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Go! Girl Crush!

Summary:

Junbin likes watching DeokBang, and seeing how much food tiny Kyungdeok is able to put away in one sitting.

She also just likes Kyungdeok.

Notes:

Title from MAMAMOO’s Girl Crush. More notes at the end.

Written for NabiSonyeo (the Girl!EXO exchange/fest).

(See the end of the work for more notes.)

Work Text:

It’s 7pm. Kim Junbin clicks into the app, the 1000₩ access fee whizzing away into the ether.

This is Junbin’s favourite time of the week: DeokBang.

Do Kyungdeok—named for her grandmother, Junbin remembers Byun Baeklim informing her, though she’s never let her hideously unfashionable name break her stride—is cute today, her hair pulled back into a bun and her cheeks rosier than usual, due to the heat of the hotplate in front of her. She’s wearing one of Junbin’s favourite sweaters; the cream one with the roses on it that shows off her collarbones. Junbin hopes she doesn’t stain it, though that’s something Junbin would do rather than Kyungdeok. Kyungdeok is good at looking after her clothes.

“Hi guys,” Kyungdeok says, raising a hand to the camera in the calm way she does everything. Junbin would be embarrassed and blushing behind her hand. Baeklim would be waving frantically. “We’re cooking samgyupsal today.” She tilts the camera, and suddenly Junbin can see two hundred pounds of belly pork, a whole Korean lettuce, some peppers, mushrooms, chilies, garlic, and two red onions. The oil on the hotplate starts bubbling, and Kyungdeok smiles at the camera, lifting a strip of pork with her cooking chopsticks. “Let’s start, then.”

DeokBang is a popular food show; a meokbang, and Kyungdeok is its tiny host. At four foot eleven, she’s as small as Junbin is, but where Junbin is all meat and soft curves, Kyungdeok is smaller. She’s the picture-perfect girlfriend of tall boys, with long dark hair, a soft face, large doe eyes, a cute button nose, and heart-shaped kissable lips. She’s the kind of girl boys would want to put under their arms, stoop to kiss in the rain, and the kind of girl you want to see wearing your oversized shirts and nothing else.

Junbin thinks Kyungdeok’s looks are the reason her meokbang started getting so popular; there’s nothing quite like watching a tiny and pretty girl put away her body weight in food once a week. But her personality is nothing like how she looks. Instead, Kyungdeok is witty, rude, has a wicked sense of humour, and can at times be downright brutal in the things she says.

Kyungdeok’s fans eat it up. There are men who specifically come into the chat and say something rude in order to receive one of her cutting put-downs. If Kyungdeok’s looks were the reason that she started getting fans, her personality is the reason they stayed fans.

Junbin’s different. She’s known of Kyungdeok for years; she’s one of Baeklim’s childhood friends, and she’s been hearing stories about her for a long time through the grapevine. They’ve always run in different circles though, so they’ve never met in person. But watching DeokBang, listening to the stories Kyungdeok tells and adding it to what she knows from Baeklim—like when Kyungdeok talks about “that girl from school who really wanted a nose-ring” she is talking about Baeklim, although Baeklim swears she never seriously wanted one—makes Junbin feel like she knows Kyungdeok on a level her other fans don’t.

It worries her a little.

Junbin moves her focus to the food cooking on Kyungdeok’s hotplate. Kyungdeok always knows how to cook everything to perfection, and Junbin feels her mouth water, desperately wanting some.

Meokbangs became popular due to diets but still wanting a connection with food—so people watch others eat, instead of eating themselves. Junbin isn’t necessarily on a diet, she just really wants some of Kyungdeok’s food—eaten off Kyungdeok’s chopsticks, if at all possible.

And there’s the crux of it all: Junbin just really likes Kyungdeok.

Kyungdeok is in the midst of telling a story about Baeklim and that time she bullied Kyungdeok into being her wingwoman back in university, something Kyungdeok says she never wants to be again—the boy wasn’t even hot—when the first lot of food is ready. She peels a large leaf off the lettuce and places pork, chilies, mushrooms and onion into the centre of the leaf, along with some garlic, folds the whole thing elegantly—her nails are always unpainted, unlike Junbin’s own pink nails, and kept short and neat so as to not cause bacterial transfer—and then pops the whole thing into her mouth in one go.

Kyungdeok always eats like she hasn’t eaten in a month; her eyes squeezed shut, her cheeks full like a hamster’s, her full lips pursed. Her arms shake a little as she moans at the joy of eating the food she’s cooked. Junbin wonders when Kyungdeok will get a food CF, because the unrivalled way she enjoys food would bring more customers to any business.

She does not think about the fans’ reactions to how Kyungdeok eats. Instead, she keeps her thoughts innocent as she watches Kyungdeok eat the majority of the food over the next hour, and watches the chatbox grow, with fans’ suggestions of what Kyungdeok should eat next.

“I’ll see you next week,” Kyungdeok says, her smile gentle. “I hope you’ve had fun!”

I always have fun, Junbin wants to type, but she never quite has the courage to.

---

During the downtime between livestreams, Junbin likes to watch old Deokbangs that have been uploaded to Youtube, usually two or three weeks after they first stream, for those who can’t make the sessions. Junbin has favourite videos, of course; the one where Kyungdeok wears that black, strapless dress and eats at least eighteen slices of assorted pizza is a good one. Her hair was loose for it, falling down her back in long, dark waves, and Junbin had wanted to run her hands through it. Junbin also likes the video where Kyungdeok mentioned Baeklim for the first time. She’d been cooking cheesy pasta in a red, scoop-neck shirt and had gone on at length about the nose-ring girl and her refusal to work at Kyungdeok’s family restaurant. There’s more to the story than that—there always is; Baeklim had already been working two part-time jobs after school to help pay for her sick father’s medical care—but the way Kyungdeok tells such a sad story, with her partially-wicked, partially-innocent facial expressions always makes Junbin keel over, laughing so hard she cries.

Right now, Junbin is watching the video where Kyungdeok makes bibimbap using leftovers from a dinner party. This is first time Kyungdeok talks about “Manga Girl”. Junbin doesn’t know who that’s referring to, but apparently the girl had long hair and wore glasses, and Kyungdeok had liked her singing voice the one time she’d heard it. When Kyungdeok likes something, her usual stern-yet-cute expression evens out, large doe eyes softening and the edges of her bow lips curving up. Junbin has always wanted to be on the receiving end of that beautiful smile, so she’s always been jealous of Manga Girl—especially for the one time Kyungdeok slips and uses the possessive pronoun my when talking about her.

“I remember the girl taking her nose out of the book, just to glare at our friend for making such a noise,” Kyungdeok is saying, chuckling. “I didn’t really blame her. She was making such a racket.”

“Boo,” comes from behind Junbin, and she jumps a little, almost dropping her laptop. She presses pause and places it on the couch beside her carefully, and turns to glare at her cackling flatmate. Sometimes she wonders why she agreed to move in with Baeklim. This is one of those moments. Baeklim has no concept of decency.

“You know I can set you up with Ducky, right?” Baeklim says, grinning, using the word Orissaekki—duckling—for Kyungdeok’s nickname, as is her habit.

“Be careful not to let her hear you call her that,” Junbin points out dutifully, raising an eyebrow at Baeklim.

“Oh, Ducky’s a pussycat,” Baeklim waves her off. “All hissing without scratching, or however you say that phrase.”

Junbin would beg to differ. She knows Kyungdeok is capable of as much bite as she is bark; sometimes there are fans who are a little too over-the-top and enthusiastic with their rudeness and creepiness in the chat, and there are even stalkers who try to meet her at her Seoul home. The ones who escape with a permanent IP ban or a restraining order are the lucky ones. Junbin’s heard stories, and even been there for one of Kyungdeok’s infamous tirades—a well-earned and well-justified one, in Junbin’s opinion, but a tirade nonetheless—before, about fans who are rude, ungrateful, creepy, and, at times, downright scary. Usually, her supportive fanbase are able to calm her down and build her back up during the following hours or so, but sometimes they aren’t able.

Junbin would love to meet Kyungdeok, but at the same time she’s afraid. Afraid of what she’d say—she’s had too many nightmares where she meets Kyungdeok and the first thing she says is, “I love watching you eat”—or worse. Afraid of what she’d do—she can just see herself tripping head over heels for Kyungdeok, when in person. Afraid of what Kyungdeok would do to her—would she consider her a stalker? She does know a lot more about Kyungdeok than the average fan, but doesn’t that just make her creepier? And finally—just afraid of Kyungdeok.

“I’m okay,” Junbin says, a few seconds later than appropriate. “I don’t want to intrude on her life.”

Baeklim just grins.

---

Junbin’s laptop screen is pushed unpleasantly closed. She looks up with a frown, glasses slipping down her nose. She pushes them back up and purses her lips, as Baeklim beams down at her.

“I’m hosting a party for us,” she says. “A joint birthday party.”

Junbin blinks at her. “Uh, what?” she asks.

“Fourteenth of May,” Baeklim says. “It’s halfway between our birthdays, so it makes sense.”

Junbin opens her laptop again. She’s working from home today and her spreadsheet is suspiciously empty, her Chrome windows minimised, volume 81 of One Piece next to her, a bookmark of Nami peeking out. She needs to actually do some work, instead of letting herself be distracted. But she’d probably be distracted at work too. “Your parties are always noisy,” she mutters, and begins typing; filling in the blank table with data.

“It’ll be nice,” Baeklim says. “It’s not just for me; I’ll make sure there are things for you. Nice food, board games, cute girls.”

Junbin looks up at her again, a somewhat dirty look in her eye. It’s not that Baeklim’s interpretation of the things she likes is wrong, per se. It just makes her sound much simpler than she is. Junbin is a complex person.

Baeklim breezes on, as she does. Junbin’s glares haven’t had an effect on her in years. “It’ll be a small party; twenty-five guests. Anyone you want me to invite? I’m sending the invites out tomorrow.”

Junbin sighs. She’s not getting out of this. Once Baeklim has her mind settled on something, it is very hard to dislodge her. “Minseul, Jungsook and Sehae?” she suggests.

“Done!” Baeklim says. “It’ll be a good party, you mark my words.”

---

It is not a good party. But that might be because Junbin is extremely awkward around people she doesn’t know, and Baeklim has a lot of friends she doesn’t know—regardless of the fact there are only twenty-five guests. It doesn’t really seem like a small party, despite what Baeklim had promised her.

Junbin chooses to spend the first hour of the party in the kitchen, enjoying the little distance from the girl groups playing through their TV and the alcohol. She thinks there’s drinking game going on whilst Baeklim plays their recording of today’s Show! Music Core, but she isn’t quite sure.

She spends this hour reading for a bit, and then on social media, clicking her way through a stream of Instagram pictures from her colleagues, friends, and fansites.

Kyungdeok posted a selca less than an hour before the party started; all dolled up with her hair loose and her wide eyes lined like a cat’s, changing their shape in a way that Junbin finds extremely flattering. She can’t see what Kyungdeok is wearing, just that it only has one thin black strap. She presses the screen of her phone, joining the other five hundred likes Kyungdeok has already. Once again, she doesn’t leave a comment, even though she scrolls through—variations of politeness, some of which she hopes Kyungdeok doesn’t read, and even some English comments; “unnie you look pretty today!!” and “I want to be that lipstick!”

Junbin puts her phone down and reaches for a cheese straw just as the door kitchen door opens. She doesn’t need to turn to recognise the pattern of footfalls.

She’s proven right a moment later when something warm collides with her back, and limpet arms wrap themselves around under her neck. “Are you a hermit?” Baeklim asks, slightly slurring her words. “I’m not having this. Come with me.”

She pulls away only for a moment, before grabbing Junbin’s wrist and dragging her out of her comfort zone and into the vibrating thrum of the party.

Junbin only has the briefest of opportunities to say hello to Minseul and Sehae, over by the plates of food—who knows where Jungsook is—before she’s whisked away and dropped unceremoniously onto their sofa. She almost collides with someone else, so she collects herself quickly and glares at Baeklim.

Baeklim rolls her eyes. “The two of you are being so boring. Please bond over your hatred of fun and parties.” She turns and grabs a plastic cup from the nearby table and heads over to the collection of drinks. Junbin sighs and turns to the person next to her.

Perfect cat eyes stare back at her. Junbin almost jumps.

“Hi,” Kyungdeok says. She looks even more beautiful in person, her lips rosy and her hair jet black. Her dress is midnight blue, coming down to mid-thigh. It wouldn’t come up over Junbin’s breasts, if she were to try it on. “Um, isn’t this supposed to be your party too, Junbin-sshi?”

Junbin blinks. She feels like they’ve missed a step in this conversation. Also, Kyungdeok knows her name. “Yes,” she says. “But this,” she waves around them, at the TV and the alcohol, “isn’t really my thing.”

“What would you prefer to do?” Kyungdeok asks.

There are so many answers to that question that are inappropriate with Kyungdeok sitting right there. “Have a quiet night in with some friends and some board games,” she settles on. “I still need to do some work, too.”

“Oh, what do you do?” She looks interested, her full lips curved up slightly at the corners and her eyes deep and earnest.

Junbin is an accountant, but she works for an animal shelter, and sometimes they have days where the staff are allowed to socialise the animals as they work. The idea of working with a fluffy lop-eared dwarf rabbit on your lap and a hamster crawling up your sleeve is a lot more romantic than the reality, but it makes her happy anyway.

Kyungdeok’s eyes sparkle as Junbin tells her of the one time Baeklim had visited her on a free-for-all day and a cat had climbed onto her head and refused to leave. Baeklim hates cats, which is why they don’t have one.

“How can anyone hate cats?” Kyungdeok asks, sighing.

“Do you have pets?” Junbin asks, but Kyungdeok shakes her head.

“I can’t have them where I live now. I’d need to move somewhere else before I was able.”

Kyungdeok works in an office as well, which was something Junbin hadn’t actually known, as Kyungdeok never talks about work during her videos. She had always thought Kyungdeok did something else—maybe something considered more glamorous.

“I do a meokbang, though,” Kyungdeok says, with a smile.

“Ah, yeah,” Junbin says, and before she realises what she’s said, she’s said it. “Baeklim showed me. I’ve watched it a couple of times. I like the way you eat.” She freezes.

But Kyungdeok just laughs—and it’s ugly, not like the pretty laugh she does on camera. This is a proper laugh, head tilted back, mouth open. Junbin finds it stupidly attractive.

“I know,” Kyungdeok says. “I get that a lot. That’s why I started doing it; it’s a way to be close to an audience and eat and just have some fun, and people seem to enjoy it, and like me. What about you?”

Junbin freezes for a moment before she realises that Kyungdeok’s not asking her if she enjoys it, or likes her. She laughs quietly, slightly embarrassed with herself, and then tells Kyungdeok about how she reads a lot, how she likes food, although she does her best not to mention DeokBang—Baeklim is determined to take her to every steamed bun restaurant in Seoul—, how she likes black and white cinema. She’s quiet about how she watches Kyungdeok every week.

She’s also quiet about her love for Japanese animation and manga until Kyungdeok mentions something about One Piece and Junbin refutes her point almost before she’s made it. Kyungdeok beams.

“I’m glad someone else watches it.” She pauses. “No, wait, you read it, right?”

Junbin blinks at her. “Yeah,” she says. “I collect them. How did you know that?”

Kyungdeok’s eyes twinkle. “Baeklim talks about you all the time. I feel like I know you, even though we’ve never met before tonight.” She pauses. “Why’s that?”

Junbin shrugs. She’s not going to say that it’s because she was terrified of meeting Kyungdeok in person, of Kyungdeok not liking her and thinking she’s creepy, so she’s put off every potential meeting until this unintentional one. “I don’t know,” she says. “It just never happened.”

“I’d have liked to have met you sooner, Junbin-sshi,” Kyungdeok says, and she smiles.

It’s not one of Kyungdeok’s smiles that Junbin melts at, not the super pretty one she uses to describe that one girl, but it’s directed at Junbin. Her legs turn to jelly, and she can’t help but smile back. “Me too,” she says, almost too quiet to be heard.

They chat a little more, but somehow it’s slightly awkward. Junbin hopes she didn’t do that. She’s just not good with social situations. Especially not with someone she knows the way she knows Kyungdeok.

She thinks their conversation may have petered out, when Kyungdeok asks, “Can I see your manga collection?”

“Sure,” Junbin says, and she stands, smoothing down her knee-length black skirt so it doesn’t stay ruched up around her thighs. She leads Kyungdeok through the partygoers, who have now moved onto something that looks suspiciously like Truth or Dare, and around to her bedroom.

She clicks the light on, never being more relieved to have cleaned her bedroom earlier that day. It’s small, with just enough room for her bed and wardrobe. Every other expanse of wall-space is taken up by bookshelves.

Junbin doesn’t just collect One Piece, she also collects superhero comics and one set of romance manga, kept down at the bottom. She knows it looks like a lot, but she’s been collecting for over ten years at this point, so it would be.

“Wow,” Kyungdeok breathes, running her fingers over the books and the Nendoroids sitting in front of them. “I guess you really do suit the title of Manga Girl.”

Junbin freezes. “…Manga Girl?” she asks, when she’s caught her voice.

Kyungdeok turns to face her. “Yeah,” she says. “It’s what Baeklim calls you; I picked it up from her. Sorry, if you don’t like it? It’s just…it seems appropriate.” She waves around the room.

Junbin opens and shuts her mouth. “I…” she starts, and then stops again. “Don’t you…” She can’t get the words out.

“Don’t I?” Kyungdeok prompts, turning back towards the books. She lifts one of the Nendoroids gently, making sure it doesn’t fall off the stand. “This is my favourite character. Who’s yours?”

“Isn’t there a Manga Girl mentioned in one of your videos?” Junbin asks, instead of answering her. It’s more like four videos, but she isn’t going to say that.

“Oh,” Kyungdeok says, softly. “I guess you really do watch my videos.”

“Yeah,” Junbin says. “I guess.”

Kyungdeok places the Nendoroid—Nico Robin—back on the shelf, and runs her fingers over the rest, not turning to Junbin. “There was one time, back in school, back when Baeklim and I were neighbours. My school had a day off but yours didn’t. She left something and her mum asked me to take it to her at school.” She pulls out volume 62 of One Piece, running her fingers gently over the spine, weathered and creased from multiple re-reads. “It took me ages to find her, in the library. She was with you, leaning over your shoulders. You were reading something—I think she later told me it was something by CLAMP? Anyway, you were reading and kept snapping at her for disturbing you.” She shrugs, sliding the book back in and making sure its spine lines up with the rest. “I knew who you were even then.”

It’s such a simple story, nothing that would explain why Kyungdeok referred to her as her Manga Girl, and nothing that Junbin doesn’t already know from watching Kyungdeok’s videos (not that she knew it was her Kyungdeok was talking about), but Kyungdeok isn’t looking at her and Junbin’s mouth dries up anyway.

Junbin suddenly realises, belatedly, that in person Kyungdeok is nothing like how she is on camera. Instead, she’s quiet, honest, and seems to be just as nervous as Junbin is.

Junbin finds that she likes it as well—but she’s always liked Kyungdeok. This wasn’t going to change.

Kyungdeok swallows, audible in the silent room. “The next time was at a recital. You were singing. It was…I found it beautiful.”

There’s a lot she isn’t saying, but Junbin thinks she can read between the lines. “Oh,” she breathes, her smile growing steadily.

“It’s been a long time,” Kyungdeok admits softly.

The recital was a good ten years ago, maybe eleven. Junbin no longer remembers how old she was, just that she came second, and Baeklim presented her with flowers she always claimed she didn’t bring with her.

“It’s okay,” Junbin finds herself saying, even though her heart is pounding in her chest. And she thinks it really might be—if she can just get the words out. “It’s—it’s really okay.”

Kyungdeok turns to face her, her eyes shining with hope. “Really?” she asks.

Junbin nods. She’s smiling so widely that it hurts. She almost can’t believe this is happening.

“Since we’re sharing,” Junbin says, confidence making her voice louder and steadier, “I may have watched more than just a couple of your DeokBangs.”

“I know,” Kyungdeok says. Junbin blinks at her, because Kyungdeok was surprised when she proved she watches her videos. “I mean—I didn’t believe it. But I knew. When did you start watching?”

It’s been well over two years. Normally, Junbin wouldn’t feel comfortable saying it, but—well, they’re sharing, and Kyungdeok obviously isn’t upset.

“The video where you cook kimchi spaghetti the first time,” Junbin says, and Kyungdeok’s eyes are that perfectly round surprised shape, her mouth moving into the same shape.

“Wow,” Kyungdeok says. She shifts, her smile turning into to the fond one Junbin recognises. Her Manga Girl smile. “So…does this mean you’re my fan?” She moves away from Junbin’s shelves, moving to stand before her. She’s suddenly, once again, confident, standing strong, and she looks so pretty that Junbin swallows.

“Only if you’re mine,” she whispers. She means every possible meaning of the words.

“I’m so much more than that,” Kyungdeok responds, just as softly, and then she kisses Junbin.

It’s warm, wet, soft, and it’s more than Junbin ever felt comfortable to dream would ever happen.

But it’s real, and it’s perfect, and Junbin doesn’t think she’s ever been happier than she is right now.

---

It’s 7pm. Kim Junbin clicks into the app, the 1000₩ access fee whizzing away into the ether.

“Hi guys. Let’s treat this as a date today,” Kyungdeok opens cheerfully, eyes twinkling. She’s wearing Junbin’s favourite jumper again, and her hair is in two adorable plaits, making her look slightly younger than she already does.

The chat goes wild. Kyungdeok’s never suggested something like this before.

“If you’re going to be eating with me, say so in the chat.”

A stream of, I am!!!!s fills the chat. Junbin knows some of those won’t actually be eating, they just want to join Kyungdeok and feel included.

Junbin looks down at the meal she made before her, in preparation. It’s a large pork stir-fry and dessert of fruit and jelly, but the best part is she is not the only one eating it.

junbin22: I am!! ;)

Kyungdeok tilts the camera towards her own stir-fry, and beams.

Notes:

Author’s Notes: I just like to imagine Baeklim giving “Ducky” updates on her favourite Manga Girl and Kyungdeok falling even more in love.