaning back, my hand searching for the pendant, feeling for it first before angling it up to me.
A delicate silver chain with a pendant of the letters 'JK' hanging from it.
My lashes flutter as I look at it, trying to decipher its meaning...other than his initials of course.
"Do you like it?" his throat bobs, slightly unsure as I've seemingly stayed silent for a lot longer than was deemed comfortable.
"Yes, yes, Jungkook. It's beautiful. Thank you," I cup his cheek and he leans into it, a relieved sigh leaving his lips.
"You had me worried," he mumbles, his cheeks now utterly pink from the range of emotions he no doubt felt rush through him. "I thought you hated it."
"Oh my gosh no! No, I would never ever hate anything you gave me, especially not something as heartfelt as this," I trail off, looking it over, little diamonds making up the letters.
"But, Koo, this is too much," I shake my head, starting to imagine how much it might've cost.
"No it's not. I know your birthday is next month and I was getting too impatient so think of it as an early birthday present," he argues, giving me a reason to not feel as bad about accepting a gift like this.
"It must've cost a lot though. You didn't have to spend this much on me," I say, my other hand coming up to toy with it as well.
"You're my girl right?" he asks, tilting his head to the side, a sure gesture he knows makes me shy.
"Yeah, I'm your girl," I mumble, a smile curling on my lips.
"Then it doesn't matter how much it costs. Plus, it's a gift for me too. Just make sure you wear it everyday, yeah?" he says, tilting my chin up to make eye contact.
His eyes drop down to my lips for a second before he takes the pendant in his other hand, mine now falling in my lap as he rests the pendant on my chest. Fingers methodically tracing the letters before, placing his hand in mine.
He lets go of my chin and moves his hand to the back of my neck to pull me closer, placing a kiss on my forehead.
His favorite way to show his devotion to me.
"It looks so beautiful on you," a smile of satisfaction gracing his lips along with something else I can't read.
I thank him quietly and he caresses my face before giving me space to breathe, turning his attention to his bag again.
"I brought snacks too. Thought we could have a movie night," going back to his normal self as if he didn't give me a gift that has my head whirling.
"Sure," I hum. "I'm gonna go to the bathroom real quick," getting off the couch I try not to run down the hall, closing the door and locking myself inside.
I take some deep breaths in and out, trying to calm my mind, looking up only when I know I'll be able to handle the sight.
'JK'
Unmistakably Jungkook.
What would everyone think?
Seeing me wearing a necklace with my best friend's initials.
What does he think?
'Plus, it's a gift for me too.'
What does that even mean?
I jump when I hear a knock on the bathroom door.
"Yes?" I ask, looking in the mirror again and straightening my appearance, making it seem as if I wasn't having a mini meltdown in here.
"You've been in there for a while. You okay?" his voice is laced with genuine concern, breaking my heart for making him worry so much.
I open the door seconds later, as genuine of a smile as I can muster up spread across my lips.
"Totally fine, wanted to freshen up since I had eaten before you came. Wanted to make sure I didn't have any food in my teeth" I make an excuse, having brushed them in the midst of my panic, already aiming to use it as an excuse.
"Okay, well, movie is queued up if you're ready?" holding his hand out for me, taking it with a shy smile. He returns it and not so subtly glances at his initials that catch the light before leading me to the living room.
Or at least I thought he was, until he veers right instead of left.
"I thought you said we were watching a movie?" my brows furrow in confusion.
"Your bed's more comfortable than the couch. Plus, this way I can hold my girl a little closer," he taunts, his hand letting go of mine in favor of guiding me in by the small of my back.
He's set my room to the ultimate coziness level, paired with the soft twinkling of my fairy lights and the warm scent from my favorite candle permeating the space.
A new stuffed bunny that's nestled between my pillows catches my eye.
"You changed my bedsheets?" I ask, noticing the freshly made bed on top of all that he's done.
"Yeah," his ears turn a soft shade of pink, a small detail he wished I hadn't noticed but when I don't say much else he lets out a breath, unsure as to if he took too much liberty in altering my space.
"This for me?" I ask the obvious question, picking up the soft white bunny with a pink nose and the floppiest ears I've ever seen. He hums in confirmation, and walks over, wrapping his arms around me from behind and nuzzling into my neck.
"I couldn't resist," he admits, reaching his hand out and tilting one of the paws up to show our initials embroidered on it with a little heart.
"Jungkook," I murmur, tracing the letters, him placing a kiss on my cheek.
"You like it?" he asks again, this time knowing it's a no brainer, and I nod.
"This an early birthday present too?" I ask, toying with the ears.
"No. I knew you'd like it, so I wanted to get it for you," he squeezes me a little tighter.
"Thank you, Koo."
"Mhm, now come on, I've been dying to watch this with you!" he lets go and goes over to 'his side of the bed' both knowing he claimed it a very long time ago.
He grabs the fuzzy blanket he knows I love to share and makes room for me to settle in next to him, bringing over a bowl full of snacks, all still in their packaging because he knows I don't like it when my foods touch.
"Comfy?" he asks once he's pulled me closer, his back resting against the pillows while I'm curled into his side. I hum, a smile no doubt gracing his lips at the sound while he grabs the remote and presses play.
I start to doze halfway through the movie, his warm strong body holding me making me feel safe and sleepy.
"You watching?" he chuckles and I hum in confirmation, both of us know I'm lying but he doesn't push it, watching quietly and tracing patterns into my side, my shirt having risen up enough for him to make contact with my bare waist.
Once he notices I'm truly close to passing out he turns off the movie and moves so we can lay down properly, guiding me to rest my head on his chest after putting his glasses on the nightstand.
"Goodnight, baby," he mumbles, placing a soft kiss on the top of my head and slowly drifting off as well.
The next morning I'm awoken with the feeling of a featherlight touch along my features. Tracing my cheekbones, my nose, my jaw, my lips until my lashes flutter open.
The sight of him takes my breath away, eyes a little sleepy, hair just as messy and a soft smile gracing his lips.
"Morning sleepy head," he hums, gazing at me as if I was the only person in the world that mattered.
"Morning," I murmur his gravely tone sending shock waves through my system.
"I have to go to work but I didn't want to leave without saying goodbye," he mumbles, reluctant to leave so soon.
"Do you have to?" I ask, sad that my morning with him is cut short and he nods, just as disappointed.
"Yeah, but I can come back later?" he offers and I smile but shake my head.
"That's okay. You probably have things to do."
"No I don't."
"Don't you wanna spend time at your house?"
"No."
"Why not?"
"Well, because you're not there," he says matter-of-factly as if that's reason enough.
"O-oh, well you're more than welcome to."
"Then it's settled," he nods and regrettably de tangles himself from me, getting his things together.
"Can I shower here?" he asks, knowing the answer but still asking.
"Mhm, just don-"
"Don't use the purple bottles. I know," he winks before disappearing into the bathroom.
I sigh and cover my face, trying to figure out when things got so comfortable between us.
We've been close ever since we met so of course we gradually got closer.
I mean for Pete's sake, he has an extra key to my house and my car and I have the same for him.
Things are getting out of hand if we're just going to go about this without a label.
There's nothing wrong with it per say...but I'd like to know what's going through his head and if this means anything besides a close friendship to him.
"You okay?" I jump when I hear his voice a little while later, not having heard the shower turn off.
I look up to respond and see he's only in his towel, hung low around his waist while he dries his hair off with another one.
"Yeah, why wouldn't I be?" I ask, covering my eyes again, this time out of necessity.
"Sorry, I forgot to grab my clothes before I went in there," he chuckles and opens what sounds like 'his drawer' in my dresser...okay yes he does have a drawer too but it's for times like these.
It's convenient.
"That's okay," I say, hands still very much covering my entire face at this point.
"You don't have to do that," a smirk heard in his tone so I shake my head.
"I want to give you privacy," I argue, turning my back to him, or at least I think I am based off of where I can hear his voice coming from.
"Alright, I'll go finish up in the bathroom then," he says and when I hear the door close I let out a sigh of relief.
That was a close one.
Once he's finished getting ready and is about to head out I give him a cup of coffee to go, writing a little message on it to remind him to eat something yummy for lunch.
"Thank you, Honey," he hums, adjusting his glasses before placing a kiss on the corner of my lips, slipping the coffee cup out of my hold when he feels me freeze. "See you after work," he murmurs when he pulls away just the slightest bit.
"D-drive safe," I say once he's at the door, my mind barely catching up when he's about ten paces away, his hand brushing the doorknob.
"You know I'll always come back to you," he smiles, the response reassurance enough.
Once he's gone and I've had a second to think I grab my laptop and pull up a search engine.
'What does it mean when my best friend gives me a necklace?' I type in and wait for it's response, unfortunately giving me something vague about being close friends and it being a thoughtful gift.
"I knew that already" I huff and delete a few words to rephrase the question.
'What does it mean when a guy gives his girl best friend a necklace with his initials but they're just friends?' I hit enter and try to find something that matches us but nothing makes sense.
I scroll further down and rephrase the question a few more times until I find an anonymous post that sounds a little similar.
'I (26 y/o) female have a (27 y/o) male best friend who I've been close with for years.'
Okay okay so the ages are a little off but let's roll with it.
'We spend a fair amount of time together and have for years but lately it feels like we see each other every day'
Yup sounds like us.
'Not that there's anything wrong, but I feel like things have been...different'
I stop reading and think about how things have changed with us over the years.
'Nothing dramatic or drastic has happened lately but it feels like there's something we're not discussing...an elephant in the room so to say'
Okay now that's creepily spot on.
I keep reading and not only has he given her a gift that's held a special meaning but has also asked her to go away together with him paying for and planning everything.
Okay well at least Jungkook hasn't gone to that extreme...recently. It leaves me wanting to disregard this post in entirety, but I can't help myself from scrolling through the comments after her final sentence.
'Any advice on how to ask him what he's thinking without asking him what he's thinking?'
Okay yeah this is where I need to lock in.
'Are you sure you aren't dating this man?'
'Sounds like you're his girlfriend.'
'Pretty sure he wants to propose.'
The last one has me swallowing the lump in my throat and shutting my laptop.
"Okay that's enough of the internet for today"
I take a shower and do some household chores to try and keep myself from spiraling and luckily it works...until I hear his keys in the lock a few hours later.
"Hey," a lazy smile is spread across his lips as he places his things down, giving him the same greeting before stumbling forward when he pulls me into a big bear hug.
"You okay?" I ask, rubbing his back and lacing my fingers through his hair.
"Mhm, just missed you," he mumbles into my neck, ignoring the ticklish sensation that it gives.
"You sure?" I repeat and he let's out a sigh.
"My boss organized a dinner with the execs and wants all of us to go," he grumbles, having no interest in spending more time with them than necessary.
"You always hate those company dinners, huh?" he nods, pulling me even closer so there's hardly any space between us.
"They want us to bring a plus one too," he pulls back then, his hands now resting on my hips, his thumbs tracing circles on my bare skin, my t-shirt having risen up a bit.
"Who are you gonna take?" I ask as if the answer was not obvious.
"Who else but my girl?" his tone smooth as silk as one of his hands comes up to cup my face. "You free Friday night?" he tilts his head, thumb now running along the apple of my cheek.
"I dunno, I'll have to check my calendar, see if I can squeeze you in," I tease, both of us knowing I prefer a cozy night in most nights.
"Name your price," he offers, a small smile curling at the corner of my lips.
"Coffee and an almond croissant for the next...three Saturday mornings. Right when I wake up," I bargain, wanting to have a nice start to my lazy weekends.
"I'd do that anyways...but deal," he agrees before I go out of my way and give him something ridiculous to do instead. "Having you there will make this pointless dinner more bearable."
"You can do better than that," I tease, wanting him to give me an even more dramatic expression of gratitude.
"It would be a great honor if you did me the favor of accompanying me, my Lady, as you would be my only sense of solace amidst the treacherous feast," he puts a hand to his chest and bows his head.
"Okay maybe not that much" I chuckle and poke his dimple that's shying it's way out, "Just make good on your promise and treat me like a lady," I nod and he smiles.
"I couldn't imagine doing anything else."
The week flies by and surprisingly Jungkook and I don't see each other much.
We've been keeping in touch with texts here and there and have FaceTimed a few times but turns out this dinner with the execs had a lot more preparation in store than he was anticipating.
"Apparently the head of the executive council is coming so my boss is making sure we know everyone like the back of our hand. Believe it or not he had us memorizing their hands so we could remember who's married and who's not."
"What the heck? That's so weird," I laugh at his complaining to which he gives me a pointed look but the smile on his face shows that he's similarly amused.
In all actuality, he just likes making me laugh.
"You know what you're gonna wear tomorrow night?"
"Why? You wanna match?" I hum, his ears turning pink at the call out.
"Gotta find some kinda way to show everyone you're mine," his words smooth but I can tell he's still shy.
"I'm planning on wearing a purple dress, one that's so deep it almost looks black. I saw it in a shop window when I was at the mall and I couldn't resist," my original intention being to wear something I already had in my closet.
"Oh yeah? How much was it?" he asks casually, listening to me babble on about how I found it and got it for a pretty good deal.
My rambling is cut short when I see a notification come in on my phone, showing that he sent me some cash for the dress.
"Jungkook," I scold him and he smirks, his leading questions doing exactly what he had planned.
"You bought it to go to the dinner I invited you to. I can't make you pay for it too," he argues and although his logic is sound I still protest.
"You sent me too much though!" I say, making to send some back to him.
"No, it's for the jewelry you said you got to match and the drink I know you sipped on while you searched high and low for that perfect dress," he explains and I frown.
"I can afford to get them on my own."
"I know, but who would I be if I wasn't spoiling my girl?" a smile spreads on my lips at his simple but innocent response.
"Okay, but no more buying me things...except for food and coffee...that I will allow," I mumble at the end, a dimpled smile gracing his lips.
I feel as though I've blinked and it was suddenly the night he had been dreading...one that has butterflies fluttering in my stomach.
He's bringing me...his best friend to an important dinner for his job where people are either dating or married...so what's it gonna look like on the outside when he introduces me as his best friend?
Are people going to judge him or think we're lying?
We could lie and say we're dating or something? Right? It couldn't be that hard.
I practically jump out of my skin when I see Jungkook coming around the corner into my bathroom where I'm sitting at my vanity.
"You scared the crap out of me," I hold my hand to my chest, a smirk curling on his lips.
"Sorry, didn't you hear me come in?" he asks, watching me turn off the music I had playing in the background.
"No," I take a deep breath in and out to recover, his hands going to rest on my shoulders, massaging them the slightest bit.
"You're really tense, something bothering you?" he hums, placing a soft kiss on my neck, the small touch affecting me more than it should.
"No, just a little nervous."
"Bout what?" his head tilts to the side in confusion, looking at me through the mirror, now noticing the clear signs that show I'm not totally settled. "Tonight?" he follows up and I nod, him having seen through part of it, though it's pretty obvious.
"What's making you nervous?" he asks, turning to look at me instead of my reflection.
"Well, this is a big night for you and I...I don't want to mess things up. You know, say the wrong thing or not look professional enough or-"
"Baby," he stops me, closing my lips into a pout to let him speak. "All you gotta do is be your lovely self. That's enough. If you're really nervous, well, then I'll talk enough for the both of us," game planing ahead of time to calm my nerves.
"Just stay real close and you won't have to worry about a thing. Okay?" he hums and I nod. "Come here," guiding me to stand on my feet and pulling me into his familiar embrace that makes me forget my worries most days. A comforting heartbeat pressed against my ear, mine slowing to fall in sync.
"Now, let me get a good look at you," he says, slipping out of the embrace and pulling back, taking me in head to toe. He lifts my hand above my head, a silent request to do a little twirl for him, a smile on my lips once I face him again.
"How'd I get so lucky?" he puts a dramatic hand to his chest.
"I dunno, but you're obviously doing something right," I tease, him easily nodding in agreement.
"You ready?" he asks while he watches me put on one last layer of gloss, nodding once I've screwed the top on.
"As ready as I'll ever be," I shrug and he smiles, lacing his fingers through mine and picking up my shoes I left by my bed for tonight.
"Sit down for me, yeah?" he requests once we're at the couch, placing a kiss to my temple to which I do, him kneeling before me to slip on my heels.
"I can put my own shoes on," I laugh and try to take them but he swats my hands away.
"I know, but I want to. You asked me to treat you like a lady tonight, didn't you?" my words coming back to haunt me.
"I did," I roll my eyes, him smirking at his small victory against me before slipping on the other shoe and offering me a hand up.
"Oh! Almost forgot," he says, walking back to my room, me following close behind since I don't remember him bringing anything.
"Finishing touches" he says, handing me the perfume I always wear for special occasions or outings, as well as the bottle of cologne he's left for moments like this.
He always uses something of his when he comes over, making it more and more apparent that he's become such a big part of my life...and for now...I'm okay with not questioning it.
"Okay, now we're ready" he nods, lacing our fingers together and leading me to the front door, grabbing my bag and both of our jackets on the way out.
When we pull up to the valet at the entrance of the restaurant it's only then that I realize he's wearing an all black suit with a dark purple almost black tie.
"You weren't kidding when we said you wanted to match, huh?" I tease, fixing his tie and brushing a hair off his forehead once we're standing outside.
"Like I said, needed a way to show everyone you're mine, especially since you couldn't wear the necklace I gave you tonight," he sighs, something we had come to terms with a few days ago, deeming it unprofessional and too casual which he vehemently disagreed with but I got my way in the end.
"I'll put it on as soon as I get home. Happy?" I compromise, hoping to get that pouting expression off his face and luckily, it does the trick, a short nod coming from him as he puts on an air of confidence.
"Last chance to back out."
"I didn't realize it was an option."
"It's not. But it felt like something a gentleman would say," he puffs his chest out and I swat it lightly.
"Let's go," I chuckle, leading him inside with him soon switching to lead once he's found his footing.
He speaks to the hostess at the front briefly before she has one of the waitstaff take us to the private room they had reserved. The ambiance from the open restaurant to the more intimate setting makes me tense, hoping I could become a face in the crowd.
Plan B then.
Jungkook walks in first and is immediately greeted by his boss who pulls him aside, me trailing behind him.
"Jungkook we need to-. Oh, and who might this be?" his attention now turned to me. Jungkook snakes his arm around my waist, bringing me out from behind.
"This is my girlfriend," he says easily, my heart stopping but I try not to show the distress that's running through my mind, repeating the same word over and over again.
Girlfriend.
Girlfriend.
Girlfriend.
"Ah, so this is the woman you've been talking about?"
"Yes," he laughs and scratches the back of his neck, "Baby, this is my boss Mr. Choi" he returns the introduction.
"It's very nice to meet you, sir," I say quietly, his boss giving me a nod before turning back to Jungkook again, allotting me time to continue my spiral.
Girlfriend.
Girlfriend.
Girlfri-
"Honey?"
"Hm?" I hum, feeling both of his hands now gripping my waist. "Yes?"
"Mr. Choi wants to introduce me to a few people. Would you like to come along, or did you wanna go find our seats?" he asks, his brows pinched together in worry, giving me an out but knowing I had intended to stay close.
"I think I'll go find our seats," I say with a forced smile which makes him even more reluctant to leave me.
"You sure?" he asks and I'm quick to nod this time. "Well, there should be two name cards labeled 'Jeon' so they should be easy to spot. I'm the only Jeon here so you won't have to worry about mixing them up with someone else's," he gives me a wry smile and although I wish I could do something to ease his mind I find it harder and harder to do as the seconds go by.
I hum and he gives me one last look before placing a kiss on my forehead and squeezing my waist. "Be back soon," he says, but we both know it's a promise he might not be able to keep
The time before dinner is served is spent with Jungkook being bounced around from group to group, spending what feels like an eternity away from me until everyone starts to take their seats, Jungkook quickly slipping in next to me.
"Sorry," he mumbles, placing a kiss on my temple.
"It's okay, I knew this was for business, not pleasure."
He looks at me, concern still written on his face but before he's able to ask me more his boss starts his casual introduction, thanking everyone for being here and whatever corporate nonsense he has to go through to be taken seriously.
Jungkook's hand drifts to my thigh and squeezes the hand resting on it before lacing his fingers through mine.
Every touch, every look, every breath seems different.
Girlfriend.
Girlfriend.
Girlfriend.
His thumb runs along the back of my hand, hoping the soft, soothing motion will bring me back down, back to him.
I give him a weak smile and it seems it's only made him more nervous.
I can't do this. I can't ruin this for him.
I take another second to breathe, clear my mind and think about what he's done and how he's cared for me for so long.
I can do this. I can pretend to be his girlfriend and if need be...be his, truly his.
Dinner is brought out and we all make casual conversation until one of the wives starts speaking to us.
"You two make quite the couple," she smiles, no doubt reminiscing about being young and in love.
"Thank you," my soft, shy response makes Jungkook feel the slightest bit at ease.
"I'm not sure how I managed to convince her to be with me," Jungkook jokes beside me, squeezing my hand again under the table.
"How long have you been together?"
Shit...definitely something I don't know the answer to.
"A little over a year," he answers.
"Are you engaged?" I choke then on the wine I had been taking a sip of, him immediately bringing a napkin over to cover my mouth, a glass of water at the ready if I need it.
"Oh I'm sorry, I didn't mean to cause an upset," the woman says, her brows pinched together, concerned she might've overstepped.
"We're taking things slow," he answers.
At a turtle's pace if you ask me.
"Everything moved along in a flash with my Edward. I forget that the youth of this day and age take their time getting to know their partners. Either way, I hope you both marry for love. Whenever that may be," she ends before her husband brings her into another conversation.
"You okay?" he asks, wanting to check after my mishap.
"I think I've had enough for the night," I scoot the glass away, hoping to avoid what I know he wants to bring up. "But yes, I'm fine," I give him a more genuine smile now, one I've given him before whenever he's taken care of me in the slightest of ways.
The look I give him makes the tension he had been feeling all night fade away, a sense of normalcy settling between us. I'll try to keep things normal here, but once we're alone...I don't know what I'll do.
The time comes where we all start departing, Jungkook having us wait for a few couples to leave before we do, not making our absence in the space seem rushed or dragging on. Always wanting to keep up appearances without having to try too hard.
Once he gets me in the car the air between us changes, and although I'd like to ignore it, it's clearly something he can't.
"Are you okay? You seemed pretty shaken up in there." he asks, my polite nod and smile not sitting well with him. "So you're clearly not," he clocks me, not wanting to have to push this aside anymore.
"I...I don't want to talk about this here, so, can we go, please?" I plead, basically telling him there is something we need to discuss, but that this isn't the most appropriate setting.
"Okay. Yours or mine?"
"Mine," I'm quick to say, needing the familiar surroundings of my home as support to address this.
His only response is a nod before pulling out of the parking lot and onto the buzzing street.
He opens my door like he usually does, but this time I don't let him lead me in. I don't wait for him to lock up the car. I don't let him use his key and I don't let him open the door to my home for me.
I need a breather.
Need a second to think, to plan, to grip onto a sense of reality so I can figure out what this is.
"Baby? He says softly, closing the door and locking it behind him, walking over to where I've poured myself a glass of water and chugged the whole thing.
I place the cup on the countertop and go around him, needing a more open space for this conversation...confrontation...intervention?
I don't know.
All I know is I need to get these thoughts and feeling out out out so I can breathe.
"You're scaring me," he says softly, bringing me back to him, reminding me I'm not alone in this spiral.
"Why did you call me that?" I finally blurt out the question that's been going round and round in my head, the dizziness it caused slowly fading after being loosed from it's cage.
"Call you what?" his brows furrow, still concerned for my well being but also scared that he might've said something wrong.
"You know, I thought we would've had a conversation about it. Go over it and agree it would only be for tonight. A word thrown around here and there but not something overused or obnoxious," my words getting harsher by the moment, making me say things I don't mean.
He didn't use it many times. Definitely not enough to be deemed obnoxious, but still. It had been the first time I'd ever heard that term directed towards me, so needless to say it was jarring.
I should've expected it. Should've seen it coming.
But I never thought he would've used it without my consent.
"Obnoxious? Honey, what's going on?"
"What's going on is this," I motion between the two of us.
"This?"
"Yes this. This familiarity, this...bond. This intimacy with no meaning behind it," he takes a step forward and for the first time...I take a step back.
His heart sinks in his chest, I know I've hurt him, know I've done damage that I never ever meant to.
"Why would you call me that?" my voice breaks, his pain forgotten, replaced with true concern and the dire need to hold me close. To protect me from everyone and everything, but he knows it's not going to work this time when the person he has to protect me from is himself.
"Call you what?" his voice is softer than I've ever heard it before, as if he's afraid he'll scare off a doe he's been searching for for hours.
"Your girlfriend," the words whispered even softer from my lips make his whole demeanor shift from concerned to shocked to confused to amused.
"Because you're my girlfriend?" he says as if it's the most ridiculous thing I could've been upset about.
"I'm your what?"
"You're my girlfriend, aren't you?"
"Well...I know I'm your girl but..." I trail off and I can see a hint of satisfaction at the admission. "I'm not your girlfriend," I shake my head and he sighs as if the notion is utterly ridiculous.
"Then what does being 'My Girl' mean to you?" he crosses his arms over his chest, me now trying not to notice the way the fabric strains against his muscles.
"Well...your girl, your ride or die, your best friend, someone you can count on," I explain and he nods.
"Yes, you are all of those things and more," he chuckles, taking a step forward and when I don't take a step back he knows he's got me.
"You're my adorable, cute, shy and painfully clueless girl. But, you're also the girl I've been in love with for years," his tone becomes tender and I notice how he's always reserved these moments for me.
He's never looked at a girl, let alone spoken to one out of necessity for...well for years.
"Do you not remember the night I asked you? That night on the mountain?" he gets close, close enough to touch me, his hand reaching for mine, running his thumb along my knuckles.
I think for a moment, back to that trip, to those moments we spent together.
It was our first solo trip, just the two of us for his birthday.
I was surprised in the moment that he didn't want anyone else to go.
"Don't you wanna invite your friends? We always celebrate as a group," but he shook his head.
"No, I wanna spend time with you," he said simply, the sentiment warming my heart enough that I didn't question it.
He took us somewhere new, somewhere he'd never taken anyone before.
"I thought we were going to our usual spot?" I asked when he missed our exit, a crooked smile from my viewpoint in the seat next to him spreading across his lips.
"This isn't a usual birthday," he said, making it a big deal that he wanted to spend his time turning a quarter of a century with me.
I'd smiled and shook my head, watching as we circled round and round and up and up the big mountain we always saw in the distance whenever we spent time at our usual spot by the lake.
We decided not to rough it this time, glamping some might call it but it was just a little RV we had rented with enough room for two...a very intimate space to share with your best friend.
But again, at the time, I didn't question it.
"You wanna be my girl?" he asked me on one of those nights under the stars, my eyes so full of wonder as I had never seen so many before. The ones reflecting in his as he held his breath though were the ones I remembered the most.
"I thought I already was?" I'd replied, thinking he meant his girl best friend, his confidant, his...his...
"I'm so stupid" I groan as I rest my head against his chest, the present day hitting me like a ton of bricks. "How could I not tell that that's what you meant? You...you looked so nervous and cute I...I should've put it together. Should've noticed how afterwards you held me tighter, held my stare longer, took care of me whenever you were given the chance," I look up at him, his eyes so full of love...of devotion.
"I'm sorry," I whisper softly, my face heating up, mortified that I've been so naïve, so dedicated to our friendship, how things were that I didn't think he'd ever want things to change.
"You have nothing to be sorry for. I guess I didn't make myself clear enough."
"I should've known though, should've seen the signs. I just...I've never been friends with a guy before. True friends. So I guess I didn't know how to spot the signs of when things went from friendship to...love," I gulp, looking in his eyes and seeing nothing but.
"I guess I should've gone with the tried and true 'Will you be my girlfriend?' then. Or would that not have clued you in either?" a swat on his arm being my response.
"I would've known then."
"I thought 'My Girl' sounded cuter. Fit us better. Because you're my girl, right?" he asks, that same tilt of his head, making me nervous again.
"Yeah...I'm your girl."
"Truly?"
"Truly."
"You know," he starts, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear, "all this time I just thought you were being shy."
"Well...I am shy," I state the obvious and he shakes his head.
"I meant a shy girlfriend. Never making the first move, never asking for kisses...or kisses at all," an involuntary pout graces his lips, me smiling in response as his ears turn pink.
"Do you want to kiss me, Jungkook?" I ask, closing the small distance that was left between us, my shoes bumping into his.
The verbal answer I was expecting is replaced with the feeling of his lips on mine, one of his hands gripping my waist while the other cups my cheek, keeping me right where he wants me.
After what feels like an eternity but yet again like a single breath he pulls back, his forehead resting against mine as we share breath, the corner of his mouth turning up.
"Does...does that answer your question?" he pants, his eyes locked on mine, trying to recover from the fuzzy feeling he caused, the lack of oxygen from the unexpected kiss making it much more intense.
"Dunno, might have to tell me again," I return the smirk, catching him off guard.
"Oh, so that's how it's gonna be?" he cocks a brow, his grip on me tightening, the playful tone from me is unexpected to say the least.
"Think you can handle it?" I hum, trailing my hands up his chest, feeling his heart thundering under my palm.
"Not sure, but I'll die trying if I have to. Waited too long for this," he mumbles against my lips, kissing me this time with so much care. The touch is soft and intimate as he slowly leads me backwards, his hand going behind my head as he presses me against the nearest wall.
"Fuck, I love you," he admits what he's been holding back for so long, and even though this is the first night where I finally knew we were real...I can't help but want to say it back.
"You don't have to-"
"I love you. I love you so much it hurts that I didn't notice sooner," I admit. My want for him, for true connection without questions has been a constant thought I've pushed away in fear of losing him.
"It's okay. We've got all the time in the world to make up for it," his kisses again are chased, as if he's memorizing the way I taste, the way I feel in this moment, what my body feels like pressed against his.
He pulls back and when I try to chase his lips he pulls back further.
"What is it?" I ask, confused as to why he's running away from me...well running is an exaggeration, but still.
"I know I thought we had been together for a while...but for you this is new, and I don't wanna mess that up," he shakes his head, cutting off what I had expected to be a night spent losing myself in him.
He chuckles when he sees my clear disappointment so he gives me another quick kiss.
"I've wanted you for so long...I can wait a little longer," he caresses me as if I were made of glass, someone so precious that he would do anything to keep them from harm...keep me from harm.
I rest my face in the crook of his neck, letting out a quiet huff of protest but the way he wraps his arms around me and holds me close helps keep the protests at bay.
"I love my girl too much to keep her waiting for too long."
Dividers by @cursed-carmine
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Not So Loud
lee chan x afab reader || fluff smut baby angst || f2l, only one bed trope
NSFW - minors DNI
Summary: You've been in love with Lee Chan for almost two years, despite his rejection seven months ago. When you're impossibly coupled up on a friendcation, you're determined not to make it everyone else's problem. Of course, you weren't expecting to have to room with him, and you certainly weren't expecting only one bed...
wc: 16.6k
warnings: language, recreational drinking, sooo much pining, baby misunderstandings, kissing, breast play, oral (f receiving), fingering (f receiving), piv sex (no protection mentioned either way), reader on top, mentions of shower sex
request by @eoieopda:
yes my fearless leader you may have even two crumbs of lee dino getting laid at the beach, i hope you enjoy every single second of it <3
“This,” you sigh blissfully, “is the happiest I may ever be.”
The sun is shining. Upbeat pop music runs like an undercurrent below the sound of the highway from the stereo of your best friend’s junky, decade-old sedan. Your iced coffee - light and sweet, but not too much of either - tastes like heaven. And the best part, the part that makes this day the best even if you didn’t have iced coffee or sunshine or Ruby or happy music, is that you’re less than an hour away from the beachfront house you and your friends have rented for the next five days.
All six of you had collectively been saving up for a full year and a half to make this happen, and there were times during the wait when it seemed like it would never come together between scheduling and money and rental availability. But now you’re here, racing down the highway to keep up with the flow of traffic, the ocean beckoning you closer.
“Now, now,” Ruby, the aforementioned best friend, scolds lightly. “What about your wedding day?”
You blow a raspberry. “What wedding day?” you shoot back sourly, but then you take another sip of caffeinated, iced perfection and your mood buoys immediately. It’s gonna take a lot to keep you down, today. Still, you rationalize, “I can’t even get to a third date.”
It was true. Your last third date had been almost two years ago. Since then, everything fizzled after one or two. Embarrassing. Something only Ruby - and, by proxy, her boyfriend Mingyu - would know about you.
“Because you compare them all to Chan,” Ruby says sagely.
The beams of sunlight are glaring. The pop music grates on your nerves, too boppy and much too happy. You set your coffee in the cup holder, your hand suddenly smarting from the bite of cold.
Coincidental to the third date thing, you’ve been in love with Lee Chan for almost two years. Another embarrassing Ruby-and-thus-Mingyu-only tidbit.
“Stooo-ooppp,” you whine. “If you’re going to spend the whole time making it weird about him, I’m going to find a way back home! I will walk there, just try me!”
“Now, now,” she says again, mildly. Your dramatics are nothing new to her. “I’ll behave. But I keep telling you - it would be significantly less weird if you’d just tell him you have a thing for him.”
You narrow your eyes at her. A thing.
An every problem I’ve ever had melts away and my soul floats three feet above my body every time your smile crosses your face kind of thing. A hearing your laugh makes me laugh even if I didn’t hear the joke kind of thing. A finding your gaze across a loud room makes me feel like no one else is there but us kind of thing.
A he doesn’t feel the same way, and he never will kind of thing. He made that super clear, about seven months ago.
And it gets worse.
You’ve had a week to accept your fate on this trip - a week since she’d called to tell you that the original rental had fallen through. To tell you that the replacement place is almost better (closer to the beach! a huge deck! a private pool!) except for the number of rooms. That since the other four people attending are made up of two couples, you and Chan would have to share a room.
(“The rooms are huge,” she’d assured you. “And the third room’s got bunk-beds! I bet will Chan will let you have top bunk if you want it - he’s a nice guy.”
You didn’t say, even though it is very true, that bunk-beds are really only a selling point if you are ten years old. But there were more important arguments to make. “I know he’s a nice guy,” you’d bit out. “He’s the nicest fucking guy I’ve ever met in my life, actually!” Hence the thing.
She’d paused and then pointed out, “You’ve met Seokmin, though.”
And, yeah, maybe on paper Seokmin is nicer but looking at his smile doesn’t feel like being filled with sunshine, so the point is moot.)
Anyway. You’ve had time to accept the fact that you have to share a room with the guy you’ve been in love with for over a year and a half. You’ve had time to accept that he might hear you snore, will see that you’re messy, that you’ll have to get changed in the bathroom for the whole trip, that you’ll have to get really good at pretending not to moon over him every time he speaks.
“I think,” you tell Ruby mildly, “that telling him that I want to lick his body from top to bottom and then get married might actually make things more weird.”
“I would just like to say,” Ruby’s boyfriend Mingyu pipes up from the backseat, his voice weary and long-suffering, “that this is an incredibly uncomfortable conversation for me.”
In your defense, you’d thought he was asleep.
Ruby descends on him like a swarm of locusts. “Don’t you think she should tell him she’s in love with him?”
“I actually do,” Mingyu says, covering his eyes with his hands as if he can’t bear to see what a disaster you are. “But I would heavily advise against mentioning the licking. Or the marriage.”
“It’s hyperbole,” you defend, flapping a hand in his direction. But, yeah, noted.
Excitement bubbles in your stomach, despite the rooming situation, when Ruby flicks on her turn signal and moves to exit the highway. Already, the smell of the air through the open windows has turned salty, and the thick tree-line along the highway has given way to cloudless blue sky and the occasional palm tree. It had been almost hazy when you’d set off at the crack of dawn (Mingyu had taken the back seat so he could stretch out and sleep a little longer) but now the sunrise has burned away all of that haze and given way to a perfect morning.
It takes only minutes for Ruby to navigate through the small, coastal town and to a row of vacation homes. You lose yourself in a daydream of waking up to take coffee on a sunlit balcony, listening to waves crash in time below you. In your daydream, across the balcony someone stretches their arms above their head, a sliver of belly peeking out for only a second, then turns to give you a sleepy smile, thinly-wired glasses perched on his nose.
Someone.
You shake yourself free of the fantasy; part of you feels like Ruby can read your mind, like she’s seconds away from calling you out for placing Chan in your seaside fantasy life.
Ruby, however, is too focused on finding the house to read your mind, and she slows the car and turns into a driveway, chirping, “We’re here!”
You all start grabbing luggage to carry in; the sun feels amazing on your skin, the sea breeze cool almost to the point of chilly and so salty it makes your nose twitch. You three aren’t even done emptying your car when you’re startled by a beep-beep-beepbeep-beep from the road behind you.
“That’s Soonyoung,” Mingyu says without even turning to look.
He’s right - it is. The second car, which carries Soonyoung, his girlfriend Lara, and Chan, pulls into the driveway next to you.
Chan greets you with a wide, happy grin (that, yes, makes you feel full of sunshine, whatever) and a quick, one-armed hug as he comes around the front of the parked car. Your moronic heart lifts, stupidly hopeful - until Soonyoung does the same thing. Your heart deflates again with the reminder that they’re just like this - nice, affectionate with their friends. It doesn’t mean anything. Chan’s attention to you is just as platonic as Soonyoung’s - which is to say, entirely.
You all manage to gather the luggage from both cars, and Mingyu follows the rental app’s directions to work the keypad at the front door. You all ooh and ahh as you step inside - the place is roomy, well-lit from sliding glass doors and windows that face the ocean, and decorated with (what else?) a kitschy, nautical theme.
You kick off your flip-flops onto a mat with an anchor on it (per the theme), and follow the others further into the house.
You head straight back through the house - the living room gives way into a dining room that ends with the sliding-glass doors. In tandem with Ruby, you press your face to the glass of the door and peer outside. You’re delighted to see that the ocean is right there, beckoning you to come play. Gulls swoop and call, loud enough that you can hear their cries from inside. Further down the beach you can see colorful umbrellas and tents that other beachgoers have set up. Below the deck, you can see just a strip of the private pool.
You pull yourself away from the back door and head into the adjoining kitchen, where Lara is standing at an open cupboard, examining its contents.
“We’re going to need to do a grocery run,” she muses, looking over at you. “I think all Soonyoung packed was ramen and soju.”
“What else could we possibly need?” he jokes from down the hall, his voice echoing.
“Coffee,” you say immediately.
“Beer,” Mingyu says seriously.
“Meat? Vegetables? Stuff for breakfast? Something to drink that isn’t alcohol?” Lara suggests.
“Who invited the Capricorn?” Soonyoung (the person who invited the Capricorn) grouses.
“Without me,” she tells him seriously, though the corner of her mouth twitches, “you’d be malnourished at best, and at worst? Dead.”
“Probably true,” you say, giving her a conspiratorial nod, and then you hear Ruby call your name from upstairs. Her voice sounds strained, and a little alarm bell goes off inside your head.
“Yes?” you answer loudly, hoping your voice will carry up to her.
“Can you come up here for a minute?” she calls down to you. Yes, there is definitely an edge to her voice that you don’t like. “Now?”
“Oh jeez,” you mutter, starting to make your way towards the stairs at the front of the house. You take the stairs quickly, calling Ruby’s name as you navigate the unfamiliar house.
She and Chan are both standing in the hallway, open doors all around them. Their faces mirror each other - disbelief, anxiety.
“What?” you ask, a little breathless both from the stairs and from anticipation. “What’s wrong?”
“There’s, uh,” Ruby stammers. It’s very unlike her to lose her confidence, and the unease in your gut churns again.
“What?” you say again, and when she doesn’t answer, you turn to Chan, who looks stricken. “What is it?”
“No bunk beds,” he manages, finishing Ruby’s sentence and gesturing to the room behind him.
You’re pressing forward without making the decision to move, without answering either of them, crowding Chan’s space so you’re chest to chest, peering over his shoulder. His hands hover near your elbows, like you might overbalance and he’s ready to steady you.
The room behind him is huge - as Ruby promised - complete with an ensuite bathroom and the balcony straight out of your daydream in the car. It also, as Chan pointed out, does not have bunk-beds. Instead, one king-sized bed is centered against the far wall, flanked by wicker nightstands with lamps on each and an old-school radio alarm clock on one.
You say nothing - you just back out of Chan’s personal space and swivel, heading for the other doors. Surely that was just the wrong room - one meant for one of the couples. Surely they just didn’t look hard enough, didn’t check the other doors, didn’t find the room with two beds that you’d been promised.
You find a full bathroom, a linen closet, one door that remains locked, and - to your dismay - two identical bedrooms, neither of which hosts more than one single bed.
Realization trickles through you slowly, building up higher and higher as you check the doors a second, and then a third, time. Ruby and Chan stay frozen in place in the dimly lit hallway, watching your frantic, pointless searching.
“Oh, my God,” you say hollowly. Then, turning, you narrow your eyes. “Ruby,” you growl. “You promised. Where is my top bunk?!”
“I don’t know!” she squeaks. “The listing said four beds!”
“Call them,” you demand flatly.
Beside Ruby, Chan’s eyebrows scrunch as he frowns. He says your name quietly, holding up a hand as if to calm you. “We don’t need to move houses,” he says gently. “I’ll take a couch. It’s not a big deal.”
You feel yourself shaking your head immediately. “I will feel like shit if you spend your vacation sleeping on the couch because of me,” you tell him.
He and Ruby exchange a long look (something that you don’t like very much, but no one is asking you) and then she tentatively says, “Could we work it out later? Maybe one of the couches pulls out into a bed or something? Or do you really want me to try and get us a different rental? This is already our second one, I’m not sure there are even other options still available…” She trails off, eyes wide.
You sigh, eyeing the ceiling above you as if it has answers. “Fine,” you say, because you can’t stand the thought of being the one who’s causing problems, ever the people-pleaser. “We’ll figure it out later.”
You head back down the hall, tromping down the stairs in silence to get your luggage.
Chan tries to take one of your bags for you, but you shrug him off and he lets you. You follow him back up the stairs, to the large room you’d looked at a few minutes ago. You both stand in the middle of it, looking around. You’re unsure if you should even unpack in here if there’s a chance you’ll end up moving to the couches.
“It’ll be okay,” Chan says, and it startles you out of your thoughts so badly that you flinch.
“Mhm,” you manage, because you don’t want to lie to him by agreeing.
“Hey,” he says, a little insistently, and you look up at him. He’s looking at you openly, his expression an impossible mix of concern and optimism. It disarms you immediately, in a way nothing else ever has.
There’s something always so earnest about Chan, one of your favorite things about him, and you can’t help but believe him when he continues to speak. “It will. We can, like, take turns with the bed or something. It’s not that big of a deal. Don’t let this ruin your trip. Okay?”
You nod silently, thinking about this. He’s right - there’ll be a solution. “Okay,” you say, managing to give him a little smile. “You’re right.”
The grin he gives you is mischievous. “I usually am,” he quips - and you love that about him, too: the way he’s playfully cocky, something ironic in the way he displays it, like you’re all in on the joke and he’s happily his own punchline. He disappears into the hallway, where you hear him heading down the stairs.
You wait for the tornado of butterflies in your belly to calm back down and then you look around the room. You finally decide to just leave your bags in a pile near the dresser, and head back down to find the others.
Everyone is standing around the kitchen table, where it seems like a grocery list is being split into Things That Can versus Things That Cannot be bought at the local liquor store.
“We can take one car and handle the drinks,” Mingyu is saying as you walk up and lean your chin on Ruby’s shoulder from behind. She absently reaches up to give your head an affectionate pat as you both listen. “Then the grocery team can take the second car, and whoever is handling the rental office can just walk.”
“Rental office?” you ask. “What for?”
“Just to grab our passes for the beach,” Lara answers you. “They’re like little tags. It’s part of what we paid for.”
“The rental’s under your name,” Soonyoung reminds her, “so we should probably handle that.”
“Yah, you just want the easy task,” Mingyu complains.
Soonyoung grins, guilty as charged not at all sorry about it. He grabs for Lara’s hand and heads for the front door. “If we aren’t here when you get back, we’ll leave your passes on the table!” he calls, and then the door slams shut.
“Asshole,” Mingyu grumbles affectionately.
The four of you look at each other in the resulting quiet. Then, Ruby asks, “Anything you want to add to our list?”
You lean further around her to read her phone screen, scanning what drinks had already been requested.
“Nope,” you tell her. “I’m good with that. Does this mean I’m on the grocery team?”
Chan looks up from his phone when you ask this, waiting to hear the answer.
Ruby and Mingyu meet gazes, seeming to have a silent conversation. Then, she gives you a sheepish look, almost a grimace. “Yeah - sorry, but I kind of wanted to go with Gyu on the drinks run, if that’s okay?”
You’ve been best friends with Ruby for a long time. You know her in and out, and you know this: she’s not like this, not sweet and apologetic. If it was just you two, she’d just say what she wanted. The act is for a reason.
You blink at her, trying to figure it out. “Of course it’s okay,” you say slowly. “If you and Mingyu are handling the drink run, then I’ll handle groceries with Chan.”
Ah. That was Ruby’s game - she paired you with Chan on purpose.
Meddler. Pain in the ass. Angel. Light of your life. She contains multitudes.
His eyes drop back to his phone. “You don’t have to,” he says, not looking at you. “If you want to go with them or catch up with Lara then I can handle it by myself.”
You frown. “It’s not really a one person job,” you observe. “And I don’t mind - really.”
“So it’s decided!” Ruby says brightly, moving to rest her hand on her boyfriend’s forearm. “We should beat you back, but we’ll wait for you guys so we can help unload the car.”
“Thanks,” you say, meaning it. For everything.
Ruby and Mingyu head out, and you meander closer to Chan. You’re not alone together very often - you’re pretty much always in a group setting.
You’d met through Ruby and Mingyu, years ago. You and Ruby were a very packaged deal, and Mingyu had a crew of friends that filtered in and out of your social events like they kept a scheduled rotation. When Soonyoung had settled into a serious relationship with Lara, the two of them became pretty permanent fixtures with Ruby and Mingyu, and Chan usually went where Soonyoung did. So then you were six.
How perfectly even. How serendipitous. How nearly fated.
If only he saw it that way.
But he doesn’t, he’s made that clear. It was Lara’s fault, actually. That night is burned into your brain, an unpleasant memory custom-made to slither into your brain when you’re trying to sleep before a big day.
The six of you had been bar-hopping on a Saturday night about seven months ago. It had been cool - late autumn teasing winter, and you’d been shivering as the six of you rowdily made your way up the block to your next stop. Laughing at something Soonyoung had said, Chan had reached around your shoulders sloppily, pulling you tight against him.
“Cold?” he’d asked you, as you tried to keep walking - a challenge because of both the alcohol in your system and the alarm bells going off in your head over his hand on your arm.
“Definitely chilly,” you’d managed to reply, looking up at him sideways. His profile was sharper than you’d realized before, and it sent a wave down your core, sinking like a weight through your stomach and into your lower belly and he grinned down at you.
You never wanted him to let go. Never, for the rest of your lives.
“You two are cute,” Lara had said drunkenly, the words a little slurred, as she leaned heavily on Soonyoung. You’d flushed, a little embarrassed, but Chan’s reaction had mortified you. His eyes had widened and he’d gone so far as to retract his arm from around you as quick as lightning, moving sideways to put inches between you again.
It left you frozen, a block of ice.
“No - we’re - we’re only friends,” he had said emphatically, and Lara had apologized, her hand over her mouth. Then, Ruby had tripped on the sidewalk and ripped the knees of her jeans, and the whole incident was forgotten.
Not by you, though. Never by you. This was the moment that floated up like the ghost of Christmas past whenever Ruby urged you to confess to Chan, which was more frequent than you’d like. The rush of cold in the absence of his arm, the way he’d stuttered in his hurry to refute the misunderstanding.
Message received, Lee Chan. Loud and fucking clear.
Didn’t change a thing about how you feel, though.
Presently, you try to push this out of your head - the fact that there’s no social buffer between you, no Ruby or Soonyoung to hide behind - before it can trip you up. “What’s on the list?” you ask. He hands you his phone, lets you scroll through everything he’d typed up.
“Okay,” you say, handing it back. “I’m ready when you are.”
“Yeah,” he says, a little absently, then starts patting at his pockets, eyes scanning the tabletop. “Yeah, I’m ready. Aish, Lee Chan, where did you put the keys?”
“They’re by the door,” you offer, remembering the small table you’d all dropped them on as you came in.
He shoots you a grateful smile. “Thanks. Let’s go?”
You nod, grabbing your sunglasses from the table and following him to the driveway out front.
It’s less than ten minutes to the nearest grocery, not even enough time for three whole songs to play through the car’s stereo, half-drowned by the roar of wind and sea through the open windows. Chan grins sideways at you as he parks, running a hand through his messy hair before unbuckling and stepping out of the car. You shake yourself from your daze and hurry to follow.
“What’s the game plan?” you ask, as you step out of the summer sun and into the fluorescents and air conditioning. Your skin prickles instantly upon the change. “Divide and conquer?”
He pulls out his phone and brings the list up. “I’d rather just stick together,” he says, looking at you sideways, his voice a bit thin - like he’s nervous you’ll reject the plan. “If that’s okay?”
“Of course,” you say, shrugging easily.. “I’m just following you. I’m the assistant. You’re in charge.”
Something flashes across his face - a shooting star of an expression, gone before you’re sure you saw it - and then he’s pushing the cart into the produce section, calling over his shoulder for you to go grab some peaches.
You wind your way together through the store. Each time he stops the cart, you each dart after something else from the nearby shelves then reconvene to look at the list again, shoulders pressed together as you squint at the small font.
It thrills you each time that he doesn’t pull away, each time that he doesn’t hurry to put space between you again as he had back in November.
Don’t make it weird, you beg yourself as you load a few cases of soda into the cart. Keep it in check.
A few rows over, the cart a third of the way full, you pause at a row of sauces. You step back, scanning the labels, then drop into a crouch to read those on the bottom shelf. Chan drops beside you, his knee gently bumping yours as he reaches for one of the jars, bringing it closer to scan the label.
“This one’s my favorite,” he says, and there’s something low in his voice that makes you look over at him. Your fingers overlap his for a second as you take the jar from him, turning it over so you can see which one it is. The moment feels staticky, charged with something.
You chicken out, shuffle back on your heels so your knees no longer touch. “It is a good one,” you agree, putting it back in his hand and pressing your palms to your knees as you rise again. “Get a few - I think Ruby likes that one too.”
He nods, looking away again, dutifully reaching to grab a second jar. You move on to the next aisle in silence. You almost feel like his energy seems… disappointed. But that wouldn’t make sense at all.
Turning the corner to the first row of freezers, you feel your body react instantly to the cold and you immediately fold in around yourself, goosebumps rising up your arms.
“Oh, it’s cold,” you complain. “Let’s hurry. Please.”
Chan doesn’t respond, but you can feel his eyes sweep over you, heavy, before he starts pushing the cart past you at, yes, a quicker speed. You shiver once, violently, before you hurry after him.
When you’re done, stepping outside into the sunlight feels like being released - like leaving school on the last day before summer break, like leaving work before a vacation, like stepping outside for the first time after rain has kept you inside for days on end. You let it warm you, happy, as you help Chan load the bags into the car.
You drive the few minutes back to the house in silence. As Chan makes the last turn, you wonder out loud, “Do you think Ruby and Mingyu finished before us?”
“Definitely,” Chan says, and he’s right - as the house comes into view, you can see that the second car is already parked.
True to their word, Ruby and Mingyu greet you at the door to help carry everything in and put it away.
“Lara grabbed us a spot down on the beach,” Ruby informs you, as you both stand at the back of the car, scanning for the lighter bags. “As soon as we’re ready we can head down.”
You let out a happy sigh. “I think an afternoon at the beach will cure me.”
“Nothing will cure you,” she deadpans, then literally stops mid-stride to correct herself. “Actually, something could. And it’s here, and available, and sharing your room.”
“I hate you a lot!” you tell her brightly, pushing past her with an armful of groceries and heading into the relative dark of the house, praying Chan hadn’t overheard her bullshit.
You hurry through the rest - getting the groceries away, getting changed for the beach, throwing the things you need to bring into a tote. Downstairs, the others wait for you by the back door. Chan is wearing Mingyu’s dumb-ass sunglasses and is clearly in the middle of an old-man bit, his voice reedy and sarcastic. Ruby cackles as Mingyu shoves Chan’s shoulder playfully, reaching to get his eyewear back. You can’t help the wave of affection you feel for them, your goofy friends.
You all step out into the sand, eyes adjusting to the sun. You follow Mingyu’s shadow on the ground as he makes his way towards the spot Soonyoung and Lara saved for you. You drop your tote in the sand and help Ruby spread out a blanket, using your shoes and bags to hold down the corners. Mingyu and Chan settle a small cooler off to one side, filled to the brim with ice and drinks.
You pull your cover-up over your head and toss it in the direction of your tote bag and stretch out, closing your eyes happily and letting your body relax under the warmth of the sun, the sound of breaking waves rhythmic and soothing. You’re startled by the sound of music and open your eyes again to find Ruby setting up a bluetooth speaker near the cooler. She looks at you sheepishly and hurries to lower the volume.
“Sorry,” she giggles. “Didn’t mean it to start so loud.”
To your left, Chan is pulling his white t-shirt over his head. Your eyes widen and you look away as fast as you can, catching Ruby react exactly the same, her eyes comically large.
You both turn your backs to the boys, and she mouths at you, what the fuck?
What the fuck is right. You’re used to being around Mingyu, who has an admittedly perfect body, and even Soonyoung is shockingly cut under those baggy t-shirts and cropped hoodies he sports. Chan’s always been the little one, the most normal, the most obtainable in his regular-ness.
Something’s changed since the last time you were all swimming together. He’d always had a nice body, but this…
You close your eyes against the bright summer sun, as if you can block out the curve of his pecs, the shadowed lines hinting at abs. None of those had been there last summer.
That motherfucker. First, he rejects you, then he gets hotter? You hope he gets eaten by a shark today.
You push yourself to stand.
“Where are you going?” Ruby hisses.
“I need a beer,” you tell her flatly. “Actually, maybe ten beers.”
“I’m not holding your hair today,” she warns you flatly, and you flip her off and make your way to the cooler. It’s going to be a long day.
You manage to get a few hours of peace and sanity by laying out with Ruby and Lara, just enjoying the music and occasional chitchat. Further down the beach, the guys run around with a volleyball but no net, making their own asinine rules.
“I still say you should tell him,” Ruby grumbles, after catching you watching Chan from behind your sunglasses for the ninth time, and you shoot her a warning look. But the damage is done - Lara latches on, her eyes sharp.
“Him… Chan?” she guesses. You feel your face heat.
“I’m that obvious, huh?” you murmur reproachfully.
“I mean,” she says uncertainly, looking to Ruby as if for backup, “I think you both are? If it helps?”
“Both?” you repeat flatly. “I wish.”
She exchanges a look with Ruby again, a silent conversation that you aren’t part of.
“He’s not into me,” you say, easy, like the words don’t cut at you. The salty air hits the wounds and makes them sting. “He’s been clear about that.”
Ruby’s brow furrows; you’ve never actually articulated this in front of her before.
“He has?” she asks, her voice suddenly gentle and almost sorrowful. “You never told me-”
“You were there,” you protest, then look over at the guys to make sure they hadn’t stopped yelling and running. “You both were, actually. That night when you tore your knee open outside of Ivy and Ivory?”
“Yeah,” Lara says slowly, her eyes on you, “I remember that night. That was… kind of the first time I thought he had a thing for you? Like, I know it was a while ago, but -”
“A thing for me?” you echo, working hard to keep your voice quiet. “When you called us out he was so horrified he couldn’t even touch me - he acted like it burned him -”
“Honey, no,” she says seriously, leaning forward. She looks incredulous at your perspective.
“Bestie,” Ruby says, giving you a please believe me, your best friend, who would never lead you astray look. “He was terrified that you’d get spooked.”
You press your mostly-empty beer can to your chin, eyes narrowing. “Explain.”
“He wasn’t embarrassed at the idea of being coupled with you,” Lara whispers, her eyes on the guys, whose game has drifted only minutely closer to your blanket. “It was one of those like, shut up or you’ll scare her away moments. He wanted to kill me.”
“Literally, if he’d had a cartoon thought bubble, it would have said shhhh, not so loud!” Ruby adds. She peers at you. “Did you really take it like that this whole time? You thought it was a rejection?”
“He practically pushed me into traffic!” you hiss defensively, and both girls explode into laughter.
“That is not what happened,” Lara insists, and then heads to the cooler, leaving you, Ruby, and your very confused thoughts.
You look at her. She looks at you.
“I thought you knew,” she says finally, holding up her hands in mock innocence. “I had no idea you took it that way.”
You can’t respond - the boys return at this exact moment, Mingyu flops dramatically next to Ruby, panting heavily, sweat running down his face.
“Jagiya,” he gasps like he’s dying. “Water. Please.”
Ruby rolls her eyes, but a water bottle lands next to Mingyu’s head before she can get up. You turn towards the cooler and see Soonyoung standing with his hands on his knees, also panting, while Chan digs around for presumably another water bottle.
“You need anything out of here?” he asks you over his shoulder.
You shake your head. “Thanks, though.”
You rise, brushing errant sand from the backs of your thighs, squinting at the water. The waves are breaking evenly, and there’s room to tread further out past the breaking point. “I think I’m gonna go in,” you announce to whoever is listening.
Lara shakes her head, reaching one hand up to tug at Soonyoung, obviously wanting him to sit by her. Ruby flaps her hand at you as if to tell you go on. She’s never been a big swimmer, more of a giant unicorn floatie kind of girl.
You stop when you’re ankle-deep, letting a few waves break and rush over the tops of your feet, adjusting to the temperature. You start to wade in, the water rushing around your shins, when you hear your name called breathlessly behind you.
Chan jogs up, his hair pushed back, a thin silver chain bouncing against his collarbones. You look away before you can get caught. Ruby and Lara’s words race through your brain. Have you been wrong about him this whole time? Have you misread every signal over the last three years, viewed it through the wrong lens?
“You can’t leave me alone with them,” he complains, face twisting in exaggerated suffering.
You laugh. “Can’t stand being the fifth wheel, huh?”
He shakes his head, smiling, still trying to catch his breath from volleyball and then the jog over here.
“You coming in?” you ask him. “I was gonna go out and tread for a while.”
He nods. “You don’t mind if I join?”
You look at him appraisingly, new information starting to process inside your mind, shifting the rules you’d followed for months. The sea air makes you bold. “You?” you say. “I would never mind.”
You don’t wait to see his reaction; you step further into the water, hitting just above your knees when you reach the spot where the waves are breaking. You stumble a little as a wave hits your thighs, and Chan’s hand finds your elbow, firm but unassuming, helping you steady yourself again.
When you reach waist-deep water, you eye the spot just ahead where the waves reach their tallest point as they gather on their way to shore.
“We’re gonna have to go under that,” you tell Chan. He actually looks nervous, which makes you laugh. “Want me to hold your hand?”
The smile he sends you is both self-deprecating and relieved, like he can’t believe his answer is yes, but yes, and he’s so glad you asked.
“Come on,” you say, laughing again. You hold out your hand and he takes it, and when the next ocean swell rises before you like a mighty wall you hold your breath and tug him under. It’s an act of faith, dipping below the roaring ocean, hoping you time it right. You keep his fingers tight between yours and let your body sink.
You surface on the other side, in an area of relative calm. Beside you, Chan wipes at his face with his spare hand, which makes you realize you’re still holding the other. You release it gently, treading water easily. Chan can probably just touch sand if he stretches.
You tread together quietly for a few minutes, less than six inches apart. The sun glints off the water around you, dancing and sparkling as the water moves. You wish you could ask him about that night, years ago, confirm Lara and Ruby’s interpretation of the events. You could - you just aren’t brave enough.
You look at him, familiar and beautiful and - until today - unobtainable. What if you swam closer, what if you pressed yourself close and kissed him, right here in the ocean?
If it ruined everything, you could just let yourself drown. And if it didn’t… well, you could let yourself drown a different way, then.
You chicken out. You chat about inconsequential things instead - his upcoming trip with his family, a work project you’d recently wrapped up that you’d been talking about for months, what the plan will be for dinner when you all get tired of the sunshine.
It’s easy to talk to Chan - it always has been. He’s quick with a joke or a bit, but always open and earnest. He watches you quietly when you talk, accentuates his stories with his hands when it’s his turn. Eventually, Ruby joins you. Mingyu stands at the edge of the water, one hand shielding his eyes, watching her go.
“He’s not coming in?” you ask.
She rolls her eyes. “Doesn’t want to get his hair wet. God, the water feels great. Anyway, we’re thinking of heading in soon, to get showers and stuff before we figure out dinner?”
“Sounds good,” Chan says.
“I’ll be right in,” you say, and beneath the water you grab at Ruby’s hand. Stay.
Chan gives you both a wave goodbye and heads towards the beach. You both watch as he steps onto land, approaches Mingyu, and shakes like a dog, spraying water all over his friend. You can hear Mingyu’s shout of protest even from here, and Ruby’s maniacal laughter echoes around you.
“How’s it going?” she asks you slyly, when she’s finished laughing at her man. Like she knows the answer already.
“Nice of you to ask!” you cry. “Actually! I’m kind of having a meltdown! Because for nearly eight months I thought he’d told me unequivocally, irrevocably no, and now I am finding out that he… I don’t even know. What does it mean? That was ages ago, surely even if he felt something then…”
“Only one way to find out,” Ruby says, way too sensibly.
“That’s not helpful,” you grumble.
“It is helpful, it’s just not easy,” she says sagely. You splash a handful of water towards her head and she shrieks, swimming further away from you.
“That’s enough of you,” you tell her, and start heading in towards the sand.
Back at the blanket, the boys and Lara have mostly packed up. You pull your rolled up towel out of your tote and dry off briskly. When everyone is accounted for, you all collect your things and head back up the walkway towards the house.
You put everything away - leftover drinks in the fridge, wet towels in the washing machine, etc - and the couples disappear into their rooms, doors closing and locking up and down the hallway.
Which just leaves you and Chan.
You follow him to the end of the hall and into the large room you’ll be somehow sharing. He turns on one of the bedside lamps and stops to plug his phone in, then looks over at you.
“You wanna shower?” he asks, tossing his phone lightly onto the bed. You can only stare at him, short-circuiting, until he clarifies. “Do you want to go first?”
“Oh,” you utter, quickly trying to recover. “Yeah, if you don’t mind?”
He waves his hand graciously towards the dark bathroom, as if to say, be my guest.
Showering turns into a reprieve - a locked door between you allowing you to jumpstart your brain again as you feel the hot water remove all the hidden bits of sand clinging to your legs and back.
While Chan takes his turn after you, you escape outside with a cold soda from the fridge. The beach beyond your rental’s deck is still pretty busy, but the crowd has thinned a bit since you all packed up. The sun descends behind the house, which means the sunrise tomorrow morning will come over the beach.
Mingyu seems to be preparing the grill, and Ruby bustles around, bringing out ingredients and setting them close to the grill. On one of the cushioned benches, Lara drapes her legs over Soonyoung’s legs and talks with him quietly, both of them giggling.
Since it seems like your help isn’t needed anywhere - you’ll help set the table when the food is almost ready, as is your usual job as a non-cook - you sit with your cold drink and watch the waves break, lost in thought.
Lara and Ruby seemed so sure that you’d misread Chan that autumn night. There’s a small part of you that’s still doubtful, but at the end of the day you do trust their judgement. So, assuming they’re right, Chan had been interested in you. That was over six months ago, though. It doesn’t mean anything now except that… well… if he was interested in you once, there’s a possibility he could be again. Or still.
Your move, it seems, is to figure out if that’s the case. Chan hasn’t done anything recently to indicate that he’s disinterested, but he also hasn’t done anything to indicate that he is. He - like you - has played it very safe. It isn’t until now that you’ve questioned if it’s because he actually sees you platonically, or if he thinks that’s what you want.
One of you is going to have to push the boundary, to test the waters.
When Chan emerges from the house, freshly showered and hair falling over his forehead nearly to his eyes, you look up from where you’re sitting and watch him thoughtfully. He pauses at the grill to ask Mingyu something, then passes by the mess of limbs that is Soonyoung and Lara, then drops onto the seat next to you.
“Mingyu says it’ll be another twenty minutes or so until everything’s done,” he informs you.
“Guess I should get the plates and stuff,” you sigh, leaning forward to set your drink on the table.
“I can help you,” he offers, and follows you inside, where you both open cabinets and drawers in the unfamiliar kitchen until you find everything you need.
He heads outside ahead of you, his hands loaded with utensils and condiments, and you pause, watching his dark silhouette against the evening sunlight. Your heart tumbles, and you jerk back into motion, following him into the light.
You all stay on the back deck until well after sunset. As the sky sinks into deeper and deeper blues, you rise and plug in the string of lights that weave through the beams above the deck, casting everyone in a nearly-orange glow. Mingyu sets up the tabletop fire pit, but you end up chilly anyway as night takes hold.
You shiver once, and you notice Chan looking sideways at you.
“Cold?” he asks, and the wave of deja vu you get is almost dizzying.
You shake your head instinctively, more against the memory than actually answering the question. “I’m fine,” you say, even though you do have goosebumps rising along your arms.
He gets up anyway, heading into the unlit house without a word. You rise a beat later and head across the deck.
Ruby calls your name like a question, and in answer you point at the cooler tucked behind the grill, where you’d all stashed beer and water bottles. She gives a quick “ah” of understanding.
“You need one?” you ask her, as you shuffle behind the grill and pull on the cooler’s lid.
“I’ll take a beer,” Mingyu answers for her, and you dig through the bottles and cans until you find his preferred brand, reaching to pass it to him over Soonyoung’s head. Then you turn back and look at your options, trying to decide if you want a can of spiked seltzer or if you want to go inside and mix something a little harder.
While you’re deciding, the glass door to your left slides open, and Chan steps quietly back onto the deck. He’s in a baby blue hoodie that he hadn’t been wearing before, and he carries a bundle of dark material in his hands.
“Here,” he says quietly, holding it out to you. “It felt weird to dig through your luggage, so I grabbed one of mine.”
You take his offering silently, fighting a tiny smile. “Thanks,” you say, equally quiet, like you’ve both agreed you want to keep this moment between you, not call the attention of the others. You shake the dark hoodie out and pull it over your head, slipping your arms into the sleeves and fixing the hood so it’s not inside-out. The hem falls almost past your shorts, and the sleeves reach past your fingers.
Chan bends to grab a beer from the cooler, then heads back to where he was sitting before. You reach for your own drink, settling on a seltzer after all, and when you turn to head back to your spot you can’t help but notice him watching you through the flickering fire pit, something unreadable on his face.
“You good?” you ask him as you settle back into your spot.
“Yeah,” he says, but there’s something tight in his voice that makes the goosebumps rise on your arms again despite the new layer of warmth you’re wearing. That smells like him. You tug on the edges of the sleeves to pull the shoulders tighter and curl up on your chair, tucking your legs into the baggy material and locking back into the conversation.
The night moves slowly, the constellations rotating centimeter by centimeter above you, everything made comfortably fuzzy by the drinks and the firelight. Sometime before midnight, Ruby suggests a walk along the beach.
You go in bare feet, the cool wood of the deck stairs giving way to sand as soft as silk. Mingyu and Ruby take the lead, the rest of you trailing behind. At some point - long after the house disappears from view - Lara stops, pointing up at the moon - a sliver above the undulating sea.
The four of you stop and look for a minute. Down the beach, you can hear Ruby and Mingyu but they’re out of sight in the dark.
“We should probably catch up with them,” you say, looking in the direction of their disembodied voices.
“I think we’re gonna head back to the house, actually,” Lara says, looking up at Soonyoung to gauge if he agrees. “We’ll leave the back door unlocked for you all?”
They say their goodbyes and head back hand in hand, leaving you alone with Chan and that sliver of moon. For a minute, the night seems to expand around you, growing bigger and bigger and leaving the two of you so small within it. Chan looks at you silently, as if he’s waiting for something, one side of his mouth quirked into an almost-smile that makes your stomach swim with the desire to cause a real smile, to push that little almost into something fully-formed.
Then, Ruby calls your names loudly from further up the beach, and the spell is broken.
“Guess we better catch up,” Chan says wryly. You both turn and start walking in silence, nearly shoulder to shoulder. As you walk, the back of your hand brushes the back of his just once, and your entire body prickles at the contact. You almost shift away, give him a little more space, but something urges you to hold the line. You want to see what he will do.
You keep walking, close enough that you can hear him breathing, hear the sand slide each time he takes a step. The back of his hands brushes yours again, warm. He doesn’t react, so neither do you.
You carry on, knuckles occasionally bumping his, until you find Ruby and Mingyu. They’re standing watching the moon, Mingyu wrapped around Ruby’s back like a giant, love-sick koala.
“Where’re Soonyoung and Lara?” Ruby asks, when she notices you.
“They headed back,” you say, stopping a few feet away.
“We should, too,” Ruby muses, eyes on the moon. “But it’s so pretty here.”
“It is,” Chan murmurs from beside you and you glance sideways at him, trying to read him. He’s staring out at the dark sea, the stars flickering in and out above it, giving you his profile. Ruby’s eyes flick to you, one eyebrow quirked. You look away, not wanting to get caught in this silent conversation, but you can feel the heat on your face, the smile tugging at your mouth.
The house is dark when you all return, and you let yourselves back in quietly, just in case Soonyoung and Lara are actually sleeping. You bid Ruby and Mingyu goodnight in whispers and head to the end of the hall. Chan closes the door and you flick on the bedside lamp, casting a low yellow light through the room.
Wordlessly, Chan begins to rummage through his suitcase, transferring items to a small pile - a pair of loose shorts, a toothbrush, his phone charger. It occurs to you, suddenly, that he’s gathering what he needs to leave - to go sleep on a couch.
“Chan,” you say. You don’t even know what you want to say next. You just know you don’t want him to go, don’t want him to sleep on a couch, don’t want to be here alone.
He pauses, turning to look at you over his shoulder.
What do you want to say? Stay? You balk, suddenly chicken again.
“I can take the couch tonight,” you say instead. He shakes his head, but you press on. “We can switch tomorrow.”
“Nope,” he says easily.
“Chan,” you say again. He keeps rummaging, his back to you.
“Chan,” you repeat, insistent. He turns fully, still crouching, and raises his eyebrows as if to say, yes?
“Do you want to just stay here?” you ask, trying to keep your voice from shaking. It feels like a moment of great enormity.
He shakes his head, and the rejection stings enough that you feel your breath catch.
But then he says, “No, I’m not letting you sleep on a couch. I’m trying to be a gentleman - quit fighting me.”
You realize, slowly, that he misunderstood what you were offering.
“No,” you say. “I meant… like… no one on the couch.”
He stares at you blankly, his hands open like he forgot he was searching for something.
Embarrassment licks up the back of your neck like flames. “The bed isn’t that small,” you say, a little defensive. “We could just, like, stay on our own sides.”
The blank look on his face slowly transforms. His brows come together, his mouth tucking into a rare frown. He opens his mouth like he’s going to ask something, but nothing comes out. His eyes flick to the bed and then back to you.
“I don’t…” he says, and the heat of embarrassment heightens. He clears his throat and tries again, “I don’t want you to do anything that makes you uncomfortable,” he says slowly.
“I wouldn’t suggest it if I wasn’t okay with it,” you point out.
He nods slowly, then pushes himself to stand. “Are you extremely sure?” he asks, peering at you. “This isn’t a High Noon decision, is it?”
You laugh, the tension dissipating a little. “No,” you assure him. “I just… feel bad putting you on a couch… and I don’t particularly want to sleep on a couch either… and I think we can… not make it weird?”
“We can,” he says, like a promise.
You second-guess your decision the whole time you get ready for bed - as you brush your teeth, as you change into pajamas, as you settle into the side of the bed by the balcony and plug in your phone. You’re nervous you won’t be able to keep it not weird - nervous that you won’t be able to keep your hands to yourself, that the magnetic pull to touch him will be too strong.
But when Chan climbs into the other side of the bed and clicks off the light, illuminated only by his phone screen, his warmth seeping into the blankets around you, it isn’t your hands that inch towards him. It’s your words. They claw their way out, desperate to reach across the six inches of darkness.
Chan, I’m actually really into you.
What really happened that night, when we were walking from bar to bar?
I’m in love with you, probably. I think.
Are you interested in me? At all?
You fight them all back, hold them all in. You don’t relax until Chan’s clicked his phone off and placed it on the nightstand, whispered goodnight to you, until you hear his breathing deepen. Just in case. Just in case the words get out the second you unclench - you need him to be asleep first so you can be sure he won’t hear them. You fall asleep with your face buried in the crook of your elbow, one last line of defense.
You wake up with your face buried in the crook of Chan’s neck instead of your own arm. You realize it instantly, body freezing like you’re about to get caught stealing, your whole body tight with panic. Like if you don’t move, you won’t wake him, and he won’t know that you cuddled him in your sleep.
Mortifying.
He’s mostly on his back but sort of tilted towards you, and you have one arm over his ribs, your nose pressed into the juncture of his shoulder. But, you realize as you stay frozen, his arms are around you. This was a mutual cuddle. Your legs are touching, too, one of your shins between his.
You try to breathe as shallowly as possible, fight the urge to stretch or roll or scoot away. You don’t want to alert him, pop this bubble, make the moment end. Chan is holding you as the sun rises over the ocean outside. It feels like another daydream, too good to be true. You never want it to end. You wish it was more real than this.
Slowly, you relax, one limb at a time, letting your muscles unclench and inhaling deeply. His skin, warm against your cheek, smells good - still a bit salty from the ocean, even after showering. But it’s only moments later that he stirs, his arms tightening around you and then loosening again as he makes a satisfied, low noise in his throat.
Then he goes still. You freeze back up, watching him for a reaction.
His mouth moves first, quirking sideways, and then he cracks one eye and peers down at you. A laugh bubbles from him and the cuddle is disintegrating around you as he shifts himself backwards and up on his elbows, still chuckling.
“Sorry,” he’s laughing, “sorry. I didn’t - that - I did not expect to do that in my sleep.”
You can’t help your own sheepish smile in return. “Me either, but it was actually comfy,” you admit. Now disentangled, you feel kind of cold and a little sad. But he’s acting like it was a funny goof, your bodies clinging to each other the second your brains turned off, so you’ll go along with the joke.
He rolls over and rummages on his nightstand, returning with his phone in hand and pushing thin-framed glasses up his nose. You look away, heart clenching. You love him in those; combined with the bedhead and his smell in your nose and the warmth of his skin not yet evaporated from yours and the feeling of his arms around you… it’s all a lot.
“I’m gonna… get dressed,” you say, reaching for your own phone. Chan hums a response and you vanish into the bathroom, brushing your teeth and getting ready as slowly as possible. When you come out, the bedroom is blessedly empty. You close your eyes and exhale. It’s going to be a long day.
When you finally head down to the kitchen, Lara and Chan are chatting easily at the table, steaming mugs in their hands. He’s still in those damn cute glasses.
“Good morning!” Lara greets you brightly. “There’s coffee!”
“God bless you,” you tell her seriously. You open a cabinet in search of a mug, but you’re faced with only plates and glassware instead. Chan appears at the cabinet next to you, reaching up and offering you a white mug with a cartoon seagull on it.
“Thanks,” you say, feeling weirdly shy considering you just woke up pressed against him. Once you fix the coffee how you like it, you take the seat next to Lara at the table. “Everyone else still asleep?” you ask.
“Soonyoung is, but I have to go wake him up in a minute,” Lara says, clicking on her phone screen to check the time. “We have a snorkeling thing at ten.”
“Ruby and Mingyu are out already,” Chan tells you. “Sunrise yoga. She texted us.”
“God,” you say, horrified. “Mingyu’s gonna hate that.” You realize at the mention of her text that you’ve left your phone upstairs.
Chan laughs. “Right?”
Lara rises, presumably to go wake up her boyfriend. “Her text said they’d be out until around four,” she tells you as she moves back into the kitchen to rinse out her mug. “I think they’ll beat us back, but not by much. Maybe we can go grab dinner when everyone’s back?”
“Sure,” you say, shooting a look at Chan to see if he has any opinions on this plan. He shrugs - no opinions to be found. You’ve always loved the way he could just go with the flow, happy to be along for the adventure.
You and Chan are still sitting at the table, coffees dwindling, when Lara pulls a bleary-eyed Soonyoung through the front door with a shouted goodbye, the sound of the car’s engine reaching you from outside. You look at each other, left alone together.
Again.
He gives you a flat, unamused look that he definitely picked up from Seungkwan or Vernon. “Are they doing this on purpose?” he asks, and a jolt goes through you. He’s said it. It’s like a curtain being pulled, shedding sunlight on something that had been shadowbound until now.
“Doing what?” you say, even though you know. “Leaving us by ourselves? Probably. Ruby likes to fuck with me.”
Chan laughs, and you’re filled with shaky relief that the moment isn’t weird. You both knew what this was, apparently, and facing it has put you on the same team against it.
“I thought it was to fuck with me,” he admits, still smiling.
“Two birds with one stone,” you muse. “For the sake of efficiency.”
But you wonder… why would it be fucking with him if he wasn’t interested in you? Is he admitting something?
“Well,” Chan says, stretching his arms above his head, fingers linked, “by all means, you can do your own thing today. You don’t have to babysit me. But it’s supposed to storm later, so I was thinking I’d use the pool a bit this morning while we still can, and then maybe go into town for lunch.”
You consider this. “That’s very pragmatic of you,” you observe lightly.
“That’s one of the first words I’d pick to describe myself,” he tries to deadpan, but the smile is too quick, telling on himself.
You let him get changed first, and when you make your way out back to the pool he’s already in the water up to his waist. You toss a towel onto one of the chaises.
“How’s the water?” you ask him, as you move to sit on the edge, preparing to let your legs dangle.
“It’s great,” he tells you, smiling easily, like he’s happy - happy you’re here, happy to be here with you.
You wonder if that’s the case, as you slowly lower your legs in, the water coming to lap a few inches below your knees.
“Feels cold,” you tell him. It doesn’t, really - way warmer than the ocean you played in yesterday, but you want to tease him a little.
Suddenly, his hands are on your ankles, holding you firmly. His hands are on your ankles.
“You should get in quickly,” he tells you, trying - again - to pretend to be serious, despite the smile he can’t combat. “Like ripping off a band-aid.”
“Lee Chan,” you warn, but a giggle rises up in you. “Don’t you dare. I will get in when I am good and ready!”
“I’m just trying to help,” he says, pretending to be hurt. His fingers are still pressing against your skin, your brain impossibly aware of the exact spot his thumb presses, as if there’s a beacon illuminating the place.
He gives your legs a playful tug, too lightly to actually move you. You squeal anyway, reaching down to splash water towards him. “Chan!”
He releases your ankles, taking a step back to avoid the splash, laughing. “Be careful,” he warns. “If it’s war you want -” He holds his hand like a knife above the water, ready to retaliate the splash.
“Oh my God, you menace. I’m getting in!” you cry, gripping the lip of the pool and sliding in, staying on your tippy-toes as your body adjusts to the temperature.
“Come on,” he goads, backing away from you, bobbing towards the shallow end. “You have to go under or it doesn’t count.”
“You’re a menace,” you repeat firmly, and he laughs, enjoying that his teasing has worked you up.
You eye the expanse of water between you - you’re at opposite ends of the pool now. “Do you think I could make it across in one go?” you ask.
He raises an eyebrow. “Like, underwater? I don’t know - how’s your lung capacity?”
You laugh. “Maybe not good enough,” you admit wryly. “But I’ll try.”
You take a deep breath of salty sea air, only minorly marred by chlorine, and slip down below the surface. You let the bottoms of your feet find the flat cement wall of the pool, and you give a hearty push. It’s hard without being able to see how much farther you have to go, but you hate getting chlorine in your eyes, so you kick and pull blindly until your lungs start to burn. When your natural buoyancy pulls you upward, you don’t fight it.
Your hands find something warm and solid before you surface. Surprise causes you to rear your head, fucking with your balance, and your feet find the floor of the pool. You stand up unsteadily, blinking water out of your eyes.
Chan comes into focus, his expression tight, and you realize that your hands had found his stomach, centimeters above his belly button.
“Sorry,” you say quickly, pulling away.
It’s like ever since last night, you can’t stop touching, your bodies fighting to come together even as you both dig in your heels and try to stop it.
“No worries,” he says just as quickly. You try to cover the moment by wiping water out of your face, but you feel warm all over, the cool water useless against your heated skin as you try to push away how his muscled stomach had felt under your fingertips.
You spend a good hour just floating and splashing around. Sometimes you chat and sometimes you lapse into comfortable silence. At one point you hear him singing lightly under his breath, his voice surprisingly clear but frustratingly quiet.
Eventually, your stomach growls. “I’m starting to get hungry,” you tell him. “You up for lunch in town, maybe? I’d just need to shower super quick first.”
“Sounds great,” he says easily, and you both head for the single runged ladder at the deep end. Chan climbs up first, standing by the ladder, dripping onto the concrete. You grip the metal handles firmly and find the bottom rung with one foot, pushing heavily to hoist yourself up.
And Chan helps you up - his fingers finding the dip of your waist and guiding you until you’re steadily on the pool deck, something protective in the touch.
Your entire body thrums, electric, cells vibrating. You hurry to your towel and wrap yourself up, hiding your face in the material - pretending you’re just chasing droplets away from your eyes, but actually smothering the urge to scream, if you’re going to touch me then get over here and do it properly!
“Did you know there’s a hot tub under the deck? Was that mentioned in the listing?” Chan asks, and you uncover your face.
“Huh?”
He’s pointing, and then you see that he’s right - tucked beneath the deck is a decently-sized jacuzzi, the lid on and straps fastened shut.
“Oh,” you say breathlessly. “Well, I know what I’m doing after dinner.”
Chan laughs, and you head inside, careful not to drip a trail of pool water through the house.
The rest of the morning passes pleasantly and without any touching; you shower and get changed and go on foot into the small beach town. You find a cute open-air cafe and order lunch, the iced coffee absolutely divine under the warm summer sun. The company’s not bad either.
After you’ve paid and left, Chan pauses on the sidewalk and gives you a mischievous smile. “Up for a little adventure?” he asks.
You frown. “What level of adventure?” you ask cautiously. “Like, on a scale of jumping out of a plane being ten to laying on my towel in the sand being one, what are we talking here?”
He laughs. “Like a three,” he assures you. “We just have a bit of a walk - maybe twenty minutes?”
The walk is pleasant - you don’t even get too warm, as there’s a constant breeze off the ocean and clouds pass overhead, pitching you momentarily into shade between longer bouts of sunshine. When you turn a bend and see the lighthouse rise against the sky in the distance, you actually gasp.
“Can we go up?” you ask, delighted.
“That’s the plan,” he tells you, and for once you can read his face perfectly - he’s pleased that he’s surprised you, pleased to have made you happy. Something warm simmers under your skin, affection and happiness and something else.
It takes forever to reach the top. You have to stop and rest more than once, your calves burning and protesting the many stairs. A few families pass you on their way down, one mother telling you cheerfully that you’re almost to the top. This motivates you to continue, and you press on until you reach the final landing and step through the metal doorway.
The view is absolutely worth it. The beach and the ocean stretch out before you, the town in the distance behind you. Alone at the top, you feel like you’re in your own little world, surrounded by sunlight and the calls of gulls, just you and Chan.
You stand, holding the railing, watching the waves undulate far below you for a long time. “Chan,” you say, and then falter. You don’t know what you were going to say. Some part of you thinks maybe you’d been about to confess, or to finally ask him something to shed light on his feelings.
When he looks at you, expectant, you say only, “Thanks for bringing me here.”
And maybe you did confess something, because he reaches over and squeezes your hand, just once.
And then, he looks over your shoulder and utters, “Uh oh.”
You spin, following his gaze, and echo, “Uh oh.”
Dark grey clouds gather to the west. You remember him saying it was supposed to storm later; it looks like rain will be rolling in soon, ushering in the storms behind it.
“We’d better head down,” he says regretfully, and you follow him back inside.
You make it down and outside before the rain comes, but the sunshine of the morning has gone and left gloomy grey in its wake.
“You think we can make it back to the house?” you ask breathlessly.
Chan checks the time on his phone, already walking brisky back towards the direction of town and your rental. “Maybe,” he says, but he sounds doubtful. “We’ve gotta be quick, though.”
You barely even make it into town; you aren’t even back at the cafe where you’d had lunch before the sky opens. It happens exactly like that - one second it’s not raining, the next second you’re drenched, hair plastered to your face, shirt sticking to your back, spluttering breaths through your mouth like you’re being sprayed with a hose.
You let out a cry of surprise, and then Chan is grabbing your hand and tugging, pulling you off of the sidewalk and into a nearby doorway. You don’t even manage to see what the doorway belongs to - Chan is already pulling it open, his hand still in yours as he leads you inside.
It’s dark, and it takes your eyes a minute to adjust as you wipe rain away from your eyes and shake droplets off of your arms. Beside you, Chan is doing the same, running a hand through his soaked hair and huffing out a noise of disbelief.
“That,” you say, “was bonkers.”
You seem to be in a dimly-lit dive bar, the kind that only locals go to. It’s pretty empty, since it’s early afternoon on a weekday, so when Chan raises a soggy, questioning eyebrow at you, you shrug and follow him towards the bar. Why not?
You take a seat wearily, and pull out your phone.
“We’ve got almost an hour until everyone is supposed to be back,” you inform him.
“In that case,” he says, and when the bartender meanders over, he orders you a row of shots to share.
You clink shot glasses for the first one, but after that you turn it into a game.
Chan narrows his eyes at you, mock-thoughtful. “What would you do if you woke up and your hands and feet had switched places?”
After answering (use my toes to order an Uber to the hospital), you volley with, “What would you do if aliens invaded tomorrow?”
Back and forth the game goes, punctuated by shot glasses being emptied and returned to the bar. What would you do if you woke up married in Vegas? … What would you do if you woke up one day and could only speak in rhyme? … What would you do if you were suddenly allergic to your favorite food? … What would you do if you were forced to join the circus?
You’re both laughing deliriously. Chan is wiping under his eyes in mirth, and you’ve hunched over so far that you find yourself with your hands on his knees, using him to stay upright on your barstool. Your surroundings have faded into colors and muted sounds with the alcohol in your system. All you can focus on is Chan, warm and solid under your palms, his eyes on you, the sound of his laugh cutting straight through the fog.
Then his next one isn’t so funny. “What would you do if you found out you only had a day to live?” he asks, and despite the seriousness, one last chuckle rumbles through his chest, like an aftershock.
Tell you. Tell you the truth.
You swallow. You take your hands off of his knees - you’re not sure he even noticed them there - and flex your fingers. And then, filter demolished by both alcohol and the sheer amount of time it’s been keeping you in check, you break.
Instead of answering, you fire back your own. “What would you do if I came onto you right now?”
Chan blinks at you, eyes as wide as you’ve ever seen them. He blinks twice more, and then his mouth opens. Your heart pounds.
“I’d - I - I guess, I’d probably kiss you,” he says, voice suddenly hushed, as if he’s a little unsure if he’s supposed to be honest or if the game is still a string of jokes.
You stare back. The two of you are frozen, both a bit wide-eyed, like neither of you is sure how you ended up like this.
Then, you breathe, “Okay, then do it.”
He nods immediately, breath coming sharply, and shifts closer on his seat. You feel like you’re holding your breath, waiting. Tentatively, he reaches up, brushes your jaw with his thumb.
Beside you, your phone blares to life on the bar. You both jump, startled out of the moment.
“Ruby,” you tell him hollowly. His hand still hovers near your face, but he nods, pulling it away. You feel like you can barely breathe as you slide your thumb to take the call.
“Hey,” you say into the phone, your eyes on Chan.
“Hey,” Ruby says, “where are you guys? Our thing ended early because of the rain so we’re back at the house.”
“Oh,” you say, trying hard to focus on her voice in her ear and not what just almost happened. “We’re in town. At… a bar? We came in to get out of the rain.”
“Perfect,” Ruby says. Across from you, Chan is rubbing his hands down the tops of his thighs, like they’re sweaty. You wonder if he’s nervous. “We’ll get changed and come get you guys in the car, and then we can go grab dinner together.”
You agree and hang up, then repeat the plan to Chan, who nods. He looks how you feel - a bit shell-shocked, a bit uncertain.
“We need to sober up,” you say. “Or, at least, I do.”
“No, me too,” he says, shaking his head. He sighs, and he might as well have said, goddamn Ruby. You hear it all. Then he seems to give himself a shake, orders you each a water, and asks to close his tab.
“They’re just up the street,” you tell him when Ruby’s text rolls in a bit later.
He nods, uncharacteristically quiet. You wish you could peek inside his brain and see what’s going on in there.
“Hey,” you say, and his eyes snap to you, that open look you know so well on his face. Your voice softens, and you resist the urge to reach out and touch his hand when you continue. “Here’s what I don’t want to happen - I don’t want Ruby to sniff out that something’s going on and interrogate me before we can… talk, ourselves. So let’s pull it together, and get through dinner, and then we can…”
We can what? Pick up where we left off?
He nods anyway, even though you’d left the thought unfinished. “You’re right,” he says.
And, somehow, you do. You both pull it together, rush through the pouring rain from the bar to the open car door. You smile and tease and laugh through dinner, like nothing had happened at all.
You feel relieved, in the back of Ruby’s car, as you all make your way back to the house. You did it - you got through dinner unscathed. Now you can go inside, and have some privacy, and talk and maybe figure out -
“Did you guys know the rental has a hot tub?” Chan asks, and you turn to look at him, baffled.
“It has a what?” Ruby gasps.
“Yep,” he says cheerfully, like he hasn’t just shattered your dream of getting a moment to yourselves. “It’s under the deck. Which means - hey! - it’s covered! We could totally go in, we wouldn’t even be in the rain.”
“That sounds great, actually,” Lara muses.
You say nothing, but when he catches you looking sideways at him, Chan sends you a wink, quick as lightning. You feel your face go puzzled, and he smiles and looks away, giving you no answers.
You’re somehow the first one to get changed and outside; it’s still pouring rain and you cover your head with your towel as you make your way down the steps and under the deck where some drips make it through, but you’re mostly out of the rain. A quick sweep of the area with your phone’s flashlight shows that there’s a string of the same lights down here as above on the deck, and you hurry to plug them in. Now that you can see, it’s actually kind of cute under here.
You unsnap the first strap for the lid, and jump when a pair of hands reaches next to you for the second one. You hadn’t heard Chan approach, but you silently accept his help as you push the lid up and off. You watch him out of the corners of your eyes to see if he’s going to say anything, address it at all. When it seems like he’s not, you turn to climb up the little set of steps, resigned.
His hand closes around your wrist, stilling you. He gives the tiniest of tugs and you relent, turning around. He gives you another tiny tug - you could resist if you wanted to, but you don’t, you don’t, you don’t. You let the tug pull you closer and look up at him, waiting. He kisses you quickly, firmly, close-mouthed for now but sure, his hands forming loose loops around each of your wrists as if he might want to tug you into place again.
The sliding glass door above you slides open and you step away, heart racing.
“Later,” he says quietly, and then you don’t get another second alone, Mingyu and Soonyoung’s voices bouncing through the space as they clamber down the deck stairs.
You climb into the warm water and choose a spot. Chan follows and sits a few solid feet away from you. You try not to look guilty when the other guys round the corner.
“Brought you a beer,” Mingyu says, reaching the extra can towards you.
“You are a legend,” you tell him gratefully.
Chan frowns, and for a crazed second you think maybe he’s jealous that Mingyu did something nice for you, but then he whines, “You didn’t bring me one? Hyung.”
“Calm your ass down,” Mingyu says, climbing into the water and finding a seat. You’re instantly more crowded, just from the sheer amount of space his long legs take up. “Soonyoung has yours.”
You snicker a little, and Chan gives you a light kick under the water. Above you, you hear the door slide open again, and a minute later Ruby and Lara appear beneath the deck, sheltered from the rain by Ruby’s towel.
“Oh,” Ruby says, surprised. “It’s not bad under here!”
“It’s cute, right?” you agree. “Still getting a few raindrops, though.”
“Eh, we’re in water anyway,” Soonyoung says easily, reaching up a hand to help steady Lara as she climbs in.
It’s crowded, and Chan’s two-feet-away doesn’t last. Instead, you’re crowded together, just inches apart. Ruby leans over the edge and turns on the jets, the top of the water creating a frothy layer.
“This is nice,” Lara says happily, closing her eyes and leaning against her boyfriend’s shoulder.
“It is,” you murmur, sipping at your beer. Under the cover of the jets’ bubbles, something touches your hand. Someone’s hand touches your hand. Chan’s hand touches your hand.
Your heart lurches. You beg your face to behave and give nothing away. And ever so slowly, you turn your hand over.
He doesn’t look at you, keeps his eyes on Soonyoung, who’s telling a story animatedly on the other side of the jacuzzi. But his fingers lace between yours, and his thumb brushes along the back of your hand, slow and tantalizing.
You’ve never been so undone by hand holding in your life.
You try to breathe. You sip casually at your beer and interject into the conversation when you can. You laugh at the jokes and look at whoever is speaking. You have no idea what the conversation is about. You hold onto Chan’s slender fingers like he’s a lifeline, like if you let go he’ll slip away, again and for good.
Later, he’d said, and his voice echoes in your head as you pray for later to be now. And finally, blessedly, Lara finally yawns, loud, and starts making moves to get out and head in. Which means so does Soonyoung. Then Mingyu lifts a hand from the water and examines his fingers, complaining, “I’m all pruny.” Chan gives your hand a squeeze and lets you go, reaching for his beer nonchalantly, watching Ruby and Mingyu carefully. You know you’re both waiting, impatiently, for them to leave you alone.
Leave, you silently beg, still trying to appear as casual as possible. Leaaaaave.
“You staying a little?” Ruby asks you, pausing halfway out of the hot tub.
“Yeah,” you say, trying to force your voice to stay casual. “I slept pretty late this morning - I’m not really tired yet.”
“Not all of us got up for sunrise yoga,” Chan says dryly, and Mingyu laughs, reaching for Ruby’s hand, clearly wanting to get inside.
“Okay, then,” Ruby says, her eyes still on you. “See you in the morning then.”
“Bye,” you tell her, and you have to fight the giggle out of your voice. You can’t help it - you feel giddy, nearly bouncing with excitement. You and Chan have been skirting the brink of something all day and you’re finally standing on the cusp of it, toes curled over the edge, ready to dive.
The second you hear the sliding door above you close, Chan’s hand is on your wrist again, pulling much more insistently than he had earlier in the day. Surprised, you let him tug you onto his lap, settling with your thighs bracketing his own, his hands wasting no time in finding your hips and pulling you more firmly against him.
His mouth is on yours, as insistent as his touch. You answer him readily, nearly sighing into his mouth as you get something you’ve wanted for years. You skate your hands up his chest and bring your arms around the back of his neck. He tips his head back a little, his hands sliding up your back, and the change in angle makes you sigh again.
“Thought they’d never leave,” he mutters against your jaw, and you let out a quick huff of a laugh before your breath leaves you entirely as his teeth nip a line down your neck, tongue and lips soothing behind each quick sting.
You chase his mouth, wanting him back, and he groans quietly when he realizes - like you wanting to continue kissing is just as good as actually kissing. But nothing is as good as the kissing, not if anyone asks you, nothing is as good as his tongue against yours, his teeth gentle on your lips, his hands clutching at your back and your arms and your hips like he can’t pick a favorite.
His hands roaming your body ignite you. You become only aware of their migration as they map the width of your shoulders, survey the dip of your waist, skate over your ass, then repeat the expedition. Your fingers have found his hair, curled up and held tight. He takes your hips in his hands and shifts you on his lap, causing you to tug slightly, and his exhale holds just the slightest hint of a whimper. You almost unravel, right there.
The shifted position also makes it absolutely unignorable that Chan is hard beneath you, and you can’t - don’t even try to - stop yourself from pressing yourself closer, your hips rolling almost involuntarily as soon as you feel him. Chan gasps at the sudden friction, his eyes squeezing shut for a second, like he’s already going under. Then his hands - frozen on your hips while his brain rebooted - come back to life, slipping up your ribs to cup both of your breasts over your bathing suit, giving one slow knead to both in tandem. You moan, low, unable to stop it, and he responds almost instantly, letting out an audibly shuddering breath.
He surges upwards to kiss you again, one thumb still rubbing circles against your hardening nipple, the other hand trailing back down your side and gripping your waist, holding you in place. You continue to move against him, his mouth hot against yours, the water bubbling around you and surrounding you in mist.
Chan’s nimble fingers leave your chest and work their way down between your bodies, pausing at the edge of your bathing suit bottoms. He looks up at you, pupils blown, panting out controlled little breaths like he’s fighting to keep himself in check.
Eyes unwavering on yours, watching your reactions closely, he slips his fingers between your legs, pressing the material against you, sliding down your slit and back deftly. His cock kicks beneath you when you whine. His gaze on you feels charged, almost like a challenge.
And then you’re blinded by a flash, followed almost instantly by an alarming crack of thunder.
“Fuck,” Chan hisses, twisting to peer out towards the ocean, his hands finding your hips again as if by instinct. “The storm.”
“Guess we have to head in,” you say, and it comes out wispy and breathless. Your legs feel like jelly and he’s barely even started.
“Yeah,” he says, the single syllable tight. He adjusts himself as you vacate the water, the rain beyond the safety of the deck seeming to redouble its efforts. You both hurry to turn the jets off and replace the cover, then stand at the edge of the dry space, looking out at the raging rain.
As hot and heavy as things were only a minute ago, you feel oddly still now, staring out at the storm. Chan places your towel over your shoulders.
“Thanks,” you say quietly, looking sideways at him.
“Ready?” he asks you, and you think he means ready to brave the storm. But your heart is answering another question - are you ready to continue, ready to move forward with him, ready to give life to something that has remained only a daydream in your mind?
“I don’t know,” you tell him honestly.
He slips his hand into yours. “I’ve got you,” he promises.
You move quickly but carefully through the rain, eyes on your feet as you take the slippery wooden stairs up the deck and towards the house. Chan doesn’t let go of your hand until you’re inside, sliding the door shut behind you. The house is dark and quiet, lit only by a single light above the kitchen sink. You both stand near the door and try to dry off, but your towels got soaked by the rain and don’t do much good.
“Come on,” Chan whispers. “There are fresh towels upstairs.”
You follow him through the house, up the stairs and down the darkened hallway. Chan pauses at the linen closet, pulling out two fluffy towels. You lead him into your shared room, closing and locking the door behind you as he clicks on one of the lamps.
Chan comes back into your space quietly, wraps you both in his towel, the spare forgotten on top of your dresser. You’re pressed tight together, warm in his arms. He presses his lips to the top of your head, leaving them resting there, just holding you. The moment is soft, heavy, a stark contrast to the lightning physicality of what happened outside. Something about the intimacy of it makes you feel hesitant.
“You okay?” he asks, pulling away a little to look at you.
“Yeah,” you breathe back. Your heart is racing. But it’s Chan. It’s Chan with his arms around you, and Chan who was kissing you and touching you, and - it all feels like something you aren’t allowed to have. “Just… maybe we shouldn’t?”
“We don’t have to,” he says immediately, shifting backwards and loosening his arms around you, giving you the option of pulling away if you want it. “We can do whatever you’re comfortable with. If you want to just go to bed… or if you want me to take the couch tonight, I can -”
“No,” you say quickly, because that’s the opposite of what you want. “No, it’s just… Chan…”
He seems to hear your uncertainty in your voice, his face softening and his arms pulling you back in. “What is it?” he asks quietly, and you slip your arms around his middle, giving in.
“I think I want this a lot more than you do,” you whisper, glad you don’t have to look at him while you say it.
He laughs, and you step back, looking at him quizzically. You’d been afraid of his reaction - of making him uncomfortable, of pushing the line too far. You hadn’t expected laughter.
“I don’t think that’s possible,” he tells you, and you just stare at him, not comprehending. He reaches up, fingers still clutching a corner of the towel wrapped loosely around his back, and brushes a thumb along your jaw. You feel your face warm, but you wait him out. He adds, “I want this… a ridiculous amount. I’ve wondered for a long time if we could… be more.”
He says it like a confession. He says it like he’s embarrassed about it.
“Well,” you say, a fire - a hope - coming back to life behind your ribcage, “maybe we should find out.”
And there it is, that smile that makes the whole world melt away.
The towel drops to the floor, forgotten, and his fingers are at the back of your neck, tugging on the knot that ties your bathing suit top in place. When the material falls away he makes a satisfied noise in his throat as he moves to kiss you again, walking you back towards the bed.
You’d both been eager, but when the mattress hits the backs of your thighs Chan lays you back slowly, almost reverently. He kisses you sweetly, tracing your jaw again, and then lets out another little laugh.
“What?” you breathe, smiling despite being clueless. “What’s funny?”
“Nothing. It’s not,” he says, but he’s still smiling, eyes tracing over your face and body. “It’s just… hard to believe this is real. That it’s you.”
Your breath leaves you. It’s exactly how you’ve felt.
“I know what you mean,” you whisper, and you kiss him again. This time he doesn’t hesitate when his hand slips between your legs, brushing right past your bathing suit and pushing the pads of his fingers into the wet mess he finds there. You shudder an exhale into his waiting mouth as he presses one finger and then a second deep into you, his eyes on you as you arch into the touch.
You let your eyes drift close as he pumps them slowly, and outside the room there’s another flash of lightning chased by the crack of thunder. For a little, there’s only the sound of rain beating against the windows as Chan works little whimpers and half moans out of you.
He switches his angle, something snagging behind your navel, everything beginning to tighten. You gasp his name, and you’re answered by his too-familiar huff of a laugh again.
“What?” you demand through your own smile.
“You say my name like that again and I’m gonna bust,” he tells you seriously. Then he brings his attention back to where his fingers disappear inside you, and his gaze sharpens. “These are in my way,” he murmurs, pulling out of you and reaching for your bathing suit, which had been pushed to the side.
“Yours too, then,” you object playfully, lifting your hips for him as he slides the damp material down your legs. He smiles at you indulgently and shuffles backwards on the back, standing long enough to tug at his swim trunks, letting them drop unceremoniously before crawling back up to you, pressing his mouth to yours and cupping your jaw with one hand, like he’d missed you in the seconds he’d been gone.
“Chan,” you whisper, because you need more of him, because this isn’t enough.
He slides lower down your body, his chest brushing against yours, his lips mapping a path down your sternum, down your belly, pausing near your navel. He looks up at you, all glinty-eyed, that million-dollar smile going slightly sideways, a little mischievous.
“Can I? Please say yes,” he says in a rush, pushing his nose into your lower belly and caressing your inner thighs with his thumbs.
You lean up on your elbows so you can look at him better. Your heart hasn’t stopped racing for a minute. He’s going to give you a cardiac event. “If you want to,” you tell him.
He laughs again, so quiet. “You have no idea,” he says, shaking his head, and then he’s attaching his mouth to you and your arms give out. You eye the ceiling, a strangled moan working up your throat as Chan’s tongue delves into your heat. You squirm, trying to push him deeper. He loops his arms under your legs and then reaches over, his hands pulling you tighter against his chin, both of you working to the same goal.
You hadn’t spent a lot of time imagining how Chan might eat pussy, but you’re surprised that he dives right into fucking you on his tongue, determined and rhythmic. You’d have pegged him for the type to go slow, draw it out, tease and taste and work you up little by little. Instead he grunts in satisfaction, pulls on you hard enough that you wonder if he’ll leave little bruises from his fingertips, and spears his tongue in and out of your hole with abandon, his nose bumping your clit every few thrusts.
You’re a whimpering mess, fighting the urge to roll your hips into his face, one hand slapped over your face to muffle the sound. He shifts, lips working their way up to your desperately pulsating clit, and you feel your whole body seize with the change of sensation, a long, low groan emanating from your chest. He suctions his lips around your clit and sucks gently, then a little less gently, and your feet scrabble against the sheets, trying to find purchase.
His fingers enter you again, his spit and your wetness giving them the perfect slide, and it’s exactly the extra stimulation you need. He only has to pump his wrist twice, that delicious suction steady around your clit, before you’re grasping desperately at him - one hand sliding into his hair and the other finding his wrist and holding tight, which doesn’t stop him at all from pistoning his fingers into that spot on your front wall that has you unraveling faster than you ever have before.
“Fuck, fuck, Chan -” you gasp. Your eyes squeeze shut and your grip on him might actually be painful, a belly-deep ahhhhh ripped from you as the onslaught of sensation sends conscious thought spinning away.
“Shhh,” he soothes, fingers slowly but continuing to work you through it. You whimper, gasp for a breath, the room coming back into view. “Not so loud, baby.”
“God, Chan,” you groan, releasing your hold on him, flexing your fingers.
He grins at you, lightning quick, then kisses the inside of your thigh. “That’s my girl.”
You peer at him, boneless. “You up for more?”
He pushes himself up on his elbows, the triumph not completely melted from his face yet. “I’m up for whatever you want,” he promises. “You’re calling the shots here.”
“Excellent,” you joke. You reach towards him, barely stop yourself from making grabby hands. “Come fuck me.”
He damn near scrambles to obey. He comes up to kiss you, deep and heady, and you hook one of your legs behind him, pulling him closer. The head of his cock slides along your slit and you tilt, trying to get him where you want him.
You look up at him, feeling like he hung the stars, and whisper his name. His answer is a bite of a kiss as he pushes himself into you, stopping only when his hips are flush with yours.
“Shit, you feel so good,” he breathes, eyes closed for a second, as he holds himself over you.
“Please move,” you beg, needing more.
“God,” he groans. “Okay. Okay. I got you.”
And he does. Chan fucks like he moves - quick and precise, each motion purposeful. His eyes have narrowed with focus, brows slightly furrowed with exertion as his hips snap. He slides one hand under you to help lift you, the angle changing just slightly.
“Yeah,” you breathe, desperation lacing your voice. “There.”
The drag of him is delicious, and so is the feeling of his body under your hands, and so is the sound of his ragged breath mixed with occasional gasps and groans. It’s the fact that it’s Chan driving you even higher.
A crack of thunder sounds directly overhead, and Chan takes the moment to roll you over, laying back and letting you straddle his lap without even slipping from inside you. You whine as the new position drives him deeper than he’d been before, your hands splayed over his pecs. He’s breathing rapidly now, struggling to keep his eyes open as he continues to fuck you from below.
“I-I’m - so -” he pants, “close. Really close, baby.”
You lean down to kiss him, his arms coming up around your shoulders to pull you chest to chest until his strokes grow sloppy and his hands tighten on you. You kiss along his jaw sweetly until he releases you with a sigh. He kisses you once more before he pulls out, and then again when he returns from the bathroom with a damp cloth.
“I might need to actually shower,” you muse.
“Yeah, okay,” he says easily, nodding. “Maybe I’ll go after you. I smell like chlorine.”
You shrug. “Might as well just join me. If you want.”
He grins. He follows you into the bathroom, waits with you while the water heats up. And then he fucks you again, against the cool tiles of the shower wall.
Later, back in bed, you face each other through the dark.
“I should have said earlier,” you whisper. “But I’ve liked you for a long time, too.”
His smile makes you feel full of sunshine, even when it’s shy, even when he’s asking what you want to do about it. Especially when he’s asking you, "What are you doing next Saturday?"
Tonight, the decision to cuddle is made while you’re awake. When you wake up in the morning, sunlight streaming through the windows, Chan wastes no time in reaching between your legs, finding you ready, and rolling over top of you, pushing between your thighs before he even has his eyes all the way open.
When you both emerge from your bedroom, stomachs growling and with the beginnings of a caffeine headache, your friends are all sitting at the kitchen table, surrounded with the evidence of a breakfast come and gone. They begin a slow clap, eventually lauding you in a mostly sarcastic but still loving round of applause.
“It’s about time,” Mingyu grouses. “You two have been circling each other forever.”
“Shh,” you tell him, as Chan slips his arm over your shoulders with a grin. “Not so loud.”
♥︎ bestfriend!gojo x reader <3 fluff fluff fluff !!! bestfriends to lovers! confessing feelings? ugh they like eachother so much it's disgusting! satoru is whipped. but so is reader (who wouldn't be?) lots & lots of kisses! <3 i love them so much !!! i still suck at tagging! this is short & sweet x have fun reading!
the clock ticking across the subdued room reads 5:37, the luminous break of dawn making way for new beginnings as the orange hues spill over the city.
new year. new beginnings. except the calendar stuck to your fridge with two little digimon character magnets gifted by satoru, among many others, still reads 31 December, notes and doodles made by you and your bestfriend and roomie, shoko, still adorably clear and present. a reminder to be changed.
you've made it through another year, with tons of things to tick of your bucket list for this upcoming new year: consistently visit the gym, travel goals, join a pottery class, go on a date etc. the list goes on.
however, kissing your guy bestfriend whom you've had overwhelming tension with all year round and finally coming to terms with your feelings on new years day on your kitchen floor was definitely not on your list of things you wished to accomplish this year.
a night was had, to say the least. drinks, games, fireworks, and a shit ton of polaroids taken. the perfect way to ease oneself into the possibly shitty or incredible year. none of that matters right now though, not when you and satoru are seated on the floor with your backs againt the kitchen island, your legs draped over his spread out ones. his fingers softly massaging at your ankles, courtesy to the heels you wore all night.
you both giggle quietly over sugurus soft snores, where he lies motionless from a night well spent.
"they're gonna need more than just water and painkillers to ride the hangover," you whispered with a tender smile as you watch haibaras head lull onto sugurus shoulder.
satoru hums. cheeks pinked and blushed, snowy hair messy as he watches over the city, the rising sun bathing him in something gentle, orange and blues creating a delicate glow around him.
the moment goes quiet, both admiring the glossy morning. the clock ticks. once, twice. then he turns to look at you with tired eyes, yet the softest most gentle eyes known to man. he sighs.
you turn too, gazing into a galaxy of gojo satorus pretty blues. god how much prettier can he get?
he smiles, rosy lips lifting into a soft smirk. "whatcha thinking?"
you shake your head lazily, shrugging, "nothing special."
you miss it when his hand leaves your ankle, but he brings it up to your face, brushing a strand of your hair over your shoulder.
"no?" he mutters, his index softly brushing at the apples of your cheek.
your lips purse, shaking your head once more before answering. "just how pretty you are."
this makes him laugh, in the most boyish most endearing way possible. you turn pink, just like his blushed nose. shy, embarrassed. you turn to face away.
when he finally stops, all smiley and giggly, he brings his hand up again to turn your face to his. you refuse. he doesn't give up.
"hey," he says in the softest way possible.
you finally look at him, "you're full of shit."
he laughs once more, then brings his forehead to yours. close. so close. he nudges his nose against yours. soft. delicate. tender.
lips seconds away from eachother, he whispers, "i think you're pretty." his fingers brush against yours in his lap. "my prettiest girl."
you nuzzle closer, smiling against his lips. not kissing. because bestfriends don't kiss. and satoru is your bestfriend. but bestfriends also don't tell eachother they're pretty with their lips two seconds away from colliding.
you breathe. he too. frowning as you pull away, just a little. you don't wanna lose... whatever this is. whatever you're feeling. but fuck, it's dangerous. him. his lips. his eyes.
his lashes flutter prettily as he looks at you. "yn," he whispers, thumb carefully tracing your hip. up and down, left and right. gently. he's gonna kill you both off.
you swallow too, breath stuttering a little, fingers playing with the buttons on the front of his white button up, three buttons undone. he's truly a menace.
"satoru."
he smiles, eyes closed, in that boyish, charming way. blushing. oh what he'd give to hear you say his name for the rest of eternity. so pretty. so prefect coming from you.
his nervousness finally shows when he gently squeezes your hip. chewing on his bottom lip, squeeze, eyes up to look at you.
"what are we?" he swallows down his nervousness. fuck, satoru. do it.
like him, your swallow down your nerves. it's happening. fucking face it.
"i mean, we're bestfriends, aren't we?" you say teasingly. yeah you're bestfriends. but you also know what he's asking. you're messing with him. you're also too scared to confront your feelings.
he frowns. cute. then, he whines. "you know that's not what i meant," a pout forms on his pretty pink lips. oh satoru.
you giggle. "what pretty boy?"
fuck. that name gets him all hot and bothered. he brushes it off quickly, "i mean... yeah. bestfriends. but you and sho are bestfriends too. yet you both don't... you know... do what we do..."
you smirk, holding in a laugh as you continue to tease him. "and what do we do, satoru?"
he sends a death stare your way, making you laugh as he rolls his eyes, arm crossing over the other.
your infectious laughter fills the apartment, leaving satoru a weak, weak man. who does he thank for bringing you into his life?
just as you're calming down, he smiles, rolls his eyes again, and pulls you closer by your waist. your chest against his, he thinks you can feel his heart pounding against his chest.
he looks up at you with seriousness now, wide eyed and love struck. his finger tips trace the skin of your bare back, thanks to the dress's lack of material and design of a sexy open back.
"what are we, yn?"
your hands naturally go to rest against his nape, playing with the much shorter hair compared to the rest of his head. something easy. something learned over the past few years.
"what do you want us to be, satoru?" your voice hushed.
his breathing picks up, palm going to your cheek as he brings you closer, nose nudging against yours once more, like he'd done a million times before.
"this," satoru whispers softly, before finally pressing against your plush lips. fucking hell he's losing his mind. why didn't he do this before? his mind screams and goes quiet all at once. time seems to stand still and he doesn't wanna leave your lips. never.
you aren't any better, mind and body going numb as he moves his soft lips against yours. you always dreamt of what it'd be like to kiss gojo satoru. and now, you pull at his shirt, wanting him as close as possible. such a pretty kisser is satoru as he brings you closer with his fingers between your hair. his other hand going up your bare thigh and under your dress to feel the skin of your hip against his warm palm.
you kiss, and kiss, and kiss. god you could kiss him forever. he's gentle and rough all at once. your palms move to his cheek, down to his neck, down to his chest, tapping gently as you pull away, missing his lips immediately.
your heavy breaths mingle as you breath against one another, chest in sync, his hand massaging your hip, yours softly scratching at his scalp. comforting. sweet.
"i want us to be this," he hums. "together."
"together?" you coo.
he nods, "together."
you smile. shy. flushed. cute, he thinks. before he's attacking you with dainty kisses all over your face and neck and chest, forcefully having to push him away at his chest.
you both giggle, eyes closed, foreheads against eachother.
"god you're so beautiful. my perfect girl." this. this gets you all shy.
"what took us this long?" you nudge.
he shakes his head, "idiots we are."
you, all smiley, plant a quick kiss against his own smiley lips. "idiots."
in which one cruel summer was enough to crumble everything between you and your childhood sweetheart, jungkook.
and one cruel summer brings you back together to square one.
confused, afraid and impossibly in love with the one man you spent one too many summers convincing yourself you had gotten over.
or
you and jungkook used to catch fireflies in small white jars and poke holes in them. at midnight, you'd set them free, victory for whose firefly flew the longest distance.
years later though, you both became those very fireflies, just flying away from each other.
one cruel summer was enough to let you know that nothing stayed permament. not even the glow of fireflies left free in the dark.
pairing : childhood sweetheart! jk x childhood sweetheart! FOC (reader) or actor! jk x chef! FOC (reader)
genre: childhood sweethearts trope, friends to lovers to strangers+enemies to lovers (yes there's a lot thats going on), e2l(partially), romance, angst , smut, fluff, longing, yearning, falling in love all over again, misunderstandings, miscommunication, i could go on forever.
warnings : there will be smut in both parts of the story—the flashbacks of their childhood summers together and hopefully later on in the book too. both the characters try out sexual stuff with each other when they are teenagers(yes, underage and yes, both are of the same age). they were horny, they were teenagers, they were curious, they thought girl+boy=fun so they experimented. ALSO, they are sooo stupid. all my characters always are but this one is ultimate stupidity. so brace urselves.
BUT mdni!
IMPORTANT:
i want to let you all know that this book will be written in two sections—one where we deal with jungkook and oc's present day events (titled All The Summers We Have Left down below!) , the other which are brief flashbacks to all the summers they had growing up as kids where basically the whole tension, angst and why they are how they are is going to unfold (titled All The Summers That Belonged To Us down below!) There is a webpage that will take you to Herringdale. It has small glimpses of the many symbols i'll be using in the upcoming chapters and all the summer flashbacks are going to be uploaded there!
Once i publish the first summer chapter, i will give you the Herringdale link here and on my pinned masterlist blog too!
Thank you for reading!
2:58 : Cruel Summer || Taylor Swift
color palette : Sandy Beige
send me an ask or comment to be added to the taglist <3
Summary: Different inflection, when you say my name.
Kiss me, but your kiss don't feel the same
Genre: Angst
Warnings: Lovers to exes
NOT PROOFREAD PLEASE DON'T KILL ME FOR ANY MISTAKES.
You hadn't meant to listen.
It was a total coincidence honestly. You always trusted Jungkook with all your heart but now you weren't so sure of it. You were only passing by the studio door when you heard Jungkook's voice from inside and then some girls name and your whole world stopped, making you freeze with your hand above the doorknob.
"I miss her" followed by deadly silence. Then a quiet laugh from your boyfriend. Something insde of you twisted on your chest and you've never felt so small. You had to leave, so you stepped away from the door and walked down the hallway as fast as you could. You wanted to believe you heard wrong, you thought you two were happy, but maybe you were the only one to feel that way.
You started distancing yourself little by little, trying to find a way to approach him with what you heard, however, you just couldn't and Jungkook noticed immediately something was wrong.
"You okay?" but you'd only nod
"Yeah, everything's fine"
You started noticing more things as the days went by: the late night texts he angled away from you; the way he would smile at his phone; the exhausted excuses
"I'm busy"
"I'll be working late"
"Don't wait for me early"
Every answer felt so rehearsed and the worst part was that she hated herself for doubting him. You wanted to trust him, you really did, but every time you'd close your eyes, you'd heart it
I miss her
A week later you found a new perfume. A sweet and floral scent lingered on Jungkook's jacket when he returned home one night. Late per usual.
You stood frozen in your shared bedroom as he tossed the jacket onto a chair. The smell wasn't yours. You knew every pergume you owned and this wasn't among them. The scent wrapped around you like a ghost, a reminder that maybe someone else had been close enough to leave traces behind; close enough to touch him. That's the part that hurts the most to you.
One evening, Jungkook found you sitting alone in the dark of your living room. Tv was off, the apartment was silent and he could hear your small sobs, making his heart drop instantly.
"Babe?" You didn't hear ackowledge his presence, so hearing his voice caugh you by surprise and you wiped your eyes as fast as you could, even though it was too late. He rushed over to your side. "What's wrong?" The question shattered whatever compuser you had left
"Who is she?" His expression changed in a heartbeat but in a confused one.
"What do you mean?"
"The one you're cheating on me with" your voice cracked. "the one whose name you said; the one who gave you the perfume you wear most times now; the one you spend your late nights with; the one ou share hidden texts" Jungkook's face went pale and for the first time you saw realization hit him.
"Oh"
Oh. The sound of your heart breaking. He wasn't surprised or confused. He was feeling guilty. You could see remorse cross is face as he looked at you. In the immense chaos mixed with tears, you laughed bitterly
"My God. There really is someone. I'm not-- God Jungkook, how could you?" you said getting up
"No, Y/n"
"STOP! Please, stop lying to me! I can't handle it anymore" The words came out as a sob. "Just tell me the truth for once, dammit"
The room felt unbearably quiet with Jungkook looking devastated in it, as if he was the one breaking apart. You couldn't bring yourself to care though, you're the victim here and God knows how much you hate that words, but that's exactly how you felt. Your entire world was collapsing and he was the main reason behind it.
"I heard you say her name in the studio. You said you missed her" Jungkook's eyes widened as you spoke and for a long moment, neither of you spoke until Jungkook closed his eyes and you understood that as the answer you needed. Something inside you finally snapped and a broken laugh escaped your lips as tears streamed down your face.
"Get out" His eyes widened right away
"Y/n, no- "
"Get. Out. Now!"
"Please just let me explain. You'll understand"
"Now you wanna talk? Now you wanna explain? No Jungkook" You shook your head violently. "I've spent weeks trying to explain this away for you. I've spent weeks convincing myself I was crazy, that I was imagining things, that I was being insecure"
"You're not understanding Y/n, I-"
"I UNDERSTAND ENOUGH" The hurt in your voice seem to wound him, but apparently not enough. Nothing could make up for how broken you felt. "You miss her, you said so yourself" Jungkook stepped closer to you but you pushed him away.
"It isn't what you think"
"Then what is it? Becase from where I'm standing it looks exactly like what I think" He was about to say something but then his mouth closed and see him hesitate was all you needed. You point towards the door. "See? You can't even deny it" His eyes filled with panic
"Y/n please, don't -"
"Don't make me say it again"
The apartment fell silent and for a moment neither of you moved. Then, Jungkook slowly nodded and after taking a look at you one last time he said those three words that always made you go weak
I love you
A few seconds later you heard the front door close.
And then you were alone
The next days were unbereable.
The apartment felt too quiet and too full of memories. You blocked his number the first night. Unblocked it the next morning only to block it again after seeing sixteen missed calls. Then came the texts
Jungkook:
Please talk to me
You didn't let me explain
I promise you it's not that you think
You ignored every single one of them.
Days became weeks and weeks became almost a month and Jungkook never stopped trying to reach out. Flowers arrived every week, letters arrived day yes day no. Even your mutual friends would check on you constantly. You were refusing all of it because if you answered even once, you knew your heart would betray you because you still love him.
One afternoon, you sat in your best friends apartment, curled beneath a blanket while absentmindedly stirring your coffee as your friend watched you carefully.
"Why are you punishing yourself? It's clear you still love him" You sigh
"That's not the point"
"It kind of is" You rolled your eyes
"He cheated on me"
"Did he really?" The question made you look up
"What do you mean by that?" Your friend leaned back.
"I don't want you to think I'm defending him" you scoffed
"Sounds like you are"
"Well I am not, I'm just saying something doesn't add up. Did he admit to it?"
"He said oh" The memory made your stomach twist. Your friend continued.
"So? That's not a confirmation Y/n" the answer annoyed you
"It felt like it"
"But you DON'T know" You opened your mouth just to close it again, because as much as you hated hearing it, she wasn't wrong. You never actually heard him confess. He never said he cheated and you definitely never gave him a chance to explain. The realization sat heavily in your chest.
"Look. If he's guilty then you'll know" you stared down at your coffee
"And if he isn't?"
"Then you've both been suffering for no reason" Silence has settled between you.
A month has passed and all the things he did to reach you start passing through your mind: the flowers, the letters, the desperation in his eyes when he stood at your door. For the first time since that night, doubt crept into your certainty. Your friend reached for your hand across the table.
"Maybe it's time to hear what he was trying so hard to tell you"
And for the first time in weeks, you found yourself wondering if you had made a mistake
I was listening to Perfect by Selena Gomez and I just had to write something out of it. Love this song so much and you know how much I love some angsty shit.
Either way, I hope you like it and let me know if you want a part 2
love f2l where he’s already hopelessly in love with you and pining in a way that’s so obvious to everyone else but you, but also love the moment in f2l where it clicks that “oh shit… i think my friend just turned me on.” even better when one person doesn’t realize they’ve turned the other one on and they’ve just gotta live with the memory replaying in their head for a few days. friends keep saying they’re distracted and they just nod their head like yeah uh sorry… was uh… sorry what were we talking about? bc these days if it’s not about that moment, zero processing has gone on
megumi and satoru are the worst at coping with this.
for megumi, it’s such a 180, a switch has been completely turned on when it happens, that it makes him upset. he can’t even tell if he’s angry that it happened in the first place, that he couldn’t tell he was attracted to you before, that he can’t stop thinking about it now, or that it’s possible that other people could have already had this realization and be thinking of you like this too. every option brings a mean scowl to his face. and it’s embarrassing above all because you were just trying to take off your shoes. when lifting your leg and holding onto to his bicep wasn’t enough, you crouch down to struggle with the straps instead. megumi sighs—all he wanted to do was get your drunken ass home in one piece and now you’re crouched down in the middle of the street, and when he looks down to see what’s taking so long, that’s when it hits him. you bent down like that, looking up at him and groaning and pulling on his shirt and whining for him to help you does very terrible things to him. and it shouldn’t, you’re only calling for him because you lack the hand-eye coordination (and clearly critical thinking because this is the middle of the road and you cannot walk barefoot) right now to undo your shoes, but it’s your blown pupils and pout and the calling for him—you have to stop whining. and saying his name. immediately—not to mention the angle and tilt of your head to look up at him. megumi can barely help himself, much less you, which is why he grumbles, hoists you up by the scruff of your neck so you’re standing up right. you giggle in your haze but megumi just hisses his teeth, tells you “stop looking at me like that,” and before your mind can catch up, he grabs you by the waist and hoists you over his shoulder because looking at your face is not an option right now. and this is for the best for everyone—now your feet don’t hurt, you’ve stopped groaning, there’s no more eye contact, and megumi has the rest of the walk back to your apartment to contemplate what the fuck just happened to him
for satoru, it’s actually partially his fault, because not only is it so far from sexual and yet turns him on anyway, but he’s so annoying that his actions lead to a cascade of other terrible turn-ons that and now it’s a cyclical problem. you’re just borrowing something of his for the convince of it—his glasses because it’s sunny, or maybe his jacket because it’s cold, something small and innocent—but it ignites such a strong flame in him that his visceral reaction is to snatch it right back from you, and run away like some school girl. “hey—satoru what the fuck, come on, you weren’t even using it!” you call, but your voice is already an echo at the speed he’s scurried away from you. the flash vision of you in his belongings was terrible, but it’s the memory of it that makes it worse, brings a blush to his face, and leave him shaking his head like a crazy person because what the fuck this is insane. you didn’t even do anything so he has no reason to act like this, there’s no way the slightest insinuation of you thinking of him/his belongings as something to borrow, or hold, or have should make him react this way, but it does. and he hates it. and he’s not normal about it at all, and it takes you confronting him, grabbing him by the shoulders and shaking him back and forth, asking him what the fuck is wrong with him, which is warranted, but worse because that also leaves him red from his face to his check with Awful Realization Numbers 2 and 3: (2) you usually just Deal with him being strange, but right now you’re mad and you’re really hot when you’re mad, and (3) you’re very close to choking him out right now and if you did, he wouldn’t stop you
yuuji is the one who has had this effect on more people than he knows, which is hilarious to think about because he’s either completely oblivious, or using his charm to play innocent. and when you have that moment, you’re definitely left stunned. you were just fishing for more snacks for your self-care night—a tradition that used to between you and nobara, but now includes megumi, and most times yuuji, but tonight, he had plans with todo, which you were grateful for because there’s no way you could have been around him after what happened. in a hurry to grab his water bottle from the fridge, yuuji doesn’t bother you with words to maneuver through the cramped kitchen, just mindlessly puts his hands on your hips, lifts you, pivots, puts you down, grabs his water bottle, puts it on the counter, lifts you again, pivots, and places you right back where you were, flashing you a million-dollar smile, before grabbing his bottle and rushing out to catch the bus. you’re left blinking, body on autopilot as you finally reach for the chips, and zombie-like when you make your way back to the living room where nobara’s putting a sheet mask on megumi. when you’re finally seated on the couch, you blink for the first time, blurting out to nobody in particular, “is… is itadori hot?” and it’s comedic how quick, blasé, and autonomic the in-sync replies from both megumi and nobara are, “yes”, “unfortunately.” oh. well that’s reassuring you suppose. you might have been the last to realize it, but at least you’re not alone.
if you told yuuta he had the ability to seduce anybody he would probably just laugh awkwardly and think it’s some kind of joke. the great irony is that rooming with him has left you with many instances to confirm that he is attractive, but the defining moment is when you realize just how much yuuta has grown in his year abroad. your apartment is nice and relatively modern, but there are still some tight spaces. usually you and yuuta just giggle while shuffling around each other, but today, you feel like you’ve gotten between a rock and another rock because when did yuuta—your scrawny, awkward, endearing yuuta—gain fifty pounds of muscle? it’s a terrible moment for you to be squished between him and the tiny enclosure of your storage closet and even worse that he’s the one who apologies, and smiles, and carries on reaching for the spare napkins while you’re left with the filthy thoughts about your best friend.
everybody wonders what it would be like to love you... i can't dare to dream about you anymore... it never will be...
pairing: officeworker!jungkook x female reader (coworkers)
premise: jungkook asks you to dog sit over chuseok. he doesn't ask you to steal the empty spaces in his head, the dreams he's yet to have, nor the idea of you always just being 'you' to him - and yet, like a thief in the night (with his own damn dog as your accomplice), you do.
warnings: fluff more than angst, but it's not clean cut - there's also a touch of smut. office worker jk, fuck boy (but kind!) jk, mentions of his workplace escapades, oc is dating mingyu (yay), oc sorta fancies jk (boo), solo masturbation (m), vivid thoughts of shagging (jk is a perv! wow! unlike me to write him as randy bastard!), lots of facetime calls, oc and jk are fundamentally flawed as a pairing, genuine friendship, daddy kink? ig? but like kinda sweet?, jungkook has a complex brain house and you've been banished to his annexe!! he also has a thing for claw clipped hair lol
wordcount: 6.8K
note from holly: so... i dogsat (? idk if thats a word) for my friend last chuseok and this was the result hahahaha. my friends dog (boba <3) is so tiny and small!! but i've always been a big dog girlie so bam was fun to write. i really love this one and have recently found all of my old notes from around that time detailing the rest of the couples lives, so pt. 2 is in progress.
minors dni // cross posted to wattpad
Bam notices the storm roll in before you do. His ears twitch, head lifting from its rested perch on his paws.
“What’s up, baby? Hey?” You coo, his sudden shift obviously prompted by something. His snout begins to twitch, too, and his bottom lip shakes as a small growl vibrates from his throat. His eyes are on the window, stalking the clouds as they roll past. “Hey.”
You sit up a little straighter to lean forward and scratch behind his ear. He leans into it, but doesn’t take his eyes away from the sky.
“You see the rain, huh?” You hum, looking between the pup and the window ahead. You can’t place it yet - it’s too far in the distance - but you find yourself coming to sit beside him. He doesn’t lean up against you like he usually does. Just continues to lightly growl.
There’s no threat behind his noises, no malice - he’s just shouting back at the thunder you can’t hear. When you see a bolt of lightning flash in the distance just beyond the city skyline, you know that it won’t be long until Jungkook’s apartment block is drenched in the weather.
It’s just gone midnight when he calls. His face is a little puffy, smile a little lopsided.
“Hey Bammie,” he coos into the camera. You’ve got it angled down to where the pup is resting his head on your knee, peacefully unwinding after his long walk. Bam doesn’t stir at Jungkook’s voice, so he tries again. “Bammie?”
The way he elongates his puppy’s name is sweet - a tone of voice reserved only for his most trusted companion. He sure as hell has never spoken to you like that.
“Sorry, bud,” you say as you lift the camera up to your face. He’s pouting. “I don’t think the vibrations sound the same through the phone.”
“I miss him,” he says not even caring to acknowledge your thought process. “Is he okay? Was he good on his walk?”
“He’s all good,” you smile. “Best boy in the world. None of the other dogs you mentioned were down at the park, so it was just us two.”
He nods into the camera and purses his lips. “They might all be away. Visiting family.” He rolls over in his bed and lets out a yawn. “How’s the apartment? Got everything you need?”
You nod back. “All good. Might have eaten my way through your cheese stash already. I’m gonna shower then head to bed in a minute.”
“Make sure you leave the bathroom door open a little,” he says. “He’ll whine if not.”
“Will do.”
“Thank you,” he says. “I really appreciate you doing this. He hasn’t been too much work, has he?”
“He’s good as gold,” you say as you switch to the back camera. The view is serene, and Jungkook’s lips instantly settle into a smile. Bam is up on the sofa with you, snuggled against your lap. The skyline twinkles through his window, the reflection of his mood lamp obscuring some of it - but he’s quietly pleased that you’re using it. It’s how he normally winds down, too. Main lights off, galaxy on his ceiling. Must make Bam feel a little more at ease. You go to scratch behind his ear, and he huffs a little, all content and cosy. “Thanks for asking. He’s never too much work. You trained him well.”
“Hmm,” Jungkook hums. “Could have trained you a little better, though.”
He laughs when you switch the camera back to your face, mouth open, brows knitted together. “Me?!”
“Yes, you,” he grins now but tries to hide it; to restore the stoicism to his face. It doesn’t work. “What did I tell you about the sofas?”
You purse your lips together as if you’re not smiling. He’s got you there, admittedly.
“Look, he’s just so cute!” Despite the fact you’ve turned the camera back onto Bam, Jungkook can tell you’re pouting. “How could I say no?!”
“Easily!” Jungkook laughs. “That’s how he became so well trained! I leave for one night and-”
“Shuuuush,” you laugh, and when the camera switches back to you, Jungkook can’t help but let his smile persist. You look tired, and so does he, but there’s something about the call that has made you forget all about the fact you were planning on going to bed soon. “My swamp now. My rules.”
“My swamp,” he protests, but the look on his face is so saccharine that you can’t take him seriously. He thinks the same could be said for you. “Anyways, it’s late. Go get your shower. If you need more towels, there are some in the cupboard by the boiler. Don’t forget to turn the vent on - it’s the switch next to the light.”
“Alright, will do,” you nod and then yawn. Bam pricks his head up. “Hey baby,” you speak to him. “Did I wake you?”
“Show me him.”
You switch the camera around to where you’re scratching at Bam’s ear. He leans his head into the scratch, thoroughly enjoying it, your long nails far scratchier than Jungkook’s. It’s not the same - Jungkook is far stronger, so is a little rougher which suits Bam just fine. Still, he likes your scratches better than no scratches at all.
Jungkook whines. “I miss him.”
“He misses you, too. Want me to call in the morning?”
Jungkook shakes his head. “We’re up early tomorrow, heading over to Haedong Yonggungsa in the morning. Probably be up before you. Send me pictures though.”
“Will do. Night, buddy.”
“Night gremlin,” he smiles, and then begins to coo. “Night Bammie. Daddy misses you.”
He wishes you wouldn’t look at him in the way that you do when he says that; lips turned upwards at the very corners, dimples pressing into your cheeks, eyes bright.
“Shut up,” he says, but you’re already laughing.
“Daddy.”
“I am his dad!”
“Daddy.”
“Oh my god, fuck off,” he laughs. “Have nightmares, gremlin.”
“Sweet dreams, Daddy.”
“Fuck off!”
You hang up before he can protest your taunts any more, though he does text you one final ‘fuck off,’ and a reminder that you can bolt his front door if it will make you feel safer.
His apartment is in a high-rise, and his neighbourhood is far nicer than yours. You do the bolt up regardless, and think that it’s sweet that he considered your comfort enough to remind you about it.
Bam sits by the sliding door of the bathroom, the tips of his paws just teetering over the line of the door frame. He rests his head on his legs, snout angled towards the hallway. It still makes you feel a little weird. You don’t really want a dog watching you shower, even if he is a dog and has no real understanding of what’s happening - so you turn your back to him and just reassure yourself that Jungkook showers with the door open wide.
It’s a funny thing, to think about your co-worker’s showering habits. Not one that you’ve ever thought to indulge in before - but Jungkook would go ballistic if he heard you refer to him as your ‘co-worker.’ You’re friends. Pretty good ones, at that.
You’re level players at your company; earn the same wage, hold the same rank. There’s not really any competition between the pair of you - you work in different departments - but are often paired together when the two sections merge for joint projects. You make for a good team.
Over the years, you and Jungkook have also learned that you’re a highly capable team when it comes to playing beer pong against your colleagues on Friday nights, and at the mixed-doubles tennis tournament that your company insists on you participating in every year. It’s either that or be on the Christmas Party Planning committee, and you know which you’d rather do.
Thinking about tinsel in August? No, thank you.
There is however one crucial flaw to your partnerships: how you live your lives. How you manage your money.
See, Jungkook is frugal. He makes big investments - his apartment, his cars, games consoles, Bam. Doesn’t spunk his cash away on the small shit. His apartment is in the heart of the city, only a few floors from the very top. He gets a birds-eye view of the world around him. You don’t even want to imagine how much his deposit cost.
Probably more than you have in your savings. You do spunk your cash away - on the small shit, no less. Clothes, cafes, that sort of stuff. Nothing that holds permanence. It frustrates Jungkook to no end. He thinks you could have a better life if you just used your money wisely - but you’re happy in your slightly cramped apartment, happy when the serotonin of a shopping spree boosts your mood, happy when you’re laughing with your friends over coffee and cake.
You wouldn’t be happy if you felt restricted. You think that Jungkook is.
He disagrees. He has enough in the bank to buy whatever he wants. He has financial freedom.
But there’s a difference. You’re both free in your own ways.
It’s for that reason you’d never work as a couple. Would infuriate one another far too much. Everyone who is close to you both knows this; how badly suited you would be. They’ll joke about all of the women in the office trying to get their mitts on Jungkook - even the married ones - but not you.
It’s funny because they’re right. Everybody wants him.
He collects stars from their eyes and accumulates them in his own. The girls blush and giggle about how he looks at them with galaxies, but they don’t realise what a thief he is. Don’t realise he’s stolen their shine, and incorporated it into his own. A spotlight follows him, and you enjoy watching the show unfold with an amused grin whenever a new secretary catches his gaze for the first time.
It’s not intentional. You don’t think Jungkook realises he does it. In fact, he hadn’t realised that it was such a pattern of behaviour until the midnight squalor of a dive bar had you talking about office conquests, and how the photocopier room had seen his bare ass more than it had seen toner changes.
“Shouldn’t shit where you eat, Jeon,” you’d grinned.
“Firstly, that’s a horrible phrase - and secondly, it takes two to tango. They’re just as much to blame as I am.”
But they’re not. He’s the only repeat offender.
“And anyways,” he had deflected, sinking down the final dregs of his beer. “Don’t act like you’re some kind of saint. Everyone’s fucked a colleague at least once.”
You’d just raised an eyebrow.
“You’re telling me you haven’t?”
“Like I said - shouldn’t shit where you eat, Jeon.”
Now, if he’d have said housemate, you would have folded. Downed your drink. Ordered a repeat round.
Something about a shared space - domestication - really gets you. It’s joint laundry loads, shared dinners, movie nights; grocery shopping, D.I.Y. furniture, arguments about who gets the bigger room. More often than not, it never matters, ‘cause you just end up staying in theirs.
You live alone now. After the third time, you knew better than to let yourself fall into the trap once more.
He learns about your affliction a few months later, and goes on tease you relentlessly.
In fact, he mentions it when he propositions you a few weeks before Chuseok. You had both spent the last couple of holiday periods overworked, slogging through the festivities. For the first time since either of you can remember, your workload has eased up.
You’ve already told him you’re planning on doing sweet, sweet fuck all. You’ve told your family you will be working, because you just want to finally breathe for a while; stay in with a tub of ice cream and your favourite films. Speak to no one. Do nothing.
“I’ve got a favour to ask you,” he had said as he approached your desk before the end of the day. It was a Friday, but you weren’t heading for after-work drinks with the usual suspects like you typically did. You had a date, instead. A third one with the same guy - Mingyu - which felt like a miracle. Even Jungkook was a little shocked that the poor guy wasn’t sick of you.
“Go on,” you had mused as you checked over your to-do list for the following week.
“You gotta promise me something first.”
“Promise you what?”
“That you won’t fall in love with me.”
You’d swatted him away the ruler on your desk, and told him to get his head out of his ass. “Been able to resist your charms this long, Jeon. Give me some credit.”
“It’s only ‘cause you know I’d reject you, you little gremlin.”
“I thought you wanted a favour? Funny way of going about it.”
“Sorry, sorry. You’re right,” he had conceded with an apologetic smile. “Forgive me.”
“What do you want?”
“How would you feel about potentially staying at mine over Chuseok to look after Bam? My parents want us to head down to Busan for the weekend and see relatives seeing as I’m finally free and know it’s a big ask but I-”
“Oh my God, yes?!” You had smiled so wide Jungkook thought you might fracture your jaw.
You love Bam.
In fact, he might just be your favourite thing about Jungkook.
Occasionally you walk him with Jungkook on the weekends, when you’re both hungover and need to get out of a slump. You’ve grown up with pets, but moving to the city in your early twenties to pursue your career meant apartment living.
You’re a rural girl deep down, and would never want to keep a pet in a high rise.
Jungkook manages it, but he goes home at lunchtime to walk Bam during the winter. In the summer, when it’s too hot, he goes home at lunch regardless, to lounge around with Bam under the air con.
Sometimes, you go with him. Bam is always pleased to see you.
Jungkook lied and said he asked around because he didn’t want to inconvenience you.
Truth is, he wouldn’t have trusted anyone else with his baby. He’d never spent a night away from Bam. Hated the idea. Despised it, in fact. He would have just taken Bam with him to Busan, but didn’t think it would be fair to force him on the journey from Seoul.
Over in Busan, when Jungkook hangs up, the conversation isn’t over. It continues in his head.
“Hey, wait…”
“Mhhm?”
“You just… look nice tonight, that’s all.”
He thinks you’d blush. Would tell him to lay off the soju. Accuse him of getting too drunk for a family get-together. He’d let you. Would take the beating of your false accusations, because it would be far easier than admitting he’s not had a single drop.
He thinks of the hug he’ll give Bam when he gets home; how wild his tail will waggle, how he’ll jump all over the place, and how you’ll be giggling. In his mind, you’ll be smiling just as wide as he is.
You’d stay for dinner. Jungkook would order from your favourite place to say thank you. Bam would snuggle up to Jungkook - on the sofa - and you’d be on the other side, stroking his back. He’d be happy. Bam, not Jungkook. But also Jungkook. Hopefully you, too.
When the time would approach for you to go home, you’d offer to help. Rinse out the containers. Hair up in a claw clip, t-shirt off your shoulder like it so often is.
Jungkook doesn’t notice, but his hands begin to trail down his body as he thinks of you. His phone is still on his chest, rising and falling with every beat of his heart. The tips of his fingers stroke against his skin.
He thinks of you laughing with him about something inconsequential. You’d flick water in his direction when he’d make some joke at your expense. It’d all be in good humour.
But then he’d flick some back at you, and water war would break out. Bam would run excitedly between the pair of you, Jungkook chasing you around the kitchen island with wet hands - and you’d do the exact same back. You’d flick water over the counter, tap still running and he’d call you a gremlin.
There’s a smile on his lips as he thinks of his. His hands roam further south. He’s ticking at his abdomen. It’s nice. Feels calm. He likes to engage his senses when he thinks of scenarios like these. Makes it feel more real.
But then he’s thinking of your shirt and the fact it’s white.
And then he’s imagining catching up with you, holding you captive as he angles the tap towards your face. You’ll be shrieking and scrambling to get away, Bam by your feet, Jungkook laughing.
He’d relent, but only enough for you to twist to face him.
Jungkook’s fingers are by his thighs. Stroking. Caressing. He’s avoiding his cock. Knows it’s firm. His index finger spreads to his balls. Teases.
And then he thinks of your body pressed against his torso, your ass to the counter.
You’d both be soaked.
He’d look at your lips. Look in your eyes. Feel your chest against his. He’d swallow hard.
It’s at this point he forgets about Bam in the scenario. It’s just you and him.
His palm rests over the length of his cock. Presses down. His hips roll.
He’d tell you that you’ve made a mess. You’d tell him to clean it up. His heart would be racing. So would yours.
And it’s funny, because his heart actually is. It’s beating so fucking hard in his childhood bedroom, that he thinks his parents must be able to hear it through the walls.
He’s in a far-too-firm single bed, but in his head, he’s with you in his kitchen.
He begins to grip his cock, long fingers wrapping around his shaft. He pulls up. Pushes back down. Says your name. Whines.
He doesn’t even really realise he’s doing it.
Just thinks about you.
Thinks about the way it would feel to sink his lips into yours; the first bite of a forbidden fruit. Thinks about that quick tongue of yours, and if it would be just as quick to find its way into his mouth. Thinks about your manicured nails that Bam loves so much, and how they’d scratch against his scalp instead. Thinks about the way his hips would rock against you, kind of like they are now; pulsing beneath his duvet.
His mind jumps. Skips the foreplay. Doesn’t mean to - but the thoughts are intrusive. Insidious. Insatiable. He can’t help it.
He pushes up into his hand. Pauses. Waits out the feeling. Retracts. Repeats.
In his head, it’s you that he’s pushing into.
The sensation is entirely different, granted, but - fuck - he hasn’t gotten himself off all week and hasn’t had sex in far longer, so it all feels the same to him.
He hasn’t worked out the mental logistics.
His imagination is jumping from the kitchen to his bedroom and then back to the kitchen again. Can’t decide where all of this is happening - and then suddenly, he finds himself railing you in the utility room.
You’re perched above the washer, held in place by him. He can smell the laundry detergent. He’s got spotlights in the room, but they’re turned off. Only lights from the hallway and the city skyline illuminate you.
It’s obscure. The shadows in his head conceal you a little. He’s gripping your waist beneath your shirt. The baby gate which keeps Bam out of the laundry room is closed.
You’re not talking, just fucking, fucking, fucking and -
“Fuck,” he whines, hand is jerking at his cock, heart rate stuttering.
He shouldn’t be thinking about you like this.
Shouldn’t let his mind jump again to a point where you’re fucking naked, and your sodden shirt is on a pile of yet-to-be-done laundry.
But then it jumps again, and one of his towels is on the floor. He’s laying down, back against it. The same position that he’s in now in his childhood bedroom - but he’s thinking about you. The silhouette of your body. The warm curves of your body. The way you bounce on his cock and then-
Oh god, it’s torture the way his cock throbs. Pre-cum leaks from his tip as his speed builds. It’s just a fantasy. Nothing more nothing less. But it’s you. And then he’s thinking about pulling you down for a kiss, and the scent of your perfume and the way you’d moan into his mouth and then his legs are shaking, torso tensing.
He’s taking it too far. Too fucking far. You. Fuck. He can’t. But he doesn’t stop. Just keeps going. Fucks his hand like it’s your pussy.
He’s pulling himself closer, closer, closer, and then he thinks about your voice, and the way you called him Daddy, and he can’t help himself. The pressure that releases in his stomach is catastrophic. Jungkook mewls your name. Calls you baby. Unloads all over himself. White hot cum paints his belly. Seeps into his belly button. Makes a mess of his hand as he coaxes the last few ropes out. It’s been a while since his last nut, but the amount he produces is not fucking normal.
It rolls down the side of his toned torso, Jungkook swallowing harshly as he tries to regulate his breathing. He doesn’t think he can. Doesn’t know what to do with himself. Just kind of lays there. Curses. Knots his brows together. Is frustrated with himself.
You’ve been friends for years. He’s never done anything like this before. He chalks it up to nothing more than him just being a little too horny for his own good. Cleans himself off. Puts his phone on charge. Berates himself for being a piece of shit. Spends a good ten or so minutes staring at the ceiling with an empty head before he falls asleep.
And it’s funny, because when you wake up in the morning, panties damp, the dream you had about Jungkook railing you in his own damn bed, you find yourself looking across the space where he usually sleeps. You reach ouch. Stroke the emptiness. Curse. Spend the rest of the day unbearably horny. It frustrates you. Makes you snappy with Jungkook when he calls.
He asks if you’ve seen Mingyu. You tell him no. He says maybe you should - but makes sure to add, “He’s still not allowed in my apartment.”
“I’m not gonna bring anyone into your space, Jungkook.”
It’s something he knows, and something he trusts you not to do, but he’s still reinforcing boundaries. Making sure that there are still some left. He thinks that if he pushes you closer to someone else, it will sort his brain out. Alleviate him of the guilt that he’s feeling.
But you don’t see Mingyu.
When Jungkook calls again that evening to find you walking Bam alone, he’s pleased. Doesn’t want some guy you’re fucking anywhere near his most prized possession. Bam, that is. Not you. But now that he thinks of it, he finds he doesn’t want Mingyu anywhere near you, either.
“Good day?” You ask, voice a lot lighter than it had been earlier.
Jungkook nods, but he doesn’t really smile. “I miss Bammie.”
You pout. “He misses you too. He’s gonna be so excited when you get home.”
The camera switches to the back camera so he can watch Bam bound along the path. He’s on his lead, snout sniffing in all the flowerbeds. It’s dark out, but there are enough lights on the trail for him to be able to see clearly.
“How is he? Eating okay? Going to the bathroom okay?”
“Eating like a champ, and producing shits to confirm that,” you say flatly. It’s definitely your least favourite part of animal ownership - but the reward is so much greater than having to pick up shit off a sidewalk.
“That’s my boy,” Jungkook grins, before turning his focus to you. “You all good? Seemed a little stressed earlier.”
Jungkook’s expression doesn’t change when the front camera flips back to you, but he finds his heart racing again. When you turn your head to check the car that’s driving past, he notices your hair is up with a claw clip. Just like it was in his… thoughts about you the night before. He likes how attentive you are - how you checked the source of the noise. You’re protective. Follow your instincts. Thinks you’re the best person he could have asked to look after Bam.
“I’m all good,” you say, and you really are.
“I know it’s not exactly the relaxing Chuseok you were planning-”
“Jungkook, it’s fine,” you smile. “It’s been nice. I like Bammie far more than I like you.”
“Understandable.”
You both smile, and Jungkook begins to babble about his day, telling you stories about his parents, and his weird cousin who never knows when to not say inappropriate things, and the aunt who keeps trying to set him up with all of her friends’ daughters.
“Don’t shit where you eat,” you remind him. “Sounds too close to home. Your auntie would never be out of your business.”
“I know, I know,” he rolls his eyes. “And hey - it’s been, like, a year since I last did that! Cut me some slack, gremlin. Anyways, Mingyu works in our building. You’re basically shitting where you eat.”
“I’m actually… I think I’m gonna cool things off with him.”
“Oh?”
“It’s like not a big deal. I’m just not really feeling it.”
“I’m sorry.”
“No, you’re not.”
“No, you’re right. I’m not,” Jungkook admits, but is sombre as he does so. He remembers how happy you’d seemed after the first few dates. “But I am sorry that you haven’t found the right guy yet, gremlin.”
“Who knows, maybe I’ll find the love of my life at the dog park tonight.”
“You are not allowed to use my baby as a flirting tactic.”
“No?”
“No.”
“Too late - I’m already here and there is an absolute DILF. Byeeeee.”
“Wait, no-”
You hang up before he can finish, with a grin on your face to rival a Cheshire cat.
The park is empty. Not a single DILF in sight. You ignore his call when he rings back. Will let him sweat it for a bit.
Jungkook lies awake that night.
Doesn’t do much.
His family are still chatting in the sitting room, but he can’t draw himself away from the sanctuary of his own private space, where your voice is still echoing around the room. He’s starting to understand why you’d been craving your space so much for the holiday period.
He doesn’t wanna have to return to the room with a false smile, and a feeling in the pit of his stomach that could rival the ache of getting the ferry across Busan harbour during monsoon season.
Doesn’t want to form cognitive thoughts that distract him from his mindless reflections of you.
Jungkook’s mind works like a house, and right now he’s in the annexe.
He rarely ever goes in there.
Finds he gets too comfortable and neglects the rest of the house. He’s got a garden to tend to, a kitchen to clean, and beds to make - but why would he leave the annexe when it has everything he needs? He’s comfortable there.
It’s normally reserved for the hyper-fixations he’s trying not to fixate on. He locks them away. Hasn’t really visited since he got hooked on GTA5 when he should have been studying for the University Entrance Exam. It’s still there, and he knows better than to pop it in his games console - but there’s someone else on the couch, now. It’s not just him in his mind-annexe. Someone’s in his space. He daren’t let himself go further into the room.
In fact, he’s desperately trying to jump across to the main house. Get himself out of the thoughts that are gonna consume him. He needs to close that God damn door.
But he watches the figure like a car crash. He’s scared. Unable to look away.
Not for fear of it being a monster hidden in the depths of his mind.
Quite the opposite, actually.
Monsters don’t wear their hair up with butterfly-shaped claw clips, or let the clasp of their necklace trail down their spine like that. Monsters don’t twist their back out of habit just to make it click. Monsters don’t spend their days doodling in a journal like the figure on his couch is doing.
But you do.
An iteration of Bam rests up against Jungkook’s leg in his mind, nose wet, tail lightly wagging, so he puts his hand on his pup’s shoulder for comfort. To support him. To guide him away from the annexe and back into the damn main house.
“C’mon,” he says to Bam, expecting him to leave. Expecting him to follow his commands.
It’s his head, after all - but Bam doesn’t heed his commands. Instead, his claws click against the hardwood floor and towards the figure on Jungkook’s couch. A palm outstretches, and Bam leans into it. Hums in content as a set of dark nails scratch at his ear.
“Hey, baby Bammie,” the figure sings and Jungkook knows that voice. Knows it so well that it’s hardly a surprise it’s embedded into his brain so perfectly.
And he knows.
He knows if he lets the person turn around exactly who it’s gonna be. He knows that he can’t let it happen. He won’t.
Because he and you are friends; nothing more, nothing less. Incompatible at best. A match made in hell; so wrong it could never be right.
Jungkook sits up. Shakes his head. The world in his mind tears away into darkness. He stands and tells himself to get a grip before joining his family. He needs the distraction. Needs to have cognitive thoughts. Can’t let himself get trapped. Can’t let him kid himself into thinking that you’re anything more than his friend.
It’s just cause he’s missing Bam, he reasons. Emotions are getting all mixed up. It’s the affection he feels for his beloved best friend that is getting misplaced onto you - although, if he thinks about it (which he won’t (knows better by this point (knows his mind can’t be trusted to behave))), he’d realise that you are his best friend.
It’s unfair to compare you to Bam because you’re an entirely different species, but there’s no other human he likes better than you.
One more day, and he’ll be home. One more day, and he won’t have to call you when he’s all sleepy and confused over his feelings. One more day, and things will be back to normal. One more measly day.
And then he’ll be reunited with Bam, and he won’t have the stress of family or thinking about the week of work ahead to contend with.
One more day. He can do this.
He will do it. Will barrel home at the speed of lightning; will stop only for red lights and maybe the occasional gas station snack, potato spirals on a pointed wooden skewer and deep-fried chicken slathered in a sauce he can never quite figure out the recipe for.
He’ll think about picking you up some bungeoppang - the ones filled with choux, not red bean paste - because he knows that you adore it so. There have been occasions when you’ve begged him to drive you out of the city to the large gas station out West just so you could have bungeoppang from one specific stall.
The signage is faded, and the prices haven’t changed since 2009, but that’s how you know it’s the good shit. A family recipe batter passed down for generations. The woman who makes it is always the same, and though she never remembers you, you always remember her. Beam so brightly Jungkook thinks he’s going blind whenever you spot her.
It’s only because of that one time you’d showed up with the sole mission to retrieve some of the delicious delicacies, only to be confronted with a handwritten ‘closed today, back tomorrow’ note taped to the menu. You never know when the next family emergency or trip out of town might be for your beloved bungeoppang-making Ajumma.
It’s a little after midday when Jungkook’s car rolls into the gas station. He’ll be home soon.
He tells himself that he’s just doing as he always does. Will get his tornado potato. Wolf it down. Go back for some chicken, maybe some tteok.
He’s stayed out of the annexe today. Doesn’t even think about the doorway because he knows the magnetic pull is far too strong for his cobalt heart.
Had ignored your call this morning - sorry, just saying goodbye to everyone. will see you later. - and had pushed all thoughts of you to the side. He’s even tried to stop thinking about Bam because thoughts of him will inevitably lead to thoughts of you and Jungkook is getting dizzy, quite frankly. It’s like he’s chasing his tail, never knowing when to admit defeat.
At least Bam gets enjoyment out of it when he does it. All Jungkook gets is lingering feelings of remorse.
But as he hits the home straight, a small paper bag full of choux bungeoppang cooling down on his passenger seat, his head starts to clear. He’s fixed the lock on the gate that leads to the annexe. Won’t go down that path.
Jungkook arrives ahead of schedule. Parks his car, and doesn’t tell you he’s arrived. Leaves his bag in the boot of the car, but picks up the pastries from his passenger seat.
Opens the door of his apartment quietly. You don’t hear it. Are too busy dancing around the living room with Bam to some mid-noughties classic.
“Hey,” you laugh a little breathlessly as finally notice him. He’s leaning against the wall. Is wearing his glasses, to make up for the long drive. You think it’s a crying shame he doesn’t wear them at work, too.
“Was I interrupting something?”
“No, not all,” you say. There are deep creases below your eyes, testament to the size of your smile. “Me and baby Bammie-” you reach over and stroke at his sides, a little rough and tumble, but perfectly joyous “- were just burning off a little energy before you got home.”
Jungkook crouches, arms outstretched for Bam. The puppy knocks into Jungkook’s chest, legs all moving slightly out of coordination, excitable whines sounding in his throat. His tail wags so fast you think he’d be able to produce electricity if he really tried.
They match each other’s energy; delirious happiness, content only when in one another’s presence.
“Hey buddy,” he coos. “Daddy’s home. I missed you. Missed me too, hey? C’mere.”
His strong hands stroke Bam’s sides, and you watch how playful they both are with unadulterated awe. It seems absurd how similar the two of them are; man and his best friend.
“He was lost without you,” you confirm.
“It’s that right?” Jungkook pouts as he scratches behind Bam’s ears, cradling his face in his hands. “Did Bammie miss Daddy?”
Bam barks. Yes.
“Hey, I’m sorry, boy. I’m home now, though. Daddy’s home.”
Yes, you think. Yes, he is.
The night dissolves much like Jungkook thought it would. You stay for dinner. Watch crappy entertainment shows, and laugh at how absurd people can be. There’s warmth in his apartment, even though he hasn’t turned the heating on.
“You’ll never know how much I appreciate this,” Jungkook says softly as midnight approaches. Bam sighs. There’s rain on the windows, but the storm doesn’t bother him tonight. Not in the slightest. “Thank you.”
Your head shakes. Smile perseveres. “Happy to do it. You know how much I love Bam.”
Silence wraps around your words like a velvet bow, pulled taut. There’s no double knot, but there needn’t be. It isn’t unravelling any time soon.
“So,” you change topic. “How long do you reckon it will take the new secretary to fall in love with you? I’m thinking maybe four days.”
Jungkook wants to make a joke; tease you about how your mind jumped from how much you love his dog, to the idea of loving him. Not you loving him, granted, but it only took a few electrical signals between neurons for you to get there. Must associate him with love pretty closely.
“Four days? Far too quick.” Jungkook pauses. “You’ve been staying here for four days. Reckon that’s an appropriate amount of time to fall in love with someone?”
He’s being facetious. It’s all in jest and yet you feel your heart beat a little faster. Only for a moment. There’s a mild concern in your features, fearful that he can somehow sense the thoughts you’ve been having; the fantasies, the daydreams, the moments of weakness.
You look at him with eyes he doesn’t recognise. Your lashes are low. Sultry, even. Suggestive. Teasing.
And then, they roll.
“Jeon, you have those poor girls on their knees within a single ‘hello’. Don’t act like you don’t know it, you big old flirt.”
“If Bam wasn’t so peaceful, I’d kick you,” he mumbles, stroking at the dark fur behind his pup’s ear. Bam sighs, content to have him back. There’s a smile on Jungkook’s lips. Both are perfectly content. Both are happy to be with the people they like the most in the world.
“He’d just defend me,” you taunt. There’s a serenity to your jokes, and light-hearted banter that means nothing more, nothing less than just enjoyment of one another’s company. “I’m his favourite now.”
Jungkook laughs. Scratches a little firmer behind Bam’s ear. “You hear that, boy? Gremlin really thinks you’d choose her over me.”
You pull your torso back. Turn your body to face his. Let disbelief wash over your features, as if Jungkook saying shit like that’s a surprise. The movement alerts Bam, his head lifting, the chain links of his collar rattling. He looks over to you, then back to Jungkook.
“He LOVES me.”
“I thought dogs are supposed to take after their owners, though?” Jungkook teases. “And I can’t fuckin’ stand you.”
Your playful shock dissolves into narrowed eyes and a suppressed grin. Bam’s looking at you again, so you cup his dainty face and scratch the underside of his jaw. “You hear that, baby Bammie? How are you so lovely when your Daddy is such an asshole?”
Jungkook’s steady gaze lifts to you from Bam. You’re still cooing at the puppy, scratching beneath his snout, but Jungkook’s back in that damn annexe again. He isn’t smiling - but his eyes are unbelievably soft.
So, so velvety. Like satin, maybe; ribbons tied around ponytails. Brushed cotton, perhaps; his still-warm bedsheets fresh out of the tumble dryer.
Soft, like he imagines your hair would be; released from its claw clip, falling around his face. Soft, like he imagines your lips would be; pressed against his, in the privacy of his bedroom. Soft, like he imagines your laugh would be; soundtracking the living alarm clock that is Jeon Bam, as he bundles onto Jungkook’s bed at just gone six-thirty the following morning.
But then you look up at him, and his stare is hard. Still sparkling, yes - but diamonds, not stars. Concrete speckled. Pennies tossed in an empty well; the steel bolt of his door which keeps the outside world at bay.
Hard, like he imagines your teeth would be; tugging on his bottom lip in the shadows of his bedroom. Hard, like he imagines your nails would be; leaving a trail of ruby red sin down his back. Hard, like he imagines your laboured breaths would be; lips resting ajar against his, your very essence pouring into him as he pushes into you.
Hard. Soft. Confusing and conflicting, and just so unbelievably him.
“What?” you question, bemused by the way his demeanour changed. “‘Daddy’ really gets you, huh?”
“Does fuck all for me,” he says with a little temperance, but there’s a smirk on his lips. His tongue runs along the inside of his cheek.
A few have tried the moniker on him, but it never fit well. Would fall from their lips and crash to his bedroom floor. He’d just kiss them to shut them up.
But you… You have him reconsidering. Have him a little hot beneath his sweats.
It’s not really the idea of being your Daddy, but the concept of being one full-stop that has him adjusting his legs slightly. He’s a man of big investments, after all. No greater investment than starting a life with another person. He likes the idea of it.
Makes him think of you talking with a toddler - I’m not sure, baby, go ask Daddy -and the pitter-patter of feet across the hardwood floors of his apartment. Makes him think how gentle you are with Bam, and how wonderful he knows you’d be with a kid. Makes him think all kinds of shit he’s never let himself indulge in before.
When he goes to bed that evening, and his sheets are seeped in the scent of your perfume, he thinks of it all over again.
Thinks of you.
And realises he can’t think about you without his heart racing, any more.
The door of the annexe in his mind is broken, now. Off its hinges.
