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writing-in-april · 3 years

Text

Unintentionally Unrequited

Lesley Smith-Juniment x Gender Neutral Reader

Summary: Reader tries to hold back their love for Lesley while he’s still reeling from his broken engagement.

A/N: Hey Heyyy!!!! This is my first fic for Lesley guys!!! It’s also my twenty-fourth fic for my 30 fics in 30 days for April! It’s based on this request- I had a lot of fun with it!!! (Hope I got his character right 🤞) Lol low key I might have been projecting my love of the cold in the first paragraph- im sorry to all my warm weather lovers!!! 😂 Feel free to leave an ask here (I promise I don’t bite, I swear) Thanks for reading and hope you enjoy!

Warnings: I swear three times- that’s it 🥰

Main Masterlist Word Count: 1.5k

The sun beat down hard on me, making my eyes squint and my skin hotter than I would have liked. Normally I would have been wallowing in misery as I thrived in the cold, even though I lived in Texas. That’s where my job was and that’s where Lesley was, so I swallowed up my complaints, especially now.

Lesley was grabbing our drinks, which was more of a challenge than I expected. I watched him stumble about a million times in his closed toed Birkenstocks he still insisted on wearing, kicking up streams of sand while the concession worker snickered. Instead of laughing like most I smiled brightly, finding it incredibly endearing rather than using it as a reason to make fun of him. I may have not found his closed toed Birkenstocks very fashionable, but he loved them, and I loved him.

I could only say that in my head though, he was still unequivocally in love with Summer- even though she had stomped on his heart. He had thought he found love and watched it cruelly be ripped away from him when Summer broke off their engagement. Normally with whirlwind engagements it was expected that they wouldn’t last. But, with Lesley and Summer I had really thought that they would stand the test of time. I loved him too much to break the fragile happiness he had, though it turns out someone was going to do it for me anyway.

Lesley was still holding a torch for her, I could tell by the way he got a little melancholic sometimes when he talked to me. I did my best to get his mind off of it, that’s why we were here, on this unremarkable beach.

I was glad I at least did something good when I whisked him away to the beach for a while so he wouldn’t have to see Summer or be reminded of her. I knew that eventually we’d have to go back, but it was nice to pretend in this utopia I had crafted for us for the time being, even if the beach was slightly shitty. And, I meant that literally; there was tons of uncleared bird poop everywhere. We had to find a specific spot that was somewhat secluded to find a spot not covered in it.

When he came back with our drinks, it was a little more graceful than the first time, though the worker still laughed when his back was turned, which earned him a glare from me. As we sipped on our slushies while sitting on a rickety bench by the beach, I contemplated everything that had happened in recent months. I had been by his side through it all, mostly with my eyes blown wide at how ridiculous it all was.

Six months ago we had been very different people, sure we had the same personalities and acted relatively the same. But, our experiences over the last months have changed us into different people. I still knew Lesley, better than anyone, and certainly better than Summer claimed.

It was getting too difficult to keep trapped up inside anymore, each day I chose to say nothing made it even more painful. I sucked on my staw, trying to keep it bottled up, keeping it down by the colorful ice that tasted artificially sweet. It felt like I was choking on the love, it wanted to spill out and compel me to confess even though I didn’t want to.

Before I even knew what I was saying it started to tumble out, bubbling up to the surface getting ready to explode any friendship Lesley and I had,

“I know you never will feel the same way, but I have to tell you this,” He cocked his head to the side in question, not expecting what was about to come out of my mouth next, “I love you.”

His mind had obviously short circuited going by the look on his face, jaw dropped open, eyes blown wide, and fingers shaking in shock. It took him a minute to process, frozen in the same place trying to understand what I had just said.

Not long ago he had made the same confession to someone that ultimately ended up leaving him heartbroken. I was afraid I was due for my own dose of unrequited love.

His body must have caught up with his mind as he stood up, knocking over his red colored slushy in the process, staining the sand. He was rubbing the front of his khaki shorts in panic, I grabbed them without thinking; he could hate me now and never want to touch me again.

However, he did not pull away from me, in fact he gripped my hands in a tighter hold while he also squeezed his eyes shut a few times. I opened my mouth to say something, but found myself completely choked up at Lesley’s own admission, “I love you too.”

“I thought you still loved Summer?” Tears were falling down my face, but each drop was quickly brushed to the side by my hands, not wanting to have Lesley see me cry. I had thought Summer had meant the world to him, the way he looked at her made me think that he’d never look at me the same way. I had never even thought to turn around and see if he was looking at me in the first place.

“No, I don’t she was- Never mind it doesn’t even matter. All that matters is that I love you- it’s always been you. You’re the only person who really knows me, really sees me for me.” His hands enveloped my cheeks with cold from him holding the slushy cup while he said his own confession, much more wordy than my own. With his confession heat began to bloom in my cheeks, warming up his cold hands. They were warming up from sheer embarrassment rather than the sun that was still beating down on us overhead. It seemed so silly now, to keep my love for him secret while he walked into a romance his heart wasn’t fully in.

“I’m sorry.” I meekly whispered, dipping my head down in shame.

“Why are you sorry?”

“Because I didn’t tell you…” He then tipped my head up to look at him with confidence I didn’t often see from him.

“You told me now and- that’s all that matters.” Bridging the gap that had slowly been decreasing between the two of us, surprisingly he initiated the kiss.

His lips tasted like the cherry slushy he had been drinking, mixed with the blue raspberry one I had been downing. It was a sugary sweet combo almost sickly, but all I wanted was more. I had deprived myself of the sugar I had been pining for, for so long, I didn’t care if it was somewhat overwhelming to my taste buds.

We had both been idiots, colossal idiots for not getting the nerve to open our mouths and speak up to one another. Though maybe I was the bigger idiot because I had watched him pretend to love someone else, not noticing all the looks he had probably thrown my way. I had been so convinced that he would never love me back that I let the sweetness of him be used by someone else, even though it was always meant for me. Running my fingers through his hair I pulled him even closer to me, touching him without pause or thought of the repercussions. It felt good to be free, like I was flying high up above the clouds unrestricted by my own self doubting thoughts that always tried to sabotage me.

Lesley had been kissing me back with the same amount of force as I was, not a shred of hesitation in sight as he sucked on my bottom lip. Unfortunately I had to let him go when I noticed the concession’s vendor eyeing the two of us while eating a bag of peanuts. Glaring hard again at the man I then refocused onto Lesley, and I never wanted to stop looking. He seemed disappointed at first when we seperated; he had tried to chase my lips as if that would be his first and only taste. I gave him a quick kiss on the tip of his button nose, another taste of the affection he’d be treated to as long as he’d let me give it to him. Speaking softly I then expanded on my confession from earlier, “I promise there’ll be more where that came from- I love you and I never want to let you go.”

He looked down at our intertwined fingers still with shock, he brought them up to his lips, giving his own affection to the tops of my hands with two sweet pecks. “I love you too.” He then mumbled into our palms, giving them one last peck before releasing them.

Tugging his hands I then walked backwards towards our shitty hotel rooms that matched the shitty beach, though I wouldn’t be separating from him once we reached mine. “Come on let’s go.” I said with another tug before breaking out into a run with him right behind, ready to start our adventure of requited love.

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guudak · 4 years

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andante, andante

pairing: jungkook / oc genre + tags: college au, f2l, alcohol, pining word count: 7,522 The aftermath of your best friend singing that ABBA song, clumsily flirting with you and then drunkenly professing his love to you multiple times in the same night.

“Is he ok? Namjoon, what’s he doing?”

“He’s severely hungover,” he explains to you, propping an arm on the windowsill. His hand gestures. “This is his remedy.”

You look out the window again, overseeing the frat’s backyard, and down below at the deck - is the person you sought. The gales shake the trees, you can hear it howl, and not to mention the downpour of rain that had you soaked to the skin through your jeans between your sprint from the bus stop to here. You look back at Namjoon, disbelieved. “What, sitting in a hot tub outside in the middle of a hale storm?”

“Erm, well, not the storm bit. That was just unfortunate. Sitting meditatively in a hot tub though, yeah. He does that a lot, moreso when he has something on his mind.” He peeps a discreet eye at you while you claim a seat on the ledge. Your arms cross, huddling your oversized cardigan over yourself as you glance back at the mop of matted black hair on the deck. Jungkook is sitting very still, laying back, eyes closed and his neck craning upwards towards the gloomy sky. A breath of air expels from your nose when you imagine how cold the rain must be.

“I really wanted to talk to him in person … I don’t know, do you think I should have waited a few days?” You turn to Namjoon who shakes his head.

“It’s good you came here. I think it would have left him to assume the worst and overthink otherwise, and you know what he’s like - better to confront him sooner than later. He’s been in a kind of sad, mopey daze since this morning.”

Your lips purse together as you mull this over. “I don’t necessarily want to confront him about it now, not if he doesn’t want to yet. I just want to see him and … make sure he’s ok. Because you know, that … overthinking thing he does.”

The upward lift of Namjoon’s lips is soft, the same kind of softness that’s perceptible in his eyes. The look reminds you of Jungkook’s own gentle demeanour. “I think seeing you here will disorient him a litte, but I think deep down he’ll be relieved. ”

He invites you to sit in the warmth of the lounge downstairs while you wait. The house of Beta Tau Sigma is cosy, and your favourite visits are always during the winter period when they’d decorate the interior, reminding you very much of the setting of a classic Christmas movie. Alas, however, it isn’t winter, and there are still strewn cups around and a broken lamp on the table in front of you; consequence of the party they hosted the previous night.

You’re surprised Jungkook remembers. He’d been so far-gone yesterday, yet you woke up this morning to four successive texts from him -

i’m sorry

im so so sorry.

can we talk

please

You’d thought over a tactful reply; taking into mind Jungkook: despite the calm, rational front he has - is emotional, an individual with a soul as sensitive as they come. You had to be careful with what you said, but soon after aborted all efforts when you’d found yourself backspacing each time. You prefer face-to-face conversation, and for something like this - you couldn’t possibly venture any other approach that would be befitting. For anyone else, perhaps. But Jungkook isn’t just someone else. He’s your best friend.

You check the text in reply that you’d left for him from two hours ago, which is still left unread.

hi jungkook i’d love to talk

are u ok

Sleeping it over had dulled the shock from the night before, as hearing it from him had been a double whammy for both your head and heart. You hadn’t known what to think, hadn’t known what to say.

In his tastefully tipsy state he’d been very happy. The chirpy go-lucky sort of happy that made you coo. Tipsy Jungkook is sweet and endearing, more affectionate and made it his mission to pull you with him to the karaoke machine. You’d been friends with him long enough to know that he could sing. He’s a soft singer; has a voice that could be lullaby to late sleepy evenings, it’s one you’d heard snippets of because he did it without conscious thought; he hummed in the car, while waiting in line - one of his many mannerisms that makes clear when he’s in his head.

“ABBA? Good choice,” you’d commented, after he jabbed the numbers on the remote. He budged over so you could sit beside him on the armchair. So cramped and close that you moved to drape your leg over one of his, and he welcomed it. “Not their most popular song, but definitely one of their most soulful. That’s a good one, it’s one of my favourites,” and then he stilled.

At the cease of his movements, you’d found your spine straightening just slightly, as if on guard, but for what you hadn’t been sure. You were about to ask him if he was ok, only to be taking the brunt of his bright puppy eyes that smile at you.

“Me too,” he’d said, with that characteristic gentleness shining in his orbs.

A few hours later, he’d morphed from sweet boy-next-door with the angel voice to himbo football jock slash and quote “pussy-whisperer,” courtesy and words verbatim of Park Jimin, who vibed with Jock Jungkook like a long lost brother.

The amount of girls that suddenly flocked to him and sat on his lap had you reeling in hysterics to the extent that you had to bury your face in Hoseok’s shoulder. Even when Jungkook’s on the football team, you’d never thought of him once as a jock. Didn’t they say all jocks are athletes, but not all athletes are jocks? He’d never lived up to the greasy college stereotype. Turned out maybe some alcohol was missing in the mix. Was this what you were missing? Who knew he had it in him?

“How many have you had, man?” Hoseok had asked, and Jungkook grinned, mouth lop-sided, before then thwacking him solidly on the back.

“I’m good, thanks for asking, man.”

“That wasn’t what I - ok,” Hoseok winced, clutching at his shoulder blade, and exchanging a bemused look at you.

You were alert to the sliding gaze of Jungkook on you. He slid into the chair close beside you, and you propped your elbow onto the counter. Head resting in your palm, you’d anticipated it.

“Hey, cutie.”

And there it was.

Your mouth twitched during your attempt to stifle your laugh, but you were eager to play along. You straightened, not shy to look him direct in the eyes, even when his own wandered to your midriff. “Hey.”

A moment’s pause, before he let out a wistful sigh.

“Holy shit, I love your boobs.”

Hoseok spat into his cup, a succession of coughs after.

“No, I’m just saying, from a non-biased, impersonal point of view …” He made a vague, rounded motion in the air with his hands, “- they’re really nice. I’m saying this objectively.”

“Objectively,” Hoseok wheezed. You aimed a calculated kick at his ankle.

“Thanks! They’re not much but they’re cute, I grew them all by myself.”

Jungkook hummed in acknowledgement, a critical eye on you and his head bobbing solemnly. “You did a good job.”

“Oh my God,” Hoseok was crying; head ducked, full-blown tears of laughter, ears pink and slapping the countertop. “I’m not drunk enough for this.”

“Yours are pretty neat, too,” you told him.

He looked down at the outline of his chest. “You think so? I’ve been working out but they could do with a bit more volume.”

Hoseok was doubling over, desperate to leave but at the same time rooted to the spot, thumping his chest to stop himself from choking. “I can’t take this anymore. I’m gonna die if I stay any longer. See you, guys.”

He left, leaving you alone with Jungkook and a few others in the kitchen. “You alright?” you asked, and he nodded again, smiling tiredly and head lolling a little to the side.

“Did you like the song I sang for you earlier?”

“You sang it for me? How sweet of you,” you cooed, cuddling up to his side. “You know, if you wanted to touch my boobs, if you asked I think I’d be ok with that.”

He seemed hesitant. “You’re bullshitting.”

“Ok, maybe I am a little,” you chuckled, feeling the rumble resonating from his chest.

“Seriously,” he murmured, and for a millisecond, you swore you detected the tone of the Jungkook - not this Jungkook who was a confident force, but the one you were most familiar with, “I think I’d -”

Jimin’s voice boomed above the stereo, “Jungkook! It’s your turn! Get your ass back here!”

A heavy sigh was drawn out from him as he slid his chair back. Though, he waited for you to lift your head from his chest before doing so.

“See you.” He winked at you before following Jimin’s ongoing calls. Though, more of a wink and a half. He never could wink properly with just one eye, both had to be involved.

Then came the finale.

The most recent drunken Jungkook phase - one you’d never witnessed beforehand. If there was anything you could have concluded, it was that beyond his sober level-headed exterior, he must have a lot of pent up anger. Jungkook in drunken phase three transitioned between a three colour spectrum of moods and you’d barely caught up.

Exhibit one -

“The ocean is so important!” he cried, literally cried as he began bumbling about blue whales and the sheer plastic in the ocean, morosed how the first piece of plastic ever produced still hadn’t decomposed.

It was no help that Namjoon enthusiastically joined in - the fucking nerds, until Jungkook started bawling and knocked back the salt shaker on the countertop mistaking it for a shot of tequila.

You’d panicked and dragged him to the nearest bathroom to wash it out of his eyes. The seconds that followed afterwards, was you rubbing his back while he sobbed and puked the hearty contents of his stomach into the toilet.

Exhibit two -

“If any dude is giving you a hard time, chances are - you’re hotter than them. And on top of that, they made you cry, making you a better person than them!” he proclaimed. Once you’d helped him clean up, he’d bumped into Ola - a girl you recalled was in his media class, and was crying outside of the door of the bathroom you and Jungkook had been in.

She’d sniffled her way through a story about a boy she’d been talking to for six months, and Jungkook was as revved up as his ocean speech while he pep-talked her about how heartless the guy was; that he gave good guys a bad rep; and that she simply deserved better. Of course, you’d agreed with him. It sounded all too familiar to something you’d said in the past, though who could blame him for adopting your mannerism of speech when he’d spent so much time with you?

Exhibit three -

“Hey, Chad! Why the fuck do you hate poor people?!”

You were mortified. “Jungkook! Literally, where did you get that conclusion from?!”

“He plays lacrosse and owns a golf cart!”

You groaned, yanking at his arm away from Chad - captain of the boys’ lacrosse team, and who’d also fortunately passed out on the couch, otherwise Jungkook for sure would have had his face beat in. Though, you’d like to think that Jungkook would win, for sure, but you promised sober Jungkook that you’d take care of drunk Jungkook.

So that was that.

By now you’d contracted a stress-induced migraine, by which your own best friend was accountable for. And you thought - by God, did he have to deal with this every time you went to a party together while you’d run rampant? This had been an eye-opener, and you should definitely be considerate next time because drunk people were babies, and not in the cute way either.

And finally: exhibit four.

“Hey.”

You endured all the pet names, had endured being called the Apple of his Eye, Angel Face, and his Compass Star, because flirty Jungkook had been throwing pet names around all night. You’d seen and heard it yourself. But nothing would have prepared you for what he’d say next.

You glanced at him, just a second to look away from your phone screen. “Yeah?”

His eyes drooped, form slouched, and head atop his folded arms on the countertop. It was just after midnight, and the kitchen was a quiet lull, besides you and Jungkook who were sitting together; and then there was Jimin and Taehyung, and Seokjin by the sink in their own private conversation … and whatever it was that Taehyung was doing. Admittedly you hadn’t been paying much heed nor did you endeavour to find out.

Body curling into himself; Jungkook looked so much smaller than when he stood to his full stature.

“I’ve got it bad,” he mumbled, wistfully, “real bad. So bad - I’m doomed bad. End of the fucking world baaad.”

Your hands rubbed at his nape, tender fingers toying with the longer hairs there. He’d been growing it out, and he looked good. You tucked a tuft of hair behind his ear. “What makes you think that?”

Again - the glossy puppy eyes that gazed up, contemplating you like you’d fallen from heaven.

His smile was meek, as shy as the drawling voice that spoke, “I … I really think you’re my soulmate. I don’t like saying it too much but I … like, love love you, but we’re only best friends. Someday you’ll date for real - instead of flings, I’d have to accept it. I don’t think I’ll be ok, but I will be, jus’ will take time to get over you. Have done it a few times before. I’ll be ok.”

Your hand stilled, fingers still tangled in his locks.

Rendered motionless, like air had been punched out of you from the stomach, unable to bring yourself to salvage the words. Breathless, all you could bring yourself to do was to weakly call his name.

He hadn’t heard you, and he yawned, leaning into your touch. His body trembled with his giggles. “One time, you were sooo drunk. You were so drunk, don’t think you remembered - blacked out. You flirted with me that whole evening. After that … after that I became obsessed with you forever.”

It was with a sinking stomach when you’d realised that you couldn’t recall that night at all.

Gulping, you peered down at the mop of tangled hair on the countertop, wishing for nothing else but to properly see his face, but it was half-hidden where he’d snuggled into his arms.

“Jungkook?” you whispered, gently moving away the hair that flopped over his eyes. “Jungkook?’

No reply. Just steady, heavy breathing.

No reply, because he’d fallen asleep.

It’s a splitting headache that rouses Jungkook from heavy sleep. One of those slumbers where he wakes up groggy, as if he hasn’t rested at all despite it being hours since. He tries to get up, but to no avail. His limbs are leaden heavy, and he collapses back onto his bed within seconds of mustering the strength to hoist himself up.

There are a series of knocks on the door but what’s the point of knocking when Jimin barges in anyway. He snickers seeing Jungkook: a sad, spectacular heap on the bed with a bitching hangover to boot.

“Oh, how the mighty have fallen.”

“Shut up,” Jungkook drawls, barely recognising the cadence of his own voice. He throws an arm over his face, brow tightening as he shuts his eyes to recall anything that happened hours prior, but even that’s too much of a Herculean effort that his brain isn’t willing to commit to at nine in the morning. Hangovers are not worth the night before for this - this is a different kind of hell.

Jimin places a glass and a jug of water on his bedside table. “Good morning to you too, sunshine.”

“Thanks,” he replies. He at least has enough strength to reach for the glass. When he sits up a hand goes instantly to knock against his temple, as if it would stop whatever invisible vice it is that’s squeezing and hammering at his brain from all directions. He notices Jimin’s narrowing scrutiny on him.

“You remember anything from yesterday?”

“Honestly, not really. Just some bits here and there.”

“Blacked out, huh.” If Jimin hesitated it’s only for a split second, he stuffs a hand into his hoodie pocket for his phone. “There’s something I wanna show you. Not sure if you’re gonna like it much.”

“Can’t be that bad,” he says, but Jimin proffers a look, and Jungkook frowns. “... Right?”

Jimin licks his teeth in a way that makes Jungkook’s stomach drop just slightly.

“Famous last words, bud,” is all he replies.

The slide of the back doors from the kitchen is what jerks your head up, followed by the sound of feet pattering on tiles. Suddenly, there’s a rise of anxiousness. Until you drum into your head that, no , this is nothing for you to be anxious about. There are the natural nerves budding that stem from confrontation, and you think this may be it.

Towel around his shoulders and dampened hair swept back, Jungkook doesn’t notice you at first when he appears by the doorway. He walks, gazes ahead like his legs are functioning on autopilot - but when he does notice you, he could have skidded. The way he halts and how his body almost springs backwards into the kitchen as soon as he sees your form huddled on one end of the couch, and how Basil - the frat’s cat, is curled by your lap, peacefully asleep and indulging in the soft stroke of your knuckles on his head.

His expression mirrors a man who wants so desperately to sink into the floorboards. Or to dash back into the hale storm and fully immerse himself head to toe into the hot tub’s waters and never surface again.

The first few seconds of silence is heavy. As if you’re both still trying to process the presence of the other. It’s an uncomfortable silence you’re not accustomed to when with Jungkook. He’s always leaned more to the quiet side of the spectrum; introverted, introspective. But silences had always been comfortable, even when you two clashed.

You endeavour for eye contact but he’s suddenly so transfixed on a shadow upon the wood flooring.

“Hey,” you begin, quietly, like the walls are listening in on you. It’s enough gentle encouragement for him to peer up. He hides his hangover well but the mirth, the glint; the starry eyedness that reflected in his orbs from the night before is absent, and no amount of hot tub therapy could conceal the physical and mental exhaustion.

“Hey.” He sounds almost breathless, smothers the tremor in his voice with a cough. “You’re … you’re soaked.”

“So are you.” Your tone is apologetic, “Sorry I came on short notice, I messaged you but I don’t think you saw it.”

He winces. “Right - sorry. My phone died. Haven’t checked it since.”

You muster a small smile. “I thought as much.”

Another breath. Another nervous lilt in his voice. “I’m sorry. Not just the phone thing but everything I said to you last night.”

You sigh. “Don’t be. It’s just … I’m surprised you remember what you said.”

He takes a breath, bicep flexing when he rubs anxiously at his nape. “I don’t,” he admits. “Jimin told me. It’s in this video he took last night of Taehyung eating cake off the floor, you could hear my voice in the background.”

“Ah. That explains it.” Your lips pursed. “Did you mean what you said?”

His eyes round and flash to yours. He chews his lip, throws a glance at his feet. “... Yeah,” he whispers.

“Not just the alcohol talking?”

“No.”

You’re quiet, continuing to stroke Basil who’s still fast asleep beside you.

“Sor—“

“Stop apologising,” you snap. You didn’t mean to, but his shoulders tense, and it makes you wallow in guilt that only he out of everyone has been able to make you feel. You haven’t thought this through and now you’re here you’re saying all the wrong things and asking all the wrong questions. But you remember it’s him, and recollect yourself. “Jungkook - it’s just … it’s just a lot to unpack.”

You peer up, his nod is slow, but he gets it.

He’s tired, you see it clear as day. See it in the trudge of his walk, the dim in his eyes, and neither of you talk on the way up. Not until you reach his room.

Despite your protests, he insists you help yourself to his draws for a spare change of dry clothes. It’s with that thought when you realise you still have yet to return several shirts to him with the promise of them all being washed and folded; washed and folded they are, but you never have been great at remembering to give them back. Putting it into perspective - maybe it is a little weird. Weird for two people who fall under the label of best friends. But then again you borrowed clothes from your own roommates all the time to the point you sometimes forgot whose is whose. It isn’t weird. Right?

While Jungkook goes for a brisk shower, you peel off your soaked clothes, hang them over a spot on his clothes rack. His room is mostly devoid of personal touch, though there are a few photos of his high school football days and some of him and his friends pinned to a board. Otherwise, he’s never had much interest for interior decoration, but he likes his room clean and uncluttered.

There’s a knock on the door a few minutes later. “Are you …?”

“Yeah,” you say. “I’m done.”

The door cracks open, and Jungkook appears, adorned in another change of clothes. His hair is still damp, fluffed at the patches that have managed to dry and his cheeks are pink from the heat of the shower, but he’s less rugged than earlier. Still tired, though. So tired that you don’t question it when he makes a beeline for his unmade bed and collapses face-first into his pillow. You perch on the edge, pulling his duvet over him.

He wriggles closer to the wall, like he’s making more room for you to sit. You appreciate the gesture and shuffle closer. Outside, the wind still howls.

“You should dry your hair properly,” you murmur, fingers at the damp ends of his nape.

“Yeah … prob’ly should,” he sighs, muffled where his mouth is buried in his pillow.

You came here to talk about yesterday night, but maybe it’s a conversation for another time. You out of everyone should know how strenuous it is to have a heart-to-heart while being victim to a hangover that gives you the same capacity as someone half-dead.

You’re staring blankly at the wall, so occupied with the whistle of the winds, so lost in the strands between your fingertips - that when you peer down you’re met with half-open shining eyes, and a lazy blinking gaze directed upwards at your face.

“Yes?”

“Nothing,” he murmurs, like clockwork, and buries half his face again into the plush of his pillow. It’s enough time for you to catch the shy tilt of his lips before they hid again. It’s almost ironic, how you’re the one next to him while he nurses a hangover when it’s always been the other way round. Here, he’s so vulnerable. Your mind wanders to the possibility - what if it was the other way around? An alternate universe where it was you who serenaded Jungkook with karaoke and confessed.

In whatever reality, you imagine him to confront you in the way you did now. Perhaps approached it a little differently, would perhaps be a little gentler, but he would never give you the cold shoulder.

For now, you both pretend there’s been no drunken confession. Best friends, like how it’s always been, and you’ll discuss it all when the time comes.

At some point you’re lowering yourself next to him; your head on the same pillow, and your bodies beneath the same blanket. He’s warm.

And it’s peaceful, as comfortable as it always has been.

“Oh my God, where the hell’s your shirt? I haven’t seen you swim once so far,” you scoff, and Hoseok pulls a sour face.

“You’re talking big for being the one in the string bikini.”

You look at him in disbelief. “Yeah, but I actually used the pool?”

“Scooch over, babe.”

Your eyes roll skyward as he plops beside you on the loveseat. It’s another weekend, another frat, another party, another excuse for Hoseok to walk around without a shirt because there’s a pool. Correction: a further excuse for hoards of frat boys to walk around without a shirt, but at this point you’re desensitised to it.

The music booms, a dull vibration you feel through the ground.

Kappa Omega is infamous for their extravagant parties (at least, as extravagant as college parties can go). Compared to others it’s vastly over-the-top, with most of the guys getting in through connections just like how their college applications got past admissions, but it is what it is. They’re not all bad people, they hold parties for fundraisers but sometimes it can’t be helped not to feel sour when you see what they blow their money on. The Kappa Omega mansion is so big that you’d spent a good portion of the beginning of the night lost.

“Lucky bastards,” Hoseok mutters. He’s said that several times this evening. He’s only here for the booze and the cheese tray. He pops open another beer, chucks the bottle opener onto the low table in front of him, besides the cheese tray he stole from the kitchen. “Which frat party was it again when you blacked out and dived into the pool fully clothed? I can’t remember anymore.”

“We don’t talk about that, thanks,” you utter, wrapping your long cardigan tighter around your torso. “Have you by chance seen Jungkook around? I thought he’d be here by now.”

He looks up, mid-way from tipping back his beer. “Yeah, I saw him some time ago.”

“What, where?”

“Sat with some food by himself somewhere.” His arm gestures vaguely. “He looked a little sad. You know, in signature Jungkook fashion, you know how he gets sometimes.”

Your form slumps. “Right,” you murmur. It’s been over two weeks since the last time you saw him. Not that it’s unprecedented. He has football among other commitments that strung him away for days and sometimes weeks at a time, and you had your own as well.

Be that as it may, somehow it feels like the both of you are drawing the whole thing out. Not purposely, but definitely unnecessarily. Neither of you brought it up in your messages to each other either, and it hit you recently that, well - you miss him. You’ve seen him around campus, but never for too long. Nothing more than fleeting sightings of him and his disheveled hair in a half-pony while he rushes to class after football practice; a hand usually holding onto a snack while the other held onto the strap of his half-open duffel bag, but you only had time to exchange a wave and a look that held promise of your next meeting. The fact remains that you miss your best friend, and it would kill you for your friendship to be awkward because of what happened. You had every intention to talk to him tonight in person, and no dallying or delays this time.

Hoseok’s eyes squint your way. “What’s going on between you guys, anyway. You guys a thing or what?”

You sigh, “That’s the thing, I have no idea yet.”

“Yet.” His lips purse, contemplating you. “He really likes you, you know. So, like, go easy on him.”

Your eyes narrow. “How long have you known, then?”

“As if it was hard,” he scoffs, sitting back. “Guy wears his heart on his sleeve. You have to be thick as a brick not to notice.”

“Wow. Thanks,” you deadpan.

He stabs his fork into the blue cheese. “You know why him and Yerim broke up?”

“Oh no,” you morose, frowning, “don’t tell me it was because of me. I talked to her after they broke it off and she said it wasn’t.”

“Not entirely. But I think she was bending the truth a little so that you wouldn’t berate Jungkook about it. She’s a cool girl, really nice and a good sport. Knew you two were close and accepted that like a champ. But -” and he pauses for emphasis. A pause which is seconds too long, and then finally he puts his fork down, clutches one of your hands in both of his, and waits for you until you’re hanging on to his every breath while he chews and swallows the remaining in his mouth. He resumes, brightly, “it’s not my story to tell. So you better go and find him.”

You shove him. Harder this time - enough that he topples over, and he cackles obnoxiously.

“Prick,” you laugh, but rise to your feet. Your gaze spans the backyard, the pool. You spot a hot tub, but it’s filled with other students who are laughing and raucous.

“Ok, I’m going,” you announce, glancing at Hoseok who’s still very much captivated by the cheese tray before him. It does look really good. “See you in a bit.”

“Yeah, yeah, bye.”

The problem with knowing so many people, and having the same friends as those people - is that in situations where you try to pull yourself away from yet another drinking game you’re taken by the elbow by someone else. Having all of your mutual friends congregated in one domain that is the Kappa Omega House has made your search for the ever-elusive Jeon Jungkook a grand Pain in the Ass. He’s like gold dust. You’ve texted him but you’ve yet to receive a reply.

“Hey, have you seen Jungkook?”

“I saw him at the front porch a few minutes ago?”

“... Seriously? I’ve literally just been there.”

You even scrambled over a balcony and leaped over a hedge when you tried to get away from Chad’s third invitation to join the game of chicken fight in the pool (a parkour stunt that you like to think would put Peter Parker to shame). You give yourself a quiet moment to catch your breath.

It’s then you realise you’re in a part of the backyard you swear you haven’t been in before. You can presuppose why. It’s dimly lit, less people, and the boom of the stereo is still loud, but is more of a distant noise in comparison to the other parts of the house you’ve been in. Like what the hell, how big is this place?

“Sooo, you’ve found him yet or what?”

You hear the voice before you see the face.

Unbelievable. So you cross paths with shirtless Hoseok for the third time and yet haven’t so much as had a hair’s glimpse of Jungkook.

“Nope,” you reply, quite miserably, hands stuffing into your cardigan’s large pockets. You feel for your phone. He still hasn’t seen your message. At this point you’re one teetering step away from letting go of the remaining wisps of your dignity and yell his name through a megaphone with a hope he'll come to you instead … you’ve probably done that while drunk before but you’re nowhere near tipsy now, and that’s besides the point.

Behind you, Hoseok hums, quite serene. When you look back you see he’s lowered his back onto the grass, his eyelids shut.

Eyes scanning this part of the backyard, it’s a different ambience to the atmosphere by the pool. More relaxed. There are students either sat or lying on the grass in small groups, their conversations a low murmur with the occasional twinkling sound of someone’s laughter rising above it. There’s a slabbed stone pathway that leads further up the grass, which then disappears behind a tall row of hedges, and with that you find yourself on your feet again.

“As much as it pains me to leave, there’s only so much of you I can take in one evening before I go crazy,” you tell Hoseok, who’s unbothered reply is no more than a lazy thumbs up from his spot on the grass.

It gets darker the further away you are from the house, but you’re led by the quiet warm-white glow of the lawn lights that highlight the path. It calms your mind to a lull that puts you at peace, something you desperately sought after your hopeless goose-chase just minutes prior.

The waters of a hot tub glow blue up ahead. You skid to a stop when you come closer and see someone’s in there; shoulders immersed and their head just above the water’s surface. What’s the phrase? When you stop looking for something, it finds you? That’s probably not how it goes, but it doesn’t matter. After futile searching, hedge jumping and greasy frat boy dodging, you finally found him. Of course he’d be in a place like this.

His eyes are dazed, mesmerised by the ripples in the water that his smallest movements create. He hasn’t yet noticed you coming.

You pad closer. “... Jungkook?” and like a switch, his spine straightens, goes rigid as a ramrod at your voice. He’s blinking, head shaking side to side as if to snap himself out of the trance that clouds his head.

“I’ve been looking for you everywhere,” you exasperate.

He blinks. “You … you have?”

You scoff, amused at the way his brows knit. “Yeah,” you sigh, stopping so your forearms can lean on the sides of the tub. “May I join you?”

After a beat of hesitation - “Of course you can.”

You shrug your long oversized cardigan off of your shoulders, and double check that your phone is still in the pocket before you chuck it in a heap on the bench. You secure your footing on the step, eyes intercepting his own. His Adam's apple bobs when the rest of your body comes into view, and you shiver at the breeze but warmth engulfs you the second you’re in contact with the bubbling water.

“Feels good?” he asks, and you sigh contentedly, leaning back.

“Yeah.” If you really wanted to, you could fall asleep right here, right now. “What is it with you and hot tubs? Always knew you had a thing for them but never asked specifically why. Or does it just feel good?”

“Mainly that. The guys on my team use the excuse that it breaks up the lactic acid in your muscles after training, but it just feels good when you’re sore.”

“Huh.” When you crack an eye open, he’s already looking at you.

His lips purse. “Did you want to talk?” and when you nod he sighs, wearily. “I wanted to, honestly. But I … I guess I never felt ready to hear what you’re going to say.”

You frown. “What do you think I’m going to say?”

“I don’t know. That you don’t feel that way about me, which I’m fine with. I was never meant to let it slip, but I ended up saying all the things I didn’t want you to hear yet. And while I was drunk, of all things.”

You consider this, broach your tone carefully. “Were you ever going to tell me?”

His eyes avert to the water. “... Eventually. It would have been after graduation. No step three beyond telling you, no secret ploy to get you to fall in love with me, I only would have wanted you to know how I felt. I’d leave you alone and we’d finally move on with our lives. And what better timing than after graduation? But that’s not how it turned out, did it?” He laughs, but it’s with rueful discomfort.

“How long?”

He exhales. “A while.”

“I see.” You think hard for a second. “Even when you were with Yerim?”

He gnaws on his bottom lip, but you can tell he’s honest when he replies with, “Yeah. But I never pretended she was you.”

“Of course you didn’t, you’re not that type of person.”

At last, he does smile at that, and seeing the tilt of his mouth settles a warmth in your heart.

Part of you wants to ask what happened between him and Yerim, but you think perhaps it’s for the best you don’t know, at least now. It’s not your business nor his obligation to tell you.

Before you could dwell too much on your oncoming words, you continue barging forward or you’ll chicken out from what you’re going to say next.

“Jungkook,” you begin. “What if I said yes?”

A pause.

“What do you mean?”

“If you asked me out, and I said yes.”

He’s so bewildered he looks as if he’s just been slapped. Suddenly, something more serious shadows his features. “You know I’d never want you to date me just because. I’m fine with rejection, seriously, I’ll get over it. But I don’t want you to settle for less than what you want. You deserve someone you want, and if I’m not that person, that’s fine. You deserve -”

“Last time I checked, you don’t get a say on what it is that I do and don’t deserve. Who I deserve is for me to decide, so stop cutting yourself so short because you’re more decent than most of the guys I know.”

He shifts, looks away. “So what are you saying?”

“Should we try it?”

“What if it doesn’t work out?”

“Then it doesn’t work out,” you say, simply.

“But then it’ll be awkward.”

“You telling me that you became obsessed with me after I flirted with you for one evening while I was drunk already made it awkward. Not like we have anything else to lose.”

A breath of air expels from his nose in a chuckle. “Oh, ouch.”

“Jungkook,” you sigh. “It’s so easy to be around you. If it doesn’t work out, then it doesn’t work out, but how are we supposed to know how it’s going to turn out if we don’t even give it a chance? It’s going to be awkward either way but we’ll figure it out. Like with all the other crap we’ve gone through. I’ve been with enough guys to know that guys like you come far and few between, I trust you enough to want to do this. You’re one of those few guys I know I can trust, alongside Hoseok. Even though he can be a real bitch sometimes.”

Jungkook doesn’t rebuke you, but he laughs. It’s a sound you’ve never been more relieved to hear.

“So what do you think? I don’t want to force you into it. If you don’t want this, I’m fine with it. If you do, I’m fine with that too. Everything on my end is fine, so what about yours?”

If him confessing happened a year, or maybe two years earlier, you don’t think you would have confronted it in the way that you’d done now. You understand why Jungkook wanted to bide his time. You’re stubborn, fiery, and don’t think things through in the way that Jungkook does. If this happened two years ago, you can imagine you’d have yelled at him on impulse, asking him why, why he let it happen.

But there’s a very particular fondness you’ve honed for your best friend that has unfurled in the years of your friendship, to the point you couldn’t possibly imagine yourself putting blame on him for his feelings. It seems being friends with him has really mellowed you. While Hoseok is the friend you’re most similar to, your other pea-in-the-pod, Jungkook is the friend who balances you out. Someone so different to you, yet someone who still knows what makes you tick.

He’s a friend who doesn’t judge, but yet is always first to call you out whenever you’re out of line. A friend who waits until you’re inside of your dorm building before driving away. The type of guy who pays for dinner and doesn’t expect you to pay him back. A friend who makes sure you’re back home safely when you’re drunk, puts a glass of water next to you and watches over you to make sure you don’t choke on your vomit in your sleep.

Finally, after careful consideration, he nods. He nods, finally.

“So we’re doing this then.” You crack a smile, and he finds it difficult to suppress his own.

“Yeah,” he whispers. “Yeah, I guess we are.”

With an unchanging temper, as still and as serene as waters below the turbulent surface - Jungkook is your anchor, he always has been. The anchor that tethers your feet to the earth when the elements threaten to topple you over.

In the blue glow, you shuffle closer forward on your knees.

“Can I kiss you?” you murmur, and he chokes on his saliva, spluttering. You smile sheepishly. “Sorry it’s weird, you don’t have to let me if that’s going too fast. I just … I want to see what it feels like.”

He hesitates. “Are you sure?”

“Pretty sure.”

He mulls it over, but it doesn’t take much thinking. He stares at you, hard. But then you disrupt the stillness with a disarming smile, and unable to resist, he beckons you over. “Come here.”

It’s odd to straddle his lap at first. In the same way it is when you’re getting on a bike for the first time or any kind of first. He doesn’t make any first move, it’s you who he waits to initiate.

The path of your fingers trail slowly upwards, until they’re splayed against his chest. They remain there, and you detect the quick pattering of his heart, the rise of his chest. His breaths are deep but they’re controlled, and he feels sturdy beneath you.

Jungkook is stupid handsome, with the body to match. But that’s not what swells your heart. It’s not what pushes you to move further forward in his lap and finally press your mouth to the seam of his lips before you could think twice.

It’s how tenderly he gazes up at you. With the same sincerity and adoration he’d shown the night he’d confessed drunk. His eyes, an opening to his soul which is a whole other wonder.

When was the last time someone looked at you like that?

The kiss is soft. No sparks, no butterflies on your end - not yet, but somehow it still feels right. Like missing pieces that have finally fallen into place. Warmth and love spills from him. It saturates your body to the very tips of your ears, all the way down to your toes, like a slow, spreading glow. It feels good.

When shy pecks don’t become enough anymore, you get needy, touching and grasping for more of him. His palms press against your lower back, massaging the skin there, and eventually your mouth parts pliant for him.

“Oh,” he croaks, his head leaning forward so his cheek brushes yours. You can’t see his eyes, and you attempt to move but he curtains the planes of his face with his hair.

“What’s wrong?” you ask, having to strain to catch his whisper.

“I’m embarrassed.”

You chuckle, warmth spreading from the spot on your ear that his lips hover over. “How come?”

“Like, there are probably bricks softer than my dick right now. And … I really, really don’t wanna jizz my pants in a Kappa Omega hot tub. I would have hit my lowest point in life if I do.”

“Oh my God.” You’re almost crying, shoulders shaking with how hard you’re laughing.

“Please, I’m so serious right now. I’d never be able to redeem myself.”

“Would jizzing in an obscenely expensive hot tub be so bad?”

“Yes,” he emphasises. “Really bad, actually. Have you heard of that guy who ejaculated in a swimming pool and accidentally got twenty girls pregnant?”

“That sounds like fake news. There’s no way. Sperm aren’t homing torpedoes, Jungkook. They’d be unviable as soon as they’d be in the water. But if you want me to move back, I’ll move back.”

His face is taut, like he’s trying so hard. “Yes, please.” His eyes go stern, but there’s a nervous jitter you feel with the skin beneath your fingertips. “And just because I think it’s worth mentioning, I don’t think we should have sex straight away.”

“Oh. Right. I see,” you deadpan.

It’s his turn to cackle at the dead-set, disappointed look on your face. “What’s with that?”

Your eyes roll. “You know I’m kidding.” You brush the hair out from his eyes. “Jungkook, will you wait for me?”

His expression softens, and he hoists you until you’re pressed impossibly closer.

“Of course I will. However long it needs to be.”

a/n: when jk says you flirted with me the whole night and i became obsessed w you forever, yea that was from b99

originally posted on ao3! thx for reading!!! <33

#jungkook scenarios #jungkook fanfic #jungkook fluff #jungkook imagine #jungkook x reader

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