and if you let me;; jjk
pairing: non idol!coworker jungkook x reader
word count: 1.9k
rating: teens & up!
genre: romance & fluff, cheesy confession, jungkook is a nervous guy in luv, also is silly, dorky, sweet, etc. (all the adjectives!)
summary: it was your last day at work and jungkook, who has a big fat crush on you, throws a going away party before you go.
notes: there's hardly any plot lmao it's just a hit of dopamine/feels i guess HAHAHAH :) i love him so much and my feelings are at an all-time high with the new gcf that came out!!
this is for nei (@melancholy-of-nadia)!!! luv u!!
© jungkook97 2023. do not repost or modify. please ask for permission to translate.
Jungkook was annoyed. Very annoyed.
As you howled in laughter at Hoseok’s antics, Jeon Jungkook was in his little corner, crossing his arms and shaking his head.
It wasn’t that he was jealous. In fact, Jungkook was pretty confident and had somewhat normal self-esteem levels, but he felt like he was running out of time.
Running out of time for what, you ask? Confessing his love to you.
It was an open secret on the office floor that Jungkook had the biggest and loudest crush on you, making it real clear to all the guys in the office that you were the love of his life (on the clock, anyway). He liked people who were great at their jobs, and you were, to say the least, great at it. As your new boss and your guys’ boss fought for dominance to get you as an employee, it was clear that you were irreplaceable in the workplace, and that somehow made you even sexier to Jungkook.
At first, it was all a physical thing. You were a looker with brains and a dry humor that Jungkook appreciated in a workplace filled with kiss-assers. It was easy to flirt with you, and it seemed like you were 110% flirting back, which, a few months down the road, got Jungkook to freak out.
Surely, it was one thing to flirt with coworkers nonchalantly and another to deliberately be a boy loser about it. He was down bad at the 3-month mark and found himself counting the days when you would return to your cubicle, which conveniently was next to his.
Every day, he swung by your desk trying to be smooth, only to trip up somehow. Whether it be the intonation of his voice or him tripping over his own feet, he would kick himself silly mentally before lamenting to his best friend and work confidant, Kim Namjoon at the water cooler hours later.
“I swear I cannot walk around her!” Jungkook would sigh loudly, swirling his coffee stirrer as Namjoon chuckled, leaning against the counter before patting his coworker on the shoulder.
“It’s okay, dude. I’m sure she doesn’t even notice it like you do,” Namjoon would reassure him even though he knew you would eventually find out (you would of course, but unaware how deep Jungkook’s love for you was).
A year would swing by until you finally broke the news to the office that you would be leaving for another job with higher pay, and it felt like Jungkook’s world came crashing down. How could he continue working at this job if you weren’t next to him, giggling at his stupid jokes and his stupid short haircut that he specifically cut to make himself look even hotter for you? How could he possibly get through several rounds of meetings if you two weren’t playing tic-tac-toe on the memo pad the two of you would share? Or the times when Jungkook would go out of his way to the coffee shop to get your usual honey oatmilk latte from Urth Caffé? Or the time Jungkook would time his lunches so he could sit with you for the whole hour?
And so, Jungkook devised a plan to break the “news” that he was in love with you, hoping that you would feel the same way. He orchestrated the going away party first, going to a KBBQ spot with your closest coworkers before doing karaoke with drinks. Because how else was Jungkook going to relax around you?
Jungkook could feel his heart thumping wildly in his chest as you giggled at his innocent joke about Hoseok’s dance moves as your delicate head leaned against his wide shoulders. His stomach lurched forward as he coughed to cover his nervousness up, pouring yet another glass of soju for the two of you. You gladly took it, clinking the glass against his before taking a swig, and swallowing the alcoholic contents as you clung into Jungkook for the next hour.
Jungkook was elated of course, but he didn’t wanna give much away, closing his lips together as he thumped his fingers against the table, encouraging your former coworkers to drink more.
An hour passed and you were blasted, still hollering and hooting for the dancers, Hoseok and Jimin, to continue as karaoke night came at a fever pitch. At this point, you and Jungkook were inseparable, and he has made major moves to the level of your comfort: 1) putting his arm behind you and 2) crossing his legs so he could tap his feet against yours.
As you hummed quietly to yourself, you shivered at the cold air coming through the AC. Jungkook saw and immediately grabbed his leather jacket, putting it around you.
You thanked him, leaning against his chest as the two of you cuddled. Jungkook’s heart skipped a beat as he flushed red, again covering his flustered self with a cough.
“Are you getting sick?” you inquired, looking up at Jungkook with a pout. His eyes twinkled at this point as you cutely and drunkenly put your hand up to his forehead, trying to feel his temperature. It was going up all right, and Jungkook turned even redder than the tomatoes in the ramyeon in front of you two.
“Uh,” was all Jungkook could say, stuttering his way into a lame excuse. “The ramyeon is a bit too spicy that’s all, haha.”
He did his best to chuckle sexily as you sighed, frowning.
“Should I have asked for it to be mild?” you inquired, grabbing the menu from the table. “If I had known you didn’t like spice, I would’ve ordered it.”
“Oh no, i-it’s okay!” Jungkook hastily replied, putting the menu down. He was freaking out, and a few of the boys were starting to notice the two of you being rather cozy.
“Man, I have never seen Jungkook look so happy in my entire life,” Taehyung teased, snorting into his beer and pointing at the both of you.
Jungkook frowned, still beet red.
“W-what are you talking about?!” he fired back at Taehyung. All the second youngest in the office did was shrugged, smirking.
“Oh, now you’re playing stupid,” Taehyung drunkenly laughed, leaning against you as he whispered something in your ear.
Jungkook’s stomach bubbled in nervousness while Taehyung chuckled after saying his piece which made you giggle a bit.
“Yeah, he can be obtuse sometimes,” you replied, glancing back at Jungkook. He flushed again, his stomach in knots. Did you know? Were you playing with him?
As the night progressed, you began acting more and more wild, making Jungkook laugh uproariously at your behavior. Seeing you loose made him happy and glad that he planned the goodbye party in the first place. He clapped and cheered for you as you attempted badly to sing Whitney Houston’s “I’ll Always Love You”. Even if you were off-key, he still found it endearing that you even attempted.
Your unabashed confidence was shining through, and something ignited within Jungkook. It was then when he realized how much he liked you and seeing this side of you made him want you even more. The desire to be even closer than you two already were, and the desire to be intimate was growing inside Jungkook’s already big and kind heart, and he wanted to do something more.
It wasn’t too late when everyone began to go home, leaving the two of you alone. You had Uber’d your way to the noraebang so Jungkook offered naturally to take you home after sobering up.
As the two of you walked to the car, you instinctively but a bit impulsively wrapped your arm around his. His stomach lurched forward as his heart beat unbelievably fast, making him cough out of nervousness.
“You okay?” you asked worryingly, slurring a bit of your words. Jungkook was a bit concerned for you as he gripped your arm tighter around his bicep, leaning against you.
“I am,” he hummed lightly, opening his Mercedes GT door for you before guiding you in. “Are you okay though? You had a lot to drink.”
He strapped you in with the seatbelt as you smiled warmly. At this point, you two were really close to each other, feeling each other’s warm breaths as Jungkook’s big eyes stared into yours. He lamented quietly that you weren’t entirely there, wishing you were entirely sober so he could just kiss you right then and there. Your red warm lips were calling to him, and he wanted to kiss you so fucking bad, but only if you let him.
God, you’re so beautiful right now, he thought.
“What?” you laughed softly as he snapped out of it.
“N-nothing.”
Clearing his throat for the 1529458th time, he pulled away from your warmth and back into the winter air. Sliding his hands together to keep warm, he sprinted to the driver’s side of the car, sliding in before turning the engine on. The hot air swirled through the cabin as he turned the lights on and navigation took you home.
Not much was said during the ride to your house. Surely, he didn’t want to interrupt you slowly dozing off, mumbling to yourself as your hand laid on the center console. Jungkook’s hand was firmly on the shift gear but it achingly wanted to be there as well, holding your hand. He wanted to warm you up so badly, just like how he did it all night with you.
There must have been real chemistry between you two up until this point, Jungkook thought. There was no way all of this was platonic or you had been leading him on. All the flirty exchanges you two had for the past year started replaying in Jungkook’s mind like a broken video tape, replaying over and over until he couldn’t take it anymore.
He had to tell you. He had to confess.
-
As the car came to a stop and turned off, he went over to your side to open the door again. You woke up to the brisk cold air hitting your face as you were startled awake. Jungkook’s dark silhouette encapsulated you as you pulled out of the car, only to slip from the ice below and into Jungkook’s arms.
“Fuck!” you exclaimed as he caught you immediately into his embrace. His firm, yet warm body was pressed up against your own as you giggled drunkenly, trying to maintain your balance. “God, I’m just all over you tonight huh, Jeon?”
You could feel his heavy breaths on you as you looked up. He was already staring down at you with a soft smile, his cheeks pink.
You wondered if he was going to keep hiding it from you. You knew for quite some time that Jungkook liked you a bit too much, and even in your drunken state, you wanted to tell him it was okay to lean in for a kiss. You liked him too, and you wanted him to be yours.
Under the dim streetlight, he ever so slowly leaned in, closing the gap between you two. His eyes were pensive, thinking a bit too hard on this, but you had already made up your mind.
Kiss me, Jungkook.
“If you let me,” he whispered right before your lips touched his.
You pulled him in, kissing him. His eyes closed immediately as he took control, squeezing you tightly as you two softly kissed each other, keeping warm.
Snow was falling lightly on the both of you as your lips slowly made a grin when the two of you parted.
“Always, Jungkook.”
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i’ve stared at this for so long that i now hate it and think ive lost all concept of how to write so take this and get it out of my google docs
the introduction is rough and the medical depictions (and accuracy/realism) could use some (a lot of) work but whatever! here it is, my vague yet still oddly specific idea of how the face reveal would go in @myriadblvck ’s streamer au:
tw: description of a panic attack? i think?
[this takes place post first irl meet but before they’re officially together]
imagine ghost has a glasgow smile but on one side they carved a little too deep and left some nerve damage. time and surgery helped, after which he could eat unimpeded and talk without a lisp, but there's still some facial nerve damage and/or skin contractures from scarring, specifically around the corner of his mouth.
now, everytime he smiles, be it shit eating grin or a full genuine joy filled smile that not even grumpy mcgrumperson could hold off, it always looks wrong because one corner doesn't raise fully like the other.
everything else is fine, there isn’t any facial paralysis, he just smiles… wrong. especially since only one eye properly squints when he smiles, giving him the look of someone who got stuck mid wink.
if he wants to look “normal” (or as normal as he could get it) he has to manually squint his other eye. still, it always felt weird; you don't realize how much those muscles affect the rest of your face until they're gone.
it's why he learned to always wear the mask.
when his expression is neutral, you don’t really notice it. if you can see his mouth when he talks however, it’s obvious that there’s something wrong. he wouldn’t say he’s necessarily ashamed of the scars and damage itself, but it’s the stares that are the worst. before he started hiding behind it, people would openly gawk or even glare at him as if he was some ne’er-do-well gang member that got what was coming to him.
he still remembers the cosmetic surgeon that had been talking to him about fixing the contractures— the whole appointment was a fucking nightmare. the cuts had healed nicely enough especially considering how bad it could have been; he was lucky to only need a little cosmetic help. the only reason he was there was so he could fucking eat food without struggling to open his mouth.
the doctor spent god knows how long breaking down everything wrong with his face like he was a fucking car mechanic lying about how dirty your filter is. the guy constantly mentioned that while he was under, they could also fix his jawline, do a rhinoplasty, trying to break him down to agree to more work.
he was already fuming my the time the doc brought up how kids would react. asking ghost if he wanted to scare children since “you cant expect the little youngins that are still learning about the world to not get scared by something scary,” and that “even some adults would cringe at the scarring.”
what stuck out most was the condescending smile he had when he said it. as if he was pointing out the obvious and ghost was being stupid and shortsighted by not agreeing.
he declined everything except what was medically necessary. the procedure went fine and after an aggravatingly long recovery period, he could eat solid foods again without issue. but the comments still stuck with him.
…okay, maybe he’s a little ashamed.
scaring kids with your face doesn’t feel good and being reminded of everything you’ve lost when you try to smile can really fuck you up in a way words fail to describe.
so yeah, he hates it. he’s gotten used to the mask, both skull clad balaclava and simple medical mask, being a permanent layer of armor. even now that he’s a bit more comfortable in his own skin it still feels wrong to pull it off.
when he gets close to soap, it still feels like a layer of vulnerability that he’ll never be prepared for.
the first time he let soap see his face, there hadn’t been any grandiose build up, no extravagant planning.
simon had arrived just a few hours earlier. he hated commercial flights with a burning passion but it was always worth it to see johnny.
with soaps twin out of town for the week, he had decided to take leave to spend time with his friend, a friend that he most certainly did NOT have a crush on (a disclaimer roach and gaz heard everytime they started snickering over ghost taking leave.)
johnny had cooked something nice and simple for dinner, saying that simon had spent too long with MREs and deserved real food (ghost only agreed if he was the one washing the dishes, soap had laughed and told him he's not so kind as to let him off the hook for chores).
when they ate, it was always in the living room with johnny taking care to always stay angled away from simon, never trying to catch a glimpse, regardless of how much he wanted to see what was under the mask. the obvious gesture of kindness and respect for his boundaries always left him feeling all weird and fuzzy inside. but, then again, johnny seemed pretty good at triggering that feeling in general.
their finished plates were on the coffee table and johnny was watching whatever dumb movie he had put on. he was pretty sure the man spent more time talking over it and making fun of everything than he did actually watching it (it was simon’s favorite way to watch a movie.)
ghost however, was watching soap. thinking.
in the end, it was an impulsive decision made after a strong three seconds of consideration.
“you uhm— you can look by the way,” ghost stared at the can of soda in his hands, immediately regretting the words.
“what?” soap didn’t fully turn, just shifted slightly to hear him better. a simple gesture to show he was listening without turning to face him. it normally made simon happy to see that johnny was more than willing to accommodate for his boundaries. now though it made him feel stupid for robbing johnny of a normal face to face conversation, a normal human interaction, just over his idiotic insecurities.
“my face, you—,” he felt his heart block his airway and tried clearing his throat before continuing, “you can look if you want,” christ he wanted the ground to swallow him whole. why was he getting so fucked up over this?
“are you sure?” he hadn’t turned yet, but ghost could see his pensive expression from here. this should be nothing. realistically, he knew johnny seeing his scars wouldn’t suddenly make him hate him… right?
“yes.”
but it was more than the fear of hatred, wasn’t it? he was scared that johnny would see him. see more than just the scars, see all of the ugly idiosyncrasies and insecurities laid bare. afraid that johnny would see the truth of how unlovable he was.
jesus he was getting so fucking worked up and dramatic over nothing.
ghost didn’t look up. he made an effort to not focus on his peripheral vision. he heard soap turn, heard the intake of breath. the silence was loud only for a second. then, deafening white noise surrounded him, inescapable, suffocating.
fuck.
he didn’t regret giving permission but god did he regret everything else; the stupid scars, the stupid nerve damage, the stupid way he had managed to fall for someone so fucking good like johnny while he was unequivocally unworthy of his love.
stop being so fucking dramatic. you are not together, never have been and never will be. reality was blatant in front of him but it didn’t stop his heart from foolishly hoping.
he heard soap stand and walk closer. saw from where he was still staring a hole in the can his feet step in front of his. saw johnny’s hands raise. he took a deep breath in, closed his eyes, and with a great deal of effort didn’t flinch when soaps fingers grazed his cheek.
both of his hands came up to cup his face, holding him and ever so slightly tilting his face up, giving him the chance to pull away. he didn’t. he may be a coward but he wasn’t backing down.
ghost eventually opened his eyes to see soap staring at him with wide eyes. he looked away, staring off to some point on the right. he hated not knowing what soap was thinking.
they stayed there for a while before soap broke the silence, muttering, “i fuckin knew you had freckles.”
it was stupid but it shocked a laugh out of ghost. he meant to drop his head, embarrassed that something so dumb made him laugh, but accidentally just pushed himself further into soaps hands making him blush.
he looked up and saw soap staring even harder than before. the chuckle died in his chest.
“do that again.”
ghost just gave him a confused look.
“smile.”
such a simple request, a one word sentence, but it set his face ablaze. his breath caught in his throat, somewhere around where his heart was still trying to choke him.
…he hadn’t thought it was that bad but soaps reaction indicated otherwise. fuck. was his it that awful? he wanted the ground to swallow him whole. this was stupid. he was stupid.
“simon,” of course, one word from johnny and it felt like he could breathe again.
“please?”
fucking goddamn soap and his stupid fucking puppy dog eyes and the way he has ghost wrapped around his fucking finger without even realizing.
ghost smiled. there was no real mirth, more a grimace than anything else. he just wanted to get this over with.
soap was still staring at him, his thumbs tracing his lips, following scars, drawing imaginary lines between freckles… if he wasn't so terrified it might have felt nice.
“Christ,” ghosts heart cracked more, “you weren't lying when you said you were beautiful.”
ghost huffed a laugh and went back to staring off to the right, the fake smile dropping. of course soap would try to lighten the mood with a joke.
his panic fled as quickly as it had consumed him, now just left sitting in soap's living room, face still cradled in caring hands, resigned to his mistakes.
he felt so tired and johnny's hands felt so inviting.
“i wasn't joking,” soap looked…upset? angry? wait— fuck, what’d he do?
ghost stared back at soap, confused and tired. soaps nails felt the grooves of the scar, catching where the skin was raised and lowered.
“you don't have to lie, soap. im a grown man. I'm not fragile. you don't need to coddle me,” ghost said it like it was a joke, hoping soap would laugh along and that this would all just blow over. that tomorrow morning they could forget this ever happened.
“are you calling me a liar?” soap’s brow furrowed. great. instead, he had managed to make everything worse and piss off soap as well.
ghost took in a deep breath, giving himself another shot at calming things down, “no, I'm not. I think you're lying, but you're not a liar,” he stood and stepped to the side, grabbing their dirty plates and walking them to the kitchen sink, “you just don't want to upset me, it's fine. I get it. you're a nice person but you don't have to lie to spare my feelings.”
“I am not fucking lying!” as per usual, all ghost had managed to do was make things worse. there’s a reason he had decided to stick to the battlefield and give up on domesticity.
“well alright then. agree to disagree,” he turned the kitchen tap and started rinsing the dishes, waiting for the water to heat up. just walk away. end it there. let us forget about this stupid blunder and move on. please just leave it. please, please, please—
“no.”
the force behind it damn near made ghost drop the plate he was holding. he managed to set it in the sink carefully and turned to face soap, who was now in the kitchen as well.
“i— I'm not just gonna fucking— simon,” soap took in a deeper breath and went to continue but ghost was faster.
“johnny,” he interrupted, walking forward with his hands up in a gesture of surrender, approaching slowly.
one last chance to not fuck everything up.
“the fact is they're called deformities for a reason. they're not cute. they're not pretty. they're your body’s way of healing what it can and protecting what it can't. it's not meant to look nice, it's just—”
“bullshit they’re not pretty! says fucking who?” the genuine distress in soap’s voice and force behind his words caught him off guard. “simon—”
he huffed and ran his fingers through his hair roughly, pulling slightly at the strands. christ, ghost needs to shut the fuck up. every single time he speaks he just upsets soap more and more.
he needs to retake his hostage negotiations courses. clearly he has forgotten everything about how to diffuse a situation.
johnny takes another second to breathe and collect his thoughts before he speaks.
“simon. I know that— that ‘this’ isn't something that's going to fix itself overnight and I don't expect it to. but, ‘the fact is,’ I think you're pretty.”
ghost opens his mouth to disagree but johnny doesn’t let him.
“no no,” johnny put his hand over simon’s mouth, shocking him into silence. he blinks twice, stupefied.
“i think— no. I know you're pretty. cute even. beautiful is a given but obviously worth mentioning.”
his hand moved to cup simon’s cheek. ghost grabbed his wrist but didn’t stop him, wether it was a warning or encouragement he himself didn’t know.
johnny continued, unperturbed, “you disagreeing doesn't change that, right?”
there was a pause and simon realized he wanted an answer.
“johnny-”
“ah ah!” his hand moved back to cover his mouth, grabbing his face and shaking his head back and forth, over accentuating his words, “you disagreeing doesn't change that, right? yes or no.”
he stopped shaking him and moved his hand back to simon’s cheek. simon sighed, defeated, “yes. you are right.”
johnny looked smug, “good. and what do you say when i give you a compliment you don’t agree with?”
simon sputtered, “wha— i don't fucking know—”
“nothing! you don’t say anything!” soap looked way too proud of himself and he continued, “or thank you if you feel so inclined.”
“that was a trick question,” simon replied eventually.
johnny thumbed over his scars once more, again tracing them, “sure it was. now go take a shower.”
he patted his cheek twice and walked to the hallway.
“wait,” johnny probably shook the few remaining brain cells out of his head. “this whole conversation ends with you telling me that I stink?”
“yes. rancid,” johnny opened the door to the linen closet. simon was still in the kitchen. the tap was still running.
“no dipshit, do you not remember telling me that commercial planes makes you feel gross?” johnny threw a towel at him, which he caught just in time for johnny to hit him with a bath rag.
ghost had mentioned that… ages ago, he thinks. on facetime with each other, discussing the merits of bathrooms on public transport. he had said that enclosed, crowded spaces like commercial planes or buses made him feel, well, gross. how—or why—did he remember that?
“but… I’m supposed to wash the dishes?” a weak argument against the stubbornness he was faced with but simon had officially lost track of his mind and this conversation.
johnny shot him a weird look as he walked back towards the kitchen sink. simon still hadn’t moved.
“did you think i was being serious earlier?”
“yes???” he felt like he had been given a lobotomy.
johnny decided to take pity on him and explained in a soft voice that felt out of place, “i was being sarcastic. i’m not going to make you wash the dishes, simon.”
“but that was the agreement: you cook and i wash the dishes.”
johnny laughed as if he remembered something funny, “yeah, i lied.”
simon still stood there, trying to figure out if he had a stroke. johnny had been angry, completely pissed at him, but now was letting him off the hook and calling him pretty? what the fuck is happening?
johnny turned him and pushed him towards the hallway. simon could have resisted but his resolve always seems to crumble around johnny mactavish.
“now go shower, you beautiful bastard,” soap grabbed one of the plates out of the sink and started washing it with water that had probably heated ages ago.
ghost walked towards the bathroom, feeling like he was on autopilot, limbs disconnected from his brain. his cheek still felt… odd? weird? tingly?
it felt something from where johnny had grabbed it. ghost thinks… he thinks he likes the feeling, whatever it is.
he needs to sleep.
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