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You were fucked.
In any other sense, it was a great day. The sun was shining, and it was abnormally warm for early October. The sand of the beach provided a nice chill beneath your bare feet, creeping up to your calves where you’d rolled up your jeans. That, combined with the echo of your friends’ laughter across the dunes, it would have been bliss.
But there, standing not ten meters away, was Kim Namjoon. And he was ruining everything.
It seemed your dear friend Namjoon had changed quite a bit during his summer spent working for his family’s farm. In some ways, he was the same old Joonie, the sweet boy you’d been crushing on since your early teens. His smile was contagious as ever, dimples popping and eyes crinkling with the show of his pearly whites. The breeze that carried Hobi’s distinctive laugh also ruffled Namjoon’s soft hair, tousling it to and fro and shaping his already gorgeous face with a certain familiarity.
He was definitely different, though. His dark blue jeans hugged his newly thick thighs just right, and as he chased after the football Jungkook had just lobbed his way, the muscles flexed and relaxed obscenely. With every step and stumble he took through the sand, you felt your heart jump, mouth going dry. His henley was unbuttoned, exposing the tanned planes of his chest. His pecs bulged from the material.
So, yeah, you were fucked. But you were doing a great job of hiding it, disguising your helpless staring with a raised eyebrow or a laugh or a silly comment.
Only so much of your Namjoon-driven hypnosis could be explained away, though, and that became abundantly clear when Jungkook’s stupid football came flying towards your head.
With a loud thump, it made a sickening collision with the back of your head, and you, entranced by Namjoon and the imprint of his toned stomach into the cotton of his shirt, could do nothing to anticipate the impact.
“Shit!” Hobi screeched as you stumbled across the sand from the blow, tripping over the dunes and your own feet and toppling into a pile of limbs and embarrassment. Distantly, you heard someone calling your name.
Oh, my God. Your face burned as you scrambled to get your bearings. And you were fine, all thoughts of that beautiful man in your presence yielding to the predicament at hand.
But when Namjoon’s thick biceps pulled you up and trapped you in his arms, everything changed. The world around you disappeared, your focus honing into the way his warm skin felt against yours. There was more conversation around you, but it was all muffled and indistinct, fading into the background as you became painfully aware of the solid warmth of him. You blinked slowly, trying to focus.
Namjoon was holding you. And, apparently, the football hadn’t knocked your ability to ogle him clean out of your head.
“Hey, you with me?” He was supporting all of your weight against his chest, bending down so his arm could fit just beneath your triceps. He tilted his neck down to try to catch your eye, and you felt something spark in your lower belly.
“Um, yeah, sorry,” you stuttered out, gaze trapped in his deep brown eyes. “Yeah, I’m alright.”
He didn’t seem to believe you. Concern was written all over his face, in the clench of his strong jaw and in the line appearing just between his brows.
“Really, I am. Thank you, Joonie.” You broke eye contact with him, looking down to your bare feet nestled in the sand. You could have sworn you felt his breath catch…
No, your mind was just playing tricks on you. You took a step back, putting weight into your feet below you. It was a bit wobbly, but you’d suffice. You were starting to feel particularly mortified about the scene you’d caused.
“Okay.” At the unsure call of his deep voice as you pushed away from him, you found your legs jelly beneath you yet again. You stumbled away from him, eyes widening as your gaze shot to his.
Namjoon moved quickly, arms darting to secure your body against his again. Thank God, one part of you thought, but the other wasn’t quite sure. The coil in your stomach tightened.
“Alright, that’s enough,” the gentle giant murmured. “Hob-ah, I’m gonna bring her to the car to rest!”
An affirmative from Hoseok and Jungkook had Namjoon shifting his arms around you. He called your name softly, clearly not wanting to irritate your growing headache. You looked up to meet his stare.
“I’m going to pick you up, okay?” He said slowly.
“Wait, wait,” you chattered hurriedly, cheeks burning again. The car was a good walk away, and as much as you really did want to feel his strength around you, you didn’t want to inconvenience him. “It’s okay, really.”
“I don’t mind, I promise.” You sighed, shutting your eyes.
“Joonie, I—” you found yourself stuttering, insecurity seeping in.
“What?”
You swallowed, setting your jaw before looking back up into his eyes. Those warm, warm eyes.
“It’s just that,” you lowered your voice to a whisper. “I’m heavy, Joon.”
He raised an eyebrow at you, scoffing. “Please, don’t insult me. Come here.”
Namjoon didn’t wait for you to answer this time, evidently a bit fed up at your shitty excuse. He bent down even further, propping you up with one hand on your forearm as he reached under your knees with the other.
In an instant, you were weightless, hugged securely into those damn arms you couldn’t stop staring at. Your jaw dropped.
“Close your mouth, love. You’ll catch flies.” You didn’t need to look at Namjoon to know he was smirking. He squeezed you closer to him, and you just buried your face into his neck.
“Nothing to say?” He said after a few steps. You huffed back.
“Namjoon,” you whined, and his gait halted, biceps bulging as he gripped you tighter than ever.
As slow and as gently as you could, you pulled your face from his neck. The air was trapped in your lungs when you saw the state of Namjoon: his jaw worked itself as he clenched his teeth together, and his once warm gaze was dark, staring directly ahead. A vein popped out along the column of his neck, Adam’s apple bobbing just beside it.
Frankly, it was hot, and your body agreed.
“Joon?” Your voice was barely a whisper, meant just for him, and his dark eyes shifted to your face. To your lips.
“Fuck, baby, if you’re gonna talk like that I don’t know what I’ll do,” he practically growled.
Oh, shit. Namjoon had always been loose with petnames, but he’d never called you baby before. You pressed your legs together to get some friction.
But you were in deep now, so you just batted your eyelashes. “Talk like what?”
Namjoon let his head fall back, breaking eye contact. He groaned, low and deep in his chest, and you found yourself literally wiggling in his grip, aching to be closer to him.
He didn’t answer you, opting instead to resume his walk to the car. This time, however, his strides were long and fast.
A man on a mission. And it seemed you were along for the ride.