#jilted at the altar | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sarahowritesostucky · 4 months

Text

📖"Jilted" - part 2

Rated: Explicit

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader

Tags: boyfriend's dad au, left at the altar, father-in-law, hurt/comfort, forbidden attraction, silver fox Steve, age gap, size kink, strength kink, Dom/sub elements, daddy kink, fingering, oral sex, grinding, sex, dirty talk, cheating

Summary: You may be a jilted bride, but you don't feel like one for long when Steve soothes the hurt in unexpected ways.

Part 2 - "Taken to Bed by a Man" (Wait! I haven't read part 1 yet!)

Only hours ago, you were walking to the altar to marry a boy, and now you’re being taken to bed by a man—that very boy’s father. The reality of it becomes very clear as Steve walks into his bedroom with you in his arms and sets you down. Your toes dig into the room’s soft carpet.

“Turn around,” he whispers.

You obey, shivering as he steps in close behind. You can hear his breathing, can practically feel his desire for you. Somehow, he seems more tangible than he ever has before. More real, more solid, and you’re painfully aware of how close he is. “S-steve,” you breathe. “I—”

“You are so beautiful,” he murmurs, cutting you off. “I’m sorry I never told you. A woman like you should hear it every day.”

You want to say something, tell him that this is wrong, you can’t do this. He’s … he’s Pat’s father, decades older than you. He’s Captain America, for Christssakes. You shouldn’t want him the way you do. And now he’s got you doubting everything, every interaction you’ve ever had with him, every lingering glance, every brief touch, every polite word. From that very first time Pat brought you home to meet his father, the famed “man out of time.”

Steve doesn’t age normally, that much is obvious. You know about the serum, know that he was in his late twenties when they defrosted him back in the ‘nineties. And thirty years later, he doesn’t look as old as he should. His body and face are still those of a forty year old, betrayed only by the edges of his eyes, by the grey creeping into his hair and beard. He’s a total daddy, a thought that you’ve been shamefully repressing for the past two years. You’ve been so embarrassed by it, thought you were being such a creep, thinking about Pat’s father that way. Has Steve really been looking at you too all this time? You open your mouth to say something, offer some protest or reason why you can’t—

“Ask me to take your dress off.”

Your whole body clenches at how deep his voice is, how close he’s speaking to your ear. You tremble, able to feel the heat of his body behind you. “Steve, I …”

“Ask me,” he whispers, fingers skimming over your neck and shoulders. “Come on, Honey. Ask me. I promise I’ll only make you do it once.”

God. You manage to choke out an overwhelmed, “Please,” and thankfully it seems to be enough for him. His fingers find the laces of your dress and begin to delicately undo them. He goes slowly, almost like he’s relishing the act of removing your wedding gown. He peels off the dress that his son was meant to remove from your body that night, the fabric falling to the floor in a quiet ‘whoosh’, and his hands landing on your waist.

“Sweetheart,” he breathes, sounding amazed. You whimper and try to move away, skittish, but he stops you, pulling you back firmly against his body with a tut. “You’re okay,” he soothes, arms wrapping around you to hold you close and calm you down. “Shhh. I got you.”

“S-steve,” you breathe, overwhelmed by how wrong this is, how turned on you are when he touches you. “We can’t, I shouldn’t.”

“Why shouldn’t you?” his hot breath fans out against your ear, then he starts kissing your neck and his hands slide covetously over your body. “Wanted you for so long, Sweetheart. Wanted to give you what you were aching for.” You whimper and try to pull away, but his hand slides over your tummy and pulls you back. “It’s okay. I’ve known. You think I didn’t know? Think I didn’t see you looking at me?”

“I – I didn’t …”

“Shh. There’s a girl. Let me touch you.” He’s so effortlessly strong and it feels so good to be held still by him. He rubs your belly and his other hand slides up your ribcage. “So beautiful.” He cups your breast, fingers dipping under the cup of your bra. “God, Honey. Look at you.”

You look down and exhale shakily, your cunt pulsing at the sight of his huge hand against your skin and the delicate lace of your bridal underwear. “Steve,” you breathe, shaking from nerves and arousal. “I want …”

“What do you want?” he whispers, lips trailing over your neck. He places a kiss on your pulse point, feels how fast your heart is beating. “Want me to take control?” he offers softly, almost kindly, like he can sense how overwhelmed you are. “I can do that, Sweetheart. Make it easy for you, make all the decisions. Is that what you want, hm? Want me to lay you out on this bed and do all the work?”

It’s pathetic, how fast you whine and nod, wanting that so badly. “Yes,” you say, grabbing at his hands where they’re feeling you up. “Please, Steve. Yes.”

He chuckles, low and with just a touch of condescension, the sound going straight to your core. You squeeze your thighs together to try and get some relief, but it doesn’t do any good. “Come on, then,” Steve says, moving you with capable hands. He guides you over and pushes on your shoulders until he’s got you sitting on the edge of the bed. You’re left staring at him, standing there in front of you in his tux, looking obscenely handsome, confident, and—oh …

His cock isn’t even fully hard yet, and it’s still a healthy bulge at the front of his slacks. You feel your cheeks heat as you can’t help but stare at it. It is right there, after all. You flush all the harder when he notices you looking and chuckles at you. One of those enormous hands brushes up against the front of his pants, and you nearly moan at the sight of him touching himself.

“Don’t worry, Sweetheart,” he purrs. “You’ll get it. But first …” he sinks down to kneel in front of you, reaching for the straps of your bra. You tense when he starts to pull them off your shoulders, moving to reach behind yourself and unhook the bra, but he hushes you and stills your hands. “Shh, no. Let me do it, Honey. I want to do it.” He gets your bra off and tosses it aside, groaning as he kneels in front of you and looks his fill. “God, you got no idea,” he murmurs, sounding distracted by what he’s seeing. “No idea how long I’ve been wanting this.” His hands make an abortive move, as if he doesn’t know where or how to touch you first. “Shit, lookit you.”

“How long?” you ask on impulse, surprising even yourself. His eyes shoot up to your face, and you swallow heavily under his stare. “H-how long, have you wanted to?” you breathe.

He smiles, then his eyes trail back down and he sighs happily. He reaches out and just sort of … pets the tips of your breasts, brow pinching with want as he watches your nipples harden into firm peaks. “Jesus.” He shakes his head, like he can’t believe he’s getting to touch you. “Oh, Doll ... Since I met you.”

“What?”

“Yeah,” he says distractedly, big hands cupping your tits, making them look small and delicate against his rough palms. You’ve never noticed how masculine his hands are …

“S-since—”

“Since the first time you came in my house looking like you do, yes,” he growls, giving your breasts a squeeze. “Shit.”

His soft cursing makes you flush, feeling warm and exposed and needy and seen. “Steve,” you say, voice warbling with audible worry. You wait until his blue eyes come up to meet yours—God, are his eyes ever blue. You swallow heavily.

“What is it, Sweetheart?”

You chew your lip. “If we do this …” you fret, thinking about the wedding, about Patrick, about how fucked up this is going to make your life.

Steve’s hands smooth over your thighs. “Do you really want him back?” he asks you—knowingly. He meets your gaze without doubt, shaking his head the barest bit. “No going back,” he murmurs. You whimper, and he hushes you. “I know, Honey, I know it’s scary. But you can trust me.”

Delicately, he reaches for the clips of your garters and begins undoing them, one at a time. You’re stuck watching, helpless, as he looks you in the eye and gently eases your stockings down your legs. They’re the real deal: silk, seamed, non-elastic, and a strange feeling rolls through you as you watch Steve’s fingers move over them deftly and you realize that he likely knows what he’s doing because these were the sort that girls wore back in his day.

“Don’t worry, Angel.” He kisses the inside of a knee. “This isn’t just for tonight. I have every intention of keeping you.” His eyes flash upwards again, and you feel heat course through you at his face being right there between your legs … And at his words. He sees your face pinch with doubt and he nods. “Yeah. I told you you’re mine, now. I don’t say things like that unless I mean ‘em.”

“But …” you falter, not sure what you’re even planning to say. But I’m supposed to be engaged to your son. But I’m supposed to be married to him. But people will know, people will—

He slides his hands over your hips and starts edging your panties down, maintaining that all-consuming eye contact as he does it. “But what?” he purrs. “You worried about what people will say?”

You shake your head in denial, but the truth is that you are. Buzzfeed and CNN had been at that cathedral, goddamnit, and there’ll be articles tomorrow about what happened. What on earth will the headlines say when word gets out that you’ve traded in Captain America’s son for the Captain himself?

“You worry too much,” Steve says, easing your panties down your legs and guiding you to let them slip from your feet. He lifts your calf and kisses the inside of your ankle, smirking. “I’m Captain America, Everybody loves me. And I’m allowed to have nice things.” His gaze slides down to the vee of your legs, and you watch as his eyes rapidly darken to something greedy and ravenous. He makes a gruff sound in his throat, utterly possessive, and the next thing you know he’s shoving your knees further apart and forcing his way in, arms hooking underneath your thighs and wrapping around to hold onto you.

You squeak as his broad shoulders push your legs apart and you tip backwards. You catch yourself on your hands and prop yourself back up in time to watch the inaugural press of his mouth against your sex. And oh, it feels almost as good as it looks. You inhale sharply and your hips jump up of their own volition. He’s only pressed a chaste kiss against you, right up high on your mound, but the sight of Steve Rogers’ face between your legs, his head of silver-blond hair and his dark lashes resting against his cheeks as he noses against your most intimate place … it’s enough to have you clenching hard on nothing, slicking up so much that you can feel it getting messy and wet.

You whimper in arousal and impulsively reach with one of your hands to try and hold his head. “Jesus, Steve,” you whisper, turned on beyond belief. It only gets worse when he looks up at you again. You exhale shakily, belly heaving at the way his eyes scald you in their intensity.

“Tell me,” he rasps. “Tell me what you want me to do with my mouth.”

Jesus fucking Christ, that’s not fair. You whine and pant down at him. “Nnn, Steve …” You can’t. You can’t.

“Come on, Sweetheart,” he coaxes, voice like sin. “I know what I promised. And I meant it. I’ll take control. I’ll make it easy for you, and so goddamn good you won’t remember your name.” He turns his face and kisses the crease of your thigh, so close to where you want it. “But I want to hear you say it, first. Please. Just do that for me, Babydoll, and then I’ll make you feel so good.”

You swallow thickly, turned on beyond belief and knowing that if you want him, you’re going to have to put your big girl panties on and do this one thing for him. So, despite the fact that most of your brain cells have liquified and run out through your ears at this point—and despite the fact that you are not one for dirty talking in the bedroom—you look him right in the eyes and croak out a breathless, “Kiss my pussy, Steve. Put your mouth on me and lick it, suck—ogn …” You cut off in a moan when he seals his mouth right over your clit and sucks hard. “Oh my god.”

“Mmhm,” he groans. He sucks your folds into his mouth and flattens his tongue, rubbing it firmly against your clit and working methodically at it until it’s puffy and swollen. “Mmm. Mmph.” His sounds of enjoyment only make it filthier, and you can’t hold back your own choked off little moans and gasps at the eager way his arms grab onto you and haul you in for more, the way he purposefully grinds his face against you and uses his nose to give you more pressure from above your clit.

You wind up sobbing and tossing your head back as you feel yourself gush, and for a long moment you don’t even realize how much you're humping his face, rubbing yourself off against him, trying to get more of that sucking mouth and that lashing, sinful tongue. “Oh, shit. Holy shit …”

You should be mortified by your own desperation, by the sounds you’re making. Maybe you would be, but for the way that Steve responds to it. He growls and jerks you in harder against him, grinding his face into your cunt, sucking and slurping and then hurriedly freeing up one hand to push his fingers into you.

You cry out sharply as he tries to start with two but quickly halts when he can tell that it’s too much. He softens and slows down, kissing your clit in gentle apology, slipping one finger inside your drenched pussy instead. “There we go,” he hums in response to the pleasured sigh you give and looks up at you while he works his finger gently. “That feel good, Sugar?”

You’re gonna die from the fucking pet names, and that is perfectly okay. You nod dumbly down at him, eyes glued to his gaze once again as he fingers you. “Y-yeah,” you say shakily. “Steve …”

He kisses the hood of your clit and drags his lips over it. “Has it been awhile?” he asks, with all the tender concern of a lover who wants to please.

It makes your belly swirl just as hard as his mouth on you had, and you whimper and nod, working your hips down a little against his finger. “I h-haven’t,” you stutter, “Nn … not, oh, not in a while.” You don’t elaborate, and you sure as shit aren't going to admit it now, but the truth is you’ve been avoiding sex with Patrick the closer the big day got; telling yourself that it was to make the wedding night more special, when in reality you suspect it was something else entirely. You whimper and shake your head shyly, and Steve seems to understand that you don’t want to talk about it.

“Shh,” he soothes, kissing your thigh again as he keeps working his hand against you so gently. “That’s okay. We’ll take it slow. We’re not in any rush, ain’t that right?”

You can only whimper and nod, and he coos and smiles at you and how you’ve gone nonverbal already. “Yeah,” he purrs, smiling. “Don’t even worry about it, Babygirl. Daddy’s gonna treat this pussy right. Gonna make you feel so nice, get you real good and relaxed, teach you things you didn’t even know you could do.”

You cry out at how excruciatingly intimate those words are, at the way he kisses your hyper-sensitized clit and changes the angle of his hand, finger dragging up against your walls slower and more purposefully and firm. Your eyes clamp shut and you toss your head back with a pitiful keen. “St-eve, oh, please, please …”

“Mmhm.” He keeps going, still gentle but picking up on what you like, figuring out what makes you get louder and squirm harder. He fucks you on his hand and nurses at your clit in a constant, pulsing rhythm—steady, steady—reading your body’s cues and committing himself to the task, breaking away every once and awhile just to murmur little things against your cunt:

“That’s it, Sweetheart, just like that. Such a good girl. Keep going baby, yes. Let it come, let it happen for me.”

When you get close he stops talking, sealing his mouth to your pleasure and humming his praise straight into your skin instead. And it’s so good, building and building, and he’s doing it just right, holy fuck …

You fall to your back on the bed, Steve following right after you as it makes your pelvis tilt up, never breaking contact, never faltering as your hands scrabble and claw at his hair and your cries get louder and sharper. He holds you down as you start to thrash, desperate for the edge you can feel so close, so close …

Your legs wind up around his head and your heels dig wildly into his back, and still he doesn’t falter, grunting and slurping against you, giving you what you need so good that you sob.

“Oh please, please, Steve! I’m gonna cum, I’m–I’m gonna … ohhh …”

He groans right along with you as it happens, keeping that same exquisite pressure and pace in such an ungodly competent way that you just about scream from how grateful you are. He’s perfect. You sob as the pleasure crests and wanes so sharply, leaving you trembling and gasping breathless little “thank you’s” at him over and over again as he eases off and climbs up your body.

“Shh, sh sh. There we go. Aww, I know, Angel, I know. It’s okay. Did that just feel so good?”

He coos a rhetorical litany of gentle praise at you as he climbs up and rearranges your body fully on the bed, telling you how beautiful you are, how good, how much he wants you. His hands are everywhere, attentive and comforting, petting your legs and smoothing over your belly and chest as he gazes down at you adoringly. It’s romantic, intimate, and like nothing you ever had with Patrick.

You sigh happily and whisper Steve’s name instead, which only seems to please him more. He sidles up alongside you and slots one thick thigh between your legs. That’s when you realize that he’s still completely clothed and you make a tiny noise of protest. Though there is something deliciously dirty about him clothed and you bare, the fabric of his tux over the firm muscle of his thigh pressing up against your soaked core, you still want to feel him. “Steve,” you breathe, pulling at his shirt impatiently. “You too, please.”

He chuckles and nods, hushing your protests as he continues to luxuriate in smoothing his hands over your body. “Hang on, Sweetheart. I will, I will. Let me do this. I’ve always wanted to. Always. Don’t make me rush.”

“Steve,” you sigh.

“Shhh. Good girl. Just let me have this first.” He continues on, heedless of his own body and fully intent on yours, keeping you on that cloud of hazy, post-orgasmic pleasure.

It’s as he’s hovering over you like that, pressing you into the sheets and kissing tender affection all over your face—worshiping you, for lack of a better word—that you realize:

He’s treating you like a groom treats his bride.

Masterlist

If you liked what you read and feel so inclined, please consider dropping a tip in the Kofi🍵 cup!

This has been a fill for:

@steverogersbingo

Card: #sb3088 - stark-contrast

Square D2: "I've always wanted to do that"

@allcapsbingo

Card: sarahyellow AC1105

Square: FREE SPACE (wedding night)

@marvel-smash-bingo

Card: sarah-writes-stucky

Square N4: daddy kink

203 notes · View notes

lattaeyongs · 2 years

Text

two tickets to paradise (sjn)

original gif

↳ pairing: johnny suh x reader

↳ word count: 14.8k

↳ genre: best friend!johnny, vacation (resort)!au, summer!au, fake dating!au, best friends to lovers!au, fluff, slight angst

↳ summary: after your fiance leaves you at the altar, you’re devastated – but not devastated enough to cancel your honeymoon. instead, your best friend johnny accompanies you, and you start thinking that your fiance wasn’t right for you after all.

↳ warnings: sexual tension, sexual inuendos, nudity

↳ a/n (1): loosely based on a hallmark movie with the same name!

It was supposed to be the best day of your life. It’s the day that many little girls dream of. Weddings were supposedly chances to twirl around in a pretty dress and walk down the aisle with everyone watching you be united with the love of you life who would be there for you through sickness and health. It was the day that all eyes were on you.

All eyes were on you, but not for those reasons. Today was the day that you were jilted at the altar, by the man you thought loved you. Months of meticulous planning just evaporated into thin air. Days spent picking napkin colors, addressing invitations, and touring venue options were all for naught.

It’s like a gaping pit in your stomach erupted when you were arm-in-arm with your father at the end of the aisle, and Qian Kun wasn’t standing there with a lovestruck gaze pinned on you as he anticipated a fulfilling effect of married life. You thought you were dreaming, that maybe if you blinked a few times, your fiance would just appear from thin air.

That you wouldn’t be living the most embarrassing moment of your life because of him.

The guests’ heads were turned to you, their eyes filled with pity. They all waited a couple of minutes before saying anything. Then, that’s when the murmuring began. The pleasant summer sunshine now felt like blades stabbing your skin. All right. Maybe Kun is just late, that’s all. He just got caught up in downtown traffic as he was trying to make it to the venue – a historic park near your beloved childhood home, and the venue is decorated with beautiful, lush flowers. Any moment now, he would run up to the altar, his hair windswept in a way that only he can pull off, and he would smile sheepishly before getting ready to make a vow to be true to you and to you only.

That never happened.

These few moments of tension between you, your father, and the guests felt like an eternity.

Kun isn’t going to show up, and not because of traffic, but because he doesn’t want to marry you.

It’s as if the world is melting around you as tears start to fall from your eyes. The greens, reds, oranges, and blues from the guests’ outfits and the wedding decor all swirl together, and you unhook your arm from your father’s as you run out of the wedding venue. Your father wants to pursue you, and you can tell that from the way he calls your name, but you don’t turn back to look back at him. You don’t listen to the audible gasps and the murmurs increasing in volume, all you can think about is running. Grabbing the hem of your lacy dress in an attempt to maneuver yourself through the gardens, you look for places you can hide, places where no one is going to find you, places where you wish you could just melt away from the world.

How are you ever going to live this down? How are you ever going to see anyone again? They’re going to think of you as Y/N, the poor girl whose fiance decided last minute that he didn’t want to marry her.

You cry. You have a good cry where wailing sobs slip out of your throat, until your throat feels raw, which is exactly how your heart is feeling. With how your head drops to your hands to block out any semblance of light, your makeup smudges in your palms, but you don’t care. Why should you? If Kun didn’t want to marry you, then who would?

Your cries turn more silent, where tears slip onto your cheeks without warning and fall onto your lap. In the sunlight, they look like little diamonds.

You sit in silence for a while, the rustling of the trees, the chirping of birds, and the quacking of ducks being your only company when you hear approaching footsteps. You quickly try to rub your eyes. You’re used to the occasional runner taking a jog at this part since only the historic gardens near a beautiful seventeenth-century mansion serve as the venue for your wedding, not the rest of the park, filled with trails and nature for others to enjoy. You looked out of place at this duck pond by a walking trail, in your white wedding dress sporting dirt stains during the time you’re sitting on a gray, dusty concrete bench, but you tried to make yourself seem a little bit presentable. You would only look at joggers or people walking their dogs for a couple of seconds before they can notice your red-rimmed eyes.

But the footsteps don’t belong to a random person just minding their life. They belong to your oldest friend, Johnny Suh.

Johnny’s hair is parted to the side of his heart-shaped head, clearly washed and gelled for the occasion. His suit is a crisp gray, the sheen like morning dew, and you have good reason to believe that it’s designer. He’s wearing pointed Aldo shoes as he approaches you at the bench, and now you can see the sheen on his forehead, from sweat as the sun beat down on him while he tried to find you. He doesn’t say anything, only offering a smile. For him, it’s of relief that he’s found you in this four-hundred-something acre historic park.

“What are you doing here?” You ask bluntly.

“I was in the area,” Johnny says innocently.

You snort. “Did my parents put you up to this?” Right now, you didn’t want to see anyone who was at that wedding. You can already feel the embarrassment creeping up your cheeks the longer Johnny is here – the thought of facing your family and friends after this fiasco made your heart climb to your throat.

“No,” He says simply. “I remembered that this was your favorite place to come after school. You always liked coming here and thinking.” You’re surprised that Johnny remembers this about you when high school was almost a decade ago.

“Your sister wanted to come with me,” he says. You perk up at the thought of your sister. Oh, your sweet sister Iris. You can already feel yourself comparing yourself to her. Here she was, with her husband of six years and her son, watching you get abandoned at the altar. How lovely.

“I told her that you needed some space. That too many people shouldn’t try to come and console you.” You’re thankful for the courtesy.

“And that’s why you’re here? To console me?” You ask. The word ‘console’ stung you. It had a connotation of pity. If there was anything you wanted less right now was pity.

Johnny almost laughs. “Console you? I know you better than that. I came here to make sure you didn’t start talking to trees.” For the first time after the wedding disaster, you smile genuinely. You’re notoriously known with your close family and friends for talking to yourself – but it wasn’t just murmuring to yourself what you needed to get done that day; you would talk to yourself or to inanimate objects as if you were talking to another person. You’ve been doing it since you were a child, talking to your dolls as if they could contribute to the conversation, but you never grew out of it.

It was times like this that you were grateful to have a friend like Johnny, a friend who could make the worst situations seem like they have a silver lining.

“It’s just,” you start sniffling. “I thought that Kun loved me. That he wanted to be with me forever,” you say softly. Johnny’s eyes were full of compassion and understanding.

“I’m starting to wonder if I pushed him into this,” you think out loud. “I mean, I proposed to him, I was the one that always prompted him about the wedding planning, I was the one carrying most of the weight when it came to this wedding.”

“That’s a bad sign. At least when it comes to men.” You look at Johnny stunned. You would have expected him to say something like ‘oh no, it wasn’t your fault’ or ‘Kun is an idiot,’ the usual things that people would say if someone they knew got jilted at the altar. But Johnny was your oldest friend, and instead, he gives you honesty.

“What do you mean?” You ask.

“Men are flighty creatures. They have to be the ones who prompt you when they are ready to put down the roots.”

You sigh. “Thanks for taking me back to 1950,” you snort.

“But am I wrong?” Johnny asks pointedly. “Human nature has fundamentally changed very little in the past seventy years,” Johnny reflects thoughtfully.

You swallow, hard. “I guess I wanted to be married like Iris. She has such a happy life with Jay that I thought maybe I could have a life like that,” you say, a small hint of desperation in your voice. “After all, Iris did get married at around this age.” You say.

“There’s no point in being married,” Johnny says, “if it’s not with the right person.”

“You’re right, you’re so right,” you say. “I just feel so stupid for being so blind-sighted when it was all in front of my face.” Silent sobs choke the rest of any words you have in your throat, and Johnny takes your hand in his. The heat of his hand is soothing and warm.

His voice has nothing but kindness in it now. “It’s not your fault.” Here it is. “Sure you didn’t notice the signs, but it doesn’t mean that you ever deserved this. What Kun did was unacceptable, no matter if you silently pressured him into this or not,” Johnny says. Despite his voice being kind, there’s reason in it.

“To top it all off,” you say, heaving a huge sigh, “I spent so much money. Thousands of dollars just,” you make a whistling sound. Since you did most of the planning, you were also paying a significant portion of the wedding expenses. You earn a good salary, but you didn’t like wasting money.

“Did you pay for the whole wedding?” Johnny asks, surprised.

“No, but I paid for a lot of things. The florists, musicians, invitations, food. Kun paid for the venue and the cake. And obviously, I paid for this dress,” you gesture to the lacy dress that hugged your figure. The dress was four figures.

“There still might be a way to salvage something from this wedding,” Johnny looks like he is in thought, and you look at him, curious.

“What do you mean?”

“What about the honeymoon? Did you pay for that?” Johnny asks, rapidly firing those questions at you.

“Yeah I did –” You groan. You paid for an all-inclusive resort on Jeju Island along the beach. You always wanted to go to Jeju Island, after going on a business trip with Kun to South Korea, where you took a ferry to the island and spent a day on those white, sandy beaches.

“What’s wrong?” Johnny asks, concern in his expression.

“The all-inclusive resort I booked in Jeju Island for mine and Kun’s honeymoon is non-refundable,” you say. You bring the palm of your hand to your forehead dramatically, causing a loud ‘smack’ to resonate in the air.

You were such an idiot. Why on Earth would you book anything that was non-refundable? But then again, you didn’t think you would ever cancel your honeymoon. You thought that the limousine that you booked after the reception would whisk you away to the airport.

Oh, God. The limousine. You still haven’t canceled it yet.

“That’s what I was thinking,” Johnny says. “Most resorts are non-refundable. What if you go on your honeymoon by yourself?”

You’re practically struck dumb with this idea. Going on your honeymoon alone?

“Are you insane?” You ask Johnny. “I’m going to be surrounded by married couples and feel sorry for myself,” you say.

“Why not?” Johnny asks. “You spent the money. And the resort is all-inclusive. It doesn’t matter if Kun doesn’t show up. The only money you would lose is Kun’s airfare.”

What Johnny said had a point. Everything is paid for in a lump sum in an all-inclusive resort for all the amenities that you have access to, so it didn’t really matter if Kun didn’t come.

“I don’t know Johnny,” you say, knitting your fingers over your lap. “This sounds like a crazy idea.”

“Since when have you walked away from crazy ideas?” Johnny asks, more rhetorically. “That’s not the Y/N I know. The Y/N I know takes her own path and never feels sorry for herself. She doesn’t care what anyone thinks, and she doesn’t care if something sounds crazy.”

You laugh. “Very nice monologue,” you say. You stand up. Johnny looks surprised at your sudden burst of energy. “You know what? I think I’ll do that. After all, I spent the money,” you reason, echoing Johnny slowly.

“One more thing,” you say. “Do you want to come with me? You were the one who suggested the idea in the first place. Plus,” you smile. “I don’t want Kun’s plane ticket to go to waste.”

Johnny stands up. His tall figure towers over you as he smiles with excitement. “Of course, I’ll come. I want to spend quality time with my best friend. We haven’t had much of it in a long time.” Johnny notes. With your working lives, it’s hard for you both to carve time into your busy schedules to see each other.

A honeymoon with your best friend? That was the last thing you ever thought would happen.

Instead of canceling the limousine, you called for it to pick you up at Johnny’s parents’ house, where he was staying for the week for your wedding. You took a ride with Johnny in his black Audi with your luggage that you already packed that was full of skimpy clothes and lingerie. You didn’t have much use for those items anymore, but you had a good few pairs of shorts, swimsuits, T-Shirts, and a couple of appropriate blouses; you didn’t have enough time to unpack those items (and you didn’t want to just leave it at the wedding venue or give it to your family), so you decided that your skimpy clothes and lingerie would just have to make the journey to Jeju Island with you.

Twenty minutes have passed, and you pull up into his parents’ driveway. The limo would pick you both up in two hours, which Johnny said was good enough time for him to pack.

Johnny is in the bathroom, changing and showering to wash off the gel from his hair. You can hear the water running through the thin walls of his adjoining bedroom. You take this as a chance for you to change out of your wedding dress and into a green blouse and jeans shorts, wash the makeup off your face, and undo the complicated hairstyle the stylist arranged in the main upstairs bathroom down the hall.

You can feel the thought of your heart pounding at the spontaneity of this vacation. You have never done something like this in your whole life, and you can’t think of a lot of people who have done this either. Life is too short, and you’re not gonna spend even a day feeling sorry for yourself because Kun didn’t have the courage to tell you that he didn’t want to marry you.

Suddenly you hear the phone ring – your phone. The familiar notes hit your eardrums comfortingly, and you look to see the caller ID: your sister, Iris. Taking a deep breath, you answer the phone.

“Hello?” You ask. For some reason, your voice feels slightly shaky.

“Y/N?” Iris asks. You can hear the sound of relief in her voice.

“Yeah?” You ask.

You can hear a few more people (two more people) murmuring in relief. The only people it can be are your parents.

“Oh my goodness, where are you? Are you okay? I knew I shouldn’t have listened to Johnny and not pursued you –”

“Iris,” you say. Calling her name made her stop. “I’m fine, really.”

“Where are you?” She asks again. “You got us so worried with the way you ran off like that.”

“I’m fine,” you say again. “I’m at Johnny’s house.” Gasps.

“What are you doing there?” Iris asks, pressing for more information.

“Hanging out,” you say casually. It feels like you’re in high school, sneaking off to hang out with friends when it’s well over your curfew.

“You could have at least told us!” Iris exclaims. “You had us worried sick!” Iris takes a deep breath. “When are you coming home?”

You pause. The only people who know about your honeymoon plan are you and Johnny. You chew on your lip. “About that. You know my honeymoon?”

“That you’re going to cancel since you’re not going with Kun?”

You take a deep breath, your blood rushing through your veins. “So I’m not actually going to cancel it.” You hear three collective gasps.

“What do you mean?” Iris asks.

“I paid money for it, and it’s an all-inclusive resort. It doesn’t matter if Kun doesn’t come with me.”

“But what does that have to do with Johnny?” Iris asks.

You swallow. “Johnny’s coming with me.”

At this, your parents clamor in confusion. You can hear Iris take her mouth away from the speaker to address your parents. “Mom, Dad? Can I have a moment alone with Y/N?”

“I guess, honey,” your mother says, resigned. “We’re just glad that she’s okay.” You can hear the floorboards creak, signaling your parents’ exit. But at times, your parents can be nosy and eavesdrop, so your sister takes extra precautions. You can hear Iris walking to a corner and shutting the door. The only room that isn’t crammed with stuff and can fit a human being comfortably is the main floor powder room.

“You’re serious? Like this isn’t a joke?” Iris asks.

“No. I’m going on my honeymoon with Johnny.”

“God, this would have been your dream junior year,” your sister giggles. Your face immediately becomes hot, and you look at the bathroom door, hoping that Johnny didn’t suddenly come out of the shower. Thankfully, you still hear the sound of water running through the paper-thin walls; Johnny is still taking his shower.

“I told you, Iris, it was only a little crush!” You whisper-exclaim.

Iris laughs. “Right.” She doesn’t believe you. “You stared at Johnny with the biggest heart eyes! I had to get you drunk to get it out of you!”

It wasn’t necessarily the way that Iris explained. After you came home for the summer from your fourth and final year of college, your sister thought it was high time to celebrate that you graduated, so she took you to a pub downtown. You both were laughing, having a couple of drinks, and it was your first night trying vodka, and it was strong – you chose to have it neat instead of on the rocks because you wanted the more potent effect. You don’t really remember that night very clearly, but somehow the topic of Johnny came up, and then you finally confessed to her that you had a tiny crush on him back in high school. After all, who didn’t? He’s literally the definition of tall, dark, and handsome. You expressed how confused you were when Johnny wanted to be friends with you, a quiet girl who sat in the back of the classroom and did her work without bothering anyone.

Eventually, you moved on (obviously) and almost married another man. Johnny had a couple of girlfriends in college and one in high school, but nothing panned out; so far, he’s single to the last of your knowledge.

“I can’t believe he never noticed,” Iris laughs.

“Shut up!” You’re laughing a little bit too.

Suddenly the mood of the room becomes more serious. Iris’ voice is clear, her words echoing in your brain.

“Y/N, I’m afraid of what this is going to do to you. What if you fall for him again?”

Silence. Your eyes periodically check the bathroom door before you respond.

“I’m not going to fall for him again,” you say quietly. “I’m over him. I was about to marry another man for God’s sake!”

“Who left you at the altar,” your sister says. The words sting you a little, but you know that your older sister is only looking out for you. “In fact, I would say that this makes you more vulnerable to fall for him again,” Iris reasons.

“Well, I’m not going to,” you say. “That was a long time ago, and I’m a different person now.”

You practically jump from where you’re sitting on Johnny’s bed, and he comes out. He’s only wearing a towel on his lower half. His hair is wet, and he’s shirtless, his dark abs toned. A couple of drops of water fall from his neck and travel to his chest, and you almost have to physically move your head to rip your gaze away from his body to look him in the eye. He smiles a little, pointing to the stack of clothes on his bed. His bathroom is very small, and there isn’t enough room to change inside there, and his closet isn’t very big either.

You laugh, noticing that your phone is at your ear. “Nice talk Iris. I have to go now, but we can talk about your dogs later. Bye!” You make a kissing sound, ending the phone call.

Your voice was a little too high-pitch at the end, and you can’t help but feel that all the saliva in your mouth has dried out, and you’re also parched for words.

“Your sister?” Johnny asks.

“Yeah,” you say, a little too quickly. “She was just wondering where I was.”

“Oh,” Johnny nods, understanding. “Did you tell her?”

You nod. “Yeah. She thinks it’s a bad idea.” You almost want to smack your palm over your mouth, but Johnny looks at you, amused.

“J-Just that b-being around married couples with my best friend would be w-weird,” you try to heroically save.

“Makes sense,” Johnny shrugs his shoulders. “But who cares? Since when did you have to cancel your honeymoon just because your fiance doesn’t show up?” You laugh.

It seems that your gaze is locked into Johnny’s and you can’t look away no matter how much you’re trying and butterflies are flying ferociously in your stomach at the thought that Johnny is wearing nothing under that loosely tied towel and –

“I-I’m gonna go to the other room. You’ve got to change,” you say, gesturing to the towel that is covering his lower half. Johnny is suddenly jolted at the thought that he is wearing almost nothing in front of his best friend, not even swimming trunks.

You scramble to the door, which is only a few steps away, and fumble with the round doorknob. You let yourself out and shut the door. You press your back against the wall, smelling the dinner that Johnny’s parents’ are cooking in the kitchen.

You really hope you weren’t going to prove your sister right.

Johnny opens the door after he finished changing, and he’s wearing shorts and a Hawaiian shirt with a gray sleeveless underneath outlining his chiseled chest. You gulp when you find yourself staring and look back up at Johnny.

“Johnny! Dinner’s ready!” It’s almost four in the afternoon. Johnny’s parents are running the retirement home drill, in which lunches are served this early. It seemed that the older you got, the earlier you wanted dinner served – you were noticing that whenever you stayed with your parents, who served dinner at a comparable time.

“In a minute!” Johnny yells down the stairs. His mother looks up from the last step to see you. “Y/N! How are you feeling? I’m so sorry about the wedding –”

Yes, of course. It would be too much to ask from the universe to try not to run into anyone else that saw you get stood up at the altar. Johnny’s parents were at the front, near your parents, and it’s like they got first-class seats to see the empty altar.

“It’s okay,” you say, a bit more tersely than you would have liked.

“Why don’t you have some food? There’s nothing that a home-cooked meal can’t help,” Mrs. Suh says, a kind, weathered smile on her face.

You nod, pleasantly grinning. “I’d like that very much.”

You walk down the stairs. Johnny’s house is much like you remember seeing it back in high school, minus a few minor changes. The Suhs have repainted the walls and added a few more antique knickknacks that Mrs. Suh loves collecting at local auctions.

The dark wood table, though, looks the same. You sit at the table, with Mr. Suh already digging into his food. Johnny’s parents are from South Korea, having settled in America before Johnny was born. Mrs. Suh, though, never lost her taste for traditional Korean food, and always took the time to make home-cooked Korean food at least once a week.

Today’s meal is rice with potato and beef soup, thick noodles with soy sauce flavoring, and a side of kimchi. You smile graciously at Johnny’s mother, who arranges the small cups and bowls before pouring servings for herself.

“I never understand men who leave their fiances at the altar,” Mrs. Suh starts off. “Just tell them the truth!” You nod, feeling that exact same sentiment.

“I have a cousin whose fiance left her at the altar,” Mr. Suh pipes in. “She was absolutely heartbroken, but she is now living better and said that made her a stronger person.”

“I hope you know Y/N,” Mrs. Suh says, “that you’re like family to us, and that your pain is our pain,” her eyes are round, serious. She extends her hand out, and you take it.

“I don’t think Y/N wants to talk about her wedding anymore,” another voice interjects. Johnny enters the dining room and takes a seat in the empty chair next to you.

“You’re right Johnny. So silly of me,” Mrs. Suh says, shaking her head. “Where is my head?” She clicks her tongue.

The next few minutes are spent in silence, where all four of you are chewing on your food or slurping on noodles.

“I didn’t think you and that Kun were right for each other anyway.” The clatter of chopsticks immediately breaks the lull of the eating sounds. You all look for the root of the words, Johnny’s mother.

“W-What do you mean?” you stutter.

“I always thought you and Johnny should get together.” At these words, Johnny’s eyes are bulging from his head.

“Mom!” Johnny exclaims. Johnny’s father prefers to not get involved with the conversation, still eating his food and pretending there’s silence.

“What?” Johnny’s mother asks. “I thought I should be able to say my piece. You and Y/N have been friends for so long, I’ve been wondering when it’s going to happen.”

You practically start coughing up the noodle broth.

“And by the way, I see that there are suitcases by the door,” Mrs. Suh mentions. From her seat, she can see two suitcases, one of them Johnny’s and the other one yours (he probably must have taken them downstairs before meeting the family for dinner). The bags are almost skillfully hidden by the staircase but not skillful enough to avoid Mrs. Suh’s thorough gaze.

“Are you guys going anywhere?” Both you and Johnny swallow together.

“J-Just on a vacation,” you say nervously.

“What kind of vacation would you have planned so close to your–” Mrs. Suh has a delighted look on her face. “Inhyuck, it’s happening!” If there’s anything that Mrs. Suh isn’t, it’s a slow woman.

“What’s happening?” Johnny’s father asks, now forced to be a part of the conversation.

“The honeymoon. Johnny’s going with Y/N!” Mr. Suh looks surprised.

“Well, it’s not really a honeymoon anymore–” you manage to say, but Mrs. Suh is not interested in letting you talk.

“This is so exciting!” Mrs. Suh continues. “What have you two planned?”

“Well, it’s an all-inclusive resort, so I guess just relax?” You shrug your shoulders. You look at Johnny who nods.

“That’s wonderful!” Mrs. Suh looks ecstatic. “Hopefully, it will give you the chance to see what’s destined for you both.”

Johnny rolls his eyes. “Mom! Y/N and I are best friends. Nothing’s going to happen between us. Y/N just doesn’t want to waste all the money she spent,” Johnny explains.

“Yeah,” you agree. “There’s nothing going on between us.”

As if on cue, the phone rings. It’s the limo service, and you pick up the phone. As you predicted, it feels like it has been two hours, so it was about time for the limousine to come and pick you up.

“It’s the limo,” you tell Johnny. “The driver’s here.”

“Great,” Johnny smiles. Both you and Johnny stand up, and Mr. and Mrs. Suh wish you both a good vacation. You thank them for the meal, and Johnny tells them that he’s going to call them when they land.

As you exit the quaint home that you grew up coming to multiple times a week, you can’t help but feel a sadness tug at your heart, at the reassurances that Johnny gave his mother that there was nothing between you two.

You’re absolutely sure that you’re over Johnny, and you’ve been over Johnny for years. But why are you disappointed?

The limo ride to the airport is a maximum of thirty minutes, and you planned the ride to be at around the same time that the wedding would have finished and you would be whisked away for your honeymoon, thus your flight time giving you ample time to get through TSA without worries.

So far, your honeymoon is going the exact way that you planned, minus the fact that you were going with your best friend instead of your fiance.

After your suitcases are taken to the baggage claim, you and Johnny are both left with small carry-ons. Yours is a tote slung on your right shoulder while Johnny’s is a backpack.

After an hour, you both board the plane, taking seats next to each other. The twelve-hour plane ride went faster than you thought it would. You and Johnny spend the time sharing earbuds, listening to music, and eventually watching movies together. A little thrill rushes through your veins as you watch comedies together while other people were trying to get some sleep; it starts to become a challenge for you both to keep your laughs quiet without earning the stares of disgruntled, tired passengers.

Eventually, you both start getting tired, and you fall asleep, covering yourselves with the thin, airline blankets that didn’t do much to stop the cold air from piercing your skin and freezing your bones.

You become startled when you hear a voice over the speakers. “Good evening passengers. In fifteen minutes, we’ll be landing at Jeju International Airport. Please turn off all cellular, and electronic devices in preparation for landing. Welcome to Jeju Island!”

You look around yourself with bleary eyes. The whole time you found it difficult to sleep because you didn’t have a pillow. But somehow, you fell asleep and looking next to you, you know the reason why.

Your cheek has been resting on Johnny’s shoulder, and suddenly you feel your face catch fire. Slowly, you notice Johnny’s eyes open, and he looks at you, tired. He had gotten used to the warm feeling of your cheek on his shoulder and missed it a little.

Your faces are unnaturally close. Desperately, you want to say something that doesn’t pertain to this.

“We’re almost here,” you say, rubbing your eyes, moving away as fast as you can with your slow, sluggish body.

The plane lands, and you and Johnny take your carry-ons and exit the plane, into Jeju International Airport.

The lights are bright, and the white walls reflect that light, and it hurts your eyes, compared to the dark airplane you were in for twelve hours.

After picking up your bags at the baggage claim, you and Johnny make your way to the shuttle, which drives you both a few miles before stopping at the resort: Byeolbich Resorts, right along the Jeju Island coastline.

The resort is painted in welcoming pinks and oranges, and you see happy couples holding hands and smiling at one another – you, on the other hand, were keeping a safe two-inch distance from accidentally touching Johnny’s skin.

The woman at the front desk, a woman around your age with long dark hair, is on the phone, but she ends the call with “Thank you for calling Byeolbich Resorts!” after you and Johnny wait for a few moments.

“How can I help you?” The woman asks politely, a pleasant, hospitable smile on her face.

You clear your throat. “I made a reservation.”

“Name, please?” She asks.

You give your first and last name.

“I don’t see you on our list,” the woman says, typing on her computer and scrolling.

Your breath catches in your throat. “I probably put it under another name. Try Qian Y/N,” you say. At the way Johnny stares at the side of your face, you feel your cheeks burn at how embarrassing it was to book a resort under your ex-fiance’s name, as if you’re a thirteen-year-old combining your’s and your crush’s name in a fancy gel pen on your math notebook instead of paying attention in class. The woman smiles at you, clueless to your thoughts.

“Yes Qian Y/N on your honeymoon with your new husband Kun,” She reads from her notes. Her gaze then returns to you and Johnny.

For the sake of keeping this interaction simple, you decide not to correct her, and Johnny thinks the same thing; after all, you were only going to see this woman when you check into the hotel and when you check out two weeks from now.

“Alright. Room 918.” She types something into her computer, and opens a drawer, pulling out two plastic cards; they were to be yours and Johnny’s keycards during your stay. She hands you both keys.

“Would you guys like help with your luggage?” A young voice asks. You look to see a younger, college-age guy with a pleasant look on his face eye yours and Johnny’s luggage. It wasn’t really a lot, but since this boy was offering, you smile, handing him your luggage. Johnny does the same.

You and Johnny are careful not to stand too close together as you enter the elevator with the bellhop, and the elevator dings when you reach the ninth floor. All three of you walk across the hall to room 918. You insert your keycard and open the door.

You’re not so sure why the arrangement of the room is a shock to you.

This is a large suite room like you reserved when you booked the reservation online, but there’s a king-sized bed and a small lounge chair on the other side of the room, which again, was exactly what you booked on the website. When making this last-minute plan to attend your honeymoon and then bring your best friend along, the sleeping situation completely slipped your mind, if you were honest.

“Is there something wrong?” The bellhop asks. You look at him, then at Johnny, then at the bellhop again.

“N-No,” you stutter to the boy. He smiles in relief.

“Good. Then I’ll leave you two newlyweds alone.” He says, with a sly smile. At the implication, your breath catches in your throat.

When the bellhop leaves, you shut the door behind you.

“So the bed,” Johnny notes nervously.

“Yeah,” you say after a while. “I’m sorry, I should have rem–”

“It’s fine,” Johnny insists. “I’ll take the lounge chair.”

“No, that would be so rude of me. After I invited you on this trip,” you say. On the website, you booked the ‘honeymoon suite,’ so there’s not even a lousy futon.

“Are we then just gonna… share the bed?” Johnny asks slowly. The way he sounds, it’s unsure, as if he’s dipping his toe in a cold swimming pool.

“Yeah,” you say, taking in a deep breath. It takes a long time for you to pry your gaze away from Johnny’s. It took you a few moments to respond to Johnny so that you would sound just as unsure about the idea as Johnny – you didn’t want it to seem that you were ready to jump into bed with one of your oldest friends, but at the same time, you didn’t want to sound repulsed either.

Ah, the intricacies of human relationships.

“I’m going to get showered and change,” you say, changing the subject.

“I will too. I-I’ll change in that closet.” Johnny points. You nod.

The bathroom is nothing less than exquisite. There’s a beautiful double vanity made of speckled marble, and there’s a large jacuzzi tub. The shower is wrapped in pristine white tile with a light and jade blue backsplash that makes the white pop out more, and the soaps that were laid out in the engraved soap dish were water lily scented. You loved the feeling of the gentle warm water caressing your skin and the soap felt smooth against your skin, and it got rid of the sweat (and embarrassment) that stuck to your skin.

Before getting into the shower, you were able to find shorts and a loose T-Shirt that was decent enough to be in while your best friend shared your honeymoon suite with you.

Once you come out, Johnny is changed and is sitting on the bed, plugging his charger into the socket next to the bed. He’s sitting perilously on the edge of the bed, a bit uncomfortably, and an idea strikes you. Johnny’s gaze is on you, and you open the covers (which is difficult due to how beds are made in hotels and resorts). You line various pillows in the middle of the bed.

“This is my side, and that’s your side,” you say, a bit harsher than you would have liked.

“Yeah,” Johnny nods vigorously.

As you lie down on the bed, pulling the covers over you, Johnny does the same. For a while, you linger at the edge of the bed, too wary to go too far inside and mess up the barrier. Despite this uncomfortable position, you try to get some sleep, and eventually, sleep gets to you.

No matter how many precautions you took not to destroy the barrier, by morning, the barrier has tumbled over the bed. When you wake up, you’re met with reddish light that tries to bleed through the dark curtains, and… there are arms wrapped around you.

Not just any arms, but Johnny’s arms.

The pillows that made up your barrier are now spread across the floor, completely disregarded and forgotten as Johnny’s arms envelop your resting figure, spooning you. You’re lying on your side, your cheeks against your soft white pillow, and you’re sure what’s happening now is just a dream, a weird dream that you have no idea where it came from.

As carefully as you can, you try to shift your position in bed without disturbing Johnny.

You fail.

Johnny grunts, and wraps his arms around you tighter, moving closer to you. His nose is only a few millimeters away from touching your forehead, and his lips are close.

So damn close.

They twitch a little as Johnny has a pleasant dream, and from this distance, you can study your best friend’s face. You always knew that Johnny was handsome, but this proximity is driving your heart crazy.

His face is a beautiful tan, and any blemishes on his face look ethereal. There are small mustache hairs right above his lip, dark and faint. His sleeping expression is so peaceful that it’s hard to look at anything else but Johnny’s beautiful face, to not admire how wonderfully his features complement each other –

Suddenly, his eyes fly open. You’re about to jump away from him, but Johnny beats you to it. He tries to untangle his arms from around you, and his expression is filled with newfound embarrassment. Now, you both remain on opposite sides of the bed once more, the same position you were early last night, backs straight like sticks.

“I’m going to wash up,” you say. You absolutely hated the feeling of eating or drinking anything with an unclean mouth, so you stand up.

“I’ll do that too,” Johnny says. You both walk in the same direction, to the left where the bathroom door lies, and you and Johnny almost try to head in at the same time. Awkwardly when your arm hits the door frame, Johnny backs up.

“You go first,” he says, gesturing.

You go in, to the vanity farthest from the bathroom door.

You already kept your toiletry bag in the bathroom as you did some light unpacking last night, and you fish around inside after opening the zipper, revealing the toothbrush sealed in a toothbrush bag.

Johnny comes back into the bathroom with his toothbrush and toothpaste, and while brushing your teeth, you both exchange wary glances, trying to avoid any sort of confrontation about the situation from last night.

“I’ll be at the pool if you need me,” you say to Johnny before opening your suitcase and finding your red one-piece swimsuit and a shirt to wear over it. Johnny gives you a thumbs up before turning on his shaving razor.

When you leave the room, key and purse in hand, you get into the elevator and press ‘main floor.’ Once you’re dropped back off to the main floor, you follow the signs to the pool.

It’s a beautiful sunny day outside, and the pool looks just as beautiful, a twinkling turquoise gem. A few couples are in the pool, making out or splashing each other, giggles bubbling on their lips, and there are other couples sitting on the lawn chairs, holding hands, sipping margaritas, and chatting. One thing is for certain – love is in the air.

You heave a huge sigh and find a spot at an empty orange lawn chair. It’s next to a table with an umbrella in the middle. The umbrella is unopened, so you crank the handle, and the umbrella slowly starts expanding.

“Would you like anything, ma’am?” A woman asks. She looks like she works here since she holds an empty silver tray dripping from condensation from the drinks she just served to the couple chatting and holding hands.

“What drinks do you have?” You ask.

“We have a gin-infused strawberry margarita as today’s special,” she informs you.

“I’ll have it,” you smile.

She nods and scurries away to the bar. You stretch your legs to cover the vast extent of the lawn chair and close your eyes.

This wasn’t so bad, you think. Maybe if you could go the whole honeymoon without anyone asking about your fiance, then this wouldn’t be a terrible getaway.

Of course, with the way that Byeolbich Resort was marketed as the perfect getaway for newlywed couples, it would be impossible to avoid that question.

You’re suddenly approached by two people, a man and a woman, most likely a newlywed couple, and the woman waves at you.

“Are these chairs taken?” She asks politely.

“No,” you smile. The man and woman take their seat by the pool, and quietness ensues for a few moments.

“I’m Seulgi. And this is Taemin,” she introduces the both of them. The man, Taemin, waves at you pleasantly.

“I’m Y/N,” you respond.

“And where’s the lucky man? Or woman?” She asks, raising a brow. You smile a little at her peppy attitude so early in the morning.

“Oh, he’s in the room,” you say a little nervously. “He’s just shaving.”

“And you didn’t wait for him so you could have quality time together?” She pesters. For a second you think she’s serious, but she only playfully slaps you on the arm. You’re surprised at her intimacy, at how she treats you like an old friend given that you only met a few minutes ago.

“I’m kidding. Sometimes I need a moment away from this one.” Her gaze for a second rests on Taemin, as her hand shields her lips to pretend she’s telling a secret. You laugh, not particularly because she’s funny but because you’re relieved that she isn’t asking any more questions.

“Y/N!” You hear from afar. From the indoor entrance to the pool from the resort, you see Johnny, waving at you. He’s once again shirtless and he’s wearing blue swim trunks.

His body looks so wonderfully sunkissed that you think your mouth is about to drop open.

“So you’re the hubby?” Seulgi says, smiling. Johnny looks at you quizically for barely a second before smiling at Seulgi; she didn’t notice, thankfully.

“Yep,” Johnny plays along. “Y/N is my wife. We’ve been happily married for a day,” he continues. When he pulls a chair to sit beside you, he grabs your hand and holds it, his knuckles resting against his thigh.

You’re almost caught off-guard with how comforting his hand feels.

Seulgi looks overjoyed. “Congratulations!” She exclaims. “We’ve only been married for a week,” Seulgi gestures to herself and Taemin.

“By the way, I’m Taemin,” Taemin introduces himself to Johnny.

“Johnny,” he says, reaching out to shake Taemin’s hand. Taemin looks a little baffled at the gesture before ultimately taking Johnny’s hand.

“That’s wonderful,” you say, plastering a smile on your face. It’s not entirely fake – you’re happy that Taemin and Seulgi were able to find love together – but the crushing feeling it gives your heart is unreal.

Here were two people who got married and were honeymooning together. They looked so genuinely happy. They didn’t seem to be walking on pins and needles like you were.

“Your drink?” The woman from earlier takes your flute and places it on the table.

“Thank you.” You bow a little, as per Korean tradition.

“Would you guys like anything?” She directs to the rest of the group.

“Some Soju,” Taemin says. “None for my wife though, she’s had more than her fair share for today,” he jokes.

“Hey!” Seulgi whines but makes no move to order a drink for herself.

“Could I have some Bokbunja-ju?” Johnny asks. Korean raspberry wine. You’ve heard of it faintly when Kun would order alcohol at restaurants in Korea.

The woman writes down these orders and goes back to the bar.

“So,” Seulgi starts off. You’re drinking your margarita when she continues again. “Out of all the places you could take your honeymoon in, why Jeju Island?” She asks.

“Well,” you say. “Johnny had a lot of business opportunities in Korea, and one weekend, we went to Jeju Island to soak up the sun at the beaches,” you explain. “Ever since, I’ve loved Jeju Island.” It wasn’t completely a lie. Replace Johnny with Kun, and it’s the same story.

“How wonderful!” Seulgi gleefully claps her hands. “Taemin and I have been coming to Jeju since we were kids,” she looks fondly at her husband. “We were best friends before we became married. Can you believe it?” She asks, not really expecting an answer. “We’re from mainland Korea, from Seoul,” she says.

“I remember it like it was yesterday,” Taemin suddenly says. Seulgi feverishly blushes. “We were in the same dance class. I saw her from across the room, and I instantly knew that I had to be around her.”

“Aww,” you say, trying to gush more emotion into your voice. Yours and Kun’s meeting wasn’t actually that interesting – a couple of friends in college introduced you to him.

You don’t talk to those friends much anymore.

But right now wasn’t the best time for you to be hearing cute love stories while you were still so bitter.

“Speaking of dance classes,” Seulgi says. “There’s a couple’s dance at the west wing tonight. You guys should come.” Her voice sounds very enthused.

“Well, actually, me and Johnny were going to –”

“We’ll come,” Johnny interrupts.

“We will?” You raise a brow at your fake husband.

“Yeah. We will,” Johnny reassures, looking at you before pleasantly smiling at the couple. You gape at him only for a few seconds, before it can become noticeable.

“Great! I guess that’s settled.” Seulgi says.

“Drinks?” You hear a familiar voice, and it’s once again the woman who served you your drink. She hands a drink to Johnny and Taemin, and they thank her graciously.

As you chat with Seulgi and Taemin for a few more minutes, you only pray that they won’t ask anything too personal, or catch on to your secret in some big, dramatic way.

After all, isn’t how all these ‘fake dating’ scenarios end?

Thankfully, you have enough summer dresses in your arsenal that would be formal enough to wear to a dance. Your dress is a cream dress with red leaves, sleeveless, and it comes to almost your knee. Johnny is wearing a nicer shirt and some slacks.

He looks stunning.

You both approach the west wing, and you know it’s the correct location when you can hear loud music bleeding through the walls. Johnny courteously opens the door, and you walk in, to see many couples in nice clothes dancing to the live music. They’re playing lively jazz music, and the saxophone and trumpet music hit your soul.

“Y/N! Johnny!” A voice shouts in the midst of all the noise. It’s Seulgi, and holding her waist is Taemin, who is beaming at his wife.

“Seulgi!” You exclaim. Taemin detaches himself from his wife and they both approach you in the crowded room.

“I love your dress!” You exclaim. Her dress is a light, seafoam green, and it compliments the heels she’s wearing.

“Thank you! I love yours!”

You smile at the compliments. You take a few moments to observe the decor, a dark room lit by fairy lights, and a large panoramic window that shows the sun dipping into the ocean that is a few miles away from the resort.

“Why are you guys standing around?” Seulgi questions. “Dance!” You didn’t even realize that Seulgi and Taemin started dancing to the music while you and Johnny stand awkwardly together.

“What do you say, partner?” Johnny asks. “Can you pleasure me with a dance?” He rephrases, a cheesy smile on his face. You laugh at how he dramatically bows to take your hand, and his hands suddenly land on your waist. You gasp, thanking the loud music for masking the sound, and you feel your body stiffen.

“This feels like prom for adults,” you say as you match Johnny’s lively steps.

“Remember our prom?” Johnny says nostalgically.

“Yeah,” you smile. You and Johnny went to your senior prom together after your best friend offered to take you when you couldn’t find a date and all your other girlfriends had dates. You didn’t want to go so you won’t bother them, but Johnny enthusiastically volunteered because he thought that prom was too important to miss. Even though it’s just overdressed high schoolers in a school gym dancing to ‘The Cupid Shuffle’ and the like, every high schooler should have the experience. After all, it’s the one day that the school gym doesn’t smell like a sweaty sock.

Johnny picked you up, wearing a matching navy-blue bow tie that his mother picked out to your hand-me-down navy blue gown that your sister wore to prom, and you ate at a Mexican restaurant and showed up to prom just as more and more people were arriving. Your heels were digging into your feet, but you didn’t care, just dancing to party music and singing along without a care in the world.

It was the night you were sure that you were in love with Johnny, and you were sure your best friend was never going to like you the same way you liked him. But despite that soul-crushing feeling, you still had fun.

Suddenly a slow song started to come on. You stop twirling and stare awkwardly at Johnny. The DJ speaks into the microphone.

“This is for all you guys in love!”

“I guess we start slow dancing,” you say. Johnny holds you close, and you feel any words you’re going to say die in your throat. You press your cheek against Johnny’s shoulder, careful not to smear any of your foundation on his nice white shirt. Johnny holds you in a way that’s not too loose and not too tight, the two of you moving your bodies in synchronicity to the Korean ballad.

As more and more people stare into their partners’ eyes lovingly or start kissing, your steps start to become mismatched with the beat as you slowly become more uncomfortable. You feel your cheeks heat up as you observe those couples and meet eyes with Johnny again.

Neither of you says anything.

“That’s right folks!” The DJ says. “Now it’s time to get it on!” His voice is expressive as he scans the crowd for couples.

Out of nowhere, the lights from the mechanical moving spotlights land on you and Johnny, the only couple that doesn’t look all lovey-dovey. You harshly gulp at the newfound eyes that were on you.

“Come on, don’t be shy,” the DJ says in good humor. “PDA is allowed here. After all, most of you folks are on your honeymoon.”

“Kiss, kiss, kiss,” Seulgi starts chanting. Taemin follows her with a wide smile on his face, and slowly, other couples start joining their chants.

Finally, both you and Johnny have had enough of all the guests’ goading, so quickly, you press and peck onto Johnny’s lips. He looks frazzled at the gesture, but he tries to keep his cool. You pull away, smiling at the audience that is circled around you both.

“You guys can do better than that!” The DJ sighs.

Johnny leans in, grabbing your waist and pressing you impossibly closer, and smashes his lips against yours. He nibbles your lips gently, and you’re pretty sure that your heart is about to beat out of your chest and move when it hits the dancefloor, but your heart is very much in your chest as you feel the sensation of your cheeks catching on fire as you kiss back, enjoying Johnny’s lips.

Johnny pulls away slowly, as if he’s scared to pull far enough from you that you can gaze into his eyes. But finally, he faces the crowd, smiling, and they cheer. You follow in suit.

When Johnny dropped you home from prom, he gave you a warm hug on your front porch. Not a single kiss was exchanged and the closest you got to ‘couple’ things was taking photos. When the slow dance came, you and Johnny were sitting at a table, resting your legs.

Now, you’re far from prom.

It started when you were a sophomore. Johnny was in your English class, and together, you were supposed to make a utopia based on the principles in Republic by Plato. You needed to get into groups of four. None of your usual friends were in that class, so after asking a random girl if she wanted to be in your group, and another guy approached you to join your group, suddenly Johnny, a guy you saw around your school but didn’t really talk to, asked to partner with you. Dumbstruck, you agreed.

The problem with partnering with random people is that you’re not sure if they’ll do their fair share of the work. For the guy and girl who joined you, it seemed like they were allergic to meeting up or contributing anything to the shared PowerPoint that you created, and Johnny was the only one actually helping out. He was always ready to meet in the library or stay after school, and together, you carried your group to an ‘A’ and wrote scathing reviews of the other members of your group.

You thought it would be a little crush that would dissipate after Johnny went back to his old friends after the project, but he just stuck around. What was just a crush by junior year was you slowly falling in love with your best friend, with the way he was always able to make everything better. He knew what you were thinking before you even said it. He knew how to cheer you up if you did poorly on a test.

Out of all the girls in school, there was no way he could ever fall in love with you. You were certain. At prom, he didn’t ask you to slow dance, and you both rested your feet while sitting at one of the tables in the corner of the room, watching other people slow dance while you squeezed your sore feet. You had it all planned out in your mind that if he would slow dance with you, it showed that he liked you in that sense, and you would finally confess.

Although you didn’t let it show in the final weeks of high school, you were heartbroken. But the physical distance you had going to separate colleges helped you get over him. Eventually, you fell in love with Kun, the Chinese exchange student that your friends introduced you to, and were obviously engaged to him.

Until today, you thought you were completely over Johnny Suh.

Johnny was like a flame – if you got too close, you were going to get burned. It happened once before. But you were careless enough to let it happen again with this honeymoon trip.

You should have listened to Iris because now you were falling for your best friend for the second time, and you’re not sure your heart can handle it again.

For the next few days, neither you nor Johnny mentioned the kiss and pretended that it didn’t happen. You both would wake up next to each other and use the other facilities of the resort. One day, you both went surfing, then on another you went to the beach and built sandcastles, drinking strong Korean alcohol. While things were a little awkward – like how you both wouldn’t stand less than two inches from each other, you still were having a good time despite how you were unexpectedly falling in love with your best friend again.

Seulgi and Taemin raved about the massages at the resort next time you ran into them at the pool where you and Johnny would relax and start working on your tans before you would do anything substantial in the day.

“In order for the masseuse to be the most effective, you need to take off your clothes,” Seulgi informs you both. “Obviously, there’s going to be a towel over your bum, but at least you need to be topless so they can rub the essential oils on your skin, and you need to take off your pants if you want the leg massage. But that shouldn’t be a problem for you both,” Seulgi smiles suggestively, “you should be seeing a lot of each other in bed.”

You and Johnny laugh uncomfortably. “Yup. We’re having a good time in bed,” you say nervously, hoping that you don’t sound as nervous as you are.

To avoid any awkwardness, you and Johnny book separate appointments at the same time but with different masseuses. Your masseuse is a woman named Jiyeon, a kind woman in her thirties who you heard from Taemin has expert hand that can melt the stress away from your body.

You’re clutching the edges of your robe when Jiyeon smiles at you. “I’m going to look away and get some oils from this cabinet,” she points to a glossy white cabinet with a metal handle. “Feel free to take off your robe and lie face down on that massage table. There’s a towel over there for covering.”

You do as she bids and strip down naked, lie face-down on the massage bed, and put a medium-sized white towel on your butt. You position your face on the massage bed, which cradles your cheeks comfortably.

All of a sudden, you hear a knock.

“Excuse me, I’ll only be a moment,” Jiyeon says. Quietly, she opens the door, closing it so that there’s a thin line of air between the door and the door frame. The person who knocked starts talking, and you quietly listen to what they say.

“Jiyeon,” says a woman. “Do you mind looking after my client? My five-year-old just had an incident at school, and the teacher wants to talk to me,” she says, not elaborating further what the ‘incident’ is.

“Sure. Come on in,” she tells the client. “I’m going to get more materials from this cabinet, and feel free to strip down and grab a towel.”

“Sure– Y/N?” You know that voice from anywhere: Johnny. Your head now rests on your cheek as you look at your best friend, who only has a towel on his waist.

“Johnny?”

“You two know each other?” Jiyeon asks.

“Well, we’re sort of… married,” you say, the words sounding unfamiliar on your tongue.

“That’s your husband? Normally couples try to utilize the couples’ massage,” Jiyeon thinks out loud.

“We…” Johnny is out of words.

“Don’t worry,” Jiyeon says. “Many couples are shy around their spouses being naked, especially if they were saving themselves for marriage.”

“Y-Yes,” you chime in uncertainly. “I was saving myself for marriage, and now that I’m married, it’s all so new to me.” You chuckle nervously.

“That’s absolutely okay,” Jiyeon says expertly. She’s probably massaged hundreds of couples who are having a hard time adjusting to married life. But you’re pretty sure she’s never run into a couple faking to be married because that was easier to explain than the real story. “Now that you’re together, I hope you both can start overcoming that shyness.”

“Yeah,” Johnny says quietly.

Jiyeon goes back to getting more oils. It’s too late now to cancel your appointment. Johnny faces the the door, and you gulp at the toned, muscular, hell even beautiful side profile of your best friend. The second that Johnny takes off his towel, you shift your head to face the tiled floors. For a millisecond, you got a good view of a completely naked Johnny. You feel your cheeks burst with heat, and you’re glad that no one can see your cheeks right now.

You’ve seen Johnny half naked before, in his swim trunks and even with just a towel, and you have admired his beauty from afar before. But now it’s different. The thought of liking Johnny and him being naked in the same room is too much for you.

The second massage bed squeaks as Johnny gets on, and you feel a tapping on your arm. You turn to Johnny, whose cheek is smushed against the table and he has a wide grin on his face.

“So much for private,” you whisper, quiet enough for Jiyeon to not hear.

“It’s like the universe wants us to see each other naked,” Johnny scoffs.

“Today, we’ll be using a lavender green tea mixture,” Jiyeon says, unaware of your’s and Johnny’s private chitchat.

She starts off coating the oil on your back, little by little. She gently dabs the substance and places her hands on your back, and you gasp a little at the feeling of another woman touching you like this. Johnny snickers and you make a mental note to smack him later.

You feel the mixture working wonders on your skin, and it’s as if your worries are melted away by Jiyeon’s skilled hands. You moan slightly at the sensation of being pampered, and you feel your lips curl up into a smile.

“Enjoying yourself over there?” Johnny asks. You turn your head to face him.

“You will too,” you smile.

You’re a little disappointed when Jiyeon’s hands leave your body and she takes a few steps to massage Johnny’s sunkissed flesh. He hums contently as Jiyeon massages him, lathering his body with the essential oil mix, and you watch, slightly jealous.

You want to touch his skin like that.

“You signed up for the leg massage?” Jiyeon asks.

“Yes,” you say. That was back when you thought Johnny wasn’t going to be in the room.

After you close your eyes, Jiyeon rubs the oil on your legs, and you feel bliss overcoming you. Her fingers are soothing yet powerful, two words that usually have a hard time coexisting together in the same sentence, but in this case, ‘soothing yet powerful’ is the perfect fit for what you’re feeling.

She asks Johnny if he was supposed to have a leg massage, and he says yes, so Jiyeon gets to work on him, and Johnny is just as content with the massage as you are.

When Jiyeon steps away and stands in front of you both, Johnny sounds disappointed. “Is it already over?”

“Yes. You can book another appointment with me if you want,” she says. “I’ll leave you two to get dressed,” she says suggestively before leaving the room.

At the same time, you and Johnny look at each other.

“I-I’ll change first,” you offer awkwardly.

“Okay,” Johnny says, his gaze straight at you.

“Do you m-mind looking away?” You ask nervously.

“Oh,” Johnny didn’t even realize that he was staring at you for a long time, at how beautifully the towel around your waist and butt shows your womanly curves. “Yeah, of course.” He turns his head away, and you get up, grabbing your pink blouse and shorts from where you discarded it before the massage started. You fumble with trying to put them on, your hands shaking, mentally chastising yourself for changing so slowly.

“I’m finished,” you say to Johnny, your back facing him. “You can change now, I’m not looking.”

“Okay,” Johnny responds. You hear the massage table creak as Johnny rises, and he has his back facing towards you. You don’t know what possesses you – a bit of curiosity or horniness – but you turn around slowly yet silently, to get a view of Johnny’s toned, muscular back, tanned due to all the time you both have been in the sun recently. You watch how he turns to grab a robe that you didn’t even realize was lying around, and your eyes travel ravenously to his toned chest, down, down, down…

Your cheeks are heating for the millionth time today when you turn your head back, staring at the white walls. You can see Johnny about turn to face you just as you were staring, and terrified of getting caught, you whip your eyes back to where they are supposed to be, on the white, pristine walls.

“I’m done,” Johnny says. “But I’ll need to go to the other room to get my clothes.” He smiles, his face a little red. Good, he didn’t notice you staring.

“Let’s go to the seafood bar,” you say before Johnny can say anything else. As you try to make your mouth water at the seafood you read on the website was the best in Korea, your mouth is watering at something else…

Oh, how you wish Johnny stopped being friends with you after that project.

Instead of getting drunk on the beach for the twentieth time during your stay, you decide to invite your favorite couple Seulgi and Taemin for some beach volleyball. It looks fun in those summery beach movies, so why not try it in real life?

You asked the receptionist at the front desk where all the sports equipment was, and she showed you a portable storage unit near the part of the beach that was owned by the resort, and the four of you take the time to set up the net.

While playing under the hot sun, the time passes by quickly. Taemin and Seulgi win the first set while you and Johnny win the second set, both worth twenty points (neither of you were sure how many points a real beach volleyball game was supposed to last, and twenty seemed like a good number).

The final set consists of fifteen points, mostly only to be the tiebreaker set, as you have learned from watching a little beach volleyball in the summer Olympics. The previous sets weren’t that long since neither you, Johnny, Seulgi, or Taemin were that good and were honestly a little scared to be diving head-first into the sand to keep the ball in the air. But as the competitiveness of the game increases by the set, all four of you are willing to do what it takes to win.

The match is at 12-11 with you and Johnny on the losing side – for now. The best thing about having Johnny on your team is that Johnny is at least six feet tall and perfect for blocking the ball from coming to your side – embarrassingly enough, that was probably where the majority of your points came from because Seulgi had a difficult time diving for the ball, and you weren’t exactly much better. Sure, you had pretty good reflexes – back when you were growing up with Iris, you could swat her hand away when she tried to pull your hair – but those reflexes weren’t the same type you needed to keep a volleyball in the air.

“12-12,” Johnny says, smirking at Taemin and Seulgi.

“It’s not fair!” Seulgi whines. “You’re so freakishly tall,” she jokes. Taemin presses his lips in a fine line in good humor. Being only 5’9, he would have to jump really high if he wanted to block Johnny’s shots, and that only happened sometimes.

The final set persists. Every time you and Johnny would get another point, you both were cocky and off-guard, leaving Taemin and Seulgi to regain a point and keep the score tied. Once, they earned another point, leaving you and Johnny behind one point. The final set in beach volleyball doesn’t end until one team earns two more points than the other team, and sometimes that leads to sets that were more than twenty points.

Thankfully, though, this set does not go over twenty points, but ends with twenty points exactly. With this heat, you were praying that it would end soon so that you could get a drink of water (which you would get only every ten points into the set).

With you and Johnny leading, you serve the ball. Seulgi is able to receive it and set it into the air, when Johnny is able to jump up and block the ball. He is able to aim his block to an exposed part of Taemin and Seulgi’s side, where neither of them are in range of protecting. After Johnny makes his move, neither Seulgi or Taemin could stop the ball from touching the sand.

“We win!” You exclaim excitedly to Johnny. Noticing how Seulgi and Taemin are watching, you run up into your best friend’s arms and kiss him on the cheek. Johnny carries you and presses a soft kiss on your lips, playing along (and sadly, nothing else).

“We get it,” Taemin rolls his eyes.

You and Johnny help Taemin and Seulgi take down the net, and you shake hands.

“Good game,” you say to each other. Seulgi pulls you in for a hug while Taemin and Johnny fist bump in good faith.

“See you guys later,” Taemin says. He directs his gaze to you. “After you told us about the surfing, we’re going to try it out,” he smiles at you then redirects his gaze to Johnny. They both bow in a means to say ‘good-bye,’ and they take the net away, which you all agreed would happen to the losers of the game. Johnny takes the ball, and you throw some sticks you found to mark the court towards the ocean.

Seulgi and Taemin are just ameobas in the distance as you and Johnny make your way in the same direction, sand coating your feet. The walk is slow since the sand seems obsessed with ensnaring your feet.

As you walk, your arms brush. Due to the awkwardness parading around as a married couple, you jump back, but Johnny doesn’t.

“When are we going to stop pretending?” He asks suddenly, perfectly in Johnny’s signature direct style. Your eyes widen. You knew it; Johnny hated pretending to be married to you, after all who would want to be married to you? Even Kun, your fiance of numerous years, didn’t want to spend the rest of his life with you.

“What do you mean?” You ask cooly, trying not to show that your lips are starting to quiver.

“Pretending to date?”

You take a deep breath. “When we get out of this resort. Then we can go back home and pretend that this never happened, and you don’t ever have to talk to me ever again because I forced you to play along as my fake husband–”

The words that keep falling out of your mouth evaporate as Johnny faces you, a serious look on his face. His brown eyes contain the utmost seriousness.

“That’s not what I meant,” he says. You cock your head. It’s as if your heart stopped, waiting to beat again until Johnny says something.

Johnny then says the words that make the earth shatter under you.

“When are we going to stop pretending to date and start actually dating?”

You feel completely winded.

“R-really dating?” You stammer. You couldn’t believe it. While you were suffering alone, thinking that Johnny probably doesn’t like you back (for the second time since you’ve met the guy, in fact), he’s standing right in front of you, telling you the opposite of what you’re expecting.

“Yeah,” Johnny says. He takes your wrist, the volleyball between his waist and elbow long forgotten as it drops onto the sand. The world has stopped rotating, and only you and Johnny are in this moment.

“Why?” You can’t seem to get over your astonishment.

“Because you’re really great, and I can never get you out of my mind,” he says. Your gaze continues to burn a hole into his eyes, and he finally continues.

“I’ve been in love with you since junior year. So what’s that?” Johnny asks, rhetorically, “Seven years?” You have to keep yourself from letting your jaw drop to the ground. “On and off of course,” he smiles.

“I was so worried you didn’t like me back,” Johnny says, taking a hand and combing his hair back, revealing his tanned forehead. You can tell that this is a dialogue that has taken years to perfect and to get the courage to say.

You can’t believe that you’ve never had the courage to say these words like Johnny, preparing to love him in silence once again.

“Not to mention that it could change our friendship forever,” Johnny said.

“But Y/N,” he says. “Not for a second did I stop thinking about you. In college, there was something missing. Sure, I had a few girlfriends here and there, but there was nothing that was substantial. Every time I went out to an Italian restaurant, and I would remember how much you love pasta,” Johnny smiles to himself.

“When I got with Kun, why didn’t you say anything?” You ask.

“Because,” Johnny sighs. “I thought it was too late. You were already in love with him. And I tried to move on. But I couldn’t,” Johnny says suspensfully.

“Then this honeymoon thing happened. I knew I couldn’t keep it a secret anymore. I don’t want to lose you to another man, not again,” Johnny says, his voice rising in slight anguish.

“It was so hard to look at the happy pictures of you and Kun on Instagram kissing, holding hands, going out together. In fact, it drove me insane,” Johnny chortles, in an attempt to keep the mood a little lighter than it was.

The new information puts Johnny in a new light. You shyly try to avoid his gaze, but you fail. You need to tell him this to his face.

“I guess this is something else we have in common,” you smile. “I’ve had a crush on you since sophomore year, but I’ve been in love with you since junior year,” you take a deep breath, waiting as you let the words resonate in Johnny’s brain. His gaze urges you to continue.

“I didn’t want to tell you anything because I was afraid it would change our friendship. And imagine if you didn’t feel the same way, how awkward it would be. Could we ever really look at each other the same again?” You confess.

“I had a speech planned out senior year. At prom,” you say. Johnny’s gaze remains fixed on you as he processes the new information.

“I thought that if you asked me to slow dance, then it would be the perfect time to confess,” you say. “If we slow danced, then it meant that you sort of liked me? Or that the mood was right? I don’t know,” you giggle. “It sounds stupid now that I say it out loud.”

“Well, you were one step ahead of me,” Johnny joins in on the laughter. “God knows that I was too chicken to confess to you.”

“Iris would say the same thing about me. ‘Just confess already! No it won’t be weird that you’re in college now’” you mock your sister.

“But then my friends introduced me to Kun. He was so different,” you sigh at how young and in love you were with him. “He seemed so exotic. He was the Chinese exchange student, but then became a permanent student and got help with his citizenship. This was when we were together. Kun called me his good-luck charm, and I thought it was a sign that we should get married.” You smile ruefully. “We know where that went.”

“I don’t think I was ever in love with him,” you start off. “I had this stupid, silly little competition with my sister, but I was really the only one participating. I always had to one-up her, and there wasn’t really any provocation for it,” you confess. It wasn’t like your parents compared you to her. Naturally, you’re a competitive person.

You’ve never told this to anyone, and suddenly, it feels like there’s a big weight lifted off of your chest.

“You never needed to be like your sister,” Johnny says. “Just being you is enough.”

Slowly the gap closes between you both. You throat dries at what you’re going to say next, but you force the words out of yourself.

“I love you Johnny Suh. I always have, and I always will.” Johnny smiles at the tenderness of your voice. You giggle. Finally, it’s out.

“God, I feel like I could scream it to the world,” you say.

“Then do it,” Johnny challenges.

You smile. You step away from Johnny and cup your hands around your mouth.

“I love you Johnny Suh!” You scream shrilly. At the way peoples’ gazes land on you both for a few seconds, you giggle, and Johnny follows in suit.

“Now your turn,” you put your hands on your hips.

“I love you Y/N Y/L/N!”

People mind their own business this time. Love confessions are probably the norm around here.

Before you can stop yourself, you stand on your toes and place your lips on Johnny’s. His lips feel fresh and you can’t help but feel your heart race uncontrollably. You feel like you could die at this moment because you can’t imagine yourself being happier than you are right now, and you want to preserve the feeling. Johnny feels the same way; he can’t stop kissing you, your cherry chapstick making his mind hazy.

You both stare into each others’ eyes as many thoughts run around in your heads unsaid. Johnny’s hands find their way to your waist.

“What are you doing?” You ask. He starts moving, to the beat of his own song, and you follow his steps. By now, you have a feeling why he’s doing what he’s doing.

“Giving you the slow dance that you wanted. And,” he says bringing his lips impossibly close to your’s that you can’t believe he’s not kissing you right now. “The dance I was too scared to ask for.”

Together, you and Johnny are slowdancing on the beach. The sun isn’t a problem anymore, and everything else has faded away in which it would take a lot to remove you from the little world you’re in with Johnny.

You start humming, and Johnny joins you.

If only you told him nine years ago.

A blade of sunshine hits your face, slowly rousing you.

Your vision is bleary with sleep, but the crisp off-white walls and abstract paintings hanging above the bed signal that you’re in the hotel room that you’re sharing with your best friend Johnny.

Now, your boyfriend Johnny.

You both are tangled under the soft white quilt in a mess of limbs. You try hard not to move to abruptly so you don’t wake your boyfriend. There’s something in his face that makes him look so peaceful, so relaxed and child-like; you’ve noticed that people always look like that when they’re asleep.

If there’s something Johnny has learned over the years, it’s knowing when people are watching him when he sleeps. In college, if he felt the slightest gaze hit him during his boring history class, he would immediately jerk awake to not alert the professor of his lack of effort.

But now, he likes the feeling of your gaze raking against his cheeks. He enjoys it for a few moments before he slowly opens his eyes. Your face is close to his, and you almost want to jump away from shock, being so consciously close to your best fr – boyfriend, you mean.

Johnny’s hand quickly grabs your wrist. He would hate for you to back away, because then, he wouldn’t be able to smell the pleasant coconut and strawberry bodywash you used yesterday.

He smiles a sleepy sort of smile. “You’re my favorite thing to see this morning, and all mornings.”

These words make a fast heat spread across your cheeks, and Johnny only gives you a throaty laugh. “Did you forget that we’re dating now?”

To Johnny, being your boyfriend seemed natural; maybe that’s because for the last week and a half, he’s gotten a lot of practice.

For you, on the other hand, it’s going to take longer to get used to. Sure, you’ve gotten practice being Johnny’s girlfriend, but for the whole time, you were a bundle of nerves, afraid that at any moment, someone will find out the true story and will immediately start to pity your situation. Or that Taemin and Seulgi would find out and get mad at you for lying. After getting to know them better, you felt bad about all the lying.

Johnny is a go-with-the-flow type of guy, and after being handed the ropes, he knew what to do. That was one of the many things you love about Johnny.

You lean forward to kiss Johnny’s slightly-chapped lips and smile. “Of course I remember that we’re dating.”

The two of you hop out of bed together; last night, after eating lots of seafood at the seafood bar for maybe the third time since you’ve come here, were completely full and were too tired to do anything else except lie on your backs and sleep together, feeling more content than you have in a long time.

Both of you go into the bathroom where you brush your teeth, stealing gazes at each other while foam coated your chins and making silly faces after cleaning your mouths.

After getting into your beachwear, you both head to the pool, your go-to place before you explored any of the resort for the day. That’s the place where you would meet Taemin and Seulgi, your first couple friends.

Taemin and Seulgi are already there when you and Johnny arrive.

“Y/N! Johnny!” Seulgi calls out. Taemin gestures to two empty lounge chairs by their table and they already ordered you guys drinks.

There’s a reason why you like them.

You and Johnny wave and then join them, taking the two full drinks by their table.

“How was the surfing lesson?” You ask Seulgi, remembering yesterday that Seulgi and Taemin tried surfing lessons that were advertised on the resort website.

“Hilarious,” she says. You quirk an eyebrow, finding the response odd, but she continues. “I was having a good time – in fact, I was a natural, but this one here,” she shifts her gaze to Taemin for a few seconds, “kept falling on his butt!” She erupts in a fit of giggles, and Taemin is prepared to argue.

“The instructor said it was natural for beginners to fall like that,” Taemin defends himself.

“But I was a natural,” Seulgi says playfully, whipping back her hair dramatically.

“Yes, you were,” Taemin fondly smiles.

“It took him at least ten tries for him to actually stand upright,” Seulgi says.

“And what did the instructor say after that?” Taemin challenges in good humor.

Seulgi smiles, “that pro surfers should watch out.”

Taemin nods, “That’s right, don’t forget,” he bats her shoulder.

“I’m so lucky to be married to such a stud,” Seulgi says, and at first you think that it’s her being sarcastic, which a small part is, but then her gaze becomes serious. She forgets that you and Johnny are around for a few seconds.

“And I’m so lucky to be married to a beautiful, natural surfer.” They kiss, and you and Johnny smile. That was you guys just a few hours ago, sick with love that you confessed to one another.

You don’t feel bitter anymore seeing them together, only glad that you found someone who shares the same kind of love for you that you do for him.

Seulgi and Taemin’s gazes are back to you both.

“There’s something…” Taemin trails off, his finger to his chin, “different about you guys.” His voice is clear and astute. Taemin is one of those people whose quiet, but when they say something, people listen to them.

Taemin collects his thoughts to say something further. He inspects you and Johnny in detail. “You both don’t have a few inches of distance. And you’re holding hands.” He points out.

You feel your heart catch in your throat. You were hoping that neither of them would notice anything different, but you weren’t really the best actress.

“Wanna tell them?” Johnny asks. Taemin and Seulgi wait in anticipation for your next words.

“When we came into this resort, Johnny and I weren’t actually married. Or dating in fact.” These words paint shock on the other couple’s faces. You continue the story with how your fiance of many years left you at the altar, and after paying lots of money for the honeymoon, you decided to still attend, this time single and with one of your oldest friends.

“We knew it would be really complicated to explain this story the first time we met you or even the staff. So when people would assume that we were married, we didn’t correct them.”

You try to stop the butterflies in your stomach by thinking that honesty is the best policy, and that you’re relieved that you finally told the truth to people you considered your friends.

Seulgi and Taemin are lost for words for a while.

“Well that’s… eventful,” Seulgi says. You think that she’s about to call you a no-good liar and walk out of your life, but she just smiles. “But I would have done the same thing too. And about your former fiance,” she says, “Fuck him.”

“Seulgi!” Taemin says, “There’s no call for bad language.”

“Of course there’s a call for bad language for Y/N’s terrible former fiance. I know you’ve heard it a bunch of times, and you’re probably tired of it, but I’m really sorry that that happened to you.”

With Seulgi, it didn’t seem like she was trying to sound like they pity you, but her words were heartfelt and genuine.

“It’s okay,” you shrug your shoulders. “Him dumping me is the reason why I’m here today with the love of my life,” you smile fondly at Johnny after taking a sip of your drink, and he leans in to share a kiss that tastes of strawberries and alcohol. “It gave me time to reassess who I should really be with.”

After a few moments of silence at your soulful words, you raise an eyebrow playfully. “Maybe I should send him a thank-you note.”

“Maybe you should,” Taemin says. “It’ll tell him what he missed out on.”

a/n (2): thank you so much for reading! this was a very self-indulgent fic that i had a great time writing. let me know what you thought by leaving a comment or sending me an ask! my ask box is always open. thank you for stopping by!

#nct #johnny suh #nct fluff #nct scenarios #nct 127 #johnny suh fluff #johnny suh scenarios #johnny suh imagines #nct imagines #nct 127 fluff #nct 127 scenarios #nct 127 imagines #nct reactions #nct fics #johnny suh smut

2K notes · View notes