Pairings: Taehyung x female reader; {background SJ x OC, mentions of YG x OC, and HS x OC}
Genre: coworkers to friends to lovers to idiots to lovers again, angst
Rating: R, minors DNI pls 🔞
Wordcount: 50k
Summary: It’s Taehyung himself who admits that it’s usually around the one-month mark that he starts to lose interest in his relationships. So even though you’re so drawn to him you can barely stand it, even though he’s attentive and funny, even though you’re helplessly crazy about him… when you start dating, you feel like you’ve got an expiration date from day one. But will it be Taehyung’s issues that get in the way, or your own?
TW/CW: excessive cursing, recreational drinking and occasional overdrinking, Y/N has a parent who is a recovering addict and this factors into her narration and mindset but there are NO scenes of drug use, Taehyung has a parent with MS, individual chapters have warnings
📌Notes: A HUGE HUGE HUGE thank you to @kookstempo for the amazing beta job tytytytyty! You were amazing!
All chapters also available on Ao3 here. :)
Faithless: a Complete Faith prequel
--
Chapter 1 : Always a Pleasure
Chapter 2 : A Long Time Coming
-> A Good Son: POV Drabble #5
Chapter 3: Oddly Vulnerable
-> Outside: POV Drabble #3
Chapter 4: A Dumb Analogy
-> Or Mine...: POV Drabble #4
Chapter 5: Such a Bad Idea
Pairings: KNJ x female reader, unrequited KTH x reader
Summary: You know a lot about the many types of love thanks to Kim Taehyung. You love him as the only person you see as “family”, you love him as your very best friend, and you love him as the beautiful, funny man he’s become. But when a twist of fate during your senior year has you rooming with his good friend Kim Namjoon, you just might find that you have plenty left to learn about love.
Lesson One: there are such things as a right way and a wrong way to love and to be loved.
Warnings: pov changes - some scenes are namjoon’s pov, conversations revolving around the past loss of immediate family members, language, drinking, angst, a LOT of poetry sorry, eventual smut - sections will have individual warnings
Author's Note: huge thank you to @/kookstempo, @/casuallyimagining, and @/toikiii for beta-ing and listening to me talk about this series a LOT!!! Second thank you to @/jeonqkooks for the gorgeous banner and ALSO for listening to me talk about this way too much lolllll
Series Teaser:
Namjoon peers at you through eyes squinted in suspicion. “How drunk are you?”
You consider this. “Enough that I want to kiss you again, to hell with the consequences. Not too drunk to remember that there would be consequences.”
The playfulness leaves his face; it’s too obvious not to notice. “Consequences like what?”
It’s a challenge. He knows you know it.
“Namjoon,” you say, a little pleading. Don’t.
“Consequences like Taehyung would see?” he presses. His voice has gone hard.
Description: Born with a silver spoon in your mouth, you’ve done your best to rid yourself of the taste since you were old enough to walk. Occasionally though, your mother manages to rope you into an obligatory function – or a blind date with playboy billionaire, Jeon Jungkook. Jungkook stands for everything you loathe about the world you left behind, but you can’t deny the spark of attraction between you. Intrigued by the promise of mutual satisfaction, you agree to one night in bed… and quickly realize you’re in far, far deeper than you ever intended.
Genre: best friends to lovers; fake dating; billionaire au
Pairing: Seokjin x Reader (f)
Word Count: 40K
Author's Note: Part of the In Bloom collaboration with @kithtaehyung, @yoonia, @syllviere, @leahsfavefics, @suga-kookiemonster, and @cybrsan. Unfortunately, this is so long it has to be posted in two parts; please interact with both!
Synopsis: After twenty years of friendship, you’d think you were used to Seokjin’s proposals by now. In the past he’s forced you to participate in skydiving, skinny dipping, and even staging a rescue from the local shelter. Seokjin has always had big ideas but this time, even he may have gone too far. Granted, break-ups are stressful, and Seokjin’s latest one up was bad. Really bad. As in, they-ended-things-in-December-and-now-she’s-dating-his-brother bad.
It almost makes sense then, when Seokjin asks you to come home with him for his parents' party. Almost makes sense when he says his family assumed you were dating, and he didn't correct them. What doesn’t make sense is the longer you fake things, the more you find yourself wondering if this was real all along.
Rating: 18+; explicit sexual content
Warnings (explicit content): oral (f. receiving), nipple play, delayed orgasms, sex w/out a condom, cum play, semi-public sex, light spanking, fingering, dirty talk, mention of voyeurism
Warnings (other): depictions of micro-aggressions, mentions of divorce (past tense), emotionally abusive/manipulative parents (side character)
Time is relative. A year can be both long and short, depending on which side you stand on. December is always a surprise, despite having lived through the months prior. The ‘you’ of today compared to the ‘you’ of last year always makes you feel ancient. The past year in particular packed more punches than most – some of them small, and some monumental enough to stop you in your tracks.
For example, this time last year – how is it already May? – you still worked in consulting, nimbly hanging from the top rung of the corporate later. But by the end of last summer, you had unceremoniously quit in a flurry of anger and paperwork. Last year had many difficulties but honestly, quitting wasn’t one of them.
No – one thing no one tells you in school is that all jobs kind of suck. There’s no one right answer, one right path. There are many careers you can enjoy – some of them taken by choice, others by happenstance and you’ll likely be good at more than one. Each one has a different toll, though. A different cost-benefit analysis, as you would have said last year.
You were good at consulting. There were many reasons you rose through the ranks. You always enjoyed a good challenge; enjoyed the thrill of being good at your job, but slowly realized work didn’t make you happy. Not when the cost was your free time and every ounce of value you saw in yourself.
Ambition is also a funny thing. Chasing a dream, even someone else’s, can be satisfying but eventually, you look down and notice the cracks in your life. Crevices between who you are and who you want to be, widening until the gap is unpardonable. The moment you notice is the moment you’re forced to make a decision.
For you, the decision was to quit.
God, it felt good to drop all the burdens. To leave your equipment with IT and stop caring about which projects were on track, which coworkers were slacking, and what the impact would be if certain laws passed. Petty concerns about petty people, all washed away by the sunlight outside.
The ‘you’ of ten years ago would have been embarrassed to call yourself a barista. The ‘you’ of ten years ago though, still believed in golden lies spun by corporations. The idea that if you worked hard enough, long enough – translation: made enough money – you would be happy. News flash: you weren’t. Or at least, not happy enough.
Working in a coffee shop has been fun. Enjoyable. Of course, there are rushes and harried customers and your feet hurt, but at the end of the day, you still have the energy left to be creative. That’s what matters to you.
Your friends have been saying as much to you for years. One friend in particular was convinced you needed to take a step back, but you rarely listened to Seokjin when it came to matters of work. With his upbringing, his family, it wasn’t like money was ever a concern to him, and –
“Y/N? Hellooo? Y/N!”
Jerking upright, you realize Jimin has been calling your name. Screwing the cap on the syrup, you glance over your shoulder.
Jimin leans against the counter at an angle which, frankly, defies gravity. One impeccable brow lifted, he watches with both arms folded over his apron.
Slowly, you set down the syrup. “How many times did you call my name?”
Jimin shakes his head. “At least three. I understood at first, but then I started worrying you were losing your hearing. You know, because of your age.”
“I’m three years older than you, Jimin. Not decrepit.”
“Right.” A deep sigh. “Thirty. And here I am, young and virile and still in my twenties.”
“Ugh,” you say, wrinkling your nose. “Please don’t ever say virile to me again. And you’re in your twenties for now,” you add. “You’ll be thirty someday.”
“Yes. In the far, far, far future.”
Despite his teasing, Jimin joins at the sink with an armful of bottles. He stacks them neatly on the counter, reaching to fill one with syrup.
The café is quiet on a Tuesday afternoon. A few patrons linger, typing on laptops with their over-ears on, but the morning and noon rush have come and gone. Until someone enters, there’s nothing to do but clean and prep for tomorrow. Reaching for the next canister, you realize Jimin is wearing a Look.
It’s a Look you’ve grown familiar with over the past month, since Jimin insists on having the same conversation.
“Oh, no,” you sigh.
“Oh, no – what?”
“Oh, no – why are you looking at me like that?”
“Like what?” Jimin widens his eyes, the picture of innocence.
“Like I just kicked a dog,” you grumble.
Someone glances up from their laptop, appalled, and your face heats, realizing they overheard between songs. Busying yourself, you turn around and place your back firmly to them.
Jimin grins. “W-ow, Y/N. Can’t your good friend – and roommate, might I add – look at you without an agenda? It’s like you’re so used to being alone, you push people away at the first hint of discomfort.”
You make a sputtering sound. “Okay, first off – ouch. Too real for a work conversation. And second, that is not what’s happening here.”
Even if Jimin does have a point, says a voice in your head. Although you met Jimin in college, the two of you only recently reconnected. You were in the same theatre group back then, overlapping your senior and his freshman year. When you needed a roommate, you posted on the alumni social media page and Jimin responded. Since then, you’ve become close friends – along with Jimin’s boyfriend, Hoseok, one of your favorite people.
Jimin has been watching you withdraw socially for the past year, although much of that, you’d argue, is for a valid reason.
“So, does that mean you’ve changed your mind about the cabin?” Jimin asks, resting his chin on his fist.
“No,” you say through gritted teeth. “It does not.”
“Come on.” Jimin slumps dramatically. “It’ll be so much fun! And a bunch of my friends are single. And hot.” He wiggles both brows. “Now that I’m dating Hoseok, I need to set you up with someone.”
Despite yourself, your lips twitch. Jimin has been trying to get you to join his college friend cabin trip. Although you like his friends, an entire week with them is out of the question. Every single one of them is Type B – seriously, all of them – and if you went, you know you’d be instantly relegated to the ‘mom’ role. Even with the hottest of people, that’s a hard no for you.
Jimin is right there with them, flying through life by the seat of his pants, whereas you plan for all contingencies. Like the time you went backpacking through Europe and all the trains were cancelled due to something mumbled hastily at you in Spanish. It was up to you to solve – something you did within the hour; a story Seokjin likes to tell people at parties.
Of course, the response at Seokjin’s family parties tends to be shock at having taken public transportation in the first place. Seokjin’s family are rich-rich. Like, funded-the-railroads rich. Have-statues-in-historic-downtowns rich. Wear-clothes-that-look-like-Goodwill-but-actually-cost-five-figures rich.
It’s been a long while since Seokjin has said anything in your presence though, since you haven’t joined his rich-people parties in months. In fact, the last time you saw Seokjin was at his birthday party last year.
Wincing at this, you return to Jimin.
Admittedly, he makes some good points. You haven’t dated someone in ages. Your former job took up most of your time, and when you did date, it was friends of co-workers or people you met through work. Since quitting, you’ve taken a step back from the dating pool. As nice as it is to be wined and dined, you haven’t felt the need to take on someone new.
Not with how messy your personal feelings already are.
Mostly, you’ve thrown yourself into the coffee shop and writing. Jimin has encouraged you to branch out and meet new people, but it’s been hard. Especially after everything that happened with Seokjin.
“Maybe,” you sigh, looking up.
Bzzz-zzzz. Your phone jolts on the counter, and you choose to ignore it.
Jimin’s face brightens. “Maybe? Yes! I’ll text the group and have them add you to the chat. They’re going to be so psyched to have another driver, Y/N – you won’t believe how slowly Max goes on the highway, and – okay, who has been texting you?” Jimin glares at your phone when it buzzes again. “That has to be the tenth text in a row.”
“Probably emails,” you say, reaching sideways. “I need to turn notifications off. Ever since that info leak last year, I get so much spam that–”
Unfortunately, the name on the screen stops you, mid-sentence. You do have emails, along with a text from your sister, but it’s the name at the top driving your current state of paralysis.
Seokjin – (1) unread text.
“What?” Jimin attempts to peer over your shoulder. “Who is it?”
“No one,” you blurt, yanking your phone away. “Nothing.”
Hovering over the trash can, you swipe sideways. Seokjin’s text fills the screen.
Seokjin: *emergency emoji* so, I have news… [3:11 PM]
Fear grips your chest, filling you with dread while you await the next text. For months, you’ve anticipated this message. Seokjin has finally proposed, and his girlfriend, Emilia, has accepted. Your best friend – if you can still call him that – is engaged. Fully taken. Off the market.
Of course, if Seokjin were still your best friend, you’d have no doubts regarding his text. You’d be elated, excited by the next stage in his life. You’d be happy for him, happy for Emilia, and eager at the prospect of an over-the-top wedding invite. Emilia’s family is as rich as Seokjin’s, after all.
Instead, you find yourself feeling – well. Not happy.
In an attempt at distraction, you read your sister’s text about what to get your mom for Mother’s Day. The two of you have combined gifts for years, but the burden usually falls on you. Something about your mom’s latest boyfriend rubs your sister the wrong way.
Another text flashes on top of your screen.
Seokjin: Emilia and I broke up [3:13 PM]
Your eyes widen.
Dimly, you realize this is a terrible way to receive information, but your fingers are already moving. Returning to Seokjin, you see he’s still typing. His ellipses pause, then start, then pause again. At last, a new message comes through.
Seokjin: well, we broke up a while ago but guess what haha [3:15 PM]
Seokjin: now she’s dating Jaesuk [3:15 PM]
Before you can recognize the foolishness of doing so, you gasp. Jimin thrusts himself over the top of the screen, blonde hair falling forward as he tries to read.
“Y/N,” he whines. “Come on! Tell me what’s happening – did Tom and Zendaya break up? Get engaged? Break up, then get engaged?”
Dazed, you shake your head. “It’s uh, Seokjin.”
Jimin pauses. “Seokjin?” Glancing upward, his brows furrow. “Your friend, Seokjin? The one who’s… you know,” he says, miming something with one hand.
“… sexually active?”
“No.” Jimin huffs. “Loaded! That was me, swiping my black card.”
“Oh. That was unclear. But yeah, Seokjin’s family is well-off.”
Jimin whistles and looks at the ceiling. “Well-off. That’s what the uber-rich say to make it sound like they’re still in touch with reality. This guy must be dripping money.”
You have no response to this, since Jimin isn’t wrong. Although Seokjin himself is an untenured professor, there’s no way he could afford his current apartment without his inheritance. No way he could have completed his PhD in four years without the luxury of not having to work. Not to mention he teaches at a university with one of the largest endowments in the country and a building donated by his great-grandfather.
Because Jimin is a more recent friend, he’s never met Seokjin. Seokjin and you didn’t go to college together – he attended the same university he teaches for now. Jimin knows who Seokjin is, though. Hard to be friends with you and not know who he is.
As the second Kim son, Seokjin escaped the gargantuan task of inheriting the family business. Mostly, Seokjin’s parents leave him alone to do what he wants. Jaesuk, Seokjin’s older brother, wasn’t as lucky.
Which takes you back to the text. Emilia is dating Jaesuk.
“Anyways,” you say. “Seokjin texted me something surprising. That’s all.”
Jimin clasps both hands together. “Oh?”
You feel your face heat. “Not like that, you idiot. He has a girlfriend. Or – well, he had a girlfriend. He just texted me that they ended things.”
“And?”
“And…” Against your better judgement, the words rush out, “Now, his ex-girlfriend is dating Seokjin’s older brother.”
“WHAT,” Jimin yells at the unfortunate moment a new customer enters.
Both your heads jerk sideways. Before Jimin can recover, you scoop up your phone and dart towards the back. “Gotta go,” you blurt in a split-second decision. “Can you greet that customer? I’m due for my break. Thanks, Jimin!” you call, pushing through the staff door.
Through the frosted window, you see Jimin fume, then paste on his best customer service smile. Exhaling lowly, you lock the door and collapse at the small, wooden table.
Your heart pounds in the silence, unnaturally loud. Placing your phone on the table, you stare at the wallpaper – a photo of the city skyline you took last fall. Before that it was a photo of you and Seokjin. Your screensaver has always been you and Seokjin, something you never questioned until last year. Last summer, to be precise.
“Get ahold of yourself,” you mutter.
Taking a deep breath, your fingers hover over his name. You press call before you can second-guess yourself, Seokjin’s name filling the screen. He answers almost immediately.
“Hello?”
You squeeze your eyes shut. Seokjin sounds out of breath, deeper than you remember. How unfair would it be for him to experience a second puberty burst. The first was torture enough for you as a teenager. Overnight, Seokjin transformed from your nerdy best friend to a soft-spoken, hilarious man the entire school wanted.
“… Y/N?”
Opening your eyes, you scoop up your phone and take it off speaker. “Oh, hey – yeah, it’s me.”
He chuckles. “I figured when I saw your name calling.”
“You never know.” Aimless, you pick at the lint of your apron. “Maybe I was in a tragic accident, and someone found my phone at the scene of the crime.”
“Does that mean I’m your emergency contact, Y/N? I’m touched.”
Your cheeks heat since yes, you’re not sure you ever changed that. What you say though, is, “Don’t get cocky. I have all my phone contacts listed as emergency contacts. I like to hedge my bets.”
He laughs, louder this time. “Hey, no judgement here. Pretty sure you’re still mine.”
Your fingers still on your apron. You shouldn’t be his contact – not after everything. Harshly, you stamp out the hope rising within you. Seokjin’s lack of foresight and planning shouldn’t be taken as anything but just that.
“Right.” You pause. “Sorry – is this a bad time? I should have texted back, but I’m at work, and thought it’d be easier to call…”
“You’re at work? Y/N, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to –”
“I’m on a break, don’t worry about it.”
A long pause. At last, Seokjin sighs and the knot in your chest tightens. You can count on one hand the number of times you’ve seen him upset. Once when your parents were getting divorced, and you ignored his texts for a week. Another, when he and his college girlfriend, Lisa, broke up. Another when his mom was diagnosed with breast cancer (currently in remission). And then again, when your ex cheated on you with your supposed best friend senior year. Seokjin drove across state lines all night to be on your campus by morning.
He sounds upset now, too.
“Yeah.” Seokjin exhales. “You thought this conversation would be better in person, and as always, you were right, Y/N.”
The way he says your name sparks wistful familiarity. It also reminds you of a darkened hallway, whiskey on Seokjin’s breath and – you stop the memory in its tracks.
“What happened?” you press. “I just… damn, Seokjin. The last time I saw you and Emilia, the two of you seemed so, um… so…”
“Coupled?”
“I was going to say nauseating, but yeah.”
Seokjin barks out a laugh. “Way to kick a guy when he’s down, Y/N.”
“Sorry,” you say, but your lips twitch. “Although… I don’t mean to be rude, but… you don’t sound down? You sound… surprisingly chipper for a man who was cuckolded.”
The truth of this statement resonates within you. Seokjin sounded tired when he answered, but everything since has felt almost normal. Almost – because the elephant in the room has not gotten smaller.
The last time you spoke face-to-face was December.
“Whoa, whoa – hang on,” he sputters. “Who said anything about cuckolding?”
“Were you not? Le cuckold, as the French say?”
“Wait.” Seokjin sounds amused. “To be clear, which party is the cuckold? The guy who cheats or the guy cheated on? Also – why is there no name for the woman in this scenario?”
“Oh, there are plenty of names for the woman. They’re just not as fun, and heavily drenched in misogyny.”
“Right, right. The patriarchy, etc. – but seriously, Emilia didn’t cheat on me. Or she says she didn’t, and I’m inclined to agree.” He pauses. “I think.”
“You think?”
“I do believe her. But… well, even if she didn’t technically cheat… even if we broke up in December, then waited a respectable period of time and then they started dating – it still feels weird. Like, was she into him the entire time we dated? Was my brother into her?”
“No good answers come from that line of questioning,” you say grimly.
“I know.” Seokjin groans, and you imagine him dragging a hand down his face. “You’re right, but I can’t stop picturing it. And they didn’t.”
“They didn’t what?”
“Wait a respectable amount of time,” he mutters. “Emilia and I broke up in December, and they told me at the end of March they were dating. Meaning they started dating before and only deemed it serious enough to tell me in March.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah. Hence the thinking.”
“About the timeframe, or the general weirdness?” you prompt.
In the back of your mind, you can't help wondering what made Seokjin reach out. According to what he just said, Seokjin has known about Jaesuk and Emilia since March. Granted, everything about this is strange and it's valid to vent, but you haven't spoken to Seokjin in months. Even before the break-up, it's been ages since you spoke about anything real.
“Both,” he says in response to your question.
“Not… anything else?”
“What else would I be thinking about, Y/N?”
“Oh, I don’t know,” you huff, twisting the thread of your apron. “Are you still in love with Emilia? It’s hard to be around an ex normally, but this…” Trailing off, you shake your head.
“What? No. I mean, yeah – it’s not fun to be around them. But no,” Seokjin says, decisive. “I’m not in love with her.”
Your lips tighten, unsure how much to believe. Still, you decide not to push him. Years of experience have taught you that if Seokjin isn’t ready to talk about something, you won’t get a peep out of him. If it were you, though, five months isn’t enough to fall out of love.
“Okay,” is all you say. Glancing at the staff door, you watch Jimin hand the customer their drink. Your break will be over soon, one way or another.
“I’m… actually glad you called me, Y/N.”
The hesitancy in his voice draws you back. “You are?”
“Yeah.” Seokjin clears his throat, a nervous tic. “Jaesuk called me yesterday. You know how my parents’ anniversary is in May?”
“Of course.”
Obviously, you know. Seokjin’s parents are strange for many reasons, not least of which is their genuine love for one another. They are also – you can say this after many years working in consulting – the most normal rich people you’ve ever encountered. Most of their wealth is donated each year, with a small stipend (still an insane amount) granted to each family member.
The weekend of their anniversary is the exception to this rule. Seokjin’s parents go all out, spending an entire week at their lake house, hosting lavish parties which cumulate in the main event. Growing up, you attended as Seokjin’s plus one. This all changed when Seokjin got his first girlfriend, although you still attended a few years later as the date of his sister, Seohyun.
Glancing at the calendar on the wall, you realize their anniversary is coming up. Seokjin’s family will probably leave for their lake house next weekend.
“Yeah.” Seokjin again clears his throat. “So, uh, my brother called and… at first, he and Emilia weren’t going to come. They decided to skip this year because of the obvious.”
“The cuckoldom, yes.”
“I said the obvious,” Seokjin says drily. “But anyways. Well.” He exhales, and you remember again that between you, Seokjin could be called mild-mannered. “Jaesuk wants to know if it would be okay with me if they come together. Emilia’s parents were invited, and they thought it might be weird…”
Your jaw has dropped again. “How would that be weirder than Emilia attending with your brother?”
“I don’t know,” he groans, and from the way his voice muffles, you imagine him laying his head on his desk. Seokjin usually grades papers in the late afternoon.
His apartment is gigantic, a three-story brownstone located in Hyde Park with a view of Lake Michigan. His study (yes, he has a study) always reminded you of the library in Beauty and the Beast. Perhaps a bit smaller, with less fiction on the walls.
Dimly, it registers that Seokjin’s parents invited the Astors. Granted, Emilia’s family runs in the same circle, but the invitation feels odd. Odd – and cruel, to invite Seokjin’s-ex-slash-Jaesuk’s-current girlfriend.
What a mess.
Numbly, you shake your head. “They want you to spend an entire week together? Alone? In the middle of the wilderness?”
“Michigan isn’t exactly Siberia, Y/N.”
“But… you, your brother, and the woman you’ve both slept with – in one house?”
“I probably wouldn’t put it like that, but sure.”
“You… said no, right?”
A long, awkward pause follows.
Your voice rises. “Right?” you demand, gripping the phone tighter.
“No.” Seokjin’s voice muffles once more. “I told them I wasn’t sure, but I’d let them know.”
“Seokjin! You absolutely cannot spend an entire week with them alone.”
“Aha!”
“What?” you ask, blinking at his note of triumph.
“You’re absolutely right. I can’t spend the week with them… alone.”
Your brows furrow. “So… you agree with me?”
“No, Y/N,” Seokjin says. “I can’t spend the week with them alone. But… with someone else…”
A beat passes.
“Are you dating someone new?” you ask. “Is that it? You’re going to subject some poor, unsuspecting person to your Shakespearean family drama?”
“Not a poor, unsuspecting person, no…”
Suspicion slowly dawns. “Seokjin…”
“Yes?”
“You can’t be serious.”
His throat clears. “I was thinking… maybe... you could join.”
The silence stretches between you so long, Seokjin grows concerned. “Y/N?” His voice dims, like he’s checking the call hadn’t dropped. “Are you still there?”
“Yeah,” you croak. “Physically. Mentally, I think something has broken, because I just heard you ask me something insane.”
“See!” Seokjin blurts. “This is why I need you there. You’re so good at making things less awkward. And my family loves you – their attention would all be on you, and not on how weird and insane my life is.”
Groaning out loud, you sink further into the chair. This is a bad idea. Truly abysmal, but…
You already know you’ll say yes. Saying no to Seokjin has never been an option.
Back in college, you joined his family trips all the time. Back then, your dad wasn’t taking care of himself, your mom had run off with her first new boyfriend, and you had nowhere to go during summer holidays. Frequently, the Kim’s referred to you as their second daughter – but all that was ages ago.
Seokjin didn’t even call when he and Emilia broke up.
“Seokjin,” you sigh. “Why are you asking me this?”
A long pause. “I just told you why.”
“No. I mean… I didn’t even know you were single.” You hesitate, then barrel on. “This is the first time we’ve talked on the phone since – god, I don’t even know. Last year?”
Seokjin’s ensuing silence is damning. An unspoken question hovers between you: Has anything changed since the last time we saw each other?
"I’m… sorry, Y/N." He exhales. "I know… I should have reached out to you sooner. I just… I just couldn’t.”
Your lips purse, watching the door. Your break must be over, but luckily, Jimin has given you space to process. As much as he pretends to be needy, his ability to read the room is remarkable.
“Ugh,” you groan, tipping your head back. Your eyes close. “Let me think about it.”
“Wait – really?” Seokjin blurts. “Thank you, Y/N! You won’t regret this – I swear.”
“I haven’t agreed to it yet!”
“Right, sure. Of course,” he hastens, attempting to sound mollified.
Your lips twitch. “I have to get back to my shift.”
“Yes. Make that money.”
“Eh.”
“Make… minimum wage plus tips?”
“Closer,” you sigh, pushing yourself to stand. “I’ll text you later, okay?”
“Okay. And Y/N?”
You hover near the door. “Yeah?”
Seokjin pauses. “There are a lot of logical reasons why it’d be great if you came, but honestly?” His voice thickens. “I just… want you there.”
There’s an ache in your chest you wish could say was a stranger. In truth though, the feeling is exactly why you should say no.
You never had a great sense of self-preservation, though. Instead, find yourself saying–
“Yes.”
Honking outside your apartment at 8:00 AM on a Sunday does little to endear Seokjin to Jimin. Standing by the window of your third story walk-up, he holds the curtain back with his pinky finger. Dressed in a green silk dressing gown, Jimin purses his lips.
“Does he really expect to just… honk, and have you fall in line?”
“That’s what we agreed,” you huff, dragging your luggage into the living room. “He said he would be here at 8:00 and I’d meet him outside.”
Jimin’s frown deepens. “He’s blocking the alley. If someone sideswipes him, that’s not my problem.”
You struggle to break free from your purse strap, which seems determined to fight back. “Seokjin isn’t used to driving in the city, give him a break.”
“Oh, he’s not the one driving.”
“What?”
“Someone else is in the car.”
Succeeding in getting your purse to lay flat, you join Jimin at the window. True to his word, a sleek black town car idles at the curb. The only reason someone hasn’t rammed into it yet is due to the early hour. Otherwise, your neighbors wouldn’t be shy about making their displeasure known. Read: petty vandalism.
Pulling the curtain back further, you curse. Seokjin leans against the side of the car, the trunk already popped. Someone else clearly sits in the front seat, which means Seokjin hired a driver.
“That’s just his driver,” you mutter, turning around.
The curtain falls, and Jimin whirls. “So, he is a one percenter.”
You choose to remain silent, dragging your suitcase to the top of the landing. Jimin follows close behind, hair sticking up in several directions.
“He’s also hotter than you led me to believe,” he accuses, following you down the stairs. You continue to ignore him, your suitcase banging each step. “Granted, I only saw him from three stories up, but I can tell. You undersold. Hmm… now, why would you do that, Y/N?”
“You’re dating Hoseok,” you remind him. “And Seokjin is straight.”
He continues, unbroken. “What would be the reason to downplay your best friend’s hotness?”
There’s a teasing note in his voice that says Jimin knows damn well why you’d do such a thing. It’s the same reason you’re going on this trip, and why you continue to reject every guy he sets you up with.
Reaching the front door, you set your bag down. “Okay,” you growl, turning around to poke Jimin in the chest. “You stay inside. This is precisely why I said I’d meet Seokjin at the curb.”
“Because of me?” Jimin clutches his chest, wounded. “Come on, Y/N. I just wanna see the guy you’re so damn in love with that you refuse to go out with any of my super cool friends. Pleaseeee –”
A loud knock makes you jump.
Eyes wide, you hold a silent, one-sided argument with Jimin that he clearly ignores. Exhaling, you spin around and grasp the handle. This is fine. Everything is fine. You can do this; all you need is to stay cool and composed – all this dissolves when you open the door.
Seokjin stands with a hand outstretched, as though about to knock.
Next to you, Jimin inhales. “Whoa,” he mutters close to your ear. “Okay. I get it.”
Seokjin’s gaze flicks to him. “What?”
Slowly, you turn and glare at your roommate.
To his credit, Jimin swiftly recovers. “I get… I mean, got your scone, Y/N! You forgot it upstairs,” he amends, shoving his own half-eaten scone into your empty hand. “I saw it on the kitchen table, so I followed you down.”
“Oh.” Seokjin looks between you. “That was nice of you…”
“Jimin.” Beaming, Jimin shoves past to shake Seokjin’s outstretched hand. “I’m so glad we met. I’ve heard so much about you – Y/N’s best friend, in the flesh. Someone’s going to hit your car if you continue blocking the alley.”
Seokjin doesn’t seem to know what to do with this information, especially not while Jimin vigorously pumps his hand up and down. Deciding this is too much before coffee, you begin to pass Jimin with your bag in tow.
“Oh – here,” Seokjin hastens, breaking away to grab the handle. “I’ve got it. Nice to meet you, man,” he says, glancing at Jimin.
When you start to leave, Jimin contorts himself enough to drop a kiss on your cheek. A moment of what can only be described as negative sexual tension follows, and you stare at him, baffled, before walking away. Jimin winks as you go, the purpose of which you realize when you catch Seokjin watching.
He looks almost… mad?
He also looks insanely good. The benefit of Jimin being chaotic means you had no time to second-guess your greeting. You were so busy trying to contain the conversation, you didn’t worry about what would be appropriate to say during your first meeting in months.
Now, though, you have time to look at him. Seokjin is simultaneously perfectly put together and artfully tousled. His hair is longer than the last time you saw him, piece-y black waves falling over his forehead. The morning is cold enough that he wears a light jacket, a white button-down and slacks freshly pressed underneath.
Great. Seokjin looks hot. There goes all your hope for a painless vacation.
You glance at your suitcase. “You don’t have to do that.”
“Do what?”
“Take my bag,” you huff, reaching out.
Innocent, Seokjin yanks it behind him. “It’s the literal least I can do, Y/N. You’re the one doing me a huge favor.”
“Well, when you put it like that.”
Seokjin chuckles when you head for the car, carefully picking your way to the curb. April showers really did bring the May flowers or, in your case, serious flooding that has since subsided but left a mark.
Sliding into the backseat, you glance at your building and spot Jimin in the window, still clad in his dressing gown. He waves enthusiastically at the car and blows another kiss. Scowling up at him, you almost don’t notice when Seokjin slides in.
When the door shuts, you notice – it should be criminal to smell as good as he does. It doesn’t help that you know exactly which Molton Brown body wash Seokjin uses, nor that you were there when he picked the scent in high school.
The two of you became friends in elementary school. Seokjin was seated beside you in class; his parents wanted him to experience 'normal life' and enrolled him in public school. Really, the only thing normal at that school was his friendship with you.
Extracting yourself from your purse, you watch Seokjin lean forward and press a button. “George?” he asks, lowering the partition.
A middle-aged man sits in the driver’s seat. He smiles at you in the rearview mirror, the corners of his eyes crinkling.
“Yes, Mr. Kim?”
Seokjin winces at the formality. “We’re ready to go. I’d like to –”
BEEEEEEEEEEEP.
A car honks from the alley and, hiding a smile, you slump lower. Seokjin blinks, glancing behind you to spot a car revving its engine.
Sighing resignedly, he faces forward. “Wormhole Coffee, George – thank you.”
George nods, ever the professional while rolling up the partition to move the car forward. You rumble along side streets in silence until you peer at Seokjin.
“So,” you say casually. “A driver?”
His gaze meets yours. “The weather looked bad. I figured it’d be nice to have George drive us out of the city.”
“Just out of the city, huh?”
“Yep.” He nods. “Then we’re on our own. Figured we could hitchhike, or maybe steal someone’s car?”
“Oh, cool. With the way the world’s going, I’d hoped to die young.”
Seokjin’s laugh echoes around you. The sound makes your heart twinge, and you move your gaze to your lap. By the time you reach Wormhole Coffee, your thoughts are muddled. You didn’t expect this to be so awkward and – not for the first time – wonder why Seokjin invited you. He could have asked anyone; a co-worker or college buddy, hell, even a neighbor.
Stepping from the car, you barely reach the door before Seokjin appears. “Hey,” he says, placing a hand on your arm.
You blink downward, and he swiftly removes it.
“I… uh.” Again, he clears his throat. “I hope this weekend doesn’t make things weird for you. You know you don’t have to come if things are… complicated.”
You look at him. “If what things are complicated?”
“If” – aimless, he waves – “you know. Let’s say you and I were dating, and you suddenly went on a trip with your guy friend alone. I might feel weird about it.”
You’re so hung up on Seokjin saying you and I were dating, you nearly miss the important bit. Once that sinks in, you can’t help but grin.
Seokjin frowns. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
“Do you… think Jimin and I are dating?”
Your tone is almost gleeful, and Seokjin’s eyes narrow. “I thought that maybe…”
“We’re not,” you declare, pushing open the door. “But I appreciate the concern. Jimin and I just work together. He’s happily dating someone else.”
“Ah.”
Stopping at the counter, you survey the menu. Ordering one of the spring coffee specials, you move to the end and grab several napkins. Seokjin joins you, waiting patiently until both your orders are called. George is idling at the curb – you have to admit, a personal driver has benefits – and you slide into the backseat with your iced latte procured.
Once the door shuts, Seokjin turns. “I’m sorry. I promised this wouldn’t be awkward, and here I am, being awkward. Thank you… for being here.”
“No problem.”
A loud silence follows, interrupted only by the sound of the car starting. George heads for the highway, and you take a long sip of your coffee.
Despite your exterior, you’re freaking out on the inside. Apparently, you were right to worry because this is going about as terrible as you imagined. Not because of the obvious – you have feelings for your best friend and he’s jealous of his ex – but because somehow, the two of you have nothing to say.
“Seriously.” Seokjin struggles to find his next words. “I can’t tell you how much I’ve been dreading this week. I know I played it cool over the phone–”
“Uh, that was playing it cool?”
“–but actually,” he continues, as though you haven’t spoken, “I’ve been panicking.”
Another twinge when you realize you were right. Seokjin claimed he was over Emilia, but there’s no way he could be. If it were, he wouldn’t need you to be here. He wouldn’t be dreading this interaction if he had moved on.
Of course, Seokjin isn’t over her. They’ve barely been broken up for six months. You’ve waited longer to get a new pet.
“Well, sure,” you say, softening as you face him. “That makes sense. Anyone would be freaked out by the prospect of spending an entire week with their ex. Doubly so, if said ex was now dating their sibling.”
Seokjin pulls a face. “And that’s not even the worst part.”
“… did they kill someone, too?”
“Okay, fine – that is the worst part, but it sucks how weird everyone else is being. How nice,” he elaborates, catching your look. “My parents tiptoe around me, not knowing how to act. Jaesuk is practically self-flagellating, and Emilia is ignoring me, because –”
“Hang on – how is Jaesuk self-flagellating?”
Seokjin exhales and sinks lower. “Jaesuk has apologized to me so many times, he’s going to leave permanent knee indents on my floor. He keeps randomly texting me, offering to buy stuff, which is just plain insulting.”
“You know who isn’t insulted by expensive gifts? Me.” You jab a thumb at your chest. “Tell Jaesuk if he wants to make things up to you, he should make things up to me.”
Rather than laugh at your joke, Seokjin’s face flushes. You tilt your head, unsure where you went wrong until he dispels the tension with a soft chuckle. Eyes narrowed, you study him. Strange.
“I’ll keep that in mind,” he says. “Anyways, since I said you were coming, things have been almost normal. Now, at least my parents are fixated on you and not whether they should console their broken-hearted son” – he points to himself, mimicking your gesture from earlier – “or celebrate Jaesuk finding new love.”
“Love?”
“Yeah.” Seokjin grimaces. “He let that one slip last week. I think… there may have been feelings between them for a while, even if they never acted on it.”
He doesn’t sound upset, but you can’t keep your own jaw from clenching. Even if Seokjin has moved on from Emilia (which, again, you doubt), their behavior is inexcusable. Seokjin can be as generous as he wants, but you don’t have to feel the same.
Teeth grinding, you wonder how civil you need to be on this trip.
“Can you stop plotting revenge, Y/N?” Seokjin says mildly. “You know that makes me uncomfortable.”
Reluctant, you unclench your jaw. “Who, me?”
“Please.” Seokjin sips his coffee. “You forget I know you, Y/N. Your face is very… expressive.”
“Okay, you’re one to talk!”
Besides, no matter how expressive you are, Seokjin has still never caught onto your biggest secret over the years. The one Jimin guessed right away – that for years, you’ve been madly in love with your supposed best friend.
The knowledge is sobering enough that you turn towards the window. Last December was simply the accumulation of many years of pining – admittedly, you didn’t realize the severity of your feelings until late last summer.
In your twenties, you would have wondered if this week meant something more than friendship. You would have read between the lines of what Seokjin was saying, and saw meaning in his small gestures. Now, you’ve known him for twenty years, and can say with complete certainty that Seokjin is just a good person. He values friendship highly, as much as romantic relationships, and he values you most of all.
And even though he values you, his feelings for you don’t go beyond platonic. It’s better not to go down that road again – no, the only way you’ll survive this week is to take everything at face value. You pulled away for a reason, and now you’re forced to remember. The only way to leave this intact is to continually remind yourself the two of you are just friends.
“I made a playlist,” you announce, unzipping your purse. “It’s everything that you love – study lo-fi beats, classical music, and whale sounds. You know, because of academia?”
Seokjin sighs deeply but obediently plugs in your phone. The first chords of your chill driving playlist come over the speakers, and you settle in. Seokjin responds by pulling out his phone, brow furrowed as he sends off a text. His job can be demanding at times, especially until he gets tenure.
While Jaesuk was groomed to take over the family company, Seokjin was left to pursue his own dreams. For as long as you’ve known him, Seokjin has been fascinated by the people around him. What makes them tick, why people do things, how we influence one another – his first anthropology course felt like coming home, he said back in college.
Even though his career is what Seokjin wants, it doesn’t come without stress. During your twenties, Seokjin entertained you with many tales of bitter rivals, faux plagiarism, and the insane emails his students send to him before class. Most Friday nights were spent at his place, with Seokjin grading papers while you lay on his couch and drank wine.
Swallowing, you stare out the window. The current situation is your fault, you remind yourself. Maybe if you had been braver earlier, more willing to blow up your sense of security for the unknown… then maybe you wouldn’t be in this same place with Seokjin.
The first time you felt more than friendship was in high school. Seokjin transformed overnight, returning from his fancy summer camp at least six inches taller and broader. Somone (probably his sister) bought him styling products, and even though gelled hair is out of touch now – back in high school? Devastating.
You convinced yourself the feelings meant nothing. Hormones. Puberty. Something temporary and fleeting, not the permanent realization Seokjin was your entire world. That came later.
For a few years, you did a good job at convincing yourself. You dated other people, even seriously – David, your first love. The two of you began dating when you were sixteen and lasted until your first semester of college. When you broke up, you called Seokjin and cried to him on the phone for hours. At some point, you fell asleep and woke up to realize he’d never hung up.
Something soft took root in your chest that day. You meant to confess when you came home for winter break, only to reach his family’s Christmas party and find Seokjin arm in arm with his new girlfriend, Lisa. Gorgeous, thin, rich and the same major as Seokjin – you slunk off that night after being introduced as his friend and found comfort with Seohyun in her parents’ wine cellar.
That was the moment you decided to move on. You couldn’t continue to make decisions around the hope Seokjin would one day see you as more. He was a good friend – the best friend – and you valued that, too. For years, you thought you’d succeeded. You dated casually, buried yourself in your work, and watched as Seokjin did the same.
There was a brief scare when you both moved to Chicago, and you found yourself becoming reacquainted. The Seokjin of your childhood had gone, leaving a man in his place. Eventually though, even that faded, and you convinced yourself friendship was enough. It had to be enough, because Seokjin never hinted at wanting more. If he sometimes sat too close or looked at you too long – well, that was just how Seokjin was.
Until Emilia.
Emilia was the first girlfriend Seokjin had who made sense. She fit in with his friends, was of the same upbringing, had the right social status and worst of all, she was nice. Emilia was cool, effortless, and about a million other things which made her a good match for Seokjin. In a horrible burst of karmic justice you realized that summer you didn’t want Seokjin to find a good match. You wanted him to find you.
The realization humiliated you. You were Seokjin’s best friend – you should have been happy for him. You had had years, decades, to confess your feelings and skipped past all of them. You spent so many years insisting you were fine, that these feelings meant nothing, and everything was a lie.
Seokjin was oblivious. Once you understood your own feelings, you realized you had been hiding this from him for years. It made you well-equipped to handle him with Emilia. Or at least, you thought it would. Seokjin continued inviting you to parties, asking you to hang out with him and Emilia, or join them on couple vacations.
At first, you said yes but brought buffers. Hinge dates, friends of friends, even co-workers – despite numerous distractions, none of them worked. By the end of the summer, you had made moves in your career to be happier. Soon after, you realized you needed to do the same in your personal life.
You began to pull away: taking longer to respond to Seokjin’s texts, making excuses when you were invited out, and cancelling plans at the last minute. All throughout the fall this continued, cumulating in December at Seokjin’s birthday party.
He stopped by your coffee shop in November, catching you in the middle of cleaning the espresso machine. “Promise me you’ll come,” Seokjin insisted, leaning over the counter.
Jimin wasn’t on shift that day, and you struggled to remember what piece to clean next. Frustration rose, trapped behind your teeth – at how to clean the machine, nothing more.
“I’ll try,” you said at last, but avoided his gaze.
Seokjin left soon after. Still, him going out of his way triggered your guilt complex enough that you chose to go. Seokjin barely said hello when you arrived. He had a few drinks. So did you. Emilia always stood near him, chatting in the corner with mutual friends.
At some point, you excused yourself to go to the bathroom. For the first time all night, you let your expression drop. Sinking onto the closed toilet seat, you buried your face in your hands and wondered why you had come. You stayed there several minutes, composing yourself enough to exit.
Seokjin waited outside.
Leaning against the wall, his posture seemed stiff. You rarely saw Seokjin angry, but when you did – well, it was hard to stay platonic with that look in his eyes.
“I haven’t seen you all night,” he said, unmoving.
You came to a stop. “It seemed like you were enjoying yourself. I didn’t want to intrude. Happy birthday, though.”
His frown deepened. “Is that all you have to say?”
“What do you want me to say?”
“I don’t know.” Seokjin paused, then refocused. “You look nice.”
Noticing the glassiness in his eyes, you sighed, “You’re drunk.”
“Traditionally, people buy the birthday boy drinks.”
“Gross,” you said, unable to keep from smiling. “Don’t ever call yourself the birthday boy again.”
He chuckled and then – silence. Each passing second thickened between you, until you could scarcely breathe.
“Why are you avoiding me?” Seokjin blurted at last.
You inhaled, not having expected him to be so blunt.
“I’m n–”
“Don’t say you’re not.” Swaying a little, he pushed himself from the wall. “I don’t… please don’t lie to me, Y/N. I can’t take it.”
Startled, you realized he had moved closer. There wasn’t much space between you in the hall. Seokjin seemed to realize this at the same moment you did. His gaze darted once, then twice to your mouth – and stayed.
Your throat dried.
At that very moment, Emilia walked around the corner. Seokjin leapt back as though burned, and you swept into motion, mumbling happy birthday again as you passed. You didn’t stop moving until you were past the bouncer and standing outside. Trembling, you pulled out your phone and ordered a rideshare.
Nothing happened that night. Nothing significant, and yet…
His face remains clear in your mind. Cheeks flushed from drink and anger, his button-down partly undone. You remember how the world stopped, continuing to spin on around you. You had felt that way plenty of times in his presence, but it was the first time you wondered if maybe… Seokjin felt it, too.
It didn’t matter though, because he was dating Emilia. You left the party that night and have barely talked to him since. Not until Seokjin called to invite you to his parents’ lake house.
Resting your forehead against the window, you close your eyes as the memory replays again. At some point, you drift off and the rest of the ride is in silence.
The next thing you know is someone touching your shoulder. Blearily, you crack open an eye and are affronted by Seokjin.
Affronted, since it’s unfair for someone to look this good – except. Frowning, you notice his jaw, tight with tension. Seokjin smooths this quickly, but you notice all the same. Examining him further, you find dark shadows beneath his eyes. Criminal for Seokjin Kim, who uses specially made dermatology products that can’t be bought in a store.
Again, you wonder if there’s something he’s not saying. Emilia being with Jaesuk must be weighing on him.
There’s no time to inquire though, since you look out the window and see you’ve arrived. The Kim family lake house sprawls ahead and to the left. Even after so many years, you find yourself struck by the sight.
A driveway winds through the forest, ending at bluffs overlooking Lake Michigan. The limestone mansion is covered in ivy, lending itself to a storybook appearance. Manicured gardens extend towards the lake, several gardeners at work on flower beds. You remember the first time you came; you refused to exit the car. It seemed impossible that so much beauty could be meant for you.
Pushing this away, you face Seokjin. He fidgets with the end of his seatbelt, causing your own frown to deepen.
“What’s wrong?” you demand.
“Nothing,” Seokjin blurts, only to wince. “Well. There is one thing, but I –”
The front door flies open, and you see Mrs. Kim emerge through the car window. Even through glass, you hear her calling your names.
Giving Seokjin a look, you push open your door. He blanches and unbuckles his seat belt. “Y/N, wait –”
Unfortunately, your door is already open. Mrs. Kim gasps when you step outside, hurrying towards you in what she calls ‘casual’ wear – slacks, a cardigan, and loafers worth more than your rent.
“Y/N,” she cries, throwing both arms around you. “Oh, it’s so good to have you here.”
Returning the hug, you can’t help but smile. Seokjin’s family has always felt like home to you. Your mom got pregnant with you at forty-six, which was a shock to everyone. Your sister is twelve years older, but it always felt like more. She was out of the house by the time you turned seven, leaving you alone with your parents.
Some would say that was the beginning of the end. Your parents got divorced when you were in high school and afterward, everything was different. Your dad is fine now but was a wreck for several years. Seokjin’s parents took you in on the holidays, inviting you along on vacations, and threw you birthday parties. It’s been too long since you saw them – probably last summer.
With a final squeeze, you release Mrs. Kim. “It’s so good to be here,” you say.
Being at the lake with Seokjin and his family brings the same sense of rightness as quitting your job. It feels like the moment at the end of a long day when you finish writing and finally crawl into bed.
Holding you at arm’s length, Mrs. Kim looks you up and down. “In fact, I’m so glad to see you,” she says with a chuckle, “I’ll forgive you for not calling the moment it happened.”
Your mind catches on this. “Oh?”
Seokjin appears at your side. He’s out of breath, and you wonder if he was busy lugging your suitcases inside. Usually, the Kim family has people to help with that. His expression is strange though, stuck between fear and resignation. You wonder if this has something to do with what he wanted to tell you in the car.
Stomach swooping, you wonder if there’s another surprise. Maybe Jaesuk and Emilia are engaged. Or pregnant. Maybe –
“You, too,” Mrs. Kim scolds, pulling Seokjin into a hug. He returns the gesture, looking slightly green. “You should have told us sooner! You know we would have been thrilled.”
Seokjin mumbles something you don’t hear as he takes a step backwards. Now, the wheels in your head are turning, and you begin to suspect you’re missing something important. Some key piece of information to explain why Mrs. Kim is beaming, hands clasped over her chest in near-supplication.
“Sorry,” you say, looking between them. “I feel kind of out of the loop… what should I have told you about earlier?”
Mrs. Kim blinks at you in confusion.
You aren’t looking at her, though. Instead, you find yourself watching Seokjin, who purposely avoids eye contact. After a moment, he seems to reach some internal decision. Taking a deep breath, Seokjin reaches out and takes your hand.
“Y/N,” he says, and then stops.
His mom laughs and claps her hands. “Oh! That was a joke – Y/N, you’re too funny. What am I talking about,” she chuckles, as though you’re all in this together. “Why, the fact that you’re dating, of course!”
Time screeches to a halt. Or it at least lethargizes, slowing to rate beyond human comprehension. You slowly turn to face Seokjin, expecting him to show shock or confusion but find only chagrin.
It takes ages for your gaze to travel to your hand in his. Before you can say or do anything, Seokjin moves closer. Stroking your palm with his thumb, he smiles.
“This is exactly why we didn’t tell anyone,” he says with a forced laugh. “We knew you and dad would freak out, and there’s been enough of that lately.”
Realizing your mouth has fallen open, you manage to shut it. Seokjin has pulled himself together, but you’re not that good an actor. He sounds like he believes what he’s saying, which is insane. Dimly, you think back to his serious texting in the car and his attempt to say something before you got out. All of it ends at the same conclusion.
Seokjin knew this was coming. And he didn’t tell you.
Anger surges, and you grasp it like a lifeline. The emotion distracts you from other, less stable feelings churning within you. Lifting your chin, you force your expression to neutral.
“Yes,” you agree, pinching Seokjin’s wrist and making him jump. “It all happened so fast. I mean, if you can call twenty years fast,” you say in an attempt at a joke.
Mrs. Kim laughs again. “Oh, please. You two are made for each other. We’ve always thought so,” she adds, turning towards the house. “Jaeho, come out here!”
Jaw tight, you lapse into silence. Until you know exactly what Seokjin has said and to whom, it’s best to say nothing. The last thing you want is to hurt Seokjin’s family. Right now, your best bet is to hold it together until you can make an excuse to leave. Maybe there could be an emergency at the coffee shop. A run on – uh, beans? Or milk?
The one thing you do know is you can’t stay. Now that you know the full story, there’s no way you can pretend to date your best friend you’re secretly in love with in front of his ex. Just thinking about it gives you a headache.
Before you can pull Seokjin into the house, the door opens again and two people emerge. All thoughts vanish at the sight of a cream blouse and slacks. Seokjin immediately tenses, and unthinking, you take a step closer.
Emilia Astor is the epitome of old Hollywood. Her hair is shorter than the last time you met, cut in an elegant bob with a slight curl at the ends. Immediately, you feel dowdy in your old jeans and sweater. The way she dresses in all white and doesn’t spill anything continues to be awe-inspiring.
Jaesuk walks at her side, shielding his face from the sun. When they stop before you, he smiles at you and Seokjin.
“Y/N!” Emilia holds out both arms for a hug.
After an awkward pause, you step into the embrace. Half of you expects her to whisper something cutting in your ear, but that wouldn’t be like her. You’d deserve it, though, you realize. Face heating, you break the hug, and you consider how this looks.
Yes, Emilia started dating Seokjin’s brother a few months after she and Seokjin broke up. At the same time though, he (seemingly) asked out his best friend. You. A friendship Emilia knew of and trusted to only be platonic. Shoving your discomfort aside, you glance at Jaesuk.
“Hey, Jaesuk,” you say. “Good to see you, too.”
“Hi, Y/N.” He waves, folding Emilia into his side. “It’s really nice to have you here again.”
A small, relieved knot unwinds in your stomach. Jaesuk, at least, doesn’t seem mad at you. Hopefully that means Emilia is also taking the high road. While Jaesuk and Seokjin weren’t close growing up, they did a lot to improve their relationship during their twenties. You would hate for anything you did (perceived or real) to come between them.
Anything Emilia and Jaesuk did, your brain argues. Even if you were dating Seokjin, that’s nothing compared to the betrayal of his brother in dating his ex.
Thinking this, you take a step closer and place your hand on Seokjin’s chest. He glances down at this, then at you. His expression softens.
“There they are!” Mr. Kim’s voice booms, exiting the hedge maze – yes, the hedge maze –with Seohyun. “Finally, the entire family’s arrived.”
Shoving her phone in her pocket, Seohyun skips past her dad. “Y/N!” she cries, looping both arms around you. “My favorite sibling, at last.”
Jaesuk sighs, and Seokjin complains, “You’re not even related.”
“Obviously.” Seohyun withdraws and gives you a conspiratorial smile. “If we were, your relationship would be disgusting – not to mention, illegal.”
Seokjin sputters, and you can’t help but laugh.
Seohyun is two years younger than Seokjin and has always felt like more of a sister to you than your own. One of the hardest parts of the past year was pulling away from Seokjin knowing it meant losing his family. Even with Seohyun halfway around the world in Seoul, your text thread has never been silent for long.
“I missed you, too,” you admit.
Over her shoulder, you notice Emilia looking slightly downcast. She hides it quickly, but not fast enough. Releasing Seohyun, you end up standing beside your – apparent – boyfriend.
“Should we head inside?” Still beaming, Mrs. Kim looks between you and Seokjin. Still, she allows her husband to guide her towards the door. “It’s much too cold for this time in May.”
Jaesuk nudges Emilia. “Agreed. I’ll make a fire in the living room.”
They both head inside, leaving you standing with Seokjin and Seohyun. When you turn towards your suitcase, you realize it’s already moved. Seokjin has your purse over one shoulder, and he gestures you towards the front door.
Brushing past, you head for the house as your anger rises. Seohyun falls into step alongside you, gleeful, and you realize this may have been the wrong choice.
“So,” she says, whistling loudly. “This was a surprise, huh?” She waggles her eyebrows at you and her brother.
Rolling his eyes, Seokjin walks alongside you. “Did you think I’d give you a call the next morning, or something?”
You nearly choke when you hear what this implies.
Seohyun gags. “Gross. I so did not need the image of you and my brother hooking up. No offense, Y/N. But you could have called before announcing you were dating in the family group chat.”
Seokjin blanches, and you at last take pity on him. “It was my fault,” you say, putting yourself in between the siblings. “I didn’t want Seokjin to say anything until we were sure what this was. Things have been weird enough with… well.” Aimless, you gesture to where Emilia and Jaesuk have disappeared.
“Oh, yeah.” Seohyun turns grim. “That.”
“Seo,” Seokjin grumbles. “I told you – I’m fine with it.”
“Sure, you’re fine with it. That doesn’t mean I am.”
You laugh, unable to help it. “That’s exactly what I said.”
The three of you cross the threshold, and for a moment, the nostalgia overwhelms. The black and white checkered tile stretches before you, a double staircase leading to the second and third floors. Above you hangs an antique chandelier, glass and wrought iron reminiscent of lace.
Seohyun breaks towards the kitchen, saying something about a snack before dinner. This leaves Seokjin and you all alone, and the feelings you’ve suppressed come flooding back.
Seokjin lied to you. He planned this. He had so many times to warn you over the past week – in the car ride! – and chose not to.
“Your room,” you snap, refusing to look at him when you walk past. “Now.”
Stopping at the stairs, you remove your shoes and stomp upstairs barefoot. Meekly, Seokjin follows you to the second floor. Muscle memory leads to the north wing, where you and Seokjin used to stay while here with his family. You hover outside his old room, realizing with horror you might be expected to share.
Assuming you decide to stay, that is.
Pushing open the door, you march inside and drop your shoes near the closet. The moment the door shuts, you whirl around.
“Explain,” you demand.
Seokjin hovers over the threshold. “I’m so sorry,” he blurts. “You can leave if you want to.” He takes a deep breath. “I’ll figure something out. Make up some excuse – I promise.”
Dizzily, you shake your head. “That’s not an explanation, Seokjin. Why does your family think that we’re dating? This wasn’t what you asked me to do,” you add, lowering your voice in case someone walks past.
“It was an accident, I swear.” He shoves a hand through his hair. “I didn’t mean for this to happen.”
“You didn’t mean to… what? To tell your family we’re dating?”
“No!” Seokjin blurts, then shakes his head. “That’s not what I told them. It’s… okay.” He stops and exhales. “After we talked last week, I put off telling them for a few days. I’ve been pretty silent in the group chat ever since… well, ever since Emilia and Jaesuk announced they were dating. When I finally got up the nerve, I texted them I was bringing you and went into class.”
Your brows lift. “And?”
“And” – Seokjin groans, collapsing onto the chaise – “things had spiraled by the time I got out. Everyone assumed I was bringing you… as my girlfriend. My mom responded saying how happy this made her, then my dad congratulated us on our ‘budding relationship,’ and my mom added how perfect it was…” Seokjin swallows, looking nauseous. “I had a voicemail from Jaesuk, telling me how relieved he felt. He’d been worried about bringing Emilia around, but with me dating someone, he thought this could work…” Seokjin trails off, burying his face in his hands. “I’m so sorry, Y/N. I’ll fix this.”
It’s a struggle not to react. You tell yourself to stay strong, to hold your ground, but – well, you can’t help it when some of your anger unravels. As well-meaning as Seokjin’s family can be, you understand how it happened.
“Emilia,” Seokjin mumbles into his palms, “texted me saying how happy she was. That she was so glad I wasn’t hurt anymore. She acted like I was so pitiful. And I just… snapped, Y/N.”
“I get it.”
Slowly, he lowers both hands. “You… do?”
“Yeah.”
Seokjin watches you for a long moment. “So… where does this leave us?”
You consider the question, and everything that would follow. On the one hand – Seokjin should have told you. He should have called you the moment his family misunderstood. Or explained on the car ride up.
On the other hand, you’re here now. You saw for yourself how Seokjin isn’t over Emilia. Instead, she came here with Jaesuk and Seokjin is forced to watch them together. Alone.
At last, you exhale and shake your head.
“You should have told me.”
To his credit, Seokjin seems embarrassed. “I know. I should have.” The chaise squeaks when he stands, walking towards you. “Please, Y/N,” he declares, and to your surprise, drops to his knees. “Please, forgive me and fake date me. I’ll do whatever you want. I’ll – I’ll do your laundry for a month.”
Eyes wide, you stare down at him. “I have a laundry machine in my unit, Seokjin.”
“Oh.” He considers. “I’ll walk your dog.”
“I don’t have a dog. You know that.”
“You can…” Desperate, he looks around. “You can use this house as a writing retreat! Whenever you want. I promise! All expenses paid, just tell me the dates. I’ll make sure my family clears out.”
This makes you hesitate. While you’ve made steady progress on your novel, it’s been difficult to write in your shared apartment. Jimin doesn’t exactly understand the meaning of personal space, and many a writing session has devolved into a movie marathon.
“Go on,” you say slowly.
Sensing weakness, Seokjin scoots closer. He clasps both hands before him, creating a distracting visual.
“Time to work on your novel,” he intones, his voice low. “Just picture it. This entire place to yourself. The peace and quiet you’ve always wanted but never achieved! Writing paradise! An entire staff at your beck and call. Me, chauffeuring you to and fro, bringing you fresh fruit and –”
“Okay, okay.” Flapping a hand, you gesture for him to stand. “Fine, fine – I’ll do it.”
“Really?” Seokjin bounds to his feet. “Wow, that was easy.”
“To be clear, I would have done it without the lake house.”
His smile vanishes. “What?”
“No take backs,” you say, wagging a finger. “Whenever I want – that’s what you said. I assume that makes it a standing offer? Holidays included?”
“Now, hang on…”
“You’re so generous,” you gush, bending to unzip your suitcase. “Thanks, darling. You do spoil me.”
A beat passes, enough that you look up to find Seokjin staring. Possibly you overdid it with ‘darling.’
Coming to, Seokjin crosses his arms. “Should’ve known you’d take me for all I was worth. You’re merciless, Y/N.”
You blow smoke off an imaginary gun. “We should probably get our story straight, though – right?” you ask, rummaging under your pants. “Like, how did this happen? How long have we been dating? And” – arching a brow, you look upward – “am I really staying in your room this whole week?”
Seokjin frowns, as though this hadn’t crossed his mind. Expression tight, you sit back on your heels. It’s hard not to react to the fact that Seokjin doesn’t want you in his personal space. You would understand if he hadn’t brought this upon himself, but he told his family you were dating, so they’re going to expect you to do dating things.
Rubbing his neck, Seokjin nods. “Yeah. Good point.” He considers, then seems to reach a decision. “How about this: we were hanging out last month, and you confessed that you liked me.”
“I confessed? Hell, no.”
Seokjin blinks. “What? Why?”
“Because! That makes it sound like I was pining for you during your entire relationship and pounced the second you became available.”
Seokjin smirks. “And?”
Incensed, you throw a handful of bras at his head. Seokjin yelps, dodging most of them – except a lacy, black contraption that lands on his shoulder. “Real mature,” he says, delicately removing it. “Anyways. So, we were hanging out last month –”
“When last month?”
“I don’t know!” He throws up his hands. “Pick a weekend. Let’s say I brought you as my date to a faculty function, and… I confessed.” He pauses, then adds, “That makes it sound like I was harboring secret feelings for you the entire length of my relationship.”
“You mean… like your former girlfriend harbored for your brother?”
“Fair point.”
“I still don’t know how you’re okay with all that.”
Seokjin exhales and sits on the bed – avoiding the bra. “I don’t know that I am,” he admits. “Otherwise, I would’ve corrected my family in the group chat – right?”
“Right,” you echo, although something about his tone gives you pause.
He falls back on the mattress. “Right,” he says, speaking to the ceiling. “So, we have the whole ‘how did this happen’ question down. And how long – we’ve been dating for a month. What about the rest?”
“You mean, where am I staying this week?”
Propping himself up on an elbow, Seokjin peers at you down his torso. “I can figure something out if you want. We can move to the joined rooms down the hall. They have a terrible view,” he muses. “But I can say this room had a draft, or something. That way you can go to the other room at night, and –”
“Seokjin. I don’t mind staying here.”
He hesitates. “You don’t?”
“No. I mean, this isn’t the first time we’ve shared a room. Or have you forgotten the backpacking trip?”
A devious smile crosses his face. “How could I forget? Remember when you booked us a room in someone else’s house?”
“That wasn’t my fault!” you insist. “I swear, the listing changed after I booked. Anyways, Rodolfo was very nice.”
“He asked you out twice,” Seokjin says flatly.
“Can you blame him?”
He pauses, then tilts his head. “No.”
Finding yourself in unfamiliar territory, you blink. Then it occurs to you Seokjin is probably flirting with you for practice. That way, it seems genuine in front of his family. Satisfied, you resume pulling things from your suitcase.
“Um, right,” you say. “But that just proves my point. This isn’t the first time we’ve shared a room.”
“Yes, but…” Seokjin waves a hand at the mattress.
Oh. Right – that.
The room, despite its size, has only one bed. Granted, the bed is King-sized, so there’s enough room for you both, but still. While the two of you have shared a room several times over the years, never a bed.
“Okay.” You frown. “That’s fine – I can sleep on the floor. Or on the couch.”
Seokjin gives you a wry look. “Y/N. I got us into this situation. The least I can do is sleep on the couch.”
“Will you even fit? You’re not as young as you once were.”
“Ouch.” Seokjin huffs a laugh, massaging his chest with one hand. Annoyingly, your gaze follows the motion. “I didn’t realize this week would include personal roasting sessions. Are you trying to tear down my self-confidence, Y/N?”
“As though anything I said could make a dent in that.”
Something about this seems to amuse him, but Seokjin says nothing. Pushing himself to stand, he claps both hands together. “We can figure that out later. For now, we’ve established you’ll stay here. In my room,” he adds.
“Fine,” you say, standing with an armful of clothes. “You may need to grab some more hangers, though. These dresses can’t wrinkle.”
Bowing extravagantly, Seokjin backs away. “Your wish is my command,” he declares, continuing the bit as he enters the hall. “And Y/N?” he adds, straightening.
You look over your shoulder. “Yeah?”
Seokjin watches you seriously, his expression at odds with his usual humor. “Thanks,” he says, quiet.
A shiver goes through you. “You’re welcome.”
He nods and disappears. Left alone with your stuff, you stare at the suitcase, heart pounding. So much for self-preservation. No matter how badly you insist that you’re fine, that your feelings are over, look where you are.
At the Kim family lake house, surrounded by memories and the people who haunt them. A cold sense of foreboding steals over you. With so many secrets to hide, so many years of pushing feelings down, you can’t help the feeling that something will drop.
You can only hope you survive the aftermath.
One thing you did not miss about the Kim’s is their shared love of hiking. Even Seohyun, usually your partner in crime, has changed into athleisurewear so expensive, you don’t know the label. Soon after you and Seokjin unpack, Mrs. Kim suggests a walk to ‘work up an appetite’ before dinner.
Having been on many Kim family vacations, you know a ‘walk’ can mean anything from a paved path to bouldering. Accordingly, you shove your feet into sneakers and tie a sweatshirt around your waist. Your preparation pays off when the family town cars drop you off at a local trail head. Now, you find yourself huffing and puffing up a hill that on paper shouldn’t exist in the Midwest.
“Ugh,” huffs Seohyun, trekking alongside you. “I’ve been so busy with work I’ve barely hiked the past year. Which is dumb, because Seoul is literally in the mountains. I’m so out of shape.”
“Same,” you agree. “Although not because of work – it’s because I hate hiking.”
Seohyun laughs, ponytail bobbing. “I missed having you on these things. Emilia loves hiking,” she adds, lowering her voice. “And working out. She even goes running before breakfast – on purpose! Vile.”
“I mean, so does Seokjin,” you point out.
“Exactly!” Seohyun sounds triumphant. “Seokjin and Emilia are too similar. It’s why they were doomed. You can’t date yourself in a different font, Y/N. It’s boring.”
Curious, you glance over at Seokjin. He hikes beside his mom in the middle, discussing his research and her latest project. You had never considered him and Emilia in that light before. Instead, you thought their similarities were a sign of compatibility. Now that you think about it though, Seokjin never confided in you about their relationship.
While you watch, Seokjin runs a hand through his hair. His face is truly unfair – concrete proof that god has their favorites. No way should one person be that good-looking and able to carry a conversation.
Seohyun groans beside you. “Okay, I take it all back. This might be worse than having to race Emilia up a mountain. You and Seokjin are sickening.”
Gaze jerking forward, you feel your face feat. Ironically, you weren’t even thinking about the faux relationship just now. That was just your expression looking at Seokjin. If it helps to sell this nonsense, you suppose it’s a good thing. So long as Seokjin doesn’t suspect your feelings are true.
You can’t keep your thoughts from drifting towards once this week is over. After you leave the lake house and return to the city – what then? Seokjin will have to tell his family something. Will he tell them you broke up? Either way, it seems like your relationship is about to change, and you aren’t sure if that’s good.
Returning to Seohyun, you force a smile. “Hey, at least you’re not the worst hiker here anymore. Count your blessings.”
Someone beside you chuckles. “You’re definitely not the worst, Y/N,” says Emilia, pulling her backpack around to unzip.
Both you and Seohyun jump. Exchanging a swift glance, you wonder how long Emilia has been within hearing distance. Luckily, you didn’t say anything too bad… you think.
Emilia doesn’t let anything show on her face, taking a large sip of water. “The first time I went hiking with Jaesuk, I sprained my ankle and had to hop all the way to the car.”
Jaesuk catches up on her other side. “Excuse me,” he jokes. “If I remember correctly, I carried you most of the way. You only hopped in the parking lot.”
Emilia blinks at him innocently, and Jaesuk laughs. Seohyun ignores them both, taking a long sip of her water. Taking pity on them, you jump in.
“You still agreed to a hiking date,” you say. “In winter. That makes you automatically better than me, I think.”
Seokjin turns around and hikes backwards. “Y/N’s not wrong,” he calls back. “Remember the first time we went hiking in high school?”
“Oh, that’s right!” Mr. Kim cranes his head around at the front. “Y/N, didn’t I end up taking you to the emergency room?’
Seohyun hoots with laughter and your face burns. “I don’t think it was that–”
“You did! Seokjin insisted,” says Mrs. Kim, smiling at her son. “You said you were fine, Y/N, but Seokjin would have none of it. He pulled up WebMD and read you possible maladies until you gave in.”
Choosing not to respond, you glance at Seokjin. You remember that day very differently. Seokjin was concerned, yes, but he would have done the same for anyone. His reaction had nothing to do with feelings for you, which seems to be what his family is implying.
You aren’t the only one thinking that. Emilia’s gaze darts between Mrs. Kim and Seokjin, a small frown on her face.
“I was fine,” you say, steering the conversation away. “Seokjin overreacted.”
Seokjin slows to hike alongside you. “You had a hairline fracture! You were in that boot for months – remember? You got out of running the mile twice.”
“I was in the boot for a month.”
“They always bickered like this,” says his mom fondly. “We should have realized.”
Seohyun squints your way. “Mm. I always suspected they were more than platonic. Come on – a euro trip? As friends?”
“Seohyun,” Seokjin says, a warning clear in his voice. At the same time, you blurt out, “It was platonic.”
Several heads turn in your direction. Realizing you made a mistake, you backtrack. “I mean,” you hasten, “feelings came… later.”
There’s a long moment of silence until Seohyun nods.
“Anyways.” Jaesuk places his hand on Emilia’s back. “You’re a better hiker than you think, Y/N. You made it up sweat mountain, remember?”
“Don’t remind me,” you groan while Seokjin cackles.
Sweat mountain is an aptly named monstrosity Seokjin convinced you to hike while in college. You thought the name was merely a metaphor, but it was the mountain’s actual name. All you can assume is so many people collapsed from heat stroke mid-trail that they decided to leave the name as a warning.
“Today feels like sweat mountain,” Seohyun gripes. “How much further until the parking lot?”
“You’re being dramatic.” Mrs. Kim hikes past her. “This is only a three-mile walk! The parking lot is just around that curve.”
Like the traitor she is, Seohyun picks up her pace. Admittedly, today is the perfect day for hiking. The temperature is cool enough to avoid sweat, but warm enough your sweatshirt has stayed around your waist. It’s not their fault you abhor physical exercise that doesn’t end with a treat.
As though reading your mind, Seokjin pulls a protein bar from his pocket. “Hungry?”
“I’m fine,” you grumble, but – after a moment – take the bar. “Thanks.”
Seokjin watches you unwrap it and stuff half in your mouth. His lips twitch. “I’m sorry about this, by the way. I did try to offer an out at the house.”
Jaw dropping, you remember too late about the half-chewed protein bar. “Um, excuse me,” you cough, trying to swallow. “What you said was ‘Y/N might be too tired to come.’ What kind of excuse is that?” you demand, turning around to watch him as you hike. “It makes it sound like I hold you back.”
Seokjin’s eyes widen. “They never would have accepted that I was too tired. Mom would’ve said, ‘the fresh air will invigorate you,” he quotes in an uncanny imitation of Mrs. Kim. “As a guest, you have immunity. My mom would’ve allowed it.”
“Well…” You stuff the rest of the bar in your mouth. “Oo sh’o’d’ve said ‘at ‘efore we went ‘own’airs.”
“I didn’t know that we were– Y/N!”
Your sneaker hits a rock, ankle twisting as Seokjin darts forward. For a moment, you flail wildly before collapsing.
“Oof,” you grunt, your palms hitting the dirt. The jolt rattles enough that you wince, pride smarting as much as your hands.
“Y/N.” Seokjin drops to one knee. His hands pat your arms, gentle while checking you over. When you wince, his face darkens. “Are you hurt?”
You admit he plays the caring boyfriend card well. You see why Emilia fell for him in the first place.
“N-no,” you stutter, wishing the earth would swallow you whole.
Luckily, the rest of his family is too far ahead to see. It would have been doubly awful to have Seokjin’s perfect ex bear witness to your humiliation.
Turning your palms over in his, Seokjin slides both hands to your elbows. “Can you stand?” he asks, pulling you up. “Test your weight on your ankle.”
“My ankle is fine,” you grumble, but oblige.
Slowly, you place weight on your leg and although it feels fine, you notice your leggings are ripped. Your knee is bleeding, but otherwise you seem okay. Noticing the blood, Seokjin’s frown deepens.
Shifting to stand before you, he lowers himself again to his knee. “Hop on,” Seokjin says, glancing over his shoulder.
You stare down at him, open-mouthed. “Huh?”
“Hop on.” Seokjin pats his back. “How else are you going to get to the car?”
“With my… feet?”
He scowls. “You’re bleeding, Y/N. And your palms are all scratched up. There’s a first aid kit in the backseat – I can clean you up there.”
Ignoring how your stomach flutters, you gingerly bend and loop both arms around his neck. Seokjin pushes himself upward, gathering your legs and walking forward. Your nose ends up near his neck, breathing his clean, masculine scent.
Lift is unfair. It’s all too easy to imagine this day in different circumstances. To imagine Seokjin taking care of you, being there for you as your boyfriend. Shifting closer, you close your eyes and enjoy the warmth.
The daydream ends when you exit the forest.
Seeing you, Mrs. Kim drops her backpack. “Y/N!” she gasps, rushing forward. “What happened?”
Capping her water bottle, Seohyun seems caught between fear and amusement. “How… we were just talking about hiking accidents!”
“I’ll get the first aid kit,” Emilia declares. She disappears around the side of one car.
You stifle the urge to bury your face in Seokjin’s shoulder. “I’m fine,” you say as he comes to a stop. “Really.”
Marching to the trunk of one car, Seokjin turns around to set you on the edge. Kneeling before you, he removes your sneaker and peels your legging upward.
“Here you go.” Emilia appears, a first aid kit in hand.
Seokjin accepts this without comment. Over his shoulder you mouth, thank you, to her. Smiling fleetingly, Emilia retreats to stand beside Jaesuk. Mr. Kim shoos everyone away to give you some privacy.
Removing a water bottle from his backpack, Seokjin pours this over your knee. You hiss and jerk back.
“Sorry,” he murmurs, soothing your calf with his thumb. “This’ll sting.”
“A little late,” you complain, but the barb is half-hearted.
Gripping the edge of the trunk, you watch Seokjin clean your skin with a damp cotton ball. The pain soon dulls, replaced with soft pressure of his hand on your leg. Seokjin bends closer, his breath warm while blowing dirt away from the wound.
Looking upward, Seokjin pauses at whatever he sees on your face. A beat passes, then two, until he withdraws.
“That should be good enough until we get home.”
Dazed, you blink. “Oh. Right. Thanks.”
Seokjin stands, watching you roll down your legging and slip on your sneaker. When you wince, he offers an arm and helps you towards the car. George holds the door open, shutting it behind you to move to the driver’s seat.
Seohyun hooks up her phone, glancing over her shoulder from the passenger seat. “I’m so sorry, Y/N,” she says miserably. “I feel like I caused this.”
Confused, you buckle your seat belt. “Oh? Did you place a rock directly on the trail behind me?”
“No, but I was going on and on about accidents, and –”
“It wasn’t your fault,” says Seokjin, entering from the other side. He shuts the door. “But if you waste more time sitting here, it will be your fault if Y/N gets gangrene.”
“Okay, now you’re being ridiculous,” you complain. “I’m not even bleeding.”
George places the car into drive and Seohyun rolls her eyes. “Mom was right. Seokjin has always been way too protective for his feelings to be anything but romantic.”
Choosing to stay silent, you look out the window. In its reflection, you catch sight of Seokjin watching you from the next seat. Unbidden, your heart skips a beat.
For a moment, you consider what everyone has been saying. You remember the day you broke your foot in high school. You remember it clearly, because it was the first night you dreamed of Seokjin. Before that, he was just a friend.
After …
You couldn’t stop thinking about the way he touched you, the way he insisted on getting you help. It was the first step down a long path of falling in love with him.
And a small, tiny voice whispers that maybe – just maybe – his mom and sister have a point. Maybe they saw things that day that went over your head. As soon as you think this though, you dismiss it. Obviously, Mrs. Kim says now it was fate. It’s confirmation bias, since she thinks you and Seokjin are currently dating.
And yet, you continue to watch Seokjin in the window’s reflection. The sting of your knee has receded, but the prospect of him feeling nothing for you is somehow the worse wound.
By dinnertime, it’s a struggle to keep your eyes open. The morning latte was ages ago, and the glass of wine after hiking doesn’t help. Once the last course at dinner clears, you stifle another yawn and Seohyun catches your eye.
“Y/N, will you please go to bed?” she says, dropping her fork. “You’re making me tired.”
Immediately, you straighten. “I’m fine!”
“Mom.” Seokjin politely removes his napkin from his lap. “What are the plans for tonight?”
Mrs. Kim takes a sip of her port. “Nothing, really. I think your dad wanted to watch that new action movie.”
Mr. Kim grunts in agreement.
“The one we saw in theatres last fall?” asks Jaesuk. “That was a good one.”
“I’ve been wanting to watch,” Emilia adds.
Seohyun shrugs. “I guess I can join, too.”
“Great.” Pushing his chair back, Seokjin takes your hand. “Y/N and I are wiped. We’re going to bed.”
“Hey!” Seohyun gasps. “You tricked us.”
“Get some sleep,” calls Mrs. Kim.
Seokjin leads you from the dining room, dropping a kiss to his mom’s hair as he passes. His other hand remains in yours, pulling you through the foyer and up the staircase.
“Was I that obvious?” you ask, sheepish.
Seokjin does a double take at you. “Oh, you mean – was your yawning that obvious? Yes, Y/N. Pretty sure the space station will message any second about the morse code.”
“Message them back and tell them no one watches for free. Not even astronauts.”
“W-ow. You run a tight ship, Y/N.”
“It’s called knowing your self-worth,” you sniff, following him down the hall. “You should try it.”
“I do know my self-worth. If you’d like, we can Google it right now – hey-o!” Seokjin cries, holding up a hand for you to high five.
Ignoring him, you walk into the room. Seokjin chuckles and follows, shutting the door behind you. Holding the vanity, you bend and undo a shoe strap. You’ll never forget the first time you visited – Mrs. Kim asked you to leave your shoes in the hall overnight. You were confused before learning the staff clean their shoes every day so they can wear them to dinner.
Fumbling with the clasp, you kick helplessly and hope the shoe gives up before you do.
“Hang on,” Seokjin sighs. Again, he kneels before you – this is becoming a habit. “Put your foot on my knee.”
You stare as though he’s grown a second head. “What are you doing?”
“Helping you take off your shoes. I thought that was obvious.” He pats his thigh. “Put your foot here.”
Unable to summon the energy to fight, you lift your foot. If Seokjin is surprised by your obedience, he does a good job of hiding it. Bending, he delicately undoes the clasp of your shoe. Dark hair falls in his face while he works.
Seokjin hesitates, one hand on your ankle. He looks up. “I really am sorry about all of this, Y/N.”
Your heart thumps, and it takes a second longer for your brain to catch up.
His lips twist. “First, I lied to you. Then, I asked you to lie to my family. And now… you’re hurt because of me.” He looks down. “This was an awful idea, and I’m just… sorry, Y/N. Say the word and I’ll drive you home. I’ll explain everything to my family. No matter how awkward.”
“Hey,” you murmur. Reaching down, you pull Seokjin upward to stand.
Seokjin towers over you, looking slightly pathetic.
“It’s okay,” you say gently. “Really. Am I thrilled by some of your choices? No. Definitely not. But do I understand?” Slowly, you exhale. “Yeah. I unfortunately do.”
He seems to war with something internally but nods. “That’s because you’re a saint.”
“Flattery will get you everywhere.”
Seokjin chuckles, and you smile. “Besides,” you say, holding up both palms. “I’m fine. Barely a scratch from earlier – see?”
Taking your hand, he studies your palm longer than medically necessary. “So…” He looks at you. “What does this mean, Y/N? Are you saying you’ll stay the week, or…?”
“Will I stay here and pretend that we’re dating? Sure.”
Seokjin groans and tips his head back. “God. That sounds so sad.”
Laughing, you take a step closer. Reaching for him, you slide both hands into his hair and lower his face. His lashes flutter, staring down at you.
“Don’t worry,” you say quietly. “I could never think less of you, Seokjin Kim.”
His throat works as he swallows. “I bet you say that to all the guys.”
“No – I really don’t.”
Dropping your hands, you step backwards. Shakily, you inhale and try to forget the feeling of his skin beneath your palms.
“So,” you say. “We have a full week of couple activities ahead.”
Seokjin nods, and you fall into the rhythm of unpacking. Moving around the room, you ask what he’s been up to lately and let Seokjin chatter about work. The events of today crash over you without warning, leaving you emotionally and physically drained.
This is probably why you accept so fast when he offers to take the couch. Grabbing your pajamas, you lock yourself in the bathroom to wash your face. When you emerge, you all but leap into the giant bed.
Seokjin disappears into the bathroom soon after, and you struggle to stay awake. Sometime after the shower starts though, you drift off, falling asleep before he can return.
A cacophony greets you the next morning. People call the city noisy, but those sounds you’re used to. What you’re not used to is the sound of two birds having a full-blown tiff outside your window. In response, you roll over and stick your head beneath a pillow.
Easy to do since you have the bed to yourself. Realizing this, you slowly peer out from under the pillow at the couch.
Empty.
Unease pricks your stomach. Seokjin did sleep here last night – didn’t he? As soon as you think this, you notice the mussed blanket and pillow. Okay, so he slept here at some point, even if he’s gone now.
Rolling onto your back, you unplug your phone from the wall. 8:04 AM. After ten minutes of scrolling, you manage to push yourself into a seated position. Eventually, nature calls loud enough that you roll from bed. With face washed and teeth brushed, you feel marginally ready to start the day.
The couch is still empty. Frowning, you walk towards the window and pull back the curtain. Seokjin could have gone on a run – or maybe, chimes a little voice in your head, he realized how silly this is and went to tell everyone the truth. Maybe he went to confess his feelings to Emilia. Maybe Jaesuk and Seokjin went to go duel before dawn.
Releasing the curtain, you head for the shower. This is why you don’t talk to people before coffee. Stepping under the spray, you tilt your head and let hot water sluice down your back. Despite your best efforts, the shower unfortunately proves a great place to overthink.
Again and again, you rehash the events of yesterday. The look on Seokjin’s face when his mom said you were dating. Hise expression asking you to stay. The way he looked while dabbing your knee with a cotton ball. For so long, you’ve survived by shoving your feelings aside. It’s been a long time since you considered what Seokjin felt for you.
Twenty years of history point you towards nothing. But then, you’ve had feelings for him just as long and never told him. Sighing, you finish washing and step from the shower. The safest course of action is to do nothing and yet, the thought leaves an itch in your brain.
Again, you remind yourself, all you can do is take his words at face value. Seokjin asked you to be his fake girlfriend, not his real one. That’s all this is. Anything more leads to a slippery slope you might not return from.
Wiping steam from the mirror, you realize you left your clothes in the other room. Wrapping a towel around your torso, you crack open the door.
Holy fuck.
Seokjin has returned. Well, that much is obvious because he’s standing in the middle of the room dressed in navy sweats and… nothing else.
Mouth dry, you watch him bop along to a song on his ear pods. You try – and fail – not to gape at the way his shoulders narrow to the sharp v of his waist. The last guy you hooked up with was a definite gym rat, full of muscles made mainly for show. Seokjin is hot without trying. His biceps flex when he grabs a t-shirt, frowning into the mirror – and meeting your gaze.
“Ahh!” Seokjin yells, the t-shirt whipping away as he turns.
“Ahh!” you return, stumbling backwards. Clutching your towel, you nearly trip over a different t-shirt lying on the floor.
Seokjin braces himself on the wardrobe. “WHAT ARE – hang on, shit,” he swears, yanking out his air pods. “You’re, uh – Y/N. You’re here?”
“Yep,” you say, your voice way too high. “I was in the shower,” you add, jerking a thumb over your shoulder.
Seokjin follows the gesture, only to snag on your body. Too late you remember you’re in only a towel. Before now, this fact seems to have eluded him. Seokjin openly stares, not bothering to hide his appraisal. Heat trails each place his gaze lingers until the bird argument outside resumes – this time, at twice the volume.
The spell breaks. “Sorry,” you blurt, rushing to grab your clothes. “I didn’t know you were here.”
“I – I wasn’t. I was on a run.”
“Okay,” you squeak, edging around him. Slamming the door shut, you collapse against it. “Fuck,” you hiss.
On the other side, you hear Seokjin utter the same. Eyes wide, you turn your head to stare at the wood.
Coincidence. Or he was swearing because of how awkward that was, not because he was also struck dumb by the sight of you mostly naked. Right?
Your head hits the door with a thunk. You should have taken Seokjin up on his offer to drive you home yesterday. Not even one day has passed and you’re already overthinking this. Worse, you can’t stop rehashing the events of last year. Seokjin never answered your question about why he hasn’t reached out to you since December.
Suddenly, you still as realization dawns. Seokjin and Emilia broke up in December. You know they were still together on his birthday, which means they broke up after.
What if… Emilia saw you in that hallway? What if she broke up with Seokjin because she suspected something between you? That would make her the victim. Granted, she didn’t have to go and date Seokjin’s brother, but it would explain her discomfort around you. It would explain why she seems to flinch at every mention of your shared past with Seokjin.
If that’s true, then it means their breakup was partly your fault. Of course, you know this wouldn’t be your fault alone. If their relationship had been solid, it could have withstood a moment of jealousy. Still, the thought lingers as you get dressed, entering the bedroom to find Seokjin has gone.
You continue to think about this during breakfast, watching the way Emilia interacts with the rest. By the end of the meal, you’ve learned nothing certain. If anything, you find yourself reaching the conclusion that whatever the truth is, it doesn’t matter. Not when what’s done is done.
Seokjin and Emilia are no longer dating. Now, she’s with Jaesuk. And you’re here to provide Seokjin platonic support.
Nothing about this has changed, so you need to concentrate on the task at hand. Something you can do, even if the cost is one you pay in your own heartache.
Mrs. Kim passes out individual itineraries after breakfast, resulting in a swift wave of nostalgia. Your own family would fit in well with Jimin’s friends, planning everything the day of and flying by the seat of their pants. Kim family vacations were a dream come true for you growing up, since Mr. and Mrs. Kim always had things under control.
Mr. Kim may have been the one born into money, but Mrs. Kim is no shrinking violet. Her mother raised her by herself; Mrs. Kim finished law school while working odd jobs, eventually rising to the rank of Chief Legal Officer at the Kim Corporation. It was something of a scandal when she announced she and Mr. Kim had wed, and she would be transitioning to the non-profit sector. One time at dinner, she confided in you with a wink this had been her goal from the start.
The entire week is planned down to the minute, with ‘free time’ scheduled for several days. Seokjin stares in dismay at all the events he’s been signed up for until you gently take his paper and fold it in yours.
Today is simple enough: the local farmer’s market, then lunch. Dinner tonight is just family, but tomorrow you’ll be joined by dinner guests. Thursday is a cocktail party, and then Saturday evening is the main event. You notice the Astors listed only for Saturday, which eases some of your tension.
“I’ll drive Y/N and I,” Seokjin says once breakfast is over. Standing, he scoops a pair of keys from the bowl. “We’ll meet the rest of you there.”
Seohyun waves from the coffee pot, dressed in jeans and a t-shirt. When Emilia enters with Jaesuk, Seoyun pointedly turns around and brings her coffee to the porch.
Noticing, you can’t help your guilty conscience. “Seohyun seems mad,” you remark to Seokjin as you climb the stairs.
Seokjin glances at the back porch. His lips thin. “Yeah. I think… the situation feels more personal for her. One of her friends dated an ex back in college, and it led to a lot of drama. I don’t think they stayed friends, so she feels bad for me.”
“Oh,” you murmur. You, too, lost a friend during college when she slept with your boyfriend. “I get that. In some ways, losing a friend is harder.”
As you enter the room, Seokjin opens the closet. “I don’t need her pity, though,” he calls from inside. “I’m fine with the situation. And besides, it’s not the same.”
“Is it not?”
“No!”
Wisely choosing to stay silent on the matter, you sit on the sofa and wait for him to change. Seokjin appears a moment later in a cream shirt and slacks, a jean jacket in hand. Well, fuck you, too, then.
Seokjin pauses, squinting at himself in the mirror. “It’s not,” he continues. “Seohyun was still in love with her ex. I’m not.”
Your brows shoot upward. “Oh, no? This whooole situation” – you wave a hand – “would beg to differ.”
Seokjin meets your gaze in the mirror. “It’s not the same. I don’t… think Emilia and I were ever really in love.”
You take a moment to digest this. “Okay, now you’re being ridiculous.”
His expression tightens. “Do you really think someone in love with me could have fallen so fast for Jaesuk? Do you think I could have–” Abruptly, he cuts himself off.
Curious, you stare, but he doesn’t continue. Searching for a way to prod without being obvious, you inhale and a door slams downstairs.
Jolted into motion, Seokjin pulls on his coat. “Coming!” he calls. To you, he murmurs, “Come on. We don’t want to be late.”
Mind reeling, you follow him down the stairs. You didn’t imagine it, did you – the way Seokjin seemed on the verge of saying something important?
And what about the other thing he just said – that he never loved Emilia? Frustration chokes the many emotions roiling within you. That was the only thing about this week which made sense. If Seokjin still was in love with Emilia, it would make sense why you’re here. It would make sense why he said nothing when his family assumed you were dating.
It would not make sense if he did all those things and is over his ex. If… Seokjin doesn’t love Emilia and never did.
By the time you reach the car, you’ve decided against calling Seokjin out. Instead, you’ve delusionally convinced yourself nothing between you has changed. You agreed to stay this week and pretend to be dating. The why doesn’t matter.
Except – what if it does?
Pushing away the thought, you buckle your seatbelt and realize Seokjin has taken this time to commandeer the stereo. A playlist called Reel Love blares, comprised of songs about love and fishing.
You shoot Seokjin a look, and he bites down on his lip to keep from laughing. For now, you tell yourself it’s enough to have your friend again. Concentrating on this fact, you lean your head to the window and watch the scenery pass.
Rumbling into town, you find yourself in desperate need of some fresh air. Seokjin has the type of presence which grows to fit whatever container he rests in. A gaseous human, if you will. Stepping from the car, you take several breaths to wash away the after-effects of proximity.
Closing the door, you survey the town. Bear’s Nook is sleepy during the edge seasons, dead in the winter, and vibrant in summer, like so many towns along the lakeshore. Right now, it’s starting to wake up, but crowds won’t show up in full force until June.
Only the locals and families like Seokjin’s arrive this time of year. People mosey in and out of the storefronts, although the main farmer’s market is in a warehouse on Main Street. George seems to be sticking around, dropping the rest of the family off in front of the market.
Seohyun shivers in short sleeves, woefully unprepared. “Race you,” she blurts, darting for the entrance.
Shaking her head, Mrs. Kim takes her husband’s arm. The entire group moves down the sidewalk, entering the market in a loose line. Stalls stretch the length of the warehouse full of fruits, vegetables, and all the craft goods you could want.
Seokjin and Mr. Kim drift towards a fishing table, and Seohyun calls her mom over to a produce stand. Despite most of the cooking being done by the staff, Mrs. Kim still enjoys preparing a few dishes each week. You drift past them both, unsure what you’re looking for as you start to wander.
At the end of the next row, your phone buzzes. Fishing it from your purse, you see Jimin’s name. Frowning, you swipe.
Jimin: how long did it take for Seokjin to ask if we were dating [10:20 AM]
Jimin: on a scale of one (first thing he asked) to ten (still hasn’t) [10:21 AM]
Coming to a stop at a candle stand, you text back.
Y/N: You little sneak [10:22 AM]
Y/N: …about a minute in [10:22 AM]
Jimin: HA [10:23 AM]
Jimin: knew it [10:23 AM]
Y/N: You knew what? [10:23 AM]
Jimin: Y/N, please. It’s obvious that man has feelings for you [10:23 AM]
Y/N: Jimin, noooo [10:24 AM]
Y/N: You saw him for ten seconds [10:24 AM]
Y/N: It’s not like that, I promise [10:24 AM]
Y/N: Believe me [10:24 AM]
Jimin: …. [10:25 AM]
Jimin: no [10:25 AM]
You’re frantically typing something to the effect of that’s not how friendship works when you notice someone hovering nearby. Glancing from your phone, you realize Emilia is watching from a coffee stand. Meeting your gaze, she smiles and waves you over.
After a moment’s hesitation, you return your phone to your pocket. Reluctantly joining the line, you pretend to study the coffee board.
“So.” Emilia exhales, glancing sideways. “This is awkward, right?”
Startled, you face her. While Emilia continues to smile, you can see the forced tightness around her eyes.
“Well…” You shrug. “I wasn’t going to call it out, but since you mention it…”
She laughs, the sound bright. When she and Seokjin started dating, you thought her laugh was fake, but no – that’s just how she sounds. You suppose if you had been brought up with a silver spoon in your mouth, you might also laugh like a Disney princess.
Immediately, you deflate. You shouldn’t be mean to her. But then again, the last time you checked, there were no guidelines about how to act with the girlfriend of your fake boyfriend’s brother, who used to date your fake boyfriend.
Seokjin is right. Saying it out loud is just sad.
“Did you… know I met Jaesuk before Seokjin?”
That captures your attention.
You blink. “No. I didn’t know that.”
She nods, lost in thought. “He was a counselor at my summer camp. I was seventeen and Jaesuk was in college, so of course, nothing happened.” A soft laugh. “He barely even noticed my existence.”
“Ah.”
The line moves forward, and you take a small step.
Emilia isn’t done. “We had this moment, though… at the end of the summer. My camp boyfriend broke up with me for Jennie Sarasota. Jaesuk found me crying behind the kayaks and told me I was too good for that idiot. It was the first time a man said that to me,” she says. “My dad is a traditional guy. He’s… well, he’s not very nice.”
Again, the line moves. Stopping closer to the kiosk, you face Emilia fully. “Why are you telling me this?” you ask. “Is this… some kind of explanation for why you cheated on Seokjin?”
Emilia’s eyes widen, and her gaze darts around. People from their world always worry about who might overhear. To be fair, you did just say the quiet part out loud.
“Y/N,” she whispers. “I didn’t cheat on Seokjin. And that’s not what I was trying to tell you.” Her face scrunches. “What I felt for Jaesuk at camp wasn’t real. It was a childish crush on a guy I didn’t know.”
“So…”
“So,” she huffs. “I’m trying to say that when I met Seokjin, I didn’t know he was related to Jaesuk. The last name Kim is pretty common.”
“Mm.” Another person pays, and the line moves again. “And then, once you realized who Jaesuk was…?”
Emilia is silent. Eventually, she exhales. “The first time I met Jaesuk was the night of Seokjin’s birthday party. Do you remember that?”
It feels like a trick question, so you simply nod.
“Yeah,” Emilia murmurs, also lost in thought. “Seokjin had mentioned him before, but Jaesuk was always working or too busy to meet. When he walked through the door, I was stunned. And then… well, I decided to put him from my mind.”
“Mhm.”
Her lips flatten. “It’s true.”
The final person orders and leaves, leaving the two of you. Stepping up to the register, you order your usual iced latte and move to the end. Emilia follows, hitching her Birkin bag up her arm.
“All I’m saying,” she continues, determined, and you fight back an eye roll. “Is that I can understand how it happened. Thinking you felt one way for someone, only to realize you felt another.”
Sharply, you look at her.
Emilia stares back at you, unflinching, and you have to hand it to her, she doesn’t back down. Again, you consider Seokjin’s confession. This is about more than just Emilia dating Jaesuk. Human beings are complicated, and feelings are never clean-cut. Just because Emilia is with Jaesuk and seems happy doesn’t mean she’s enjoying the idea of you dating Seokjin.
Still, any way you respond would be tinged with bitterness, so you merely shrug. “I guess.”
The barista finishes your coffee and places it on the counter. Accepting this, you turn, intending to leave but Emilia stops you again.
“You know,” she says lowly. “I always suspected Seokjin had feelings for you.”
Her words are like being doused in cold water. Protestations rise to your lips like no, he doesn’t and sounds like projection, but you say nothing. Because based on what Emilia knows, she’s correct.
“Even before his birthday,” she says, her grip tight on her coffee. “I knew it was more than just friendship.”
“If you say so.”
“People talk about their friends. But Seokjin never talked about you. Ever. He was so, so careful to keep you separate.”
This does surprise you, but you can’t afford to react.
“I’m not bitter,” she adds, and you know she thinks that's true. “If anything, I think this might be fate. Right?” To her credit, her voice softens. “Jaesuk and I met so long ago, and now we’ve reconnected. Meanwhile, Seokjin has wanted you for so long, and now he finally has you. Maybe… oh, I don’t know. Maybe things had to happen this way for us to be happy.”
By now, you’re practically vibrating with suppressed anger. You hate when people imply that bad things happen for a reason. Sometimes that’s true but oftentimes, it’s an excuse for the speaker to pass on accountability. Whirling around, you step closer and feel a perverse sense of satisfaction when Emilia’s eyes widen.
“No,” you spit out. “I don’t think things had to be this way. I don’t think the fact that Seokjin and I are dating cancels out the fact that you’re now dating his brother. I don’t think any of this absolves you of what – of guilt? Is that what you want?”
Emilia’s face flushes. “No!”
“It doesn’t matter if Seokjin felt something for me. He chose you. He wanted you. Everything you just said is pointless because Seokjin wanted you to be his girlfriend. And you left him for Jaesuk. It’s crappy that you’re blaming the breakup on something he never even said that he wanted!”
Her mouth opens, intending to respond, but you decide you don’t care. Everything you’ve repressed bubbles upward, and you no longer trust yourself to have this conversation without saying something hurtful. Taking a page out of Seohyun’s book, you turn on your heel and push into the crowd.
Either you walk fast enough to lose her, or Emilia doesn’t follow. The crowd breaks after a while and you stop at the last stall, sagging against the counter. It takes several moments for your pulse to steady.
Although you meant what you said, it probably wasn’t the best way to deal with Emilia. A sigh leaves you. While you understand where she’s coming from, her pretending everything is fine isn’t helpful. The events of the past year caused a lot of hurt – you witnessed this firsthand.
Oddly enough though, you feel lighter. Devastating, to realize your therapist is right, and ignoring your emotions doesn’t make them go away. Granted, you didn’t need to explode on Emilia the way that you did. You’ll have to apologize at some point. It was infuriating, though, listening to her go on about how great things are, when you know she’s the reason Seokjin is on edge.
Footsteps sound behind you.
Glancing over your shoulder, you see Seohyun approaching. “Happy my parents’ anniversary,” she sings, shoving a plastic bag into your arms. A colorful, crocheted hat spills out. “I saw this and thought of you. You and your beautiful soul.”
“Don’t you Jesse McCartney me before lunch,” you manage to laugh. Removing the hat, you shove it over your hair. “How does it look? Mesmerizing?”
Seohyun makes a face. “Only a man truly in love would find that appealing.”
As though on cue, Seokjin rounds the corner. The moment he spots you, he does a double take. Walking forward, his grin widens.
“What monstrosity is this?” Seokjin teases. Slipping a hand to either side of your face, he tips your face up to press a kiss to your forehead. “Only you would find something that clashes with literally everything.”
Somewhat stunned, you stare up at him. “I, uh…”
“I bought it for her, asshole,” sighs Seohyun. Watching the two of you, she grins and shakes her head. “What did I say, Y/N?”
Seokjin looks at her, puzzled but – thankfully – before Seohyun can explain, Mrs. Kim appears. “There’s a whole stand of oven mitts,” she says to Seohyun. “We should get a few pairs or–”
Seokjin tugs on your hand. “Come on,” he murmurs. “I want to show you something.”
Wordless, you follow him around the next corner. It hasn’t escaped your notice that his family is no longer around and yet, he still holds your hand. In fact, you’re so busy watching him, you don’t realize where you’re going until Seokjin stops.
“Ta-da!” He gestures at a wooden stall. “What do you think?”
Tearing your gaze away from him, you look at the scene.
“Oh. My. God.”
Seokjin cracks up, watching you take in the garish array of nationalism. Paintings of flags, national monuments, symbolic animals – the stand has it all, entombed in bold colors and patterns. The sight is absolutely horrific, and you’re about to say as much, when a man pops out from behind an easel.
“Are you enjoying that one?” he asks, seeing where you look. “A beauty, right? I tried to encapsulate what I felt while listening to the national anthem.”
“Right,” you croak. Seokjin seems to be holding back tears of laughter. “That’s… that’s what I thought when I saw it. The national anthem, absolutely.”
“I took inspiration from our forefathers.”
“Ah. Well… here’s hoping they don’t ask for it back.”
The artist pauses, then barks out a laugh. “Good one! I’ll have to remember that. Now, all the small paintings are three hundred, the medium ones are a thousand, and this piece” – he directs your attention to a tapestry-sized canvas – “is three thousand. My pride and joy.”
Realizing your mouth has fallen open, you shut it.
By this point, Seokjin has composed himself enough to speak. “I’ve been looking for a piece for my entryway for years,” he muses. “This speaks to me.”
You elbow him – hard – in the ribs, and Seokjin wheezes, but the man doesn’t notice.
“Good eye, sir,” he says eagerly.
When he turns around, you lean sideways. “What are you doing?” you hiss.
“Browsing,” Seokjin whispers back, his eyes alight.
“Are you really going to buy that?”
“Honestly? I’m considering it, just so it doesn’t hang in someone else’s home.”
“Stop,” you whisper-laugh, trying to school your expression. “I feel bad! This man clearly has passion for the arts –”
“And likely, the conservative party.”
“–and he put a lot of time into this!”
Seokjin shrugs. “Define a lot.”
Before you can protest further, the artist returns. Seokjin hems and haws a bit before vowing to come back tomorrow with more money.
“You’re ridiculous,” you groan when he leads you away.
Seokjin wiggles both eyebrows. “Who’s the one dating me?”
You almost correct him but look away at the last moment. “About that,” you say slowly. “Emilia… kind of cornered me earlier. She wanted to talk about us.”
Seokjin stops so abruptly you nearly walk past him. When you realize this and turn, he seems slightly nauseous.
“Did she…” He swallows. “What did she say?”
“She didn’t suspect this was… fake,” you whisper, glancing around – oh god, now you’re doing it. “If that’s what you’re thinking.”
Seokjin blinks, his expression inscrutable. “Oh – okay. Right. What did she want to talk about, then?”
The two of you begin walking through the stalls. Sipping your coffee, you take comfort in the familiar rush that it brings.
“She wanted to talk about how… she always thought you had feelings for me.”
“Ah.”
“I kind of went off on her.”
Seokjin looks at you, startled. “Oh?”
“Yeah.” You frown. “She was pissing me off. Going on and on about how it was all ‘meant to be.’ She said that you always liked me, and maybe that’s why things didn’t work out with you two. As though nothing was her fault. I mean, is it so hard to take some accountability? To admit that your actions have hurt people?”
Seokjin says nothing, continuing to walk alongside you. His brow is furrowed though, clearly deep in thought. You turn down an empty row of stalls – the farmer’s market is only half-full, given the season. It grants a semblance of privacy when he clears his throat.
“Y/N…” Seokjin hesitates and then stops. “What if… Emilia wasn’t wrong?”
“About what?”
“About… I don’t know. Did I ever tell you how we broke up?”
“Well, no. You just said that you did.”
Seokjin firmly meets your gaze. “I was the one who ended things.”
Time seems to slow again.
Slowly, the puzzle pieces slot themselves into place. Honestly, you aren’t sure why you didn’t realize sooner. Well, you know why. When Seokjin called you last week, he sounded upset. He sounded like he was in love with someone. You agreed to this mostly out of pity, assuming she had broken his heart. But if that’s not the case…
“Why?” you blurt.
Seokjin blinks. “Why, what?”
“Why did you break up with her?”
His gaze narrows. “Come on, Y/N,” he says, voice dropping when he takes a step closer. “Don’t you remember December?”
Your body goes still. Of course, you remember. You didn’t think that he did. Or if he did, you assumed it was something Seokjin wanted to ignore. The same way you haven’t talked about any other time you grew close.
Seeing your expression, his lips twist. “I almost kissed you that night in the bar. On my birthday.”
“I… know.”
“And you don’t think that was a red flag for my relationship?”
“We’d both been drinking,” you say, unconvinced. “It was a weird time for me. You were upset, and…”
His laugh is hollow. “That’s what I told myself at first, too. But then… I realized that even if all that was true, it wouldn’t have mattered if I loved her. So, I broke up with Emilia.”
You stare up at him, the events of the night rearranging themselves. You realize you’ve been thinking about that night all wrong. It wasn’t the night Seokjin almost kissed you, but the night he realized he didn’t love Emilia.
Before you can respond, Mr. Kim and Jaesuk walk around the corner. Emilia is right behind them, still sipping her coffee. She doesn’t meet your gaze, browsing the empty stalls instead.
“There you are,” says Jaesuk. “We’ve been looking for you everywhere. Mom wants to head to lunch. Are you ready to go?”
Seokjin watches you for another moment, then nods. Mrs. Kim and Seohyun meet you at the front doors, and Emilia joins them to show Mrs. Kim something. As soon as she does, Seohyun slows her pace to walk alongside you.
Noticing this, your stomach sours. Knowing what you know now, you can’t help but wonder if you’ve been unfair. From Emilia’s perspective, Seokjin broke up with her and immediately asked you out. Sure, the whole Jaesuk thing is still weird, but… possibly things are more complicated than you realized.
Glancing at Seohyun, you poke her in the arm. “Hey.”
She shoves the rest of a donut into her mouth. “If you’re hoping to trade the hat, I’m sorry. No takebacks.”
“No, it’s not that. Listen, you… should ease up on Emilia.”
Seohyun shoots you a look of betrayal. “Not you and Seokjin on my case!”
“This is just from me,” you sigh. “Nothing to do with Seokjin. I just… think this whole situation is awkward and multiple people are at fault. Not just her.”
Seohyun considers. Her gaze flicks to Emilia walking with Jaesuk.
“Well,” she grumbles. “It’s hard not to be mad. She hurt Seokjin. I’m mad at Jaesuk, too,” she adds with a scowl. “He should never have even considered asking her out.”
“Maybe. But then, you should probably also be mad at Seokjin. He’s the one who broke up with Emilia.”
She pauses. “Seokjin broke up with her?”
You nod, your suspicions confirmed. As much as it pains you to admit, Emilia has been classy in this regard. She could have aired Seokjin’s business to gain sympathy but chose to stay silent.
Seohyun thinks for a moment, her face shifting. “To tell you the truth, I never liked Emilia with Seokjin,” she admits.
“Why not?”
“They just didn’t… fit. Too similar, I think. What’s weird though, is that she totally fits with Jaesuk.”
“You should ease up on her,” you repeat.
She rolls her eyes. “Alright, fine, Miss Morality.”
“That’s a terrible superhero name.”
“Oh, yeah? What would you be, then?”
“I know what I’d be,” Seokjin announces while joining your duo. You start, wondering how much he overheard. “Probably something like World Wide Handsome. WWH. Swooping down to save the world with –”
“Hair gel and a mirror?” Seohyun cuts in. “Because that’s what that sounds like.”
The sound of their bickering follows you into the restaurant. Every time you visit Bear’s Nook you eat at the same, cozy restaurant in the middle of downtown. Seohyun chooses the seat beside Emilia to sit in, and you note Emilia’s look of surprise when Seohyun asks her a question.
It’s easy to forget how wealthy Seokjin’s family is. If it weren’t for the lavish lake house and personal driver, today is the type of day you’d have on your own. Today marks the last time you’ll be alone, though. Small dinner parties are planned for tomorrow and Wednesday, followed by the larger cocktail party on Thursday.
Everything has moved so fast, you haven’t even considered what the rest of this week will look like. For all Seokjin’s city life revolves around academia, he’s still a part of his family’s legacy here. Emilia fit into all that – she’s an Astor, after all. You’re a no one, especially without your fancy consulting job.
Before you can spiral any further, Seokjin places a menu before you. “I asked at the front, and they said they’ll still do the pecan pancakes if you want them.”
Your stomach flips. “You… asked about my order?”
“Of course,” Seokjin says, as if it’s the only answer. “I didn’t forget.”
Something about his tone makes you think he means more than your brunch order. You try to refocus on his family but again, a single thought rises to the surface.
Seokjin broke up with Emilia. He broke up with her after he almost kissed you. And now… well now, you wonder if your main rule has been broken. Maybe not everything Seokjin says should be taken at face value.
Maybe there are things you still don’t know about him, after all.
Genre: best friends to lovers; fake dating; billionaire au
Pairing: Seokjin x Reader (f)
Word Count: 40K
Author's Note: Part of the In Bloom collaboration with @kithtaehyung, @yoonia, @syllviere, @leahsfavefics, @suga-kookiemonster, and @cybrsan. Unfortunately, this is so long it has to be posted in two parts; please interact with both!
Synopsis: After twenty years of friendship, you’d think you were used to Seokjin’s proposals by now. In the past he’s forced you to participate in skydiving, skinny dipping, and even staging a rescue from the local shelter. Seokjin has always had big ideas but this time, even he may have gone too far. Granted, break-ups are stressful, and Seokjin’s latest one up was bad. Really bad. As in, they-ended-things-in-December-and-now-she’s-dating-his-brother bad.
It almost makes sense then, when Seokjin asks you to come home with him for his parents' party. Almost makes sense when he says his family assumed you were dating, and he didn't correct them. What doesn’t make sense is the longer you fake things, the more you find yourself wondering if this was real all along.
Rating: 18+; explicit sexual content.
Warnings (explicit content): oral (f. receiving), nipple play, delayed orgasms, sex w/out a condom, cum play, semi-public sex, light spanking, fingering, dirty talk, mention of voyeurism
Warnings (other): depictions of micro-aggressions, mentions of divorce (past tense), emotionally abusive/manipulative parents (side character)
A/N: this is not Part 1. Read Part 1 here.
The next two days pass without incident. Seokjin continues sleeping on the couch, even though you protest and offer the bed. Both dinner parties are mostly uneventful, except for an incident with the Morgan family on Wednesday. Mrs. Morgan drinks too much and snips something about how gracious Mr. and Mrs. Kim are to allow Emilia into their home, at which Jaesuk sets down his fork and point-blank asks them to explain the remark.
Mrs. Morgan got cagy and apologized, but she and her husband left swiftly following. You had to admit, you kind of got what Emilia saw in him then. Jaesuk isn’t as funny or outgoing as Seokjin, but he puts his foot down when needed – actually, he and Seokjin are alike in that manner.
The rest of your days are spent in the larger library. No one else is around, so it lends an aura of peace and quiet. Seokjin grades papers while you search the internet, make Pinterest boards, and finish an outline – all in the name of writing progress.
Slouched on the couch beside him, you peer over your laptop at Seokjin. It seems improbable that someone like him would happen naturally. Suspiciously, you wonder if Mr. and Mrs. Kim concocted him in a lab. Even his flaws – for example, near-sightedness – end up hurting you, since Seokjin is wearing wire-rimmed glasses while shuffling through his papers.
When he glances up, you look down and pretend to be working.
Softly, he chuckles. “Do you have everything you need for tonight?”
You frown at your laptop. Tonight is the cocktail party before the main event. The Morgans will be back, along with several others – at least the Astors won’t be there. You only met Emilia’s parents once and can’t say you care to repeat the experience. If billionaires were ranked on a scale of questionable to terrible, the Astors would fall towards the latter.
Part of what you agreed to this week though, was putting up a façade, so you nod.
“Yep,” you agree. “I have a dress, don’t worry.”
Seokjin watches you over the rim of his glasses. “Okay. I think I’ll get ready in the room next door so we can both shower. Does that work?”
“Yeah, okay.”
He seems to wait for something and, when that doesn’t come, he exhales and looks down. Sinking deeper into the couch, you stare at your laptop. The party starts at seven, but you need to get ready before then.
With a heavy sigh, you shut the screen. “I’m going to head up now,” you announce.
Seokjin nods without looking, and you exit the library. Outside in the hall, you hover before heading upstairs.
Cranking the heat up on the shower, you step inside and stare at the brightly tiled wall. Even the bathrooms here are beyond your pay grade. When you worked in consulting, you made good money, but nothing like this. This much money only comes from generational wealth, and while your parents were middle-class workers, billionaires they are not.
Possibly this weighs heavier on you than usual due to tonight’s guest list. You haven’t been in a room with these people in nearly a year. Not since you quit your job and started pulling away. The idea of pretending to be with Seokjin and pretending to fit in with the upper crust makes you want to scream.
With a sigh, you turn the heat higher. And then… there’s the fact that Seokjin broke up with Emilia.
You’ve been trying not to overthink this since Monday. Still, the memory beckons, and you dive in again. Turning it over and over, you pick at it like a scab until it starts to bleed.
At that moment, you didn’t pay attention to Seokjin’s face, but now, the memory haunts you. He seemed beseeching, as though there had been more to his words. Each time you try to think what, though, self-preservation kicks in. You two have been friends for twenty years and nothing has happened.
It seems foolish to think something could happen now. This was the entire reason you pulled away in the first place. If Seokjin ever felt more than friendship, he should have told you. He would have told you. If there’s one thing you know about your best friend, it’s that he goes after what he wants.
When he wanted to pursue academia, he did. When he decided to start running, he began the next day. One time, Seokjin terminated his lease and moved the week following into an apartment that opened above his favorite coffee shop.
He would have told you if he cared.
Despite this, you can’t remove the small seed of doubt. The way Seokjin looked at you Monday continues to replay in your mind, wedging a crack in the friend façade.
Turning the knob on the shower, you linger another long moment. It took nearly twenty years to admit your feelings for Seokjin. What if he’s been experiencing the same thing?
The thought stays while you dress, mechanically fixing your hair and make-up. Glancing at your phone, you realize the time is nearly seven and swear, hurrying into the bedroom to grab your outfit. The staff took it the first night, steaming it and ironing wrinkles from silk.
Placing it on the bed, you dig out your heels and search for your bra. “Fuck,” you hiss, realizing you forgot your strapless at home. You’ll have to go without. Stepping into the fabric, you shimmy this upward and pull on the zipper – and it sticks. “Fuck, shit, fuck.”
Someone knocks on the door.
“Hang on!” you yell, hopping to gain better leverage. Desperate, you tug harder, but nothing budges. “Crap!”
“Are you okay in there?” Seokjin calls through the door. “It sounds like you’re tap dancing, and Y/N, I’ve seen you dance. No need to add metal.”
“I’m a – ugh – great dancer!”
“Of course, you are. Can I help with something?”
“No, no – well,” you sigh, coming to a stop. “Yes. Come in?”
The handle turns, and Seokjin slips inside to shut the door. Glancing at him, your brain short circuits. Seokjin is wearing a suit. Logically, you knew he would dress up but seeing it in person is an entirely different matter.
The dark, three-piece suit fits his body in a way that’s obscene. It takes everything in you not to blurt something stupid like, what the fuck – or – hey, let’s skip this party and make out on the bed.
Seokjin turns and stops in his tracks when he sees you. His expression shifts from concern to – well, something different. Slowly, agonizingly, his gaze drags down your body.
“You…” Seokjin croaks. He shakes his head. “What did you need help with?”
For a moment, you don’t remember. Clutching the dress, you ensure nothing is visible, but something about him still leaves you bare.
“The zipper,” you blurt out. “It’s stuck.”
A beat passes between when you turn, and Seokjin walks closer. Delicate straps hold up the silken sheath of the dress. You don’t typically show this much skin, but evening dresses are made to show off.
His fingers brush warm skin before he pulls back. “Sorry,” Seokjin murmurs, then grips the zipper.
You can’t help but shiver and know he must see when Seokjin clears his throat. Continuing to clutch the dress, you focus on the wall. After a moment, Seokjin curls a hand over your hip to brace himself and tug upwards. The zipper catches, then glides all the way to the top. Still, he doesn’t move.
If anything, his grip on you tightens. A beat passes, then another, and your heart starts to race. The space between you feels so small, either of you could close it with a single step – and yet, neither of you does.
The moment is broken by a knock at the door.
Seokjin coughs and withdraws, his warmth gone in an instant. You shakily exhale, taking a moment before turning around.
“Hey,” Seohyun calls from the hall. “Mom is asking where you are. Wanted to let you know before she sends staff upstairs! Get decent and come down.”
You only move once her footsteps recede. Briskly crossing the room, you grab your heels and slip them on. “Ready,” you declare.
Seokjin watches you, inscrutable from beside the door.
Everyone always says Seokjin is the expressive one. And in some ways, he is. He wears his optimism like armor, making others laugh to detract from discomfort. Most people only know him this way. Few know him as well as you do and can tell something’s wrong in this sudden silence.
Before you can ask what is wrong though, he holds out an arm. “You look beautiful,” Seokjin says, folding your arm around his. “Before we go down and deal with all… this.” He pauses. “I just want you to know that.”
“You don’t look half bad yourself.” While you mean it to sound joking, the words come out solemn.
Seokjin holds your gaze a second longer than necessary, then nods and leads you to the door. You head down the main stairs – according to the itinerary, the party starts in the main hall. Indeed, once you reach the bottom, you’re greeted by a wait staff with a tray of champagne.
You accept a tall flute, noticing heads already turning. Mr. and Mrs. Kim spot you from across the room, beaming with their own glasses. They’re the only ones that seem happy to see you. Seohyun is grimacing, conversing with Mr. Goldenrod, and Emilia speaks quietly in a corner with strangers.
Grabbing a quiche from a tray, Seokjin stuffs this in his mouth. “Eat up,” he says over the string quartet. “Who knows if they plan on serving dinner?”
You laugh, clutching his arm when he leads you towards the nearest couple. An older man with salt-and-pepper hair, a slight paunch and his young, blonde wife.
“Mr. Brown,” Seokjin says, shaking hands. “Thank you for coming. Have you met my girlfriend, Y/N?”
Mr. Brown nods, barely sparing you a second glance. “Ah, yes. I heard you were dating someone new.”
When he ends the sentence, Seokjin’s face tightens. “Not new. Y/N has been a friend of the family for years.”
“Lovely.” Mrs. Brown jumps in, her smile saccharine. “Are the Astors here tonight?”
When a muscle tics in Seokjin’s jaw, you step in.
“No, they’re not.” Your smile is sweet enough to match hers. “But we’ve been enjoying spending time with Emilia this week. Are you close friends of the Kim family?”
“Well, we –”
“We’re neighbors,” adds his wife.
“Oh, yes.” Seokjin frowns, the very image of faux concern. “Wasn’t there a whole incident with the gazebo last year? Something about your builder crossing property lines?”
Mr. Brown’s face turns a bit purple. “That was – that’s not –”
“Of course, my mistake. Enjoy the party,” Seokjin says, taking your hand in his. Your stomach flips at the contact, although you play it cool. Once you’re out of earshot, his expression sours. “What I wouldn’t give to be back in the library. I don’t know how Jaesuk does this type of thing.”
“Why did your parents invite them?”
“Oh, you know. Politics.” Seokjin frowns. “My mom needs funding for her latest project downtown. She wants to subsidize housing in rapidly gentrifying neighborhoods for families that have lived there for more than twenty years. Obviously, it’s not popular amongst real estate moguls.”
“Ah,” you say, and take a sip of champagne.
Seokjin exhales and faces the foyer. Black and white tile stretches from here to the windows, where the sun is beginning to set over the lake. It would be beautiful if it were only you here, but the reality of this evening stretches before you. The itinerary listed at least twenty names – nothing compared to Saturday, which will host one hundred – but more than the cozy oblivion you’ve had until now.
Near the fireplace, Seohyun, Jaesuk and Emilia chat with several people who look close to your age. Seeing them, Seokjin raises an eyebrow.
“That’s a surprise,” he murmurs. “Seohyun and Emilia. Your doing, I assume?”
You take another sip. “Who, me? Maybe you finally got through to your sister.”
“Unlikely.” Seokjin nicks a cocktail from a passing tray. “Seohyun has ignored me since she was five. Jaesuk used to be the only one who could reach her.”
His use of the phrase used to be hangs between you, reminding things are different since Seokjin and Emilia. Their entire family dynamic has been uprooted. Lifting the glass, you finish off your champagne.
Seokjin begins walking, and you follow. “How… did he tell you?” you ask.
“How did Jaesuk tell me about him and Emilia? He told me in person. It was very considerate of him. In February.”
You look at him, surprised. “I thought they didn’t tell you until March?”
Seokjin nods. “That was after they started dating – when they knew things were serious. Jaesuk came to me in February though, before he asked her out. He wanted to get my side of the story, to understand what all happened – all he’d heard was Emilia’s version.”
“Emilia’s version?”
“Yeah.” He pauses at the window. “Partly my fault. I broke up with Emilia the week after my birthday. There were a lot of holiday events with both our families invited and I… well, I asked Jaesuk to go in my place.” Seokjin frowns. “At first, he was standoffish to her. He didn’t know the full picture, but he knew I was hurting, and then… I don’t know. They started talking.”
“He should never have done that,” you say sharply, surprised by how tightly you’re gripping the stem.
Gently, Seokjin reaches over to take your empty glass. “To be fair, there are usually only a handful of attendees at these things under forty.”
“Seokjin.”
“Y/N.” Fondly, he mocks the tone. “I know. I was mad at first, also. But then…” Seokjin sighs, and something about him seems tired. “I told him the truth. I wasn’t in love with Emilia. He asked if I minded if he asked her out.”
You can’t help but bristle. “You shouldn’t have had to respond to that.”
“Maybe not.”
“Not maybe,” you insist, lowering your voice to move closer. Seokjin watches you carefully. “Seokjin, I know you look up to Jaesuk. I know you feel… I don’t know, indebted to him? That’s the wrong word. He took over the Kim family empire and left you free to do what you wanted. But just because Jaesuk made that decision doesn’t mean you need to pay him back.”
His expression softens. “You see right through me, Y/N.”
Your breath hitches, hearing the break in his voice. Setting aside your drinks, Seokjin takes a step closer.
“You’re right,” he murmurs. “Really. And I know this. I won’t say… I mean, I do feel guilty about Emilia. I dated her for a year before realizing what I wanted. I feel guilty about Jaesuk paving the way for Seohyun and I to do what we wanted. But… if I had any real problem with any of this, I promise I’d say so. Do you believe me?”
You stare him down until eventually realizing Seokjin is serious. “Fine. I believe you,” you exhale, poking him in the chest. “You must be a better person than I am.”
Chuckling, he grasps your finger and pulls you close. “Disagree,” Seokjin says before turning around.
Casually, the two of you drift towards the fireplace. Considering his newest revelation, you can’t help the nagging feeling you’ve missing something important. Suddenly, you realize.
“Seokjin,” you say slowly. “If that’s true, and you’re fine… then why did you ask me to come here this week?”
He seems to miss his next step. Seokjin’s eyes dart around the room, assessing, but his hand tightens in yours.
“Seokjin!” Mrs. Kim interrupts, gliding into his side. She grasps her son’s arm. “Thank goodness. I need your help. Mr. Hoang has technical questions about the program. Can you talk to him for a few minutes?”
Seokjin hesitates, and you see indecision war across his features.
“Go,” you say, patting his arm. “It’s fine – I need another drink, anyways.”
Although he seems dubious, Seokjin nods. His mom thanks you profusely as he bends, brushing a kiss to your cheek. “I’ll be right back,” Seokjin promises.
The warmth lingers on your skin after he leaves. You don’t recognize anyone around you, so you make good on your word, and head towards the bar. Mrs. Kim has set up a drink station near the dining room, arranged on an antique bar cart with black lacquer.
Ordering another glass of champagne, you drum your fingers on the counter. Taking a long look at your face, the bartender pours longer than usual.
“You look like you need it,” he chuckles, sliding it towards you.
You grant him a smile. “You’re not wrong.”
Steeling yourself, you wade into the crowd. Part of the reason Seokjin brought you was as a buffer, to deflect from the talk of Emilia and his brother. Spotting a group near the bookshelves, you head in their direction. Some of them you recognize from past parties, and you join with champagne in hand as the conversation shifts.
“Oh, good,” says a woman – Mrs. Hurst, you think? – with a smile. “Another woman to save me from endless golf talk. Unless you play,” she hastens. “In which case, you’re in good company.”
“I don’t play often,” you confide with a smile. Years of corporate mixers have prepared you for this. “You can commiserate safely.”
“The hint’s been dropped, boys,” booms a man with red cheeks. “Let’s move on to more interesting topics.”
“Such as?” asks the man beside him.
Mrs. Hurst leans forward. “Have any of you attended the theatre recently? Or the symphony? Henry and I attended a performance last month featuring that lovely, young violinist. Oh, what was her name? I always pronounce it wrong.”
“Midori,” supplies the first man.
“Yes!” she gasps. “Oh, she was exquisite. But you know, it’s no surprise. People like her are just better at the violin, aren’t they?”
Your smile tightens. “People like who?”
“Oh, you know.” Aimless, she waves and takes a sip of her drink.
“I’m afraid I don’t,” you say, wide-eyed. “Could you explain the reference?”
The rest of the circle shifts uncomfortably. A man coughs and looks down; the other man pulls out his phone, leaving Mrs. Hurst to fend for herself. She seems sufficiently flustered until you give in and change the topic.
“I’ve been to the theatre recently,” you offer. “Have any of you seen Titanique?” you add, referencing the parody musical.
Blank stares greet you.
“No,” Mrs. Hurst says carefully. “I can’t say that I have. But I’m sure it’s an… experience.”
“Where do you work, Y/N?” asks one man, putting down his phone. His expression has hardened, and you know your comments have revealed you to be an outsider.
“At a coffee shop in the city. I worked in consulting until about a year ago, then quit to work on my novel full time.”
The other man perks up. “Which consulting company?” When you offer the name, he vigorously nods. “I know the CEO! Kevin,” he says to the other man. “Terrible golf game ever since his wife left, but who can blame him? She took half of everything he owned since the idiot agreed to no prenup. Always get the prenup,” he says sternly in your direction.
Unconcerned, you nod.
Mrs. Hurst continues to watch you. “What kind of book are you writing, dear?”
The infantilization in the word ‘dear’ makes you stiffen, but you do your best not to react. People tend to assume you’ve suffered a breakdown when you tell them about your abrupt career change. As though realizing corporate life sucks is a symptom of a broader illness.
“Fantasy.”
Politely, she nods. “How exciting.”
“Kevin’s the one who was living a fantasy,” grumbles the other man, “if he thought his wife wouldn’t take him to the cleaners after that prostitute in Munich. Or was it Rome?”
Conversation reverts to Kevin and his divorce, and once your glass is drained, you excuse yourself for another. No one seems to mind or notice as you walk away.
Another glass of champagne is pressed into your hand at the bar, and you drain half on the spot. Turning around, you make eye contact with Seohyun, who waves you over to her smaller group.
When you reach her, she clinks her glass with yours. “I might have to start double fisting,” she mutters. “Each person I talk to is worse than the last.”
“Tell me about it. I just escaped a conversation about violinists, prenups, and prostitutes.”
Seohyun perks up. “Okay, that sounds way more interesting than the conversation I had about Bitcoin.”
“Oh, god.”
You both laugh until a woman breaks from the circle. “What are you gals talking about?” she simpers.
The circle expands to include you, and suddenly you find yourself faced with several similar-looking women. Swiftly, you rack your brains for appropriate conversation.
Managing a smile, you tip your head towards your glass. “We were debating whether champagne has become overrated. A lot of sparkling wine regions are vastly overlooked.”
A thin, redheaded woman places a hand to her throat. “Oh, no. None of them have the same history as champagne. You can’t overlook that often a person pays as much for the label as for the product.”
She’s not wrong, but you feel inclined to point out that many other regions have history in winemaking, as well.
A stout woman nods. “Too true, Beth,” she chortles. “Champagne is incomparable.”
Beth sniffs and looks you over. “Is the cuvée not to your liking…”
“Y/N.”
“Y/N.” Her smile doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “I often find when I’m not familiar with a region, it’s harder to discern its true quality.”
Another woman – thin and brunette – turns to hide a laugh in her palm. You pause, hearing exactly what Beth intended. Essentially, she called you poor by saying champagne wasn’t something you had often, insinuating it was beyond your price range.
Seohyun hears this as well, glaring daggers at Beth. “Y/N is right. I have my sommelier license, and a lot of champagnes – especially those from big houses,” she adds, and you feel like you missed something earlier, “are vastly overrated. You get a worse product for a higher cost.”
“Oh, dear.” Beth’s tone becomes pitying. “I’m afraid I only know what my sommelier tells me. I haven’t the time to take, ah, classes. I’ll have to take your word for it.”
God, you hate these parties. In their world, getting an education or having interests is somehow an insult.
Seohyun bristles, but you place a hand on her arm. “Well, it seems the debate has been settled,” you say, taking her empty glass. “I’ll have to taste more to become a true expert. Excuse me, ladies.”
Tossing them a bland smile, you head for the bar. After three glasses of champagne, you feel a bit buzzed, but if you pace yourself from now on, things should be fine. Playing on your phone, you wait for the bartender to finish and then, a new drink in hand, you scan the room again.
Mrs. Hurst has joined the group you just left, so that’s out. A group of men in the corner is also low on your list – unless you want to discuss golf or prenups again. While you stand there, deciding, a throat clears itself to the side.
“Enjoying the party?”
Hoping for someone bearable, you turn and are immediately disappointed.
Bradley Wainright lounges against the wood paneling, his hair disheveled and suit vest only half-buttoned. You remember him from childhood, and not fondly. He attended a neighboring private school but ran in the same circle as Seokjin’s family. Bradley is the type of guy who uses his trust fund to get himself out of messes rather than help other people.
Seokjin never liked him – in fact, he hated Bradley with a passion you never quite understood. Sure, Bradley was an ass, but so were a lot of people. All you know was Bradley did something to him in high school that took them from neutral to enemies. If Bradley is here tonight, he’s likely up to no good.
“Pass,” you mutter as you turn around.
Bradley chuckles and pushes himself from the wall. “Is that any way to greet a former classmate?”
“We didn’t go to the same school, Bradley. Ergo, not classmates.”
Stopping before you, his gaze drops to your cleavage. Fighting the urge to cross your arms, you take a long sip of your drink.
“Ah, yes,” he says, looking up. “You went to public school. My, how you’ve risen, Y/N.”
Choosing to ignore him, you look around the room. Bradley continues to nurse his whiskey, not looking away. Eventually, you give in.
“Clearly not that high,” you mutter, draining your glass. “If I’m standing here talking to you.”
Softly, he laughs. “You always were smart. Too smart to be wasting your time with Seokjin. I told him as much once, you know.”
You should know better than listening to anything Bradley says, but this piques your interest.
“What do you mean?”
Plucking a glass from a passing tray, Bradley exchanges your empty champagne for full. “Oh, you know. I wanted to ask you out in high school, but Seokjin told me to get lost. He didn’t think I was ‘good enough’ for you,” he drawls with air quotes. “Although now I suppose his true intentions are clear.”
You can only stare at him, mind reeling from more than the alcohol.
Noticing this, Bradley pauses. Genuine curiosity shines in his gaze. “Did Seokjin never tell you? Odd,” he comments, sipping again. “I would have assumed it came up at some point.”
“No. No… it never did.”
Bradley nods before his expression sharpens. “Word to the wise, then, Y/N – be careful. Playing in these circles is hard enough with the money, with the bloodline. Just ask Emilia. This group is downright ruthless when a stranger swoops in and takes something the elite views as theirs.”
Uncertainty churns your stomach. “And by something… you mean Seokjin?”
He merely shrugs.
Realizing you’re strangling your glass, you ease off the stem. The room around you feels blurry, the result of five – or was it six? – glasses of good champagne. It loosens your tongue, your next words spilling out.
“Why am I even listening to you? You hate Seokjin.”
Bored, Bradley swirls his whiskey. “True. I can’t say my motives are pure.” His canines flash when he smiles. “But that doesn’t mean I’m not right.”
You search for a response and when nothing comes, he chuckles again.
“Goodnight, Y/N.” His cologne drifts past when he leaves. “Tell Seokjin I say hello.”
Left standing alone, you stare at a painting on the wall that must weigh more than you. A floor to ceiling recreation of a famous Monet. Stomach swooping, you examine the paint pattern – it may be the Monet. Feeling vaguely ill, you drain the rest of your glass and hand it to the nearest waiter.
Striding away, you stumble and realize you might be past your limit. The notion seems dull, far away, and you easily push it aside. Every conversation from this evening blurs into one, echoing one another as you order another drink.
Often a person pays as much for the label as for the product. Playing in these circles is hard enough with the money, with the bloodline.
Lifting the champagne, the room spins, and you immediately set it back down. “Fuck,” you mutter, gripping the edge of a table.
A man nearby notices, turning to his companion to mutter something in his ear. They both laugh and leave, and you scowl hard at their backs. The hypocrisy is ridiculous. Most of the people here are either drunk or high, and they have the audacity to look appalled when you imbibe a little.
“I wouldn’t say appalled,” Seokjin says, appearing at your elbow. He smirks, and you realize you’ve spoken out loud. “Maybe a little morally superior – or vindicated, depending on the person in question. You’ve made quite the splash tonight.”
You do your best to turn sideways but somehow trip over your own shoe. Smashing into Seokjin’s chest, a soft oof leaves your lips.
Obedient, he wraps both arms around you. “I didn’t know you wanted to dance this badly,” Seokjin murmurs in your ear.
Throwing your head back, you squint. “I don’t want to be here.”
“Great. Let’s go.”
“No,” you grumble. “You’re supposed to stay here longer.”
Seokjin raises a brow. “Not true. I came, I chatted, and I convinced several families to donate to my mother’s causes. The dance floor has started – albeit on the other side of the room – and my duties are done. Let’s go.”
“Your duties,” you groan, laying your head on his chest. “You have sooo many duties.”
He hums. “Right now, my only duty is getting you into bed.”
“I wish.”
Seokjin stills, and you feel his heart stutter. He restarts after a moment, palms sliding to your elbows. “You’re drunk,” he says, tugging you onward. “Come on.”
You follow him reluctantly, taking his hand in yours. Vaguely, you see heads turn in your direction but can’t bring yourself to care. Seokjin makes it to the foyer before he bends abruptly and scoops you into his arms.
You squeak, arms wrapping tightly around him. Head resting on his shoulder, you examine his profile while he walks upstairs.
Deeply, you inhale. “You smell good.”
“Thank you.”
“Like, you always smell good. Do you wear cologne on top of the body wash? Or is that a super-secret super-special scent only rich people know?”
Seokjin chuckles, the sound vibrating your chest. “Yeah, that’s it. I could tell you, but then I’d have to kill you.”
“Might be worth it.”
He laughs, louder this time. “You got me, Y/N. I’ll show you the bottle when we get to our room.”
Contented, you hum. Mid-nuzzle into his neck – Seokjin has stiffened beneath you – you realize something and pause.
“Oh no,” you blurt, looking up. “Put me down!”
Seokjin fumbles, one foot over the threshold. “Why? Do you have to pee? Is this spring break 2014 all over again?”
“No, and for the last time, I didn’t pee in that bar! Someone spilled their drink on me.”
“Down the inside of your pant leg?”
“Yes.”
Seokjin chuckles. “Okay, fine. Why are we stopping now?”
Wide-eyed, you watch the corner of his jaw. “You shouldn’t be doing this. Helping me.”
He pauses, then cocks his head. “Why not?”
“Because,” you whisper, “we’re alone.”
“And?”
“No one’s around to see!”
His brows sketch upwards. “So, someone has to be around for me to help you? Sounds like a shitty friendship.”
“No… but… this is more than what friends do.”
He’s silent for a moment. “Let me help you, Y/N.”
Miserably, you nod.
“Besides. If I thought this was too much, I would say so. Don’t worry.”
“Okay,” you say in a small voice.
He would have told you if your actions were over the line. He would have told you if the situation with Emilia was painful. Over and over, Seokjin keeps insisting he’ll tell you when there’s something important. Again, making it highly unlikely he’s harboring any secret feelings.
Your disappointment must be etched over your face, since Seokjin notices and frowns. His grip on you tightens when he enters the room and kicks shut the door. Not breaking stride, he crosses the room to set you on the sofa.
“Stay,” he says, as though you were a dog. Chuckling to himself, Seokjin walks into the bathroom. Minutes pass before he emerges – during that time, you might drift off a little. “Okay,” he announces, emerging from the bathroom. “I started the shower. Can you stand by yourself?”
“Of course!” you huff. Seokjin stares at you long enough that you wilt. “Maybe… you might have to unzip me.”
He hesitates, then nods and takes a step closer. Rising to face the window, you brace your hands on the sill. Seokjin steps behind you, brushing baby hairs from your neck as you fight back a shiver. His fingers drift lower, grasping the zipper to drag slowly down.
For the second time tonight, you find yourself clutching the dress to your front. Inch by inch, your back is bared, leaving you dizzy from more than champagne.
“Done,” he rasps.
Quickly, you nod and flee to the bathroom. You don’t dare look back at him, and once the door is shut, sag against the counter. Dropping the dress, you step under the spray before you can think. Overthinking is bad. Overthinking leads to why you drank so much and got yourself into this mess.
Body dry and face washed, you hover at the door with a towel wrapped around you. Eventually, you push it open a crack.
“Seokjin?”
Through the crevice, you see Seokjin seated on the edge of his bed, head in his hands. His tie has disappeared, and his shoes are arranged neatly beside the closet door.
His head snaps up. “Yes?”
“I… need pajamas.”
“Oh.” Seokjin has clearly been running his hands through his hair. “Right, yeah.”
Awkwardly, he rises and heads for the wardrobe. Pulling out a t-shirt and boxers, he crosses the room. “Do these work?”
“Yep. Thanks,” you blurt, snatching them quickly and shutting the door.
With a barrier between you, it’s easier to piece the night together. Seohyun, champagne, Mrs. Hurst, more champagne, Bradley Wainright – you stop trying after that.
Tugging on the t-shirt, you realize it belongs to Seokjin. The shirt smells like him, clean fabric and a spicy, peppery scent. Inhaling deeply, you remember you did this in the hall and nearly groan out loud.
When you re-emerge, Seokjin stands next to the sofa. He’s changed into pajamas, much to your disappointment.
Before you can say anything, he gestures at the nightstand. “Drink the water before bed, okay?”
Nodding, you avoid eye contact as you slip past. Sliding between the sheets, you squeeze your eyes shut to block out the way the room spins. You shouldn’t have let those people get under your skin. Despite what they all said, the only person who matters to you is Seokjin.
Speaking of whom – cracking open one eye, you watch him remove a decorative pillow and ready the couch for bed. Seokjin adds a blanket while you watch from the covers.
“Are you… are you really going to sleep on the couch tonight?”
He pauses, then straightens. “I was planning to, yeah.”
“Oh. Okay.”
A bemused smile. “Why?”
“I don’t know.” You swallow. “I was just thinking… it’s silly. We’re both adults, right? We can share a bed without it being weird.”
Seokjin watches you intently. He remains silent for so long you begin to wonder if you said anything at all. Maybe you drank so much you entered an alternate reality where you never made a fool out of yourself, never asked Seokjin to share a bed, and he never rejected the prospect.
That would be nice.
“Alright,” he says, and your brain short-circuits.
“Wait, what?”
Seokjin freezes one step away from the mattress. “Are you retracting the offer?”
“No, but – I’m not still drunk, right? You did just say yes?”
Lips twitching, he pulls back the covers. “Those are two different questions. Yes, you are still drunk. Yes, I said yes. Like you said, it’s not weird – right?”
Unable to answer the question without giving yourself away, you stay silent while he lowers his weight to the mattress. The divot from his weight forces you to cling to the edge so you don’t roll inward. Switching the light off, Seokjin rolls over to settle his head on the pillow. It takes several moments for your eyes to adjust, and once they do, you find Seokjin watching.
“Right,” you whisper, answering his question.
His smile curves upward. “Why are you whispering?”
“It’s nighttime.”
“Oh, right,” Seokjin whispers back. “Should I tell a scary story, or something?”
“No need. I have the perfect one. Did you hear that Kevin didn’t sign a prenup and now, his ex-wife is taking half of everything in their divorce?”
Seokjin mock-shivers. “A modern-day Poe tale.”
“Oh, I heard worse things,” you murmur. “Apparently, you’re someone else’s villain.”
“Can’t say I’m surprised. Who did I terrorize this time?”
“Bradley Wainright. He said he liked me in high school, but you forbade him from asking me out.” Unbidden, a giggle escapes. “Can you imagine? Forbade. Like you were my chaperone or something, and I was an unruly debutante.”
“That’s…”
Seokjin struggles to respond, and you stop talking, wide-eyed. Some of your earlier buzz has faded, allowing you to think clearly. “Wait,” you say slowly. “Is it true?”
A flush creeps up his ears. “Kind of.”
“What do you mean, kind of?”
Seokjin groans and rolls onto his back. “Bradley was an ass in high school. He kept a list of people whose virginity he’d taken taped in his locker. So yeah, when he said he wanted to ask you out, I told him not to.”
You stare at his profile, limned in moonlight. “You didn’t have to do that, you know.”
“I know.” Seokjin sighs. “I know you can make your own choices. I was just a stupid kid back then.”
“No – well, yeah. You were. But even if Bradley had asked me out, I would’ve said no. I hated him then. Still don’t like him much now.”
Seokjin smiles at the ceiling and places his arms at his sides. “Well, consider yourself in good company.”
“Oh my god, no.”
“What?” Seokjin looks over, alarmed.
“You are not sleeping like a fucking vampire beside me.”
His eyes widen. “I was trying to be polite! If I sleep on my back, I won’t roll around as much.”
“I am telling you right now – I will go downstairs and ask Bradley to take me to his hotel if you don’t sleep like a normal person.”
“What, like this?” He folds both arms over his chest in an x. “Is this how normal people sleep?”
“Seokjin!” Reaching over, you tug his arm down. “Stop!”
“Oh nooo,” he groans, half-rising from the mattress. “I feel the dark forces upon me!”
“NO!” Laughing, you throw yourself sideways. Dragging him down to the mattress, you helplessly giggle.
Seokjin’s entire body shakes with laughter while wrestling your arm from his body. Somehow your hand winds up beneath him, one of your thighs flung over his leg. Seokjin falls back, his chest rising and falling. You’re suddenly aware of every dimple, laugh line and mole on his face.
Slowly, his laughter fades. Seokjin reaches between you to brush his thumb over your cheekbone.
“Eyelash,” he murmurs.
“Make a wish.”
Your voice doesn’t sound like you – too breathy. Too soft. Seokjin doesn’t seem to notice, his gaze again on your lips. Heart hammering, you think he might close the distance until his face shifts, and Seokjin pulls back. Gently, you tug your hand free to tuck it against you like armor.
“Well,” Seokjin says quietly. He searches your features. “Goodnight, Y/N.”
“Goodnight, Seokjin.”
Rolling onto your side, you stare into the darkness while he shifts behind you. Eventually, his breathing evens and you assume Seokjin sleeps. You, on the other hand, stay awake for much longer.
Even when you do sleep, your dreams are full of hedge mazes, running towards a nameless something which moves further and further away.
At some point in the night, you become a cover hog. Your first thought the next morning is how pleasantly warm it’s become within the confines of your sheets. Arching a little, you wriggle backwards – only to freeze when your ass hits something hard.
Your eyes open.
The surrounding warmth isn’t the covers as you imagined, but a toned arm. The weight at your back isn’t a pillow, but a heavy, male body – Seokjin’s heavy, male body. Realizing this, heat floods your core, and you go utterly still within the confines of his grasp.
He must be asleep, since he squeezes you tighter and nuzzles his face in your neck. Breath held, you nearly melt when you realize your t-shirt has ridden up your belly. Seokjin’s thumb absently strokes your bare skin, coming dangerously close to the top of your panties.
With how close you are, your ass is pressed to his front. He must be asleep, because there’s no other way this could go on for so long. Quietly, you attempt to dislodge only to make matters worse. His hand cups you closer, and you find yourself sinking back into his chest.
Murmuring your name, his hand drifts even lower and you give up entirely. Seokjin’s fingers brush your shorts, then your panties and a soft whimper escapes you. For years, you’ve wondered what this would be like. For years, you’ve repressed the tiny voice in your mind wanting more, but now it roars back, voracious.
Casually, you push your ass backwards, inhaling when you feel his stiff member behind you. Seokjin is large. You suspected as much but had lasted until now with plausible deniability. Now though, you’ll be forced to imagine his size with complete accuracy and can only assume the effect will be devastating.
Seokjin groans, shifting closer – and freezes. Several moments pass until he clears his throat.
“… Y/N?”
Cursing internally, you say, “Morning.”
Lightning-fast, he rolls over and yanks his hand away. “Fuck,” Seokjin wheezes. “I’m – I’m so sorry, Y/N. That was just... my body just…”
Turning to face him, you see he’s buried his face in his hands. Cheeks hot, you realize what he’s referring to. “It’s fine,” you assure him. “I have slept with men before. I mean, I’ve woken up next to them. I mean, I’ve also had sex, but –” Cutting yourself off, you shake your head. “That’s not relevant, I guess.”
Seokjin’s lips twitch. “I’m not usually this… clingy.”
You snort.
Dropping his hands, he scowls in mock-outrage. “I’m not!”
“Seokjin. I’m friends with your sister. She told me all the horror stories of you sharing beds on vacation.”
The tips of his ears redden. “I can assure you that this” – Seokjin waves to his lower half – “never occurred with my sister.”
“Well, I should hope not.”
“Y/N,” he groans, dropping his hand to stare at the ceiling. “Can we just forget this ever happened?”
A beat passes, then two.
Stomach sinking, you nod. “Sure. Right.”
Hearing your tone, Seokjin rolls over to face you. His gaze is intent. “I’m saying this because I’m embarrassed, Y/N. I basically groped you in my sleep.”
“Groping is a little extreme.”
“Just… let me bask in my embarrassment in silence.”
Right. Of course. Because touching you is embarrassing.
Shoving away the barrage of emotions this brings, you push back the covers. Still not meeting his gaze, you swing your feet to the floor. On most days, you’d be able to deal with his jokes. Not today. Irritation pinches the longer you lay here.
“Don’t bask too long,” you say, heading for the bathroom. “Tomorrow is the big night. I’m sure your parents have plans for today.”
Your head pounds at the door, forcing you to remember the events of last night. Wincing a little, you turn and find Seokjin watching. His expression seems hesitant, almost wary.
“Are there painkillers in the bathroom? And, uh, water?”
He nods. “First drawer on the right.”
“Thanks,” you say and walk inside.
Every inch of frustration goes into your lather. Scrubbing suds from your body, you imagine you’re removing each trace of Seokjin. This is your own fault – for reading into his actions, for believing him when he says nothing, for seeing something real that just doesn’t exist.
You knew this when you accepted his offer. You knew being this close to Seokjin would raise feelings, and yet, you told yourself it wouldn’t matter. That you didn’t care.
You lied, obviously. And now you’re paying the price.
For a moment, you stop and simply concentrate on breathing. Every emotion from the past week washes over you, again and again. No matter what you do, you can’t win. Seokjin is your friend. You should be there for him. You know this and yet, it’s impossible to hide your true feelings.
Outside of the shower, your phone rings.
Hastily, you finish washing and turn off the water. Stepping onto the bathmat, you wrap yourself in a towel and scoop your phone from the counter. A missed call from Jimin. Seeing this, you press redial.
“Hello?” you ask, wondering if the house is on fire.
“Y/N, Y/N, Y/N.” Jimin tsks. “What have you done?”
Blinking, you turn and rest your ass on the counter. “What do you mean? Why are you calling?”
Jimin snort-laughs. “Y/N. Do you not remember texting last night?”
Frantic, you lower your phone and open your recent texts. Several threads rise to the top, the one with Jimin first and foremost. Scanning the messages, you groan.
“Jiiiiimin. Seokjin wore a suit tonight. I’m gonna combust. Also, rich people suck,” Jimin reads, pausing for effect. “But champagne is yummy. You know who else is yummy? Seokjin. He looks soooo –”
“Okay, okay,” you hiss, glancing at the door. “I get it.”
“Do you?” His tone is gleeful, and you imagine Jimin in his dress robe kicking up his feet. “The ten text messages you sent suggest otherwise.”
Sluggishly, you pilfer through your memories of last night. Closing the toilet cover, you collapse on the seat.
“I was inebriated,” you moan.
“I mean, clearly. The first five texts alone would’ve been a cry for help. Ten is just… sad.”
You slump against the wall. “It is sad, isn’t it?”
“You don’t want me to answer that. Where are you now?”
“Just got out of the shower.”
“Y/N, you dog!”
“Alone,” you hiss.
“Oh, that’s less fun. But seriously – is everything okay?”
You pause for a moment, glancing again at the door. Before you can decide either way, Jimin sighs.
“You like him a lot, don’t you?”
You close your eyes. “Mhm. You could say that.”
“For how long?”
You open one eye to peer at the wall. “We’ve been friends for twenty years. I guess… I don’t know. A part of me has always wanted more.”
Jimin hums but stays silent.
“I’ve tried to pull away a few times before now,” you confess, the words quiet. “Somehow, I keep going back. Last year I tried to stop being friends entirely. I got pretty close, too. But then…”
“He called.”
“Yeah.”
“Well, shit.”
You laugh, soft. “Yeah.”
A chair creaks in the background. “So why haven’t you told him how you feel?”
Your eyes widen. “What?”
“If you like him, why haven’t you told him so?”
“Because,” you sputter. “We’re friends – best friends. If I tell him how I feel it would change things. What if he doesn’t like me back?”
“And… what if he does?”
“Even then.” You squeeze your eyes shut. “What if we date, then grow apart and break up? I’ll have ruined our friendship – and for what? My friendship with Seokjin is one of the most valuable things in my life. I’d be an idiot to mess that up.”
Jimin hums again, and you know he doesn’t agree.
“Fine,” you say, rolling your eyes. “Tell me what you’re thinking.”
“Y/N, I’m going to tell you a story.”
“Oh, great.”
“Once upon a time, baby Jimin entered his freshman year of college.”
“I love a time jump.”
“Shhh. Anyways, baby Jimin entered college wanting to be pre-med.”
“Wait, really?” You straighten. “I didn’t know that.”
“Yes. And stop interrupting. Anyways, I got two years into undergrad taking all the pre-req courses. I had straight A’s but… I wasn’t happy.”
Frowning, you play with a thread on your towel. “Really?”
“I kept convincing myself it was fine, you know? I wasn’t even in the field yet. The stuff I was learning was just framework – it would be different when I was actually practicing medicine. But I think I knew from the start it wasn’t right.”
“What did you do?”
“Changed my major junior year.” Jimin pauses. “The arts aren’t lucrative, per se, but I’ve never felt as relieved as I did leaving my advisor’s office.”
“Well, that’s good… how’s this supposed to apply to me?”
“I’m getting there. What helped me to switch was realizing I’d already reached my point of no return. I wasn’t happy in pre-med. My feelings had changed, and they wouldn’t go back. The only option I had was to make a new choice. A different one. I think that’s what you need to consider with Seokjin. Y/N – you have feelings for him. Your friendship has already changed. The question now is… what do you do?”
His words wash over you and for a moment, you have no response. Then you swallow. “Damn, Jimin. How dare you be rational and make sense?”
“It’s a curse, I know. I’m hot and smart.”
“I’m choosing to ignore that because your advice was actually… helpful.”
“I want you to be happy, Y/N. That’s all.”
Vision blurring, you blink back your tears. “You’re a good friend, Jimin. And you’re right,” you sigh. “I’m in love with Seokjin. I have been for a while. Which means… I guess a normal friendship is kind of out of the cards. Right?”
“You can probably answer that better than I can.”
You nod to yourself because yes, you can. You knew the answer before you came on this trip. Cast in that light, you realize you already made a decision last summer. When faced with being Seokjin’s friend and confessing your feelings, you chose a third option and decided to leave. Either way, the friendship you once had has ended.
Put in that light – what do you have to lose?
“Okay,” you sigh. “This was helpful. But I need to get dressed.”
“You’re talking to me naked?”
“You called me in the shower!”
“You could have gotten dressed!”
“I’m hanging up now,” you say, standing from the toilet. “Bye, Jimin. You’re the best. I’ll be home on Sunday.”
“Yeah, yeah, I know. You’re the best, too. Tell me all the details after you and Seokjin hook up.”
He hangs up in the middle of your panicked squawk, and you spend the next ten minutes recovering enough to exit. When you do leave the bathroom, you find the room empty. Seokjin has gone again.
It gives you time, though, to plan your next move because Jimin is right. You need to tell Seokjin how you feel and let the chips fall where they may. Granted, telling him before his parents’ anniversary party might not be the best call.
At the very least, you owe it to him to fulfill his last request as your friend. Until Sunday, you’ll be the best fake girlfriend Seokjin has ever had.
And then – well. Either way, then things will change.
Saturday arrives with little fanfare. Seokjin returns to the couch Friday night, and you don’t ask him why. Instead, you focus on writing more and trying not to be a bother. Mr. and Mrs. Kim are gone most of the day, answering various party-related questions from the staff.
The anniversary party is being held in a tent on the lawn behind the main house. Heaters are stationed around the brick patio, fairy lights strung above in a million constellations. Near sunset you find yourself ensconced in a dressing room with Seohyun and Emilia. The surprise of entering and finding Emilia present has lessened over the course of your glass of champagne – only one, this time.
Seated at the vanity, Seohyun struggles to put on her lashes. “I hate getting dressed up,” she moans. “You think next time I can wear a suit? Men’s formal wear is so much more comfortable.”
“Except for the tie,” says Emilia, fiddling with her zipper. “I bet your parents wouldn’t care either way.”
Turning around, you lift a brow. “Except for the tie, huh?”
Seohyun laughs when Emilia freezes, looking as though she’s been caught. “I may have dressed as Don Draper for Halloween one year,” she admits.
Hiding a smile, you duck into the bathroom. Your dress hangs from a hook on the door, steamed to perfection by the staff this morning. The dress code tonight is black tie, leaving you few options from your closet at home. Removing your dress from its hanger, you hold it up to the light.
Sleeveless with a v neckline, the A-line silhouette is fully covered in sequins. Tiny, bronze details that shimmer beneath the light. You’ve only worn it once – to a client fundraiser required by your former employer. It was way too expensive even then, but you broke the tag in the bathroom and were unable to return.
Seokjin attended that event, also. He went on behalf of his family, and you’ll never forget his face when you entered the ballroom. It was like he’d never seen you before.
Slipping your robe off, you step into your heels and buckle them. Next comes the dress, shimmied up your body and pulled over your shoulders. Although you twist and turn, the zipper remains where it is. Apparently, this is just your lot this weekend.
Cracking open the door, you look pleadingly out. “Help.”
Emilia laughs and motions for you to join them. When you do, both hers and Seohyun’s eyes widen.
“Wo-ow,” says Seohyun, standing to help. “I don’t usually feel bad for my brothers, but I feel bad for Seokjin tonight. He might just keel over.”
“You’re being ridiculous,” you scoff, glancing down. “It’s just a dress.”
Her words contain no trace of bitterness, and it strikes you that Emilia really does want Seokjin to be happy. Whether it’s from her own guilt or not, you suppose it doesn’t matter. Jaesuk and Emilia are good together, and in five, ten, twenty years – will anyone care how they got together?
(Well, probably – rich people tend to have long memories. But one thing you can be certain of is that in a matter of weeks, there will be another scandal and Emilia and Jaesuk will fade to distant memory.)
“Your dress is beautiful, too,” you say.
“Thanks.” Emilia frowns and pulls at the fabric. “My mom thinks I look best in blue. It’s just easier at this point not to fight.”
Seohyun grimaces. “Sorry to say it, but your mom is the worst.”
“Seohyun,” you hiss.
She blinks, unapologetic. “What?”
“No, she’s right.” Emilia shrugs. “I learned that lesson the hard way.”
She doesn’t seem hurt by this, so you figure the statement must reflect an old wound. Joining Seohyun by the mirror, you reapply lipstick.
“I get that,” you respond. “My parents are good people, but… they can be self-involved. During their divorce, it was like they forgot all about me and my sister. Ever since…” Exhaling lowly, you shake your head. “My older sister kind of thrives on her own. My mom always forgets to tell us where she is with her latest boyfriend. My dad is better, but I always have to call him.”
“Communication with purpose and without passive-aggressiveness,” muses Emilia. “What would that be like?”
“Beats me.” You shrug.
A knock sounds at the door. “Open up!” Seokjin calls. “Your group has been selected to participate in a survey –”
Rolling her eyes, Seohyun yanks open the door. “Declined,” she says and sits down. “You can stay,” she clarifies to Jaesuk when he steps inside.
Jaesuk smiles and, upon noticing Emilia, nearly misses a step. For the first time, you watch his face when he sees her. He seems to be in awe, as though unable to believe his own luck. Right behind him, wearing a similar expression, is Seokjin.
His navy, double-breasted tuxedo is designed for heartbreak. Charcoal bow tie askew, his fingers hover just above, as though he were in the middle of fixing. Before he can move, you stand up and adjust it.
“There,” you murmur, brushing lint from his shoulder. “You look… really fucking good.”
You expect Seokjin to laugh or crack a joke but instead, his fingers slip beneath your chin. Gently, he tilts your face upward.
“You’re beautiful,” Seokjin murmurs.
So simple and yet, his words undo you. The sincerity in his voice drives another crack through reality, yet another life-fissure you can’t repair.
You realize his hands are still on your face, but Seokjin seems to neither notice nor care. Instead, he moves his thumb to skim the line of your jaw. When your lips part, his face darkens.
“Are you ready to go?” Seohyun stands at the door with her clutch. “Mom asked us to all be downstairs before guests arrive.”
“Yes, mom,” grumbles Jaesuk.
Emilia huffs and pushes him out the door with one hand. Seohyun follows close behind, leaving you alone with Seokjin. Before you can leave, Seokjin catches your hand.
“Hey,” he says, drawing you close. His fingers wrap around yours. “Before we head down there, I just…”
“Yes?”
His gaze sweeps your face. “Do you ever wonder… what would have happened if we’d met somewhere else?”
“Like, on the slide instead of the monkey bars?”
“No.” He smiles, only for it to vanish quickly. “Like, what if we had met during college? Or after?”
“Are you asking me if we would have been friends?”
“No. Maybe. I –” Exhaling roughly, Seokjin frowns. “I don’t know what I’m asking.”
You tilt your head. “Are you feeling alright? Maybe we should –”
“Let’s go downstairs,” Seokjin interrupts. His expression clears and, still holding your hand, he tugs you away. “I’m fine, I swear.”
“O-kay. If you’re sure. But if –”
“Y/N. Let’s go spend a horrible night celebrating my parents.”
You snort, following him to the hall and down the main stairs. Seokjin shifts your hand to his arm, so you don’t slip and fall. When you enter the backyard, you find Jaesuk and Emilia talking to Mr. Kim on the patio. The sun sinks beyond the lake, painting the water vivid orange and turquoise.
Beneath a banner congratulating the Kim’s on thirty-eight years of marriage sits a giant cake covered in frosted flowers. Photos rest on the table beside it, portraying their life together over the years. Music drifts from a band in the corner, a pianist easing their fingers over the keys.
“Canapé?” asks Seokjin, handing you a bacon-wrapped date.
“Gesundheit,” you say, popping this in your mouth.
Seokjin’s gaze lingers a little too long on your lips. Heat licks down your spine, but before you can speak, the music starts up.
“Oh, Y/N!” Mrs. Kim appears and squeezes your arm, not wanting to mess up your dress. “You look absolutely lovely. Seokjin,” she adds, frowning in his direction. “You treat her right; do you hear me?”
His gaze stays on your face. “I plan to.”
She moves to squeeze her son, as well. “What a good boy.”
Rushing away, she goes to check in with the caterer. Struggling to respond, you grab two fancy waters from a passing waiter. One thing you’re certain of is there will be no repeat of Thursday.
“So,” you say, passing a glass to Seokjin. “How many investors do you plan on snagging tonight?”
“That all depends.”
“On what?”
“On how many you dare me to snag.”
Your laugh is so sudden, you nearly snort your drink. Grabbing a napkin from a close table, you dab at your glass. “You can’t do that to me,” you complain.
Seokjin watches you, hiding his smile. “And why not?”
“As your girlfriend” – a deep wink – “it’s my job to impress partygoers, not make them wonder why you took me on.”
“Please.” Seokjin’s gaze flicks over your shoulder. “At least five different guys have ogled your ass while we’ve been standing here.”
Again, your drink is in peril of being spit out. Seokjin’s lips twitch when you glower, taking another step towards him. At the last second, your gaze snags on his tie – crooked again. Huffing gently, you fix it.
“I should have known I’d find you by the food.”
Glancing sideways, a familiar face makes you grin. “Taehyung!” you cry, breaking away to wrap him in a hug.
He squeezes tightly, enveloping you in Grand Soir cologne. Before the hug can end, you find yourself tugged away and into Seokjin’s side. He frowns at Taehyung over the top of your head.
Taehyung Kim is around Seohyun’s age and one of the few elites you can stand to be around. Unlike Seokjin, Taehyung is heir to his family’s company, but unlike Jaesuk, he’s committed to making himself the family villain. Every low-handed, devious corporate decision his father makes, Taehyung tries to reveal it. It’s gotten to the point where he’s persona non grata in most social circles – making it all the sweeter the Kim’s decided to invite him, regardless.
He also holds no relation to Seokjin’s family, which makes it even understandable that Emilia didn’t know who Jaesuk was. Taking a step back, Taehyung shoves his hands in his pockets.
“Long time no see, Y/N,” he says, then glances at Seokjin. “I see you finally got your head out of your ass long enough to ask Y/N out. Good for you.”
You roll your eyes, playing it off but inside, your heart races. The word finally makes it sound like everyone knew this was coming and anticipated the change. Little do they know everything about this is fake.
“Great talk, as always,” Seokjin says, although you know he doesn’t mean it.
“Hey, incoming,” Taehyung mutters. His gaze darkens at something – or someone – over your shoulder. “Bradley Wainright is headed straight for your sister.”
Seokjin twists. “Where do you –”
“On it,” says Taehyung, slipping into the crowd.
You watch him go, contemplative. “You know,” you muse. “Has Taehyung always been so protective of Seohyun?”
Seokjin blinks down at you. “What’s your point?”
“I don’t know. Maybe he likes her.”
“Are you saying… friends can’t be protective?”
You shrug and take a sip of your drink. “I guess it depends.”
Seokjin gives you a strange look, but before you can process, Mr. Kim appears. “Seokjin,” he sighs, adjusting his glasses. “I could have sworn I left the” – a furtive glance – “special sheet music near the band, but they can’t find it anywhere. Can you look in my office?”
Your ears perk up. “Special sheet music?”
“Yes.” Mr. Kim sighs again. “I had Eunji’s favorite song arranged for our first dance – but I can’t find the sheet music anywhere, and the dancing is about to start.”
Glancing around, you realize the party has filled out. The patio, once mostly empty, is now crowded with evening gowns and other tuxedos.
Already nodding, Seokjin sets down his water. “I’ll go look,” he assures his dad. Stepping closer, he adds, “I’ll be right back. Okay?”
“Of course,” you murmur, dazed by his proximity.
Mr. Kim and Seokjin head in the direction of the house, leaving you alone in a sea of people. Nervously seeking something to do with your hands, you slowly sip your drink and move through the crowd.
Spotting Bradley near the dance floor, you slip behind some people and head towards the garden. A hedge maze takes up the northern side of the lawn. Although you don’t enter, you linger near its entrance. The fresh air makes it easier to process everything you’ve been feeling. Eventually, you hear the band start and return to the tent.
Hovering just inside the flap, you drink the last of your water and watch the speeches. First, Jaesuk introduces the band. Then Mrs. Kim speaks about thirty-eight years of marriage, only for Mr. Kim to join her and announce the first dance. Their song starts to play, Mrs. Kim gasps and her husband whisks her away to the dance floor.
Your vision blurs, watching them lean on each other. You want that. You want the certainty of knowing someone loves you as much as you love them – the solidness of a relationship built on trust and friendship. Remembering your conversation with Jimin, your stomach tightens.
Tonight is the last night you have to pretend.
Tomorrow, things will change one way or another. You’ll either tell Seokjin or you won’t and either way, your future will be different. Hovering on the outskirts, you can’t help but imagine what it would be like to date him. To really be the woman in Seokjin’s life, his plus one to all these events.
While you love Seokjin’s family, you don’t like the people here. And they don’t like you. No matter how many pretty dresses you wear or topics you memorize, you will never belong to places like these. Not like Seokjin does, or even Seohyun or Emilia.
This time when your head swims, you can’t blame it on alcohol. Depositing your empty glass on a tray, you step from the tent and head inside the house. You could use a few minutes alone before mingling – a quick bathroom break, and then you’ll return.
The house is blessedly quiet, nothing but ambient music playing over the speakers. You head for the bathroom on the right, knowing the other is usually occupied. Washing your hands, you survey yourself in the mirror. It’s strange to think about all the years you’ve stood in this exact spot.
Oddly enough, it brings a moment of clarity. Even if you don’t fit in with most people here, it hasn’t stopped Seokjin from wanting to be your friend. It hasn’t stopped his family from asking you to stay. There are people here who like you, who want you here – even Emilia, a woman who should probably hate you, asked to bury the hatchet.
Emboldened by this, you exit the bathroom – only to jump, realizing someone is standing outside.
“Oh, I’m sorry!” you say, and then freeze.
The woman standing before you, chin quivering with indignation, is none other than Mrs. Astor. Emilia’s mother.
She realizes who you are at the same moment you do, her expression shifting from bored to borderline fury. Immediately, your fight or flight instincts kick in, and you try to edge around her.
Loudly, she says, “So. I hear you’re dating Seokjin?”
Your feet slow to a stop.
Part of you wants to gloat. Part of you wants to run. But the largest part of you recognizes this conversation is happening. Mrs. Astor is not the type to let things go. It will only be worse if this conversation happens outside.
Turning around, you meet her gaze. “Yes,” you respond.
Her nostrils flare. “For how long?”
“Since April.” Unable to stop yourself, you add, “A little after Emilia and Jaesuk started dating.”
“That’s beside the point, young lady.”
You restrain yourself from adding that’s exactly the point. Years of experience have taught you that with people like Mrs. Astor, it’s best to give them nothing.
Taking a step forward, her eyes narrow. “My daughter might be too polite to say anything, but I see right through you.”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“Of course, you do.” Drawing herself upright, she looks at you down her nose. “Don’t play stupid with me – I know you’re intelligent.”
“Thank you.”
Her scowl deepens. “You’d have to be, to pull off what you’ve done.”
“And what, exactly, have I done?”
Despite yourself, some annoyance leaks through. You came here for Seokjin, and tonight is supposed to be in celebration of his parents. Outside, the party continues but here you are, trapped in a hall with a bitter woman who could financially decimate you with a snap of her fingers.
“I’ve held my tongue for long enough,” she seethes – something you seriously doubt. “I’m not going to let you waltz into this household, flaunting your relationship before my precious Emilia. Do you know how embarrassing it was for her to be dumped? To be told over and over that you’re just a friend, only for you to spread your legs the second she was out of the picture?”
Heat burns in your throat. Unthinking, you take a step backwards, as though that will save you. Your brain stutters, leaving you without a response at the worst moment possible.
“That’s…” Your voice cracks. “I didn’t…”
“That’s enough, mom.”
Head turning, you find Emilia marching towards you. Her lips are set in a thin line, hands balled into fists on either side. She stops between you and her mother, fully five inches shorter but glowering upward.
Mrs. Astor has the decency to look chagrined. “Emilia, darling, I was just –”
“I know exactly what you were doing,” she snaps. “You’re mad that people are talking about us, so you’re taking it out on Y/N. When will you learn my life is none of your business?”
Your eyebrows raise at her obvious venom. Obviously, the feelings have been building for a while. Oddly enough, it snaps you from your trance and forces you back into fight mode. A dozen retorts rise to your lips, but you swallow them. Emilia seems to be doing just fine.
Mrs. Astor bristles, her gaze landing on you. “It becomes my business when people heavily imply that you cheated on Seokjin, when it’s clear to me he was fucking this harlot on the side.”
“Mom.”
“Don’t you ‘mom’ me,” Mrs. Astor huffs. “There's no need to –”
“Oh, I think there’s every need,” Seokjin interrupts, striding down the hall. His voice is tight with fury, and he stops beside Emilia, presenting a united front.
Mrs. Astor visibly wilts. “Now, Seokjin. Let’s not act hastily.”
“He’s not,” Emilia says shortly. “I told the Kim’s they didn’t need to invite you, but they wanted to extend an olive branch. They thought it might smooth things over and create a new path, but you can’t let things go.”
“Let things go?” Mrs. Astor puffs up again. “This man” – a vague gesture at Seokjin – “tossed you aside like garbage for someone with no connections, no money. Nothing of worth! Nothing beyond a passably pretty face, and I refuse –”
“To stay a minute longer,” Seokjin cuts in. “I agree. George?” He motions behind him. “Will you please escort Mrs. Astor to her vehicle? Have the staff find Mr. Astor and bring him, as well.”
George melts from the shadows at the end of the hall. “Right away, Mr. Kim.”
Mrs. Astor flushes crimson. “How dare you? We are here as guests –”
“Exactly,” Seokjin interrupts. “You are guests here under my family’s roof; a privilege I am now revoking. You’re welcome to bring the issue to my parents, but I imagine that would cause an even bigger scene. You should consider yourself lucky I’m allowing you to leave now.”
Sputtering, Mrs. Astor looks askance at her daughter. “And you really want to stay? When this is how they treat your family?”
Casting your gaze downward, you squirm with guilt. Inadvertently, you’ve caused a huge problem for Jaesuk. Emilia might not want to stay after Seokjin kicks her mom out, no matter what she said a few minutes ago.
Emilia steps forward, standing with Seokjin. “Mom,” she says. “If Seokjin hadn’t asked you to leave, I would have.”
The two of them make a formidable pair, side by side. Their designer apparel complements one another, and each of them seem confident their rule will be obeyed. You wonder what it would be like to have that type of confidence. That type of wealth and power behind your every decision.
It dulls something within you that, only a few minutes ago, felt new and shiny. Even if Seokjin doesn’t love Emilia and has fully moved on, it doesn’t change the fact that they made sense together. Mrs. Astor isn’t wrong about that.
For once, Seokjin was in a relationship with someone like him. Someone from the same social status, with the same background and upbringing. It would be unfathomable for him to move from that to someone like you. Someone who has nothing figured out, who currently works in a coffee shop and can’t finish their manuscript.
Your frustration reaches a boiling point when you realize this is a moot point. Seokjin and you aren’t even dating. Everything here is based on a lie. All that’s happened between the two of you were a few long looks and tension, all of which can be chalked up to the stress of the week.
When George takes Mrs. Astor away, you mutely step aside. She protests down the hall, insisting that this is outrageous, and her lawyers will be contacting Seokjin immediately. Not that you’re worried. Mrs. Kim is a lawyer, after all.
Once she’s gone, Emilia touches Seokjin’s arm. “I’ll get my dad,” she says and turns. Before she walks past, she gives you a sad smile. “Sorry you got caught in the middle of that. It had nothing to do with you, and everything to do with me.”
You nod, unable to voice your agreement out loud. An ugly voice insists it could have been about nothing else. Pressure builds in your mind, circling closer and closer to a breaking point.
Emilia walks away, her heels clicking down the hall. Once she’s gone, Seokjin exhales. “Are you okay?” he asks, turning to face you.
“I’m fine.”
He hesitates. “You don’t… seem fine.”
You laugh, the sound brittle. “I don’t know, Seokjin. Should I be? Mrs. Astor was cruel, but she wasn’t wrong.”
You step from his reach but not fast enough, and somehow, your wrist ends up in his hand. Before you can go, Seokjin marches the two of you in the opposite direction of his parents’ party.
Leading through the dim maze of halls that make up the east wing, he doesn’t break stride. Eventually, Seokjin pulls you into a darkened room – a library, you think – before shutting the door and whirling to face you.
“What are you talking about?” Seokjin demands.
For the second time tonight, you have nothing to say. Rarely have you seen Seokjin so heated. He glowers down at you, standing too close to be anything but purposeful. Your breath hitches, and you know Seokjin sees from the way his jaw tightens.
Still, if there’s anyoneyou can speak openly to, it would be him. Lifting your chin, you take a deep breath. “What Mrs. Astor said out there – she wasn’t wrong.”
“Which part. Specifically.”
The flatness to his tone sends a chill down your spine. “I have no connections. No money. No – oh my god,” you groan, rubbing your temple. “I sound like that woman in Pride and Prejudice.”
Seokjin’s face doesn’t move. “Charlotte. And technically, you made more money than me in your old job. You’re also friends with my family – I’d call that a connection.”
“I’m not in my old job. I work in a coffee shop and fail to finish anything I start. And your point about connections isn’t helping the way you think it is.”
“But her words didn’t mean anything,” Seokjin insists. “Even if – if – what she said was true, who cares about your money and connections?”
For a moment you see red, because he can be so infuriating. Sometimes, Seokjin is so willfully ignorant of the world around him.
“Your people care!” you blurt. “And that’s not all she was right about.”
“Again, you’ll have to be more specific.”
Exhaling, you force your gaze away. It’s too hard to look at Seokjin and confess your deepest, darkest fears. Heart beating wildly, you feel vaguely nauseated by what you have to say.
“If this relationship were real,” you mutter. “Seokjin… you have to be reasonable about how it would look.”
“I think I’m being very reasonable.”
“If we were dating, I’d bring nothing to this relationship,” you say, a fiery fist squeezing your heart. “Emilia’s family is right. When it comes to your world, your kind of people… I have zero worth.”
Tears burn your eyelids, and you frantically blink them away. In the next breath, Seokjin’s hands slide to either side of your jaw. His grip is gentle, thumb soothing your cheek as he tilts your face upward.
“That’s where you’re wrong,” he says quietly. “The only true thing that woman said was that you’re pretty. But even then, jealousy got the best of her. If she had been honest, she would’ve said you were the most beautiful woman in the room. In any room. In the entire universe. I haven’t done a full sweep to confirm, but I feel pretty confident.”
You scowl up at him. “That’s not funny, Seokjin.”
“I’m not being funny. I’m telling you the truth.”
“The most beautiful woman in the universe?” A hiccup. “Come on, Seokjin.”
“Why is that so hard to believe?”
“Fine,” you huff, aware he hasn’t let go. “I hear you. You think I’m beautiful. Great. That doesn’t change the fact that this fight is stupid. We’re not actually dating. We never were. My ego was hurt by the things that woman said, but I’ll get over it. When I leave here tomorrow, things will return to normal, and I’ll be fine.”
A muscle tics in his jaw. “And if I said I don’t want things to go back to normal?”
“Why would you say that?”
Seokjin stares at you a long moment, then roughly withdraws. Leaving you cold, he paces to the window and shoves a hand through his hair. He comes to a stop at the glass, lit by the moonlight.
Staring out at the lawn, he exhales. “Do you want to know the real reason I broke up with Emilia?”
You stare at his profile. When you don’t respond, Seokjin turns to face you. His expression is set, determined.
“No, actually,” he rebuffs. “It goes further than that. Do you want to know the real reason I told Bradley Wainright to back off? It wasn’t just that he was an ass – although he was – it was because I was hopelessly in love with you. Well.” Seokjin hesitates. “I don’t remember if I called it love yet. I just knew the thought of you dating him was physically painful.”
The room swims before your pulse speeds up. Seokjin still doesn’t move, continuing to watch from the windows.
“And then in college,” he says, his voice low. “I thought I’d accepted we wouldn’t happen. You started dating David in high school. I forced myself to date someone too, to entertain the thought of someone else. It didn’t work.”
“But,” you blurt, unable to stop yourself. “You… were devastated when Lisa broke up with you.”
Seokjin shakes his head, walking forward. “And then, with Emilia…” He sighs. “I liked her. A lot. She was the first person who made me think maybe. Maybe this could work, maybe it could be enough. You seemed happy on your own, and I wanted to be happy, too. And then my birthday happened.”
Stopping before you, he breaks. His devastation is familiar – intimately so, since you’ve often felt the same. Each time he dated someone new. Each time you watched him be happy and felt selfish for worrying you’d never feel that way about anyone but him.
Shoving both hands in his pockets, Seokjin exhales. “I was drunk that night, but that’s no excuse. You had been pulling away, and I didn’t realize how much I missed you, how much I resented your absence until you showed up. And” – his breath hitches – “I almost kissed you.”
Barely a movement, you nod.
“I’m glad Emilia appeared,” he admits, looking down. “I’m glad we didn’t…”
A stone sinks in your stomach. “Oh.”
His head snaps up. “Not because I didn’t want to. No. I wanted to. God, I wanted–” He cuts himself off. “I’m glad that we didn’t because it would have ruined… this… forever. I did realize I was a fool, though. Thinking anyone could be happy being second place in my life. Because,” Seokjin admits, his voice hoarse, “they would always be second when it came to you.”
You blink up at him, dazed and questioning your grip on reality. The longer you stand there, the more Seokjin’s expression seems to waver.
“Y/N… I know that was a lot, and I –”
“I love you, too.”
For once, you’re the one to leave him speechless. Seokjin stares blankly, hand still in his pockets like he’s forgotten their use.
Taking a step forward, you place both hands on his chest. “Seokjin,” you whisper.
“Why are you whispering?” he also whispers.
“Shut up.” Your lips twitch. “I’m trying to say I’ve been in love with you since – well, I don’t really remember when it started.”
“Mm. Specific.”
“Shut up,” you laugh, hitting his chest – damn. Solid. “It was when you were dating Emilia, though… that I knew. This wasn’t something I would get over. That was why I pulled away from you. I knew the way I felt wasn’t healthy, and I wanted… Seokjin, I always want the best for you. It’s just –”
Moving in one fluid movement, Seokjin steps closer. His hands cup your face, crushing your mouth to his. Everything falls apart, reforming around him, around you, around the two of you together.
“Fuck,” Seokjin groans, pulling back long enough to angle your jaw and dive in again. His mouth slants over yours, hands sliding backwards to cup your neck. His mouth is soft, and then not. His touch careful, then not.
Somehow, your spine flattens to the bookcase. Seokjin continues to kiss you, one hand braced on a shelf and the other gripping your waist. Breaking away, he trails heat down your throat.
“Should we” – a groan – “I don’t know” – you gasp – “talk about this?”
Seokjin pauses, then nips your earlobe. “Yeah, let’s talk. What do you want from me, Y/N?”
Abruptly, you pull back and hit your head on the shelf. “Ow!” you huff. “What do you mean, what do I want?”
Seokjin gently cradles the back of your head. “Well, I told you what I want. You. Selfishly, I’d like for us to be exclusive. I want to call you my girlfriend, and not just for this week but honestly, I’ll take whatever you’re willing to give.”
His words steal the breath from your lungs.
Uncertainty mars his expression. “Unless… I misread things.”
“No,” you blurt, clutching him closer. “No – you didn’t misread anything. I was just… wondering if I’m dreaming.”
He smiles so wide it nearly breaks your heart. “If you’re dreaming, I’m dreaming.”
“… is that a riff on the Notebook?”
“If you’re a bird, I’m a bird.”
The moment washes over you, more surreal than anything experienced this week. Seokjin in a suit, hair falling over his forehead, telling you that he wants you and always has. Albeit in a way that makes you want to roll your eyes. Happiness swells in your heart.
“Mm,” you say, cleverly. You’re having a hard time looking away from his mouth. A fact Seokjin realizes, since his smirk widens.
“So.” Bending, he brushes a soft kiss to your jaw. “We’re agreed?”
“About?”
“That we’re exclusive.” He presses a kiss to your cheekbone.
“Yes.”
His lips curve. “You’re my… girlfriend?”
“Yes.”
Another kiss, this time to your forehead. “You love me.”
Silent, you nod.
His lips tug downward. “I’d like to hear it, please.”
“Seokjin,” you sigh. “I love you. And if you don’t kiss me now, I’m going to march back out there and ask Bradley Wain –”
Seokjin growls, capturing your lips and pressing you into the shelf. Curling your arms around his neck, you arch up against him. Seokjin’s hands find your waist, brushing the sequins and holding you tight. Your heart hammers, fully aware this is Seokjin touching you. Seokjin’s lipsroughly descending your throat.
“Ah,” you breathe, rolling against him.
Seokjin’s hands are everywhere – around your waist, up your back, and then cupping your ass. When he slots his knee between yours, you feel his whole length and shiver.
“Fuck,” he mutters, breaking away long enough to press his forehead to yours. “Do you know how many times I’ve thought about this?”
“Probably… about the same as I have?”
“No. Definitely more.”
You laugh, although this quickly fades at the look on his face. “What did you think about?”
Seokjin considers. “Everything,” he says, splaying one hand on your thigh. “Sometimes I just thought about kissing you. Other times…” His lips brush your neck. “The other night, when you asked me to zip up your dress… I thought about how easy it would be to slide my hands underneath. To slip the straps from your shoulders.”
Your breath hitches. “You should have.”
“I wanted to touch you so badly. To run my hands” – he illustrates in real time – “up your body and tease your pretty nipples.”
“Seokjin,” you gasp, core tightening.
“What are you wearing underneath this?”
“Guess.”
Darkly, he chuckles against your collarbone. Removing his hand from the bookshelf, Seokjin bends to grasp the edge of your dress. Slowly, he stands and drags the hem with. “I’ve been watching your ass in this dress all night,” he murmurs, stopping at your knee. “I don’t think you’re wearing anything beneath it at all.”
Tantalizing silence stretches as slowly – so slowly – he inches the fabric upward. Seokjin’s hand skims your thigh, circling to firmly grip your ass. Casually, he strokes two of his fingers dangerously close to where you’re dripping wet.
“Scandalous, Y/N.” A brow lift. “Why, anyone” – shifting his hand, his index finger brushes your center – “could have their way with you if you wanted.”
“That’s kind of the point,” you say, breathless.
His gaze becomes heady. “And if I ask?”
Not saying a word, you grip his wrist and guide his hand lower. Seokjin inhales when you show him how wet you are.
“God,” he groans, reaching to stroke your clit. A shudder wracks your body, and you clutch him tighter. “But first…”
Seokjin withdraws and you glance down, confused, before he drops to his knees. With both feet on the ground, your chest rises and falls against the bookshelf. Removing his tuxedo jacket, Seokjin tosses this to the nearest armchair. His bow tie follows, leaving him in only the button-down, vest, and trousers.
Easing your hem higher, Seokjin hands you the fabric. “Hold this,” he demands, and you obey without thought. “Lift.” He taps your thigh and again, you obey – gasping when he places your leg on his shoulder. The motion bares you fully, sparing no modesty. Your pussy spreads indecently, showing Seokjin how badly you want him. “Fucking beautiful,” he murmurs, reaching down to palm himself.
Slowly, you lean your weight onto the shelf. Seokjin continues to watch, and unfortunately, it’s the most turned on you’ve ever been in your life. You can physically feel yourself clenching, needing him inside you.
When Seokjin finally bends to press a kiss to your thigh, a whimper escapes you. His gaze flicks to yours. Still watching, Seokjin moves his mouth to where your legs part. Gaze locked on yours, he slowly sucks your clit.
“Ho-ly fuck,” you groan, back arching.
You feel him smirk, one hand rising to cup your backside and open you wider. From there, everything is a blur. Heat from his mouth, soft flicks of his tongue, and the sound of him moaning between your spread thighs. At some point, both of his hands find your ass, coaxing you lower so he can tilt you towards him. You lose track of time after that, chasing the heat of his mouth as you roll your hips.
Broken, you reach down to grip his hair with one hand. Seokjin growls, nose nudging your clit as he licks you open. Your body coils tighter and tighter, on the brink of coming when he tears away – mouth wet – to gasp, “Come for me, Y/N. Wanna feel it like this,” and you break.
Everything muffles, exploding outward in a riot of color. Seokjin holds you through it, easing you down from the momentous high. When you open your eyes, your legs trembling, you realize you’ve eased halfway down the bookshelf. Seokjin grins at you from the ground, his neck flushed.
“So,” he says, fumbling to close his vest. “Shall we return to the party?”
Your jaw drops.
Starting to laugh, Seokjin pushes himself upward to stand. In a fluid movement, he pulls you with and smooths your dress down. “If you think I’m letting anyone else see you like this,” he murmurs in your ear, “you’d be wrong.”
Pleasure spirals through you. “If you think we’re leaving this room without you coming, you’re also wrong.”
Seokjin considers. “How about a deal?”
“Sorry, you already offered to do my laundry.”
“An offer you turned down,” he points out. “But no – that’s not the type of deal I meant. I propose we move to my room and in return, I’ll make you come twice more tonight.”
“Three times.”
He pauses, then flashes a wicked grin. “Deal.”
“Wait – what?” you blurt, suddenly panicked. “Hang on, Seokjin, I didn’t mean it. I’m sensitive! I can’t handle that many orgasms in one night, I’ll explode or –”
Gripping your hand, he steers you towards the door. “We’ll see.”
Before you can protest, he has you in the hall. His suit jacket and tie are grabbed before the door shuts and thrown over one arm. Still holding your hand, Seokjin pokes his head around the corner to check the coast is clear. Once certain, he tugs you forward.
You giggle when he repeats this around the next corner. It’s so surreal because on the one hand, you know Seokjin. This side of him is familiar – the funny, charismatic best friend. At the same time, everything about it feels new. The ease of him touching you. The sheer relief in your chest at having nothing hidden. At knowing he wants you the same way you want him.
He proves this in the next hall, abruptly turning to press you against the wall. Seokjin kisses you hungrily, one palm cupping on your jaw. When he pulls back, his gaze is lidded.
“What was that for?” you breathe.
He smiles. “Do I need a reason?”
“Well, no.”
“Great.”
His lips find yours again, and you lose track for a while. Eventually, you force yourself to surface once more.
“We need to keep moving,” you tell him.
Seokjin raises an eyebrow. “You forget that my family owns this place. And that everyone here already thinks we’re dating.”
“It’s your parents’ party, though! Shouldn’t we… I don’t know…”
He stops to consider. “Are you saying you want to return to the party and pretend nothing happened? That my dick isn’t hard, and I didn’t just have my face between your – actually,” Seokjin muses, seeming to change his mind. “I take it back. That could be fun.”
“Seokjin!” you hiss.
Grinning, he bends to kiss your forehead. “What can I say? I’m making up for lost time. Which – on that note, let’s head to my room. My parents won’t care. And if they do, I’ll take the blame.”
You mock-swoon. “My boyfriend, the hero.”
“See, I know you’re trying to insult me, but all I heard was you calling me your boyfriend. And that” – voice dropping, he takes your hand to press to his front – “really makes me want to forget where we are.”
Breath quickening, you tentatively cup his length through his trousers. Slowly, you stroke and feel his cock harden. You’ve always known Seokjin was large. One summer break during college, he convinced you to go skinny dipping in this very lake. Both of you closed your eyes and promised not to peek as you dove, again and again, from the floating dock.
You lied, though. You peeked. Even soft and in the dark, you could tell Seokjin was big, and this knowledge fueled fantasies for the rest of the summer. Now, you find yourself faced with this knowledge first-hand and feel some trepidation.
Watching your face, Seokjin sees the shift. “Hey,” he murmurs. “We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do. There’s no pressure – we can go as fast or slow as you want. We have time.”
Hearing him say this melts all remaining reservations. Curling your fingers into his collar, you pull him closer. “I want you,” you say. “All of you. Tonight.”
Seokjin’s gaze burns. “Alright. But just because you say that now doesn’t mean you can’t change your mind. We’ll go slow – okay?”
“Okay.”
Taking your hand once more, Seokjin moves down the hall. Several turns and two short staircases later, you find yourself in front of your bedroom. Seokjin must have taken you the back way to avoid the foyer.
Reaching the door, Seokjin pauses. He frowns at the knob.
“What’s wrong?” you ask.
His gaze moves sideways. “Nothing is… wrong. I just find myself suddenly worrying about everything that could happen. I don’t want to… disappoint you, Y/N.”
Your eyes widen, not having expected this to be going on in his head. Seokjin comes off as so confident but again, you remember this is your friend. This isn’t some guy you’re about to hop into bed with but the man you love – a man who loves you, and who knows this is more than a fling.
Sliding both hands to either side of his face, you force Seokjin to look at you. “You can’t disappoint me,” you reiterate. Seokjin grimaces, and you shake your head. “You can’t. Even if it takes time for us to figure this out, I still want you. And besides,” you mumble, face hot. “If what happened downstairs is anything to go by, I don’t think you need to worry.”
Seokjin surveys you seriously. “God,” he exhales, drawing you close to wrap both arms around you. “I missed you so much these past months.”
“I missed you, too.”
After a moment, Seokjin opens the door and pulls you inside. He tosses his jacket and tie on the sofa, stepping free of his loafers to stand in the middle. Seeing him do this, you bend to remove your own shoes, but Seokjin clears his throat.
“You… should leave those on.”
Your fingers pause on the straps, and slowly, you straighten. Seokjin walks towards you, coming to a stop mere inches away.
Lifting a finger, he slips it beneath your dress strap. “Turn around,” he murmurs.
“Yes, sir.”
When you obey, you feel Seokjin’s breath at your throat. “Now, Y/N,” he murmurs. “If you keep doing exactly what I tell you to do, I might forget the terms of our deal. Might make it four orgasms. Maybe five.”
A delicious shiver runs through you. Seokjin grasps the zipper and drags it down your body. When your back is exposed, he keeps the dress on and slips both hands inside.
“We haven’t talked about that,” he says. “What you like in bed. What I like in bed. Shouldn’t best friends know that?”
“I – I don’t know,” you gasp as his hands slide up your front to gently cup your breasts. Seokjin hums, rolling your nipple between his thumb and forefinger.
“So,” he continues. “Tell me, Y/N – what do you like?”
“Do you want an itemized list?”
“Yeah. Send it to my email. But for now,” he breathes. “Do you like me teasing your pretty nipples like this?”
“Yes.”
“Good.” Tugging gently, Seokjin’s other hand slides down your stomach to press you against him. “Based on what happened in the library, I assume you like oral?”
“Yes. Do you?”
“Yes,” he says simply. His hand travels even lower, resting below your belly button. “I’ve thought a lot about what your lips would look like wrapped around my cock, Y/N.”
“So, it seems you like dirty talk – ah, fuck,” you groan when his finger slides between your legs.
“Tell me more things you like.”
Eyelashes fluttering, you lean your head to his shoulder. Seokjin applies gentle pressure, slowly massaging your clit.
“I like delayed orgasms more than multiple,” you admit.
His finger pauses. “Yeah,” Seokjin grunts and resumes. “That’s even hotter than what I was picturing. What else?”
“I like being told what to do.”
“Good.” His hands withdraw. “Take off your dress.”
Turning around, you slide the straps from your shoulders and let the dress drop. Seokjin watches, gaze dark and your nipples tighten. Dizzy with want, you press your thighs together.
“Fuck,” Seokjin groans, shoving a hand through his hair. “This… you…”
He looks nearly broken, and you glance at your body. It looks the same to you but seems to be causing him physical harm. Before you can speak, Seokjin closes the distance between you and crushes your mouth to his.
“I should probably confess,” Seokjin says between kisses, “I totally peeked that time we went skinny-dipping.”
Rather than scold him, you start to laugh. Seokjin swallows each sound, gripping your ass to lick up your throat.
“I also peeked,” you confess. “I needed to know if you were lying about the condoms.”
Only a month prior, Seokjin had caused a minor scandal in the grocery store when a king-sized condom flew out of his wallet. You had ribbed – ha, pun intended – him about it for weeks, only to dream about it each night.
Smirking, Seokjin puts your hand on his cock. “I wasn’t.”
“I know that now, you – oh!”
Bending, Seokjin lifts you over one shoulder to walk towards the bed. He drops you with a thump, watching your tits bounce as he lowers one knee.
“As enjoyable as these were,” he says, removing your shoes. “They could be a hazard. What else?” he demands, covering you with his body.
He’s still mostly clothed, and you’ve never felt so desired in your life. Your breasts brush his shirt, core grazing his thigh as he gathers you to him.
“Tell me what you do when you come on your own.”
You blink up at him. “What?”
“Y/N.” His gaze drags down your body. “You’re naked beneath me. I was licking your cunt barely twenty minutes ago. Don’t tell me you’re too embarrassed to talk about masturbation.”
“No,” you breathe, but honestly, you stopped thinking around when he said cunt.
“Y/N…”
“It depends,” you say, lowering yourself to your elbows. “Sometimes I’m in a hurry and I use my vibrator. Sometimes I touch myself. Sometimes...” Heat climbs your throat. “I like using a dildo.”
Lowering a hand between your bodies, Seokjin parts your thighs. “Oh? Do tell.”
Your breath hitches when he slowly starts stroking. Up and down, up and down – lightly, he teases your swollen folds.
“Tell you what?”
“Tell me how you use your dildo.”
“I don’t know. How do most people use a dildo?”
Seokjin shrugs, continuing the same, maddening motion. “Some people bounce on it. Other people fuck themselves with it. Some like ass play or using two dildos at once. Me?” Voice dropping, he slips a finger inside you. “I think it’d be fun to have you rub against it, trying to get off without something inside you.”
Your eyes have gone glassy and somehow, you find yourself clutching his sleeves. “Yes. Holy fuck, yes.”
Lightly, he laughs and moves his finger inside you. “You’re so perfect, Y/N. Such a tight little pussy. I can’t wait to stretch you out.”
“You will,” you whimper, rocking your hips.
With one hand, you reach for his pants to palm him through the fabric. Seokjin has gotten harder, and you audibly swallow.
He groans. “Careful, Y/N.”
“I need more,” you whine, shifting beneath him.
Seokjin obediently adds another finger. His thumb rubs your clit, working his fingers deeper inside you. Panting, you lay back on the bed to watch. Seokjin seems fixated on your pussy, tongue darting out to lick his lips.
“Hold these,” he murmurs, pushing your knees to your chest. Grasping one in each hand, you spread yourself wider. With an appreciative sound, Seokjin withdraws his hand to undo his vest.
Your whimper dies when he tosses this and his shirt to the floor. Fully naked from the waist up, he lowers himself to his stomach and drags his mouth up your thigh.
“Fucking delicious,” he breathes, licking your cunt again.
“Oh my god,” you gasp, still holding your thighs.
He isn’t gentle this time, sucking your clit hard enough you see stars. With one orgasm down, you can take it. He slides two, and then three, fingers into your pussy, stroking your g-spot over and over.
The noises you make would be embarrassing if it didn’t feel so fuckinggood. Seokjin isn’t quiet either, grinding his dick to the mattress while eating you out. You watch his hips move, shoulder muscles bunching in a way that drives you wild. Sliding both hands under your ass, he pulls you closer and sucks hard again.
“Holy – fuck!” you gasp, the pleasure spiraling tighter and tighter.
Seokjin works you with his tongue, fucking you with his fingers and right as you’re about to come – he withdraws.
“No!” you sob, collapsing back on the mattress.
Seokjin sits up and grins, wiping his mouth with one hand. “What’s wrong?”
Scowling up at him, your chest heaves. “You know what’s wrong, asshole. I was about to come.”
“Oh.” He blinks. “Guess I should try again.”
Your legs shake when he bends, immediately picking up where he left off. Sucking hard on your clit, he eases both fingers inside and strokes the same spot. Higher and higher he brings you, your hips undulating against him, until–
“Seokjin!” you curse when he pulls away.
“Ohh.” Seokjin nods, cupping the bulge in his pants. “I see what you mean. Yeah, I’m taking your feedback into consideration. Instead of four more orgasms let’s do one delayed orgasm.”
Immediately, your whole body tightens. Seokjin arches a brow at your peaked nipples, squeezing his cock once before he releases.
“I guess you like that,” he murmurs, lowering himself to the mattress. This time, Seokjin is gentle while licking your clit. “What” – he circles his tongue – “about” – a long, leisurely suck – “this?”
His index finger circles your entrance, maddeningly slow. Every so often, he dips his finger inside. By now, your orgasm is so close, your entire body is shaking. You think a light breeze might do it, but then Seokjin chuckles and spreads your pussy with both hands.
Locking gazes, he spits straight on your clit. Before you can move, he sucks hard and pushes two fingers inside.
You break. Helpless, you collapse against the onslaught of pleasure. Over and over, waves drag you under until slowly, you resurface to Seokjin’s touch. He presses a kiss to your thigh, easing your legs from their open position.
Kissing his way up your body, he captures your mouth with his. You taste yourself on his lips and savor the moment. Humming, you happily pull him against you and lock both legs around his waist.
“Y/N,” he mumbles.
You arch underneath him.
Seokjin swears. “Y/N,” he grunts, breaking away long enough to see you. “What do you want to do next?”
Blinking upward, you don’t understand the question. Then you realize what he’s asking and heat courses through you.
“I want you inside me,” you say, determined. Your hands reach for his pants. “Please.”
Seokjin nods, helping with the button as you yank down the zipper. Slipping your hands under his boxers, you shove these down to free his cock. Seokjin manages to get them all the way off, joining his pants on the floor.
His length bobs between you, and now, your mouth waters. You thought you understood Seokjin’s size before but there’s something entirely different about seeing him in this context. Your dildo at home will wither with shame – Seokjin is fully eight or nine inches, thick and veiny with a bead of cum at the top.
Awed, you encircle him with one hand. Seokjin shudders. “O-kay,” he huffs, gripping your wrist. “As fun as it would be to come in my pants, let’s save that for later – alright?”
Your eyes widen. “Yes,” you breathe. “Yes, let’s do that.”
Seokjin leans over the nightstand, presumably for a condom, but you hold him in place. Frowning, he pulls back.
“Actually,” you say. “What if… you didn’t?”
“You don’t… want me to wear a condom?”
“I mean, you can if you want.” Breathless, you add, “But I have an IUD. And I got tested last month and am clean. I haven’t been with anyone else since. So…”
Seokjin pauses. “I was tested two months ago and was clean. I haven’t been with anyone since my break-up.”
You glance down, then up. “So… you don’t have to wear one if you don’t want to.”
“Y/N, are you sure?”
“Seokjin,” you groan, reaching between you. Gripping his length, you swipe the tip with your thumb. “Please. Don’t keep me waiting.”
Wrapping his hand around his cock, Seokjin strokes himself roughly. Leaning forward, he presses the tip to your cunt. Casually, he drags himself up and down to get his length wet.
Keeping your leg open with one palm, his other hand guides his cock to rut against you. You whimper at the motion, then moan when his cock catches at your entrance.
“Not yet,” Seokjin murmurs. “You’re being so good. Drenching my cock, and I’m not even inside you.”
“Seokjin,” you pant. Each time he brushes your clit, you nearly shatter. “Please. I need it.”
“Need what, Y/N?”
“Your cock.”
Still gripping his length, he slaps your clit. You make a noise so needy and sinful, you nearly come on the spot. Seokjin does it again, watching your whole body tremble – until he simply gives up, notching at your entrance and pushing inside.
You groan when he fills you, stretching your body. You don’t come, but nothing – nothing – has ever felt so good. Seokjin seems to feel the same way, arms trembling as he holds himself above you. Only the head of his cock is inside, but the stretch feels so good, you can barely take it.
“Seokjin,” you whimper, both arms around him.
He looks down at you, breathless and slowly pushes inside. Each roll of his hips works you open, your hips lifting to take him even deeper.
“You’re so… so big,” you groan.
“I know,” he murmurs, lowering his thumb to your clit. “You can take it. That’s nearly half.”
“Half?”
Lazily, he thrusts. “You’re doing so well.”
With soft praise and coaxing, Seokjin continues to fill you until he bottoms out. You moan when you feel his balls flush to your ass, practically split in two by his massive cock. Seokjin lowers himself to one elbow, his other hand sliding to the back of your neck.
“Look at me,” he demands, pulling out to the tip. You whimper, and he languidly thrusts in again. “That’s it. God, I could watch you take my cock for hours.”
You pant, gaze locked on his when he does it again. Stuffed full of his cock, you wonder how he lives without bragging about this to everyone. You’re going to have a hard time keeping your mouth shut after this. For various reasons.
Seeing the shift on your face, Seokjin thrusts harder. “What was that?”
“Nothing,” you groan. “I was just – ah – thinking about sucking your cock.”
He pauses, then swears. “You can’t just say that, Y/N,” he complains, lifting himself to his elbows. Seokjin thrusts into you harder, deeper. “I’ve been thinking about this for years. It’s probably embarrassing how often I’ve thought about you spread out beneath me.”
“I thought about it, too. I – I couldn’t help it.”
“Neither could I,” he confesses, moving faster. “I tried to stop. Tried to tell myself it was wrong. And god, was I wrong,” he groans, licking a strip up your neck. “You’re even sweeter than I imagined, Y/N. I need to fuck you everywhere in this house.”
A giggle escapes, turning into a moan when he does something with his hips. “That would take a long time,” you pant, locking both ankles over his ass. “Don’t be greedy.”
“I am, though. My mind is going to crazy places, Y/N.” Shifting his hips, he hits a deeper angle. “I want to keep you in this bedroom for weeks. I want to come inside you, lick your pussy clean, then come in you again. I want to fuck you against the window and make Bradley watch.”
“Fuck,” you choke out.
“Do you like that,” he pants. “Do you like hearing how badly I want you?”
“Yes,” you moan, lifting your hips to match every thrust. “I like it. What else did you think about?”
“I want you to ride me. I want to fuck you against a wall. I want to have you half out of your dress, bouncing on my cock where people could hear.” His gaze darkens. “I want to take you from behind. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it all week. Bending you over, licking that pussy and then pushing inside.”
His last words sound gutted, Seokjin’s gaze heavy with lust. Reaching between you, you rub your clit and let out a whine.
“Do it,” you demand. “Flip me over. I want you to fuck me like that.”
Seokjin pauses, then abruptly pulls out. Left empty, you whimper, but he swiftly turns you around to lay on your stomach. Yanking your hips in the air, he bends forward and brushes a kiss to your neck.
“You’re so fucking perfect, Y/N. I love you.”
You try not to squirm, but it’s hard with him positioned behind you like this. Pussy bared to his gaze, Seokjin runs his middle finger up and down your wet cunt.
“Ah,” he groans, sinking his finger inside. After his cock, it barely feels like a stretch. Seokjin chuckles, withdraws and slaps you on the ass.
You moan, melting a little. “Again. Please.”
“You like that, hm?” Smacking your ass again, he sinks two fingers inside you. “I can’t believe how perfect you are, Y/N. All for me.”
“All for you,” you agree.
Unable to hold back any longer, Seokjin positions his cock and thrusts inside. You groan, going from empty to full in a matter of seconds. Turning your face on the pillow, you watch him as he fills you. Seokjin withdraws, then pushes back in with agonizing slowness.
Pressed into the mattress this way, his cock is so deep, you can feel yourself trembling. It won’t take long to come in this position – a fact Seokjin seems to realize. Clutching the pillow, you watch him move in and out, fucking you slowly and building momentum.
He keeps your knees spread, his grip on you tight while easing you back on his cock. You bite down on the pillow when his pace increases, slamming again and again into your needy pussy. When you tighten around him, Seokjin grunts.
“Don’t touch yourself yet,” he pants, going harder. “How badly do you want to come, Y/N?”
“So, so bad,” you say with a hiccup.
“You’re doing so good, baby,” he coaxes. “You’re almost there. Just relax and let me do all the work. You’re taking my cock so nicely – such a sweet, tight pussy. Going to feel so fucking good when I fill you up with my cum.”
You cry out, ass shaking as Seokjin pounds into you deeper. Lifting your hips, he spreads you wide and slams into your g-spot. Everything narrows to the feeling of his cock inside you. You’re glad of the position because you don’t need to think about holding yourself up on your own.
Reaching around you, Seokjin brushes your clit and that’s it. Game over. Your orgasm overtakes you, body collapsing with endless waves of bliss. Vision blurring, you push back on his cock when you feel him go deeper.
Gasping your name, Seokjin comes as well. His cum fills you in pulses while he slowly thrusts and comes down from his high. You feel some of his cum drip from your body, and when he pulls out, you squeeze to send another gush.
Seokjin says something not repeatable in good company. “Fu-ck,” he groans, dragging his fingers through the mess. “How did we spend so long not doing this?”
“I don’t know,” you laugh, collapsing onto your side.
Seokjin drops beside you, looping his arm over your waist to drag you against him. He kisses you deeply, thumb stroking your hip.
When you surface, you wince. “These sheets are definitely ruined.”
“There are some in the wardrobe,” Seokjin says lazily. “Or we can move to one of the many, many open rooms on this floor.”
Your smile grows. “I can’t believe you didn’t call me out for that. I very obviously wanted to sleep with you.”
His eyes go wide. “Excuse me? You made me take the couch!”
“You put yourself on the couch.”
Seokjin sputters, clearly incensed as your grin widens. Rolling from his grip, you head to the bathroom to clean yourself up. When you reemerge, Seokjin is busy stripping the bed.
“Kind of pointless, if you ask me,” he grumbles. “We’re definitely doing that again before sunrise.”
Abruptly, your core tightens. “It’s not fair,” you complain, collapsing once the fitted sheet is on. “You know way more about what turns me on than I know about you.”
Seokjin throws the next sheet over your naked body and joins you beneath it. He pulls you against him, unable to let go. “I think I said I wanted to fuck you and have Bradley watch. Was that not intimate enough for you?”
You shiver when Seokjin kisses your neck. “Yeah, yeah – that was good,” you say, placing one hand on his chest. “But next time, I want to start with a blow job.”
Against your thigh, Seokjin immediately hardens. Cracking up, you fall back on the bed and Seokjin follows, nipping your collarbone. Eventually you go still, gazing at him beneath the rosy hue of the bed sheet.
Seokjin’s gaze traces your face. “I just want you to know,” he murmurs. “I’m all in. This is… nothing will change the way I feel about you. Ever. This is it for me.”
Your heart swells, overflowing as you bury your face in his chest. “Same,” your whisper, voice cracking slightly. “I love you, Seokjin.”
And suddenly, you realize there are no more gaps between you and what you want. All the crevices are filled in and your world feels fully whole.
After all, Seokjin is it for you, too. Time may be relative, but the future before you feels long.
Author's Note: THANK YOU FOR READING! It is so good to be back here, posting again. Thank you to everyone who waited for me, and WOOHOO BTS IS ALMOST BACK!
Second Author's Note: I really, really wanted L2H!Jungkook to make a cameo at one of these parties but unfortunately, L2H!Seokjin is happily married to Yoongi, so it just wouldn't have made sense. Know that in a non-canon universe, CC!Seokjin and L2H!Jungkook are friends LOL
Rating: NSFW - minors go away i mean it
Genre: best friend's older brother!au, angst smut fluff trifecta
Pairing: Seokjin x female reader
Beta team: @yoongiphoria, @here2bbtstrash, @kookstempo
Summary: You can count on two things in life. One: that your lifelong best friend Minji will always be there for you, in your corner, your brightest star. Two: that you'll never be free from her older brother Seokjin's orbit - the gravitational pull is just too strong.
Warnings: language, confessions, drinking, angst, facetime sex lol bye, vibrator use (f), dirty talk, kissing, lightly dom!jin, fingering, reader takes it from behind, penetrative sex (protection not mentioned either way), multiple orgasms (f. receiving), sweet aftercare
WC: 9k
Part 4: Perilune
Perilune: (noun) the point of an elliptical lunar orbit where the satellite and the Moon are the closest
“What… is going on here?” Minji asks, eyes wide, voice trembling.
Seokjin, secret genius, reaches out an arm to welcome her into the hug. “Y/N is upset,” he says easily, like this is a perfectly natural thing. “Come help.”
Minji’s eyes narrow, but she shuffles into the hug, wrapping one arm around each of you. “But,” she ventures after a minute, “why are you upset?”
You shake yourself free of the hug, wipe at your face roughly with both hands. You consider your options. You consider that Seokjin is willing to forgo the easy option, to wrestle with a tough reality for you.
You owe him the same.
“Because I don’t know what’s going to happen when he flies home again,” you say, as honest as you can be. “And I’m scared I’ll lose him again. And I hate that it isn’t easier.”
Minji looks back and forth between you silently. “Are you….?” she manages, and the question is pointed more at Seokjin than you, so he answers.
“We’re together,” he says simply.
The shock flies to her face almost instantly, but all you feel is resignation. You’re already emotionally spent today; this might as well happen.
“For how long?” she demands. “When did this start?”
You look at him. “Technically, like four days ago,” you answer, deciding to omit the New Year’s Eve debacle. For now.
Her eyes narrow again. “You didn’t tell me.” The accusation falls at your feet, but you’re glad to accept it.
“We were…” You trail off, meeting Seokjin’s eyes over her head. “We were trying to feel it out before we told anybody.”
“Hmph,” Minji sniffs, arms crossed, frown pronounced. “I’m not anybody. I’m your best friend.”
“I know,” you whisper. “But it felt… complicated. Considering. You don’t… hate this? Would you… are you okay with this?”
Minji huffs out a laugh, the same way Seokjin does when he thinks you’ve said something ridiculous. “Please,” she says, reaching back to elbow her brother in the ribs. “You two have been stupid for each other since we were teenagers. It’s honestly about time.”
It feels too good to be true. Seokjin smiles, grabbing her arm and wiggling it around affectionately. “Look how mature you are,” he coos. “Look at my mature, smart, lovely, wonderful sister.”
“Get off me,” she snaps, but there’s no bite behind it. “God, you two loons.”
Later, when you’re back home, alone, trying to process everything that had happened, your phone lights up.
[11:57 PM] Minji 💗: OH MY GOD
[11:57 PM] Minji 💗: THIS MEANS
[11:57 PM] Minji 💗: YOU GOT THE GOOD DICK GLOW
[11:57 PM] Minji 💗: FROM MY BROTHER???????///???????????
[11:57 PM] Minji 💗: I WILL THROW UP I WILL THROW UP RIGHT NOW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
[12:03 AM] Jin 😎: well now that the cat’s out of the bag… can i take you on a date before i go?
–
You tell Jin yes, but the next night isn’t spent with him. Instead, you show up after dinner to Minji’s apartment holding a fresh stalk of celery with a cheery bow slapped on the packaging. It’s stupid - ridiculous, really - but it’s a you and Minji thing dating all the way back to middle school and you think she’ll laugh.
You’re right; as soon as she processes the nonsense she’s looking at, she bursts into laughter.
“Damn,” she cackles, backing up to let you into the apartment. “You must be feeling guilty. You bypassed show up with beer and went straight to celery!”
“Please accept this token of my deepest regrets and most sincere apologies,” you deadpan, pushing the stalks into her hands. Still laughing, she heads into her tiny kitchen to find a spot for them in the fridge. You perch on the arm of her couch, waiting for her to come talk to you.
She’s shaking her head at you when she returns, flopping on her couch and staring up at you. “You really didn’t need to,” she says, still smiling.
You twist your mouth at her. “I’ve known you for a long time,” you say gently. “I know it hurt your feelings that I didn’t tell you.”
She looks away and shrugs. For a second you think she’s going to lie, but then she juts out her jaw the way she does when she’s feeling defensive and she says, “I guess. I understood, though. I mean, I get why you didn’t.”
You run your toes along a pattern on her rug. “It’s weird because… I don’t know what’s okay to tell you?”
She cocks her head, not fully understanding.
You try again. “I mean… I don’t want to not tell you stuff… but obviously there will be things that you don’t want to hear.”
“Ah,” she says, understanding, starting to nod. “Well… how about you give me some warning if anyone’s gonna get naked.”
“A safe word,” you suggest, only partly joking.
“Pineapple,” she says sagely. “If there are naked parts, warn me with pineapple.”
You laugh. “Okay,” you agree. “So should I? Tell you all of it?”
“Start at the beginning,” she directs.
“The beginning.” You laugh again. The beginning was so long ago, before you even understood it. “Well, I think I’ve been in love with him since –”
“Since forever.”
“How come you knew, but he didn’t?” you ask, exasperated. Had everyone known but you and him?
“Seokjin is an idiot,” she says simply, crossing her arms behind her head and getting comfortable. “Tell me the rest.”
You sink onto the couch opposite her, hugging your knees to your chest. “We had a lot of moments over the years,” you admit, “where I really… wondered. You know?”
“You were the only one wondering,” she says with a smile. “He’s always… made space for you, broke his own rules for you. Jungkook and I used to joke about it. He was always nicer to you than to us.”
You take this in, letting it soak into your heart like sunlight on your skin. You can feel the truth of it, can recognize that some part of you must have known this all along.
“Yeah,” you say softly. “I guess it was like that, from the outside. I just… never knew what it meant. It was hard to see it clearly, from too close.”
Minji reaches over and squeezes your hand briefly, encouraging. “So, when did things start-start? Like really start?”
“Well,” you say tentatively, “two years ago, when you had that New Year’s Eve party? We, uh… shared a pineapple that night.”
Minji blinks at you, and you watch the moment it processes. Her eyes go wide, lips curling a bit in revulsion. “You what? How long ago? At my dad’s house?”
You cover your face with your hands, peeking at her between fingers. “Yeah.”
She exhales, nearly a whisper. “Two years ago?” she repeats, disbelieving. Now, a bit of hurt does creep into her voice as she adds, “That’s a long time to keep a secret.”
“I would have told you, I swear,” you hurry to say. “But he… kind of vanished the next day. Got on the plane and left and literally never talked to me about it again.”
“God, he’s an incurable fucking idiot,” Minji mutters, mostly to herself, it seems.
“We worked it out,” you explain. “Recently. But yeah… I was embarrassed. And hurt, to be honest. I just didn’t want to have to admit any of it. I think saying it out loud to you - to anyone - would have killed me. I wanted to just… pretend it didn’t happen.”
She groans in mock agony, throwing her head back and flopping dramatically, like your own stupidity is causing her great pain.
“I know,” you say, apologetic despite her dramatics. “The whole thing is ridiculous.”
“So?” she says, pulling herself together and scooting to sit back up. “What’s happening now? You’ve… had pineapples again, since he came home for Dad’s surgery?”
You feel your face burn like it’s caught fire before you can even answer and she starts shrieking and laughing, reaching to whack your legs with a throw pillow.
“Never mind!” she cries. “I got my answer, don’t tell me anything else! My actual question is - what happens next?”
You shrug, your stomach sinking. “I’m not sure,” you say. “He… told me he loves me?”
Minji squeals, the noise echoing to her lofted ceilings and back, her feet kicking.
“But,” you add, “he’s flying home in a few days…”
“What?” Minji squawks indignantly, sitting all the way up to face you. “So you’ll just let it die again? I physically, mentally, emotionally, spiritually cannot watch you idiots drag this out for another two years.”
“Yeah,” you agree with a little laugh, even though you suddenly feel a bit like crying. “I obviously don’t want that either. He said we’ll talk about it when it’s time.”
She sighs heavily. “Don’t leave it up to him,” she instructs. “He’s so dumb, like my god is he dumb. I have faith in you. Handle it.”
“Okay, bossy,” you say, poking her leg with your foot. “I promise to do my best.”
She nods, satisfied. “You better,” she threatens, and then heads to the kitchen to munch on the celery you’d brought her.
–
Seokjin’s last day comes too quickly. You’ve been dreading it for days. You remember all the other times he’s left before - for college, then when he moved, and on New Year’s Day after sleeping with you for the first time. You had spent all of those days at your parents’ house, watching across the street as cars were loaded, or assessing the empty place in the driveway.
It makes it suck less that this time, you’re in your own apartment, and Seokjin is with you, telling you goodbye instead of vanishing in silence.
“Don’t be so sad,” he tells you sweetly. “We’ll see each other soon.”
“No we won’t,” you grumble, pouting.
Days ago, you’d curled into his side, clutching the fabric of his white t-shirt between desperate fingers. The cotton had felt like an anchor.
“Jin?” you’d asked, and he’d looked down at you from his phone, where a game waited for his input.
“Hm?”
“It’s like… three days left.”
“Yeah,” he’d said slowly, like he wasn’t sure where you were going with this. But of course he did - what else could be weighing on your mind? Why else would you bring it up?
“We said we’d decide what to do when it was closer,” you reminded him. “It’s closer.”
“It is,” he agreed easily, turning his phone screen off and shifting to give you his full attention. “And?”
You couldn’t stand it, suddenly, his teasing.
“Seokjin,” you murmured, reproachfully.
“What?” he asked innocently, bumping your nose with his. He was smiling, like he thought your distress was a little funny.
“Jin,” you whined. “I’m being serious! We need to talk about it!”
“So let’s talk about it!” he had laughed. Then, watching your face, he’d grown serious. He’d brushed his fingers along your jaw, pressed a kiss to the scrunch between your eyebrows. “I’m listening,” he promised.
“When you go home…” you’d said quietly, “I don’t want this to end. I know we said long distance is awful, but…” You trailed off.
“But what’s the alternative?” he finished the thought for you. “I don’t want this to be over, either.”
“So,” you’d said slowly, hope daring to blossom behind your ribcage, “we’ll try?”
He had nodded seriously, eyes far away as he considered this option. “It won’t be fun, and it won’t be easy,” he’d warned. “But, yeah… I’d like to try. I don’t want to throw this away again.”
As he double-checks his luggage in the doorway of your apartment, he sends you a rueful smile and says your name disarmingly.
“What?” you grumble.
“We’ll see each other soon,” he repeats indulgently.
“Soon,” you scoff. “Like, what? Christmas?”
He comes to you then, wrapping his arms around your angry shoulders. “Listen,” he says, his dulcet voice soothing you, “My goal is to find a way to be with you. I’m going to go back and do whatever I can to make that happen. Okay?”
“A man with a plan,” you murmur, softening with his reassurances.
“A man who’s done losing time,” he says solemnly.
It’s the first time he’s leaving you where you have the chance to kiss him goodbye.
It’s the first time he’s leaving you with hope that he’ll return and help you build something better.
–
You and Jin talk on the phone every day that he’s gone. It sucks to be far apart, sure, but somehow this is still better than before - at least now you’re talking, a ton, giggling and flirting openly like you’ve never been able to before.
At least now you can tell him you love him before hanging up, instead of pretending you don’t, instead of denying it, lying about it, trying to imagine a life where it isn’t your biggest truth.
Almost a week passes before Jin tells you, ceremoniously, “I… have news.”
“Ooh,” you say. “I’m listening.”
He smiles at you lazily through the screen; you’re each in bed, chatting before saying goodnight. “Don’t get too excited,” he warns you. “It’s good news, but it’s not ideal news.”
“I will temper my expectations,” you promise.
“I requested to transfer,” he tells you. “I put in the request the day I came back.”
You smile, feeling warm and grateful, feeling full of love and appreciation. “And?”
“It’s not perfect,” he warns you again. “I did get approved, but -“
You squeal.
“But,” he continues over you, “they want me to work down a 90-day notice and help train someone to take my place here. And the transfer location isn’t in town, it’s in the city.”
You stay silent, thinking about this.
“So,” you clarify slowly, “we have to wait three months, but then you’ll be here?”
“Not there-there,” he points out. “An hour away.”
“It’s better than now,” you point out. “Even if I only see you on weekends, it’s better than now.”
“It’ll be more than that,” he says. “That’s the absolute worst case scenario. Okay?”
“Okay,” you say, minimizing the call to pull up your calendar. “Ninety days starting… today?”
“Tomorrow is day one,” he tells you warmly. You click the date on your calendar - a Thursday in early September - and mark it Jin transfers.
“Can’t wait,” you say, opening the call again. “When are we gonna apartment hunt?”
He laughs. “I’ve already got Minji on it.”
You lay awake long after you hang up, daydreaming of ninety days from now, when Seokjin will be just an hour away, close enough to drive to, close enough to touch.
—
“How was your day, beautiful?” Jin greets you before the connection loads his video, his voice finding you before his face does. It’s been about a month and a half of the long-distance thing, and your video call routine is solid.
You roll on your side, holding your phone so Jin can see your sad little face and a good helping of cleavage from your pajama top. “I don’t know,” you pout. “Okay, I guess.”
“Aigoo,” he croons. “What’s wrong with my favorite girl today?”
You sigh heavily; you’ve dropped the act for the most part, and now you’re letting your actual frustration show. It’s about a month into your relationship, a month into making long distance work.
“I dunno,” you admit. “I think I’m just having a day where I miss you.”
“I’m here,” he says seriously, bringing his phone closer to his face. Disgusting, that you can see him so clearly that you can make out the affection in his gaze, and yet he’s still hundreds of miles away.
“I know,” you say. “But I guess I miss… the physical stuff.”
He grins wolfishly before you’re even done with the word “physical”, eyebrows waggling suggestively.
You laugh - you can’t help it. “I meant like… I could use a hug. But… yeah, that too, now that you mention it. A little stress relief would be nice.”
Jin shifts on your screen. “Hm,” he says tightly, voice suddenly different enough that it brings your attention to him sharply. “Well, how would you have handled that - before me?”
You feel yourself flush. “Jin,” you scold. “Don’t tease me.”
“As much as I do love to see you get flustered,” he admits, “I am very serious right now.”
How did you miss his expression darkening? Suddenly, his brows are starting to furrow, his eyes narrowed just slightly with intent focus. His voice touches on dangerous.
“What are you doing?” you ask him, words all mumbled through your embarrassment.
“If you can’t tell me, maybe you should just show me,” he suggests, that edge to his voice singing like the freshly forged metal of a gleaming sword.
“Oh my god,” you mutter, still mostly mortified. Only a little turned on. “I can’t.”
“Why not?”
“My normal way, is, uh… with some battery-powered assistance.”
You can’t even look at him.
“Why are you being shy about it?” he asks. “That’s hot. I wanna see - wanna see what you do. Wanna see you come undone.”
You almost gasp, and he makes the mistake of letting his breath out just a touch too loudly, shifting just a bit too suspiciously.
“Are you-?”
“Of fucking course I am,” he huffs, and now it’s obvious that he’s got his hand around his dick - the scrunch of his brows, his teeth on his bottom lip. “Come on, don’t let me party alone.”
“You’re such a dork.” Despite the insult, your thighs are rubbing together as if of their own volition, and you sneak your hand down to press against your core just once for relief.
“You’d forget all about that if I had my hands on you instead,” he asserts, voice low. “I’d like to see you call me names when I’m up to my knuckles in your -”
“Jin!”
“Am I wrong?” he smirks. You can tell by the way the phone shakes just so that he’s still stroking himself, slowly.
You have no answer to that.
“Come on,” he urges. “Let me see. I’m so hard.”
Your breath whooshes from you as he admits this. You’d never done this before - with anyone, not on video. It feels scary, but definitely fun. And, of course, you trust Jin implicitly. You know this will stay between you two.
“Take your shirt off,” you murmur, and the speed at which he obeys would be comical if you weren’t wet to the point of discomfort.
“You too,” he begs, voice going whiney for just a second. You hesitate, still a little shy, but finally you pull the material over your head, dropping it on the empty side of the bed for later. You roll sideways, placing your arm strategically to prop your tits up a bit.
“Now bottoms,” he instructs, half breathless. You’re slow to comply, eyes taking in the skin he’s revealed on-screen - tanned shoulders, pecs, dusky nipples, his flat tummy. Eventually you tear your eyes away enough to shimmy out of your pajama bottoms and panties, looking back at him expectantly.
Seokjin angles the camera down for a minute, displaying the way he’s got his fist around the base of his cock, holding it upright and proud for you. “See what you did?” he grunts, hand sliding up and squeezing the head before taking its place at the bottom again.
“You’ve got crimes to answer for, too,” you tease.
“Show me,” he says, the words tumbling from him. He shifts the camera back to focus on his face. “Please, baby, let me see you.”
It takes some maneuvering, but you manage to bend your leg and prop your phone up, reaching to keep one finger on the top to steady it. You try not to look at your own body on the screen, focusing instead on how Seokjin’s eyes go heavy-lidded as he takes you in, how his breath hitches when you slide your middle finger between your folds and swirl it around in the gathered slickness you find there.
He swears fiercely, and you almost laugh. It makes you warmer, wetter, knowing you can affect him like this.
“Spread them,” he commands, and you feel yourself clench at the words.
“Really?” you ask, though you know he means it. You just want to buy time, the feeling of being exposed new and a little frightening.
“Wanna see,” he repeats, lips barely moving to form the words.
Finally, you muster the courage and do as he asked with your thumb and forefinger, listening to the slick sound of his hand on his cock, the way his exhales carry the barest touch of a groan.
“Happy?” you ask after a minute of his huffed breaths, bringing the phone back up towards your face and unbending your leg.
“Won’t be happy until you come,” he mutters. “Show me what you do. Please?”
“Is that what you want?” you ask, feeling a little breathless. “Just do what I normally do and let you listen?”
“And watch,” he breathes.
You roll to dig through your nightstand drawer, coming out with a low-key but trusty bullet. When you click it on, Seokjin’s eyes fly to yours through the screen.
You follow his direction, tilting the camera so he can watch you slide it, on its lowest setting, over your entrance and up to your clit. You retrace this path three more times, slowly, lightly, your body warming up by degrees. When you finally settle it firmly over your clit and leave it, you can’t help the low, rolling moan you let out.
“That’s right,” Jin whispers. “Tell me how good it feels.”
“Not as good as you would,” you admit with a little laugh.
“Soon,” he promises. And then, “What would you want me to do?”
“God,” you utter, pressing the bullet tighter against your clit. “Anything - your fingers, your mouth - want you inside me.”
He can’t even answer you, eyes sliding closed for a second as he loses himself in your words, in the picture they play in his head, in the memories of you that they unravel.
“I- I’m getting close,” you warn him, the pulsing starting in gentle, easy waves, a warning sign.
He answers with a groan, and you click the bullet to a higher setting, letting your head fall back and your eyes drift closed as you lose yourself in the vibrations. The call is filled with the sound of steady buzzing, the slick skin-on-skin sound of Seokjin’s hand, both of your gasped and haggard breathing, punctuated by low groans and the occasional whine.
You grit his name between your teeth when you teeter closer.
“Let go,” he commands, his voice rumbling deeper than you’ve ever heard it. It’s a stark contrast to the higher-pitched whine he lets out when you do, a wordless wail sailing between your lips as your legs shake and your whole body tightens. He comes with a cry before you’ve even caught your breath, quiet and stillness finally settling over you both as you click off your bullet and toss it sideways on your bed to clean off later.
He smiles beatifically, some of his hair stuck to his forehead. “That was fun,” he says, leaning to reach for something, you assume to clean himself off with. “You feel better?”
“Yeah,” you agree breathlessly, legs still twitching a little. “But not as good as I could. Not as good as if you were here.”
“Soon,” he promises again, eyes crinkling as he smiles at you. “I promise. I’ll be with you soon.”
–
[9:28 AM] You: good morningggg
[12:03 PM] You: wow, busy today huh? hope it’s a good busy and not a shitty busy 😘
[5:02 PM] You: heading home! call me if you get a second?
[10:41 PM] You: ok well i’m going to bed… talk tmrw maybe. Goodnight.
You sleep fitfully, filled with unease and disappointment. Your phone’s vibrations wake you close to midnight. You answer it without checking the screen.
“Mm’lo?” you manage, eyes still closed.
“Baby, I am so sorry,” Seokjin blurts through the line. “I literally just got home.”
Your mind, still mostly asleep, is muddy. “Hmm,” you breathe, trying to process, trying to make coherent words. “It’s so late.”
“I know,” he says sorrowfully. “I was running in circles all day, I legitimately don’t think I’ve peed since morning.”
You let another breath that’s kind of like a sigh. “That’s not healthy,” you murmur.
He laughs a little. “Tell me about it. Anyway, I’m sorry I was MIA all day. I hope you didn’t worry.”
“I didn’t worry,” you tell him, starting to wake up a little. “I knew you were working. Missed you, though.”
“I missed you, too.”
“You were too busy to miss me.”
He laughs again. “Well, I miss you now.” Then, almost to himself, “The moon’s pretty tonight. Looks almost full.”
You shimmy to the edge of your bed, where you can peek through your sheer curtains. The moon is very full, visible just above rooftops across the street.
“I see it,” you tell him sleepily. It gives you a sense of peace that, although you’re far away, although you really failed as a couple at communication today, at least you can share this - the pure white moonlight, the darkened mares barely visible.
You both go silent for a few minutes, and you keep your eyes on the moon.
“Hey,” Seokjin says softly. “I know today sucked. It won’t always be like this, okay? One more month - not even a whole month - and we won’t ever have days like this again.”
“Yeah,” you say, a little unconvinced.
“We won’t,” he assures you. “I’ll make sure of it. You’ll be sick of me in no time.”
“Can’t wait,” you tell him with a yawn, finally scooting back into the warm spot you’d vacated, ready for sleep to find you again.
–
Seokjin’s new apartment - a fifty-three minute drive from your own, you timed it - is admittedly really nice. Nicer than your “swanky” one.
“God, this kitchen,” you marvel after dropping a box of his cutting boards and mixing bowls onto the kitchen counter. “It’s almost enough to make me want to learn to cook more.”
He laughs. “I think I told the agent yes based on this room alone.”
Most of the big furniture pieces were brought up by the moving company Jin had hired, so you help him unload the rest of the boxes from his car and you both look around, trying to determine the best place to start.
“I’m going to find my sheet sets and set up my bed,” he decides, eyes scanning the many boxes. “That way when we tire ourselves out, it’s ready to go. Can you… maybe find the bag with all my toiletries and get that stuff in the bathroom?”
“Aye-aye, captain!” you chirp, starting to wade into the sea of cardboard, but Seokjin tugs you back gently by your shirt’s hem.
“What?” you ask him, a little giggly.
“What are you so happy about?” he teases, pulling you close and resting his mouth near your temple, not quite a kiss.
You shrug, wrapping your arms around his middle and welcoming the hug. You never want to go three months without him ever again.
“Just…” you say, trailing off to think. “Just happy that you’re here.”
“Yeah,” he smiles. “This is better, right?”
“Couldn’t hug you before,” you agree.
His smile goes sideways. “Lots of things we couldn’t do before.”
You laugh, pushing him away playfully. “Can’t do that until you set the bed up!”
“That is simply untrue,” he points out, even as he heads towards a box clearly labeled linens/blankets/pillows. “You just lost creativity points.”
You roll your eyes, unable to do anything about the grin on your face, and get to work searching for his shampoo.
Later, after you finished the bathroom and started putting laundry away and after Jin spent a solid two hours hooking up all his consoles and messing with the wiring, you lay sideways across his newly made bed, feeling like the bones have melted out of your body.
“Unpacking is exhausting,” you complain. “I was going to drive home tonight so I could sleep later in the morning, but I don’t think I can.”
“Good,” Jin murmurs, sounding half-asleep himself. He rolls and throws an arm heavily over your middle, tugs you closer. “Stay here with me. Stay all night.”
I think… I could stay forever, you think.
–
[10:06 AM] You: morning 😘 today’s gonna be a really rough day at work for me so don’t worry if you dont hear from me until late, ok?
[10:06 AM] Jin 🥰: yeah i remembered. good luck, you’ve got this!
[10:06 AM] Jin 🥰: I’ll see you tonight at my place right?
[10:07 AM] You: yes - the only thing getting me through the dayyy
By the time you stagger to your car, it’s been dark for hours. Your feet are throbbing in pain, your back feels like you wrestled an elephant, and you’re so tired you almost consider a nap in the backseat.
And then you remember - you’re supposed to drive the hour to Jin’s place tonight. In the six months Jin has been in his new place, you’ve taken turns every few nights making the trek back and forth. Tonight is your turn.
Or, is supposed to be.
You two had only canceled once before, on a night when a terrible rainstorm swept through and made the roads unsafe. Apart from that, you’d always shown up - or he had.
Guilt, and the desire to see Jin, wage war against your exhaustion until you’re nearly in tears over it. You just don’t know what to do - try and make the drive, or wave the white flag and just go home to a hot shower and, finally, some dinner.
Eventually, you turn on the car and start towards home, calling Jin as you go.
“Well, look who it is,” he greets you warmly.
You sniff in reply. “Jin? I don’t think I’m coming there tonight. I’m really sorry. I’m just - I’m so tired, I feel like it wouldn’t be safe - and I haven’t eaten anything since before work and -”
“Hey,” he interrupts you gently. “It’s fine. Do you want me to come there?”
You glance at the clock on the dashboard. “Honestly,” you say, mournful, “I don’t think it’s worth it. I won’t be awake, and even if I am, I won’t be fun.”
“I don’t care if you’re fun,” he says. You know he means it. But still.
“I”m just gonna go home, eat, shower, and pass out,” you say, feeling utterly defeated. “I’m really sorry.”
“Don’t be,” he says.
You still cry, quietly, mostly out of frustration, the rest of the way home, even after you’ve hung up. Going home to him would have been exactly what you needed tonight, and it feels deeply unfair that you can’t have that.
You eat first, scarfing down leftovers you pull from your fridge, not even bothering to put on a tv show for noise. You barely even sit down. A hot shower does wonders, and soon you’re collapsing into bed, hardly having the strength to roll over and reach for your charger’s cord. You text Jin another apology and a sweet goodnight, but you’re asleep before he can answer, lost to the dark.
You wake up confused, still engulfed in darkness. It feels like you’ve only been asleep for minutes. You become aware of a noise near the end of your bed and your adrenaline spikes. You sit up, reaching for your phone.
“Don’t mace me,” Jin laughs, coming around the side of the bed and moving the blankets so he can slide in next to you.
You’re frozen, uncomprehending. “Jin?”
“The one and only,” he quips, rolling to cling to your back. “Surprise.”
“I told you not to come!” you splutter.
“Should I leave?” he asks wryly, and you grab his wrist as if he might.
“Don’t you dare,” you say, heart rate starting to calm now that you’ve discovered there isn’t a murderer in your apartment. “God, your feet are like icicles.”
He hums a laugh into your hair, runs a hand down your arm. “Go back to sleep,” he tells you.
You try to listen, scrumping around until you’re comfy again, his body warm and solid behind yours. “Can’t believe you drove here in the middle of the night,” you say finally, a touch of disbelief in your voice. “You’re out of your mind.”
He pulls you tight and then releases you. “Just try and keep me away,” he dares the universe, voice low next to your ear.
You slowly drift back towards sleep, breathing going even and deep. The last thing you remember before you go under is whispering, “Thank you.” To him. Maybe to the universe.
–
“I can’t believe I’m doing this for the second time in less than a year,” Seokjin grumbles from his side of the couch that the two of you are trying - and currently, failing - to get up a stairwell.
“Are you complaining?” you ask, a bit of challenge in your voice. “Are you complaining after your amazing girlfriend found the best apartment, perfectly situated halfway between our jobs, and secured it - all while you were locked into Overwatch? Are you complaining that the living an hour away problem is finally over after an entire year? No more stupid-early commutes, or only seeing each other long enough to sleep - you have complaints?”
“I am complaining,” he asserts, shifting the couch in his hands, “about the physical labor.”
When you get to a good stopping point, hours later, you lean heavily against the kitchen counter. “Should we peruse our new home’s take-out options?” you ask, starting to reach for your phone.
Seokjin doesn’t answer, which causes you to look up and assess why not. When you meet his gaze, he’s got a look in his eyes that you’re starting to know well.
“Seriously?” you ask with a laugh. “You’re not too tired?”
“For you?” he scoffs, moving closer, predatory. “Never.”
“I’m all sweaty…”
“I deeply do not care.”
“I can do approximately zero percent of the work,” you warn him.
He towers over you, hands coming to grip the counter on either side of your body, caging you in. “Wasn’t planning on you doing any work at all,” he admits darkly, mouth close enough to your ear to tickle. “I’m suddenly remembering almost a year ago, when I promised to bend you over the kitchen table someday. And now, we have our own kitchen table, in our brand new place together.”
Your grin turns predatory in turn. “Alright, you convinced me.”
“Good,” he grunts, and grips your jaw gently enough that it doesn’t hurt, firmly enough that he can easily tilt you back to receive his biting, desperate kiss.
You moan immediately, melting back against the counter, thrilled by his urgency. You peel off his shirt, letting it drop onto the hardwood beneath your feet, and yours follows soon after. You lift your arms obediently when Jin tugs at the band of your sports bra, rolling it up and sliding it over your arms. He encases you with his arms, kissing you deeply, and you slide your hands down his stomach as you slide your tongue over his.
It isn’t long before he’s tugging your leggings and panties down in one hand, and you use your feet to free yourself the rest of the way. He’s rough today as he slides his digits between your legs, barely slicking them up before pushing two fingers as far into you as he can, twisting them before pulling them out again.
You breathe his name, clinging to him desperately, hips pushing back against him as he pumps his fingers in and out of you indelicately, causing the last syllable of his name to come out on a whine. You push absently at the waistband of his joggers, too weakly to actually get them anywhere. You make a noise of complaint, and he laughs lowly, punctuating the sound with a particularly vicious flick of the wrist, sending his fingers pistoning into your front wall.
“Jin,” you wail, assaulted by the sudden sensation. “Please, I -”
“Awfully needy for someone who had to be convinced,” he smirks, and if you weren’t halfway to your first orgasm of the night you might have whacked him for it.
But then his fingers are slipping out of you, and he’s pushing his joggers and boxers to the ground and pulling you towards the table, telling you quietly, “C’mere.”
When he said bend you over, he meant bend you over, apparently, because as soon as he has you close enough he’s spinning you to face the table, one palm firmly pushing between your shoulder blades until your front presses against the tabletop.
“This okay?” he murmurs behind you, the same hand that pushed you into place caressing a worshipful pattern back down your ribs, sliding over your ass and resting there, waiting.
“Very,” you groan, and shudder when he answers this by leaning his body over your back, his hands splayed on either side of your ribcage, holding him up.
“In that case,” he says, “arms up. Hold the other side.”
Your breath leaves you audibly and you obey, reaching to grip the opposite side of the table. He strokes the curve of your ass again, and then you feel him run the head of his cock up and down your slit - it sends a white-pleasure shock through you when it rubs firmly over your clit and you try to catch it on your entrance as he slides back up.
You whine again, and he chuckles before finally pushing into you.
You both groan as he bottoms out, yours turning to a gasp as he bumps something deep inside you that makes your entire abdomen flex in response.
“Shit,” you gasp, “you’re so deep this way -”
“Fuck,” he growls, the word torn from his throat as he starts to move. “Why are you so tight, I’m gonna last two minutes like this, damn -”
“Because I’m about three seconds from coming,” you say - or you try to. It comes out more like a moan, your voice shaky and tremulous, betraying you completely.
“Do it then,” he says, gripping your hips with one hand and reaching around to find your clit with another as he keeps a torturously steady pace. “Come all over me.”
His nimble fingers do the trick and it’s only seconds later that you’re following directions, pressing your forehead desperately into the wood of the table as your body trembles and shakes beneath Jin’s hands.
You feel your toes curling against the hardwood floor, feel your fingers go tight against the table’s edge, feel your pussy clench around him again and again and again, feel the sensation of light race down your legs and out to your fingertips, feel Jin’s cock slide against your pulsing walls, feel his hands come to your hips to pull you against each stroke.
You hear your first gasped breath, hear the slap of skin on skin, hear the huffs and groans of Jin’s broken breathing behind you as you slowly come back into your body, as the tremors in your legs die back down to tiny, interspersed shakes.
“Holy shit,” you manage, lifting your head off the table and trying to look at him over your shoulder.
“Can you take more?” he checks, his hand twitching on your hip like he’s keeping it in line.
“Yeah,” you breathe.
“Good fuckin’ girl,” he whispers, and pulls your hips flush against his, slamming into you, sliding out, slamming in again until you’re keening out syllables that don’t add up to words, eyes screwed shut, exhales warbling out like sobs.
“Take it so well,” he praises, his voice shattered, the words coming through a clenched jaw, as he breathes and focuses and tries to hang on, hips snapping.
He slows his pace and reaches for your shoulder, pulling you to straighten up, your back flush against his sticky chest. You moan at the change of angle, and then he slips out of you, turns you around again and lets you sit on the edge of the table. He reaches one arm around your shoulders to brace you and slides back in slowly.
Your head falls back, eyes closed.
“Can you look at me?” he breathes, chest jumping as he tries to keep it together.
With difficulty, you lift your head and open your eyes, finding his watching you intently. Gazes locked, he pumps once, twice, three more times and comes with a shudder, his head falling onto your shoulder as he spasms and groans deep and loud.
His hips slow and then eventually come to a stop. He stays buried deep inside you, lifting his head from your shoulder and bringing his other arm around your back.
“I don’t think I can walk,” you tell him thickly, your legs shaking.
He slips out of you gently, reaching down to wipe away a bit of mess that followed onto your thigh. “Don’t walk, then,” he tells you, and guides your arms around his neck before lifting you and carrying you through your new apartment towards the en suite.
He sets you gently on the edge of the tub and reaches to turn the shower on full blast. “Did we find towels?” he asks.
You lean against the tiled wall. “The box is on the bed.”
“Okay,” he says, then crouches down before you. “You good?”
“Mhm,” you tell him. He retreats, and you hear the telltale sign of tape being ripped off cardboard. He returns with two towels in hand and gently lifts you, guiding you over the edge of the tub and into the warm spray of water.
You lean against him heavily, sleepiness coming over you like a fog. He runs a hand over your hair affectionately, then leans down to whisper, “Four rooms to go.”
–
“Jin? Is the table set?”
“It’s set.”
“Can you open the wine?”
“Opening.”
“What about the -”
Seokjin takes your hands. You hadn’t even heard him enter the room. You’re too frazzled to even be startled.
“What are you so nervous for?” he asks, peering at you. “It’s Minji and Jungkook and our parents. We could literally serve pizza bagels in our pajamas and it would be fine.”
You sniff. “That actually sounds really good.”
Seokjin looks at you indulgently. “They won’t be here for another half hour. We have lots of time.”
“Okay,” you sigh. “You’re right. It’s just my first time hosting everyone at the same time here, in our place together - it just feels… significant.” Your parents and Seokjin’s family had been to the place you share several times in the last few months, but never together. Never for an event.
“I’m not saying I disagree,” he says gently. “But I promise, everything is more than fine.”
“You’re right,” you say, still unable to help, but glancing around the eating area for any detail you may have missed.
“Why don’t we try the wine?” Jin suggests.
“That’s for later,” you remind him.
“There’s plenty. We should make sure it’s good.” He sends you a wink.
You sigh, knowing exactly what he’s up to. “A small pour,” you instruct. “I’m gonna go grab my phone off the charger, I’ll be right there.”
You step through your bedroom without bothering to turn the lamp on, moving by memory over to your nightstand where your phone awaits. When you turn around to head back, you bump into Seokjin, lingering behind you in the shadowy room.
“What are you doing?” you laugh. “I thought you were opening the wine.”
He takes your hands again, how he had just minutes ago by the kitchen table. “You’re right,” he says, ignoring your question. “Tonight does feel significant.”
You feel your brows furrow. “Jin?”
He takes a breath, like he’s steadying himself. “There’s something I want to ask you before everyone gets here.”
Your heart drops into your ass.
He continues. “I thought for a long time about all the different ways I could do this, because you deserve something spectacular. But, I got tired of waiting for an idea that felt good enough and I just want you. So…” He trails off, digs in his pocket, pushes something square and velvet into your hands.
“Jin,” you whisper, heart pounding. It feels right, somehow, that it’s happening like this. Just you and him, the apartment - the world - silent around you, speaking quietly through the dark.
It’s always been you and Seokjin, in the dark.
“So,” he continues, like if he stops he’ll lose his nerve, “I want to ask you… if you want to get married. If you’ll marry me.”
“Yeah,” you whisper. “Yes.”
He wraps you in a hug, and you say, muffled by his shirt, “Can we go back in the light so I can see the ring?”
Later, he sends you a sly sideways smile. “You know my sister’s going to spot that before she’s even through the door.”
You laugh, rolling your eyes. “Maybe I’ll keep my hands in my pockets all night, just so I don’t have to hear her.”
He bumps you lightly with his hip so you’ll look up at him. “Are you happy?” he asks quietly.
You think about everything you’ve been through - a lifetime of wanting, years of misunderstanding, and over a year between figuring it out and now. Finally, finally, everything has aligned, every piece in place.
“Never been happier,” you tell him, resting a hand on his heart.
“Good,” he says, leaning down to kiss your temple. “Let’s stay that way for a long, long time.”
–
“No, you hang up first!” Minji squealed for the ninth time, before blowing many kisses into the phone and finally hanging up with her boyfriend. She was twenty, in love, and had somehow lost you from her bedroom during the course of the phone call.
Calling your name quietly, she’d left her bedroom, typing a text to you as she peered into each of the rooms of the house, even the basement where Jungkook and his friends were still drinking.
“Don’t get alcohol poisoning,” she warned them. “Has anyone seen Y/N?”
Finally, she decided you must have gone home and started padding back to her bedroom, sending you one more angry text to find in the morning.
As she passed Seokjin’s room, she noticed his door was open about a foot. She stepped closer, just meaning to pull it closed - they did that for each other if they fell asleep with it open, it was just muscle-memory at that point - and then froze.
You were in Seokjin’s bed, fast asleep, curled up facing the door. For a second, she thought you were alone, but then she spotted Jin’s arm over your belly, his shoulders peeking out from behind yours.
She bit her lip, staring, silent. In his sleep, Seokjin’s arm flexed against you, and Minji watched as you instinctively reached up to touch his arm, butterfly light, before letting your hand fall back to the mattress again.
She closed the door quietly, continued down the hall to her own room.
She knew better than to interfere, knew better than to meddle and mess it up. But still...
Maybe someday, she thought. Maybe someday you’d figure it out.
<- Prev
wow i can't believe it's over!! thank you so much for being here along the way - i know this was very different from my normal and i hope you had a really fun time reading! <3
↳ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬; in order for you to pretend to be his girlfriend, he helps you with your sexual desires ⏤ he calls it mutual help
⇢ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: jungkook x reader
⇢ 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: fake dating au, fluff, angst, smut, slow burn
⇢ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: explicit language, explicit content
⇢ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 21.7k+ (both parts)
⇠ 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯. | 𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐱 | 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 ⇢
Read part 1 before this!
The tip of your fingers raise up as they hover over his chest. You can feel the warmth coming off his body, calling your shivering self. Goosebumps appear all over your body and you decide to take the heat right here.
The moment your fingers touch Jungkook’s hard chest, it becomes all too real. The warmth, thumps of his heartbeat and the way his chest raises up and down. He’s attentively watching you, wondering what your next step is.
Moving your fingers up, gliding over his damped skin as the droplets fade and sink into the warmth of his tanned complexion. They pause at the line of his neck, where a vein pulses faintly beneath your touch—steady and alive. Your hand slips around to cradle the side of his neck, fingers weaving into his hair you reach as you tighten the grip on it.
Suddenly everything goes still. Breath held and eyes locked, you both move at once as instinct overrides hesitation. Mouths clashing together, you have to convince yourself for a split second that this is happening. The familiarity of his mouth brings you comfort, yet shoots excitement through your entire body as it molds into your lips effortlessly.
You wonder how you’ve managed to not knock each other’s teeth out. Your body is pressed against Jungkook’s, wet clothes sticking to him as well now. He grips the back of your head, holding you in place as you’re desperate for more.
One minute he’s gripping your hair, bringing a tight pressure to your roots–and suddenly his hands are on your hips, hoisting you up. The impact of your ass hitting the counter makes you groan, though it’s muffled by Jungkook’s mouth.
Your tongues meet, messy and breathlessly–both of you barely catching any breath but you keep going. Almost as if you’re both scared that if you stop, all of this stops with it.
You won’t allow that.
He hoists you up, your mouths glued together as he guides you through the beach house as if he remembers every corner perfectly. Perhaps he does. What he surely does remember is every inch of your body.
His arms stay securely wrapped around your thighs, holding you up the entire way to the bathroom. Settling you down, you hold onto his biceps tightly to prevent yourself from falling. Your legs feel like jelly, looking for balance that takes a moment.
Jungkook holds your waist until you chuckle lightly, wiping the corner of your lips. They tickle from the intense make-out you’ve just experienced. Watching him back away with a satisfied smirk, he licks his own lips as he tucks thumbs under his waistband. You eat up the sight with hungry eyes, not ashamed to enjoy the sight that gives him enough of a green light–daring him to continue.
He does.
Even though the clothes stick to his body, as if refusing to give up, he does it effortlessly and the clothes glide down to his ankles. It gathers there and he steps outside it, moving it aside. But that detail is long forgotten as you shamelessly eye his exposed length.
He’s hard. Something you’ve felt on your way here–but seeing it in person after some time, you’re close to dropping down your knees.
“Your turn.”
You find his eyes, mirroring just as much hunger as your own eyes have.
The dress you have on lacks any zipper, which makes it harder to take off especially in its current drenched state. “You might have to help me.”
“Thought you would give me a show.”
“Perhaps next time.”
Now you’re just teasing–both of you rather focusing on the present than worrying about what happens next. You’re not supposed to do this right now.
He walks up to you in just two steps, careful and slow steps, causing your head to tilt up. He doesn’t kiss you. He doesn’t even touch your face and judging by the light smugness, he’s doing it purposely. Instead, his hands remove the straps, letting them drop down your shoulders. Tugging where the edge covers your chest, he tugs it down. It’s not going as smoothly and for a moment, you giggle as he wiggles your body ever so slightly.
A soft chuckle rumbles but all amusement fades as he drops onto his one knee, tugging the dress down your breasts and waist. Exposing your perked up nipples, begging for attention–the dress pool down at your feet.
Suddenly he stands up, eyes dropping down your figure as he wipes his bottom lip with his thumb. “God, I’ve missed this sight.”
That pleases you very much. Finding more boldness in you, you trail finger down his abs. “You know what I missed?”
Before he answers, you drop down to your knees–living for his speechless and admiring state. It boosts up your confidence even more, not in submission but in power. The kind of power that comes from knowing exactly what effect you have.
Your confidence isn’t loud or forced. It’s not proving anything. It’s simply there—in your posture, in your gaze, in the easiness of your movements. You know you're seen. You meant to be seen.
“Fuck.” Jungkook mutters, closing his eyes and you take it as an opportunity to wrap your hand around his cock.
Giving him a few teasing pumps, you hear him silently curse under his breath.
“You’re a fucking tease.”
Not answering, deciding to show him in actions rather than words, you welcome him in your mouth. That makes him pry his eyes open, no matter how much they beg to stay closed and bask in the ecstasy you bring him. Familiary and knowingly, he grips your hair at the back of your head and tries his best not to fuck your mouth.
Tears spring in your eyes as he’s getting too deep in your throat. Your knees start to burn as they rub against the tiles, but it’s pushed aside as you feed off his reactions. Vulnerable, raw and beautiful.
“Fuck, ba–” he stops himself and you swear your heartbeats skips a beat. “Okay, stand up.”
You stare, frowning a little because that’s not what you were planning. He begs you with his eyes. “I’m not gonna cum so quickly.”
“You would?” you feign surprise, even though it does surprise you a little. Teasingly, you fumble with your fingers as you give him an innocent look.
He purses his lips, “It’s been a while.”
It has been for you too.
“Don’t look so shocked.”
“Do I?” you question, not moving an inch as he closes the proximity and presses his thumb on your nipple.
You bite down your lip, quicking your breaths.
“You had orgasms, didn't you?”
He shakes his head with a smile, “My hand doesn’t do its job. Not like you do anyway.”
“Jungkook.” you whisper at the confession, growing weaker each second and every time he confesses such things.
He’s always been doing a perfect job at that. Most men would be embarrassed, seeing it as a potential weakness. They’re the men right? Women crumble beneath their feet. They’re the weakness. Not women.
It’s not like that with Jungkook.
He’s not doing it from pure horniness. He’s honest and unafraid to say it–even show it.
One second his hand plays with your nipple, the second it’s between your legs and cursing once he feels the wetness coating his fingers.
“Just–”
“Hm?”
“–just fuck me.” you almost beg, not caring how desperate you sound.
He listens. He connects your lips and backs you into the big shower. He turns the tap and cold water coats your bodies as you shriek in shock.
“Jeon!”
He laughs, “Sorry. Haven’t heard that one in a while.”
He backs you to the wall, eyeing you like a prey.
“Jeon?” you ask, “Pretty sure you’ve heard it recently.”
“Not in this way anyway.”
“What way?”
“Playful. Seductive.”
“Seductive?” you giggle.
“Yeah,” he nods, hand finding its way back between your lips. You bite onto them harshly, moaning. “Though I prefer Kook.”
“How about Kookie?” you manage to get out through moans as he slips finger inside your walls.
He grips your neck, gently but his touch is there. “Don’t mess with me.”
Shaking his head, he does so as if he wants to remove everything that involves the one nickname you’ve never called him. It’s so fun to tease him, especially in this position. He hoists up your thigh over his hip, holding it there harshly as he adds another finger.
“Fuck–I’m not–” You don’t even get to finish sentence, totally crumbling under his touch. He kisses your cheek bone, nibbling on your earlobe next and before you realize, you’re coming undone in seconds.
Hand wrapping around his wrist as he slows down his pace, you breathe and open your eyes, realizing the water is lukewarm and no longer cold. Wrapping your arm around his neck, you bring him closer and kiss him.
“Now fuck me.”
“You sure?”
“Did you bring me in here and get naked just for this?”
He laughs, “Just for this? Ouch. You came in under a minute.”
You gasp, “It was more than a minute.”
He shakes his head teasingly, not saying anything about it. “It’s fine. I would’ve too.”
And you know he’s not talking about being in your position, boosting his ego. He’s talking to you on your knees and sucking him off.
“Now turn around and let me fuck you.”
You obey without any complaints, gasping as he holds your hips and pushes you to him. Your palms slide down the tiles and try to hold your balance there. You can feel his cock against your ass cheeks, hovering there and twitching at the contact of your skin.
“Listen–” he starts, “I don’t have–”
You turn around, eyes barely opened as your walls clench around nothing, wetness sliding down your thighs. His eyes meet yours as they slowly move down between your bodies. Realizing he’s talking about the lack of protection, you’re not sure if you’re touched that he hasn’t brought any of those–for whatever reasons–or bothered that he even mentioned it and you didn’t even think of it.
“Fuck me, Jungkook.”
Both of you know what this means. You’re consumed by the lust and excitement, not wanting to waste another second. Somewhere outside, you can hear rain pouring even through the droplets hitting your bodies and shower tiles.
No words exchanged, just the touch on your hips that is reassuring that he’s right there and he’s not going anywhere anytime soon. It’s a faint touch, almost unnoticeable, but you feel it clearly as his thumbs give your skin a soft caress.
That’s all you feel before he slowly starts entering you. Both of you curse, stopping any movements to catch a breath.
“You good?”
“Yeah, just go slow.” you assure him, breathing out as you could cry from feeling him like this again. You never thought it would happen, not any time soon anyway, even though deep inside you’ve always hoped for it.
He moves deeper and slow just like you asked, filling you up to the brim as you feel a deep groan behind you. Your muscles relax, begging for more and with no words needed, he pulls out and thrusts in. Each time quicker and more deep, using your moans as his personal guide.
The slap of skin meeting echoes in the bathroom, your moans joining in as his grunts and touch become heaven to your senses. Bodies colliding, he reaches for your breast and plays with it, grasping it tightly as he gives your ass a loud wet slap.
“Fuck–you’re perfect.”
You want to tell him to shut up. Purely because it’s enough to make you come and you beg mentally. Please let this last longer. It can’t be forever but just a little bit longer. A little bit more.
Your mind goes pathetic over him.
He fucks you hard, each movements becoming more erratic and passionate–causing you to hold yourself against the tiles with hands spread, preventing your head from smashing agaisnt the wet tiles. Your breasts move with each thrust, feeling his fingers digging into the skin of your ass and hips, wondering if it's going to bruise later.
It doesn’t hurt in a bad way. It brings you closer to the edge if anything.
“I’m gonna–” He groans, not being able to finish as he’s too close to reaching his high. Instead, he kisses down your neck and gently bites the skin there.
“Come inside.”
“W–what,” he stutters, wondering if he’s heard you right.
If you’ve wanted to try this, now is the right time. He’s the right person to do it with. Or perhaps your mind is clouded with lust, not really thinking of your actions. But you don’t care. You need him. You need to feel all of him.
And if this happens only once–let this be the time.
“Come inside, Kook.”
“Fuck–”
You barely get to finish your sentence, hearing him curse and go absolutely feral makes your mind blank. It’s ridiculous how out of your body you suddenly feel. It’s like a dream–maybe it’s the lack of sex in your life lately, you desperately tell yourself.
Or it’s just the fact you completely gave yourself to him. It’s just sex. But another world to you.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” Somewhere in this time, you blabber something out of your mouth, not even sure what you’re saying–your mind completely fucked. You turn your head to the side as you feel Jungkook's mouth on your shoulder, biting you everywhere he has access. As your mouth gets closer, both of your mouths clash together–barely even kissing but making most of it.
Your body tenses and relaxes right after, surrendering yourself to the man behind you as you orgasm all over his cock. Wetness shoots out of you and you shiver, legs growing weak as you suddenly feel warmth exploding inside you. It makes your walls clench repeatedly as Jungkook continues thrusting, filling you to the brim. Mouths just there, not being able to comprehend the rush of lust, unmoving and breathing moans into each other’s mouth.
He stays there for a second, wrapping his hand around your waist to balance you. He gives your lips a gentle kiss. “I’m gonna pull out, yeah?”
All you can do is nod, a noticeable pulse between your legs. He pulls out gently, kissing your shoulder as he hisses silently at the feeling. You feel wetness pouring out of you, washed by the water as some of it glides down your thighs.
Turning around, Jungkook helps you as your back meets the wall. Both of your eyes’ are barely opened, still bathing in the ecstasy the orgasm has brought. He comes closer, pressing your bodies together as you naturally hug him closer.
“That’s the best sex I ever had,” he confesses.
“Same.” you agree right away, breathlessly, trying to wrap your head around what just happened.
Jungkook steps back, just a little, enough to reach the shower gel he squirts on his palm. Putting away the bottle, he warms the gel between his hands before gently massaging your shoulders. As he spreads the fresh-scented liquid across your skin, you sigh, your body melting beneath his touch.
“I can’t believe we did that,” you whisper, voice barely heard over the sounds of water.
“Regrets already brooming?” he jokes, voice raspy and deep.
You shake your head, closing your eyes for a moment as he works on your muscles, moving down your arms.
“This is one of the few things I won’t ever regret.”
That catches him by surprise—just enough for his eyebrows to lift before they relax, and he looks... relieved.
“I feel the same.” he says, motioning you to turn around.
You do, not arguing as he massages your back. God, you’re going to fall asleep as soon as your body meets the mattress.
“I’m starting to understand how most men insist on having… raw sex.”
Jungkook chuckles softly behind you, clearly finding your shyness—and your reluctance to say it—amusing. “So–what do you think about it?”
Your cheeks heat up, acting as if you didn’t just experience it on your own moments ago. “I–I love it.”
Jungkook reaches out, softly cupping your breasts. Your back straightens, breath catching in your throat as his name slips past your lips.
“You can scratch it off your list.”
Your eyes open at that, a playful chuckle escaping your lips. “You remember?”
“I do.”
“The deal is off.” you remind him, as if it’s supposed to mean something.
“I like to make dreams come through.”
Something softens inside you. Is it ridiculous to think he’s being thoughtful? Especially when it comes to this topic? His answer is supposed to come out jokingly, yet they hold some truth to it. And you wouldn’t want this to happen with anyone else at the moment. You’re glad it’s him.
And despite everything–your fears, doubts and who knows what else–you don’t think you will ever regret this decision.
God. There’s so much happening inside you—like your body’s being electrified from within, in the most incredible way. If you could, you’d let it happen again. And again. And again.
That scares you. But you don’t let that thought hover over your head for too long.
He moves down your stomach–his touch smooth as silk–there’s nothing sexual about it but you’re fighting back the urge to push him just to have sex again.
Silence follows, just the two of you enjoying each other’s company as Jungkook pampers you. Once he’s done, he gently guides you right after the big square shower head as the water streams washes off the remaining foam.
Your eyes meet, a silent connection between you makes you both smile. As Jungkook goes to reach for the shower gel, you’re faster. You copy his actions from before as his mouth parts in silent surprise.
“You–”
“It’s only fair I take care of you too.”
He chuckles as his eyes drift downward. You realize you’re witnessing him being shy—which doesn’t happen often—and the sudden realization makes you smirk.
“You don’t have to do that.”
“Uh-uh.” You shake your head, spreading the gel across his chest, feeling all the muscles flex beneath your soft touch. “I like to repay.”
“You can barely stand on your feet,” he comments, prompting you to smack his chest. He laughs, eyes crinkling at the corners.
Somehow, with wet raven-black hair and flexing muscles, he manages to look both hot and cute with that toothy grin.
“Thanks to who?”
Now he’s the one who smirks. “I’m not complaining about that.”
“You cocky bastard.”
As your laughter naturally and softly dies down, you move down toward his lower abs where his V line is, wondering if you just should–
“Don’t.”
“Huh?” You’ve been caught. How does he know what you’re thinking of?
“I don’t think you’re ready for a second round.”
You grin, “Is that a challenge?”
“We do have a plan tomorrow,” he reminds, “Besides. Wasn’t this supposed to be a one time thing?”
He’s straight–forward. But you should’ve learned that a long time ago. It’s not a matter of lately, maybe a while after your deal started, but Jungkook has been going straight to the point.
You gulp, shamelessly admitting; “I could make an exception.”
He smiles, reaching toward your cheek as his thumb rubs your cheek bone. “Tell me tomorrow.”
“Why tomorrow?”
“When your mind is not clouded by the first experience of raw sex.”
You poke him in the ribs, causing him to flinch as he laughs. “I’m serious.”
“You think I don’t think straight?” you challenge him with a raise of your brow.
“Y/N, the first time I went raw I thought I could go like that until sunrise.”
“Did you?”
You’re not sure if you want to hear about his previous sex life. Is it fit to be discussed in this position?
“I mean–were you able to…”
He smiles, “Guess.”
You gulp, not sure if the steam comes from the water or from you.
He finishes your previous task while you shampoo your hair, not caring that you should’ve done it beforehand. It’s not your fault things turned into the best sex of your life.
Still, you can’t help sneaking glances—because, for some reason, Jungkook doesn’t pull you into bed to go another round.
So, rather than just standing there like an idiot waiting for him to wash himself, you turn around and busy yourself.
Out of sight, out of mind… right?
Once you’re both done, Jungkook helps you out of the shower. You’ve clearly underestimated yourself—because the moment you try to take a step, your legs feel like jelly. You can move, but the aftermath of what just happened still lingers.
He wraps a towel around your warm body, steam rising from your skin as if you'd just been extinguished. Both of you start to dry yourselves off and once you’re done, Jungkook hangs towels on a rack, gently taking it from you.
Your eyes start to drop as you make your way to the bathroom, too lazy and sleepy to dress yourself. “Will you mind if I don’t wear pajamas?”
Jungkook drops beside you on his front, hugging a pillow. “Are you trying to kill me?”
You sleepily laugh, “No?”
“Alright, I will keep my hands to myself.”
I never said you should, you think, but the smile you make says it all. Pulling up the covers, you make yourself comfortable. Within a minute, Jungkook’s comforting scent and slow breathing lull you to sleep.
Your arms brush gently as you both settle close, the warmth of his forearm resting lightly against yours. Neither of you reach for hands, but the quiet contact speaks volumes. Safe and warm–you drift deeper, wrapped in the silence between breaths.
Beach waves come up as your consciousness rises awake, heard in the distance of your opened double wing door. As someone who doesn’t believe in air conditioning turned on while sleeping, you asked Jungkook to open the door instead.
By the time you came out of the shower, the only trace of rain was the fresh air and wet sand you saw out of the window.
The air is slightly more fresh and a faint breeze brushes past your exposed shoulder. Although, the sun shining through the glass and thin curtains warms your skin.
Cracking your eyes open, you’re met with bright sun which causes you to squint at the clock beside your bed.
Fuck! It’s almost eleven.
One thing's for sure. Your sleep felt like heaven and you not even once woke up during the night.
“Tell me it’s at least eight.” Jungkook’s groggy and raspy voice resounds from beside you, sheets rustling under his body moving.
“Hate to disappoint. Close to eleven.”
“Fuck.” he groans. “I could sleep for days.”
You laugh, “Same. Shame we have to leave tomorrow.”
“Mhm,” he hums, coming closer as he presses a soft kiss onto your shoulder. You shudder, smiling immediately and hoping Jungkook can’t see it, so he could brag about it later.
“Jungkook.” you warn him.
“I’m a good boy.”
His actions say the opposite as he presses another kiss. And then another. And another.
Turning on your back, you push his head away gently and laugh at his pout. “Are you hard or what?”
“I’m getting there.”
And when you least expect it, you feel the pad of his fingers touch your thigh ever so gently.
He comes closer, lips brushing over your ear. “Are you wet?”
“Maybe,” you whisper, “I’m tired though.” Tired for sex is what you mean.
One movement and Jungkook pulls you closer, your back now facing his chest as you feel his hand between your legs. You might be tired but your legs open on their own, welcoming him there as he chuckles in satisfaction and slightly in a cocky manner.
“So am I.”
He enters you with his fingers, a soft moan leaving your mouth. No other words exchanged, you grab his wrist after a moment. Jungkook grabs your inner thigh and raises it, entering you gently and slowly.
Moans fill up the bedroom as he keeps his pace slow, hitting all the right spots in the softest yet meaningful way. The two of you don’t hold for a long time and the pace quickens up with time and each thrust. Moans get louder and breathing harder.
Your hand goes into Jungkook’s hair and you grip it tightly as he kisses your neck, both of you reaching for the high. You come first, just in the right time for Jungkook to pull out and come all over between your legs.
“Fuck.” he says, breathing into your neck as he kisses you there.
“Mhm, that was good.”
Jungkook stays laying behind you, your hand caging his arm as you hold him. Without any other words, the two of you sleep into another slumber.
It’s way past lunch time, yet here you are.
Jungkook shirtless, freshly out of the shower, making the two of you cereal bowls. The sun casts a golden glow over the kitchen and Jungkook’s skin, reminding you of the beautiful weather outside.
In other cases, you would say it’s a shame since half of the day is gone. But in this case, you don’t care at all.
You don’t want to think. You purposely block your thoughts, not allowing them to cloud your mind even if it’s just for a moment. This peaceful vibe should last as long as possible.
The center of your attention is a man, you don’t want to fight with or discuss things that have been discussed already. He moves with ease around the kitchen, as if it’s his own home and you realize, you barely had a chance to experience the calmness of a morning.
The first days you tried to experience as much of Hawaii, there was not a place for calmness and then after what happened, you both went kind of separate ways of exploring this incredible island.
He turns around with a ceramic white bowl, catching your gaze as he cracks a soft smile. Your mouth waters at the sight of the first meal of the day. It’s your fault though. You’ve been ignoring your rumbling stomach and prioritize more minutes under the sheets. Besides different stuff.
“How about we stayed a little longer?”
He gently pushes the bowl in your direction, swiftly turning around and grabbing his own. Palm covering the entire bottom of the bowl, Jungkook starts eating while standing as he chuckles at your surprised look of bewilderment.
“W–How?”
Jungkook’s jaw hardens as he munches on the cereal, shrugging lightly as if his simple suggestion is exactly that… simple.
“I’ll call the resort and see if we can stay longer.”
“But what about our flight?”
“We won’t go. I’ll book a different flight.”
You stare, brow raised at the simplicity of it all. But from your point of view, it’s anything but simple.
“What about the money?” you state the obvious, “It will just be out of the window–just like that.”
Jungkook continues eating, his head pointing toward your very late breakfast, urging you to eat. Hesitantly, you grab a spoon and start eating.
“I will pay for it.”
“No!” you protest with a full mouth. “Are you crazy?”
“Guess I am,” he grins, “Look. I do think we should stay longer and honestly, I don’t care about the extra money.”
“But I do and I won’t let you pay for my tickets. You’ve already paid enough and you know how much I hate it.”
“Don’t you wanna stay longer?”
You chuckle in disbelief, “Of course, I do. Who wouldn’t?”
“See?”
“Kook–it’s not all that this is about.”
He smiles.
“Why are you smiling?”
“You called me Kook again.”
You roll your eyes, laughing at the soft sparkles in his eyes that show enthusiasm. “So?”
“I’ve missed it,” he admits and your heart softens. “We came here to relax, have fun… I admit, things have turned out differently than we both wanted when we first came here–but I don’t care about that right now. We still have a few things to do and after all, I want us to remember this vacation as something nice to remember and look back,”
You understand. You do. But you can’t let him just pay for everything and you’re not in a position where you can afford to extend your stay. Out of the friends, he has always been the most responsible with his money which can’t be said about Jimin or Taehyung.
Jungkook’s reasoning is not silly and you fully understand it. Just the circumstances are a little–inconvenient.
“Because currently, there are only a few moments I would like to look back on once we’re home.”
Moving your gaze toward the milk, you move your spoon around in it and purse your lips. You just can’t look at those puppy brown eyes that watch you intensively.
“I might’ve sent an email to the owner, asking if we could stay longer so–”
“Jungkook!” you exclaim in disbelief, almost laughing at the cheeky flush of his cheeks. “When did you have the time to do that?”
Memories of yesterday flash through your mind and you sheepishly smile under your nose, quickly looking at your uneaten breakfast.
“When you fell asleep. I just knew we should stay longer.”
He moves closer to you, putting away the empty bowl.
“U-huh.”
“What,” Jungkook laughs but not stopping himself and at your failed attempt to stop him.
“Don’t come closer.”
“What are you scared of?”
“You,” you point out clearly. “Your attempts to convince me always work–you know I can’t–”
“Resist my charms?”
“I was gonna say can’t say no, but whatever helps you sleep at night.”
He stands behind you now, a deep chuckle resounding from behind you. “We both know what helps.” he whispers.
“Jungkook,” you scold him under your breath.
“Hm?”
“Stop it.”
He laughs, moving away. “I suggest taking a rest today. We could have a swim or go for a walk. And if we stayed longer–see? I’m still letting you decide–we could go to the restaurant that has the best seafood. You once said you wanna try everything they possibly have. I’ve still got some fun things for us to do. If you’re interested in hearing them, I will tell you.”
“You’re annoying.” you grumble.
“One of my charms as well.”
“That’s one of Taehyung’s–actually I have a few people on my mind.”
“See? So I’m not that annoying after all.”
You bite your lip, watching him go back to his place.
“I’m scared we will fight again.”
Jungkook’s features soften. Crossing his arms over his chest, he gives you an apologetic smile. “We will do everything in our power not to. No pushing anyone else onto ourselves.”
“Noted.” you nod, embarrassingly from your past mistakes that are still not in the past.
“So what are you saying? We have a deal?”
You chuckle, “I think we should not make deals anymore. Look at us.”
“Freshly fucked, glowing from the incredible sex? I am looking and I’m loving it.”
Grabbing the used napkin scrunched into a ball, you throw it at his. He catches it, laughing. “So?”
“I will find a way to pay you back.”
He just smiles, refusing you to do so but he doesn’t say otherwise. You both know how this goes. Jungkook can be persistent but also very stubborn. And you hope the only fight that’s possibly waiting for you around the corner, is this. You want to pay him and him declining your every attempt.
“Now eat.” he ushers you, “Your cereal will get soggy and we know you don’t like it.”
“You know what I don’t like?”
“You will tell me all about it but I have to make a call–so now excuse me. Don’t miss me too much, I will be just in the other room. And don’t forget–pool or a walk. Whatever you pick. We have a little bit more time.”
He cheerfully walks away while saying it, waving at you from behind as you watch him with the biggest smile. Laughing under your breath, you start eating. Your mouth turns downwards at the sogginess of your breakfast, but you dig into it right away.
Jungkook has managed to successfully extend your stay. You’re yet to inform your friends about it, knowing they’ll ask unnecessary questions. Jimin is supposed to pick you up, so you’ll have to let him know eventually and soon enough.
The morning had to be the best morning you’ve experienced in a while. Just the thought of it makes your cheeks warm. There’s a lingering wooden scent of Jungkook lingering on your skin, even after the shower you’ve taken. Must be your hair that you haven’t bothered to wash.
It’s like he imprints himself in your skin every time something like this happens.
And here’s that word. Every time.
You’ve tried so much to put a pause on this, too afraid to lose the remains of friendship the two of you have. Is this a real friendship? Jungkook is still the same man you’ve known for years now. But the memories and paths you’ve both taken are completely different.
No. No. No. No.
Don’t overthink it. Don’t name it.
Just live in the present and you will deal with it later.
After the late breakfast, you’ve taken a walk along the beach. Bare feet and tangled hair with the breeze cooling down your warm skin. You’ve talked about a bunch of random things.
You like that.
You’ve missed that.
You just roamed around the Island, its street and it made you feel light. You’ve bounced right back where you were, pushing all the stupid arguments you’ve managed to have here in the back of your head. That goes for all of you.
Yet it doesn’t feel staged or you’re trying to get better purposely. It feels natural. Like everything has been sort of wiped away by the gentle touch and kisses you’ve shared.
Jungkook has made a plan to take you to dinner. You’ve gushed about wanting to try more seafood even before you’ve boarded the plane. He remembered.
His thoughtfulness and kindness makes you want to rip your hair off for your past intentions. It was a bad decision that was supposed to be a good one.
Putting down the compact mirror you’ve brought outside to do your make-up, you wipe off the remains of your red lipstick on your point finger. You like to dab it in to make it look more blended out.
Glancing back through the open slide door, you find Jungkook laughing at his phone. His features crinkle in an unguarded and sincere way you’ve grown so used to.
Is it something he’s watching?
And then you hear a faint voice of his, inaudible for you to hear what he's saying and for a quick moment, you think of someone who has made him laugh. That thought of her alone makes your stomach squeeze and hundreds of thoughts start to race in your mind.
Shutting them down, you grab your make-up bag and toss the mirror inside it.
“Right–thanks. Bye!” Jungkook waves at the phone and before you can make out who it was, the call’s over.
And then there are those thoughts again. Before you let them in once again, you simply just ask.
“Who was it?”
Jungkook looks up, noticing your presence and he’s quite out of words. He stares, eyes dancing across your face before they take your entire figure in – slowly and deliberately, like he’s seeing you for the first time after a long absence.
His mouth parts slightly, as if to say your name, but no sound comes out. He just watches you, and for a second, the background noise of waves fades into silence.
“You look–” he stops, “Wow.”
A rush of heat blooms the apple of your cheeks and your gaze falls down your figure. “It’s–nothing.”
Both of you know that’s a lie.
You’ve opted for a tight dress with a little gathering around the waist. It has a creme yellowish color, great for Hawaii vibes.
Jungkook shakes himself out of daze to stand up. Tossing the phone back on the couch like it’s the least interesting thing on the planet, like he hasn’t had his eyes glued to it just a minute ago.
He comes closer and your stomach clenches, knowing that whenever he’s this close you’re a fucking mess.
“I’m starting to get scared every time you get close.” It’s supposed to come out as a joke, a faint chuckle leaving your lips but it sounds nothing like it. It’s a confession said in a light almost scandalized tone.
“Why?” he chuckles, “Am I that irresistible?”
That cracks a laugh on your lips, gently nudging his chest. But he catches you by your wrist, leaving them against his chest as you feel his heartbeat underneath the layer of cotton. It’s rhythmic, calm and nothing like yours.
“You’re unbelievable.”
He smiles, eyes not leaving yours.
“It’s just–you’re dangerous.”
Every time he is close or touches you ever so gently, you crumble. You yearn for his touch, proximity and warmth. He brings you comfort. Disguised as a forgery of silent hopes, pretending it’s just something you’re used to.
And the look he’s got in his eyes, you’re aware he knows exactly what you mean. He is dangerous. The two of you together are dangerous.
“You look beautiful.”
You fight it, but the smile stretches on your lips and you have to look sideways, to laugh it off. Amusement spreads across his face and own lips, as he waits for you to look back at him.
“I rarely see you getting shy.”
“Shut up.” you silence him, this time properly nudging him to play it off cool. He laughs and lets you.
“What kind of compliments have you heard these past few days?” he jokes, causing you to frown at him. “You’re acting as if you never heard one compliment in your life.”
“Yah!” you scold him, trying to fight back a smile. It’s just his face and the fact he’s absolutely having the time of his life to make fun of you. His eyes scrunch at the ends, smile wide and nose scrunched as he laughs.
“I’ve heard lots of compliments.”
“Why are you acting like you haven’t then?”
And you know the answer to that immediately. It’s not what the person says. It’s who the person is.
“Because they never made me feel like this.”
The confession takes him by surprise, but soon enough is replaced by the smug smile.
“Oh, don’t look so smug!”
“I knew it.” he says triumphally.
“Knew what?”
“You just didn’t vibe with him.”
“Yeah, yeah.” you wave him off, brushing past him to avoid any further mention of Gabriel.
He’s a nice guy and surely, you’ve appreciated his compliments. It’s just that they never quite landed the way they were meant to. Or maybe your mind and everything else is tainted by Jungkook.
“Are you going in a t-shirt?” You change the subject, noticing his choice of clothing he’s had since you came back. Home clothes.
He glances down, eyebrows drawn in a mix of horror and amusement at the ridiculous thought of showing up to dinner wearing this.
“No. I called the guys, and told them about us staying a little longer.”
Your ears perk up at that, “What did they say?”
“You mean were they questioning the sudden change? Of course. Just told them we weren’t able to see everything we wanted.”
“Wasn’t Taehyung–I don’t know–suspicious?”
“He was teasing as usual. Why?”
You shrug, scratching your forearm in a subtle way. “I sort of told him we were–having a hard time?” you sheepishly admit, “I just told him that I made a mistake.”
Jungkook tilts his head to the side, visibly sensing your sheepishness and uncertainty stirred by the details you shared with Taehyung.
“And we’re past it, yeah?” he assures you, smiling in the process.
Nodding in confirmation, he puts a gentle hand over your shoulder, squeezing it. “Then don’t worry about it.”
“What I meant to say before, is that no, I am not wearing this.” he laughs, “We got caught up in a talk. Jimin is at Taehyung’s right now, you know how it is with them. Especially when Taehyung starts talking.”
You laugh, “Yeah. Go change or we’re gonna be late!”
“Yes, ma’m.” he salutes.
Laughing in disbelief, you watch him disappear behind the bedroom’s door. In the meantime, you prepare your heels for the night and browse through your phone. Jungkook finishes getting ready in a few minutes, clasping his watch on his wrist as he joins you in the main room.
It amazes you how men are able to get ready quickly. You’re not someone who takes an eternity to get ready, but men are on a quick mission here.
He looks effortlessly amazing—he even managed to slick some gel into his hair to sweep it off his forehead. He’s dressed in a crisp, lightweight linen shirt—its creme white fabric contrasts with his tanned complexion. The top buttons of his shirt are casually undone, revealing more of his skin.
He catches your gaze, raising a curious brow.
Before he can ask, a smirk decorates your lips as your voice is intertwined with amused romance. “You look beautiful.”
He catches onto the joke, you repeating his previous words and the conversation he teased you so much about. He scrunches his nose, yet a playful smile warms up his face as he shakes his head at you.
“What? Too girly?” you tease.
“I’m not sure if any man wants to be called beautiful.”
“How would you want to be called?”
“Try more masculine compliments.”
“Such as? Handsome?”
He laughs, “Yeah, that could work.”
“Or–fucking hot?”
His eyes light up, clearly savoring that one more for sure.
“Irresistably hot?”
“Keep them coming and we won’t make it to dinner.”
You almost choke up, giggling as he reaches for the leather loafers. They’re black, sleek but breathable for the warm evening.
“Is this how much it takes to wind you up?”
“No. It’s those eyes you’re giving me.”
What eyes, you want to ask. However that would be pointless, because you both know exactly what eyes he means. Even though you thought you were being more subtle about it, it turns out he reads you effortlessly and despite so much happening in the past few days, everything seems to be just the same.
“What. We are coming here?” Despair laced in your voice, you screech in horror once you spot the familiar place you’ve visited just yesterday.
You fidget with the car’s door handle nervously, not really convinced to eat here out of all restaurants. Jungkook is faster than you, opening the car’s door for you like the true gentleman he was raised to be.
“Why here?” You can’t help but ask.
He remains calm, undoubtedly has heard you now and before. He shuts the door just as gently, your question hanging in the air for a moment. “I was meant to take you here before.”
“Oh,” Your eyes widen at the new information. “You were?”
He sighs, almost as if he’s not very pleased to share further details. “I reserved it for us.”
It brings bitter memories and you realize that’s why. The ‘us’ holds a meaning and your mind goes spiral, before you settle on a possibility that could be true.
“When?” you ask. It’s simply questioned but there’s an urgency that wants you to prove you’re right.
Even Jungkook looks at you with that look that says ‘You’ve figured it out’.
“Yesterday.”
The night he took Nara instead. That was for you? You were supposed to be at that table?
For a short while, your eyes close gently in disappointment of how everything has turned out to be worse. The night he planned for you in advance for you just to blow it. You both ended up going with different people.
“I’m sorry.”
“For what?” he chuckles gently.
“For how it turned out.”
His eyes soften, diving into that expression of despair and regret.
“Well, don’t be.” he says simply, causing you to mockingly chuckle.
If it was that easy.
It’s not like you blame yourself for everything. Both of you acted stupid and things escalated. You might’ve started it but you’re both to be held accountable.
“Besides, I reserved a table again to make better memories here.”
“Better memories?” you question with doubts laced in your voice. He gives you a questioning look, silently asking you to elaborate. “You didn’t seem as if you weren’t having fun the first time.”
He rolls his eyes. “It wasn’t going how it was meant to be.”
“And how was it meant to be?”
He clacks his tongue against his inner cheek as annoyance crosses over that handsome face. “We both know how. I’m not talking about Nara.”
Your heart jumps at that happily, mocking her pleasantly in your mind. God, you really can be awful sometimes!
“Wipe that smug look off your face.”
Gasping, you stutter over your words – ready to come up with a set of lies.
“Come on, we’re gonna be late.” He ushers you, effortlessly dismissing your weak attempt to prove him otherwise.
All you can do is to follow him in the tracks with a sour look on your face, mainly caused by a light embarrassment of him just knowing. He awaits for you at the entrance, motioning for you to go first as the front door is being held open by the doorman. At least there’s a different person that greets you.
The idea of them realizing you both came here with different people twice makes you sheepish but laugh at the same time.
As you enter the restaurant, you can’t shake off the feelings you’ve felt here. It’s like a bitter reminder of what happened that evening–both of you coming here with different people. And now that you know it was meant to be you and Jungkook all along, it lifts the weight of the bitterness.
This is Jungkook’s try and your chance to make this memorable. Because god, this restaurant deserves it. Their reviews say it all–it’s a shame your own experience started as it did. Not that the evening wasn’t nice–or Gabriel–but it simply just reminds you of your previous situation.
The host greets you with a warm smile and a fresh orchid pinned to his linen white shirt. Jungkook gives him his name which makes the host hum in confirmation as he checks the paper. Right away, you’re being guided down the porch as the familiar tables and scenery welcomes you.
The main dining area is lively and elegant, just as you remember it to be. The scent of plumeria and grilled seafood fills the air, and a live ukulele player strums gentle melodies that drift on the salty wind.
“Where are we going?” you whisper, hand grabbing Jungkook’s forearm for support as you’re being guided through a stone path, the turquoise ocean now dark as the moon shines bright.
“You will see.” he whispers back, copying your tone as you roll your eyes and admire the beauty around you.
As you follow the curved stone path, flanked by dancing torchlight and vibrant hibiscus, the lively hum fades, giving way to a hush meant for two.
You get a perfect sight of a private cabana, see a similar one in the distance, as your mouth drops. The cabana is open-air, you would guess it’s mostly designed for couples seeking intimacy. Each cabana is its own little world: standing on the beach and close to the ocean, with sheer white curtains that can be drawn for privacy or left open to the breeze.
A candle glows on the polished wooden table between two wicker chairs, while faint music hums quietly from somewhere just out of sight. Unlike the bustling main space, the private dining area feels hushed and timeless.
The hosts motions for the cabana, “This one’s for you. You have a special server that is available to you throughout your stay here.”
Speechless and out of breath, you squeeze Jungkook’s forearm as if you begged him to pinch you. Is this how it would feel like dating Jeon Jungkook on a daily basis?
As the host gives you a respectful nod and bids his goodbye, telling you to enjoy the dinner, a server approaches with graceful ease—barefoot on the soft wooden decking, his movements quiet and fluid, as if not to disturb the moment.
He wears a crisp, short-sleeved white shirt tucked neatly into tailored linen trousers, the fabric light and breathable in the coastal air. Similar to the ones they were at the main dining area.
A single orchid is tucked behind one ear, certainly a subtle nod to island tradition.
“Good evening,” he says, bowing his head slightly. “Welcome. May I offer you a glass of champagne to begin?”
“I never want to wake up.” you whisper, hearing Jungkook chuckling lightly.
“Champagne?”
“Mhm.” you squeak, dropping down onto the chair where a plush cushion softens your impact.
The server pours you a champagne, lightly dropping a strawberry into the glass. He pours it professionally and stands with a perfect posture.
“Take your time,” he says warmly. “I’ll be just nearby if you need anything—but I’ll give you your space to enjoy the evening.”
He offers you multi-course meals designed to be shared—chilled oysters on the half shell, fresh ahi poke with sesame and avocado, buttery seared scallops, grilled Kona lobster drizzled with a sauce you don’t remember the name of.
“Yes, thank you. That will be great.” Jungkook smiles, sitting down as he adjusts the sleeves of his shirt.
The server offers a small nod, then steps away quietly, leaving only the sound of waves and soft music in his place.
“What the–” you stop yourself, looking around to check where the server is. You spot his back as he silently walks away to bring you your food and undoubtedly, give you some privacy. “Fuck!”
Jungkook chuckles.
“What is this, Jungkook?”
He sits back, sucks in his bottom lip as he shrugs. “I wanted something more fancy and this is all they had.”
“This is some kind of place you propose to someone,” you whisper–yell, too shocked to even comprehend what you’re experiencing at the moment. “You’re not planning to propose, are you?”
Jungkook laughs, resting his hand against the clean table as he gently taps his fingers. “No. I am not proposing to you.”
“Good,” you hum, leaning back. He seems to be amused by your reaction, hiding a grin as he keeps watching your awe. “God, Jungkook.”
“You don’t like it?”
You look at him as if he was crazy. “This is straight out of some kind of movie–or something. I love it–but wow–I can’t believe you’ve pulled this off.”
“Good. One more minute and I would think you hate it here.”
You give him a nasty look, pursing your lips. “How much did you pay for this?”
He leans closer, resting his forearms on the table as he adds with a smile; “None of your business.”
Scoffing, you scratch the top of your ear. “Jungkook… this is one of the nicest things someone has done for me. And I’m not talking about the poshness of this. I just–I don’t think I would ever experience something like this.”
“I am sure you would.” Jungkook says and shrugs as if it’s nothing. You give him a good look at your raised brow.
“You know–this is very romantic…” you note, looking around as your gaze fixes at the lit candle in the end.
“They don’t really make special cabanas for two best friends who occasionally fuck.”
You start to choke on your saliva, met with Jungkook’s grin as you shake your head. Before you can say anything else, the server comes with a bit of help from someone else from the staff. It’s a woman, she greets you and helps to set up the plates as the fresh scent of sea food fills the air.
Your mouth salivates just from the smell of it. Instead, you reach for the champagne and thank both of them as they finish describing each dish briefly.
“Jeon Jungkook, I will kill you.”
Jungkook laughs, gulping down the champagne in one go. “Thanks would’ve been fine.”
You both dig into the dishes right away, Jungkook pouring a new champagne out of the iced bucket in the middle of it.
“To…”
“To us,” you toast, smiling at him. “May we always work it out, no matter how messy we can get.”
“Can’t disagree with that.” he chuckles, both of your glasses clinking as you both take a few gulps.
You both lean in, turning your attention back to the table as you continue to taste the dishes, savoring the mix of flavors while the sound of waves and your laughter blend softly into the night.
You could get used to this.
Waves rolling in slow and steady, better than any white noise could ever dream. The sun soaks into your skin, golden and lazy, sinking down to your bones. Naturally. Perhaps after a while, it would become boring and repetitive. The same sounds, the same slow rhythm of days.
But right now, in this very moment, you’re soaking it all in—every shimmer of sunlight and every breath of salt air.
You crack one eye open, squinting against the blaze of sunlight spilling over your face. The heat stings for a second before you lift a hand to shield your eyes, palm cutting through the glare. When your vision clears, the first thing you see is the pool.
Sunlight scatters across its surface, complimenting the turquoise color. It’s incredible how clean the pool looks. There’s no imperfection.
Its surface suddenly breaks with a low splash. Jungkook surfaces with an easy stroke and a breath of air. He stands on the pool stairs, slowly making his way up–too focused, wiping water off his face as he pushes his wet hair back.
Droplets stream down his shoulders, tracing the lines of his chest and abs before dripping onto the tiles. Your throat goes dry as you shamelessly watch the scene unfold in front of you. You stay stretched out on the lounge chair, head tilted just enough to keep the sun from getting in the way of your view.
A grin curves at the corner of his mouth as he reaches for a towel.
“I see you’re feeling better.”
Bastard. He’s enjoying this.
You reach for the glass of iced water beside you, taking a slow sip. Your throat thanks you instantly as the dryness fades away. You might’ve overdone it yesterday by bringing sushi to the beach house after dinner.
What? There was so much food that Jungkook practically laughed at you, teasing that you ate like a bird. Ridiculous — this was probably the biggest portion you’d ever taken. And the sushi looked far too good to leave untouched.
You’d heard that at posh restaurants, you’re not really supposed to ask for leftovers. Maybe being a little tipsy didn’t help, because you found yourself voicing the thought to Jungkook. He laughed and, shamelessly, asked them to pack it for you. Of course, they didn’t seem to have a problem with it.
You had no idea what came over you. Your stomach was so full you could have exploded—you kept burping and whining about eating too much. But after a couple of hours, as your stomach slowly started digesting, you couldn’t ignore the sushi set Jungkook had put in the fridge. So, in the middle of the night, you indulged a little.
Your gluttony came with consequences–your stomach ached, and you barely slept. The discomfort was worse during the night, but by the time you both woke up, you’d settled on staying at the beach house, choosing to enjoy the pool instead. Every twist and turn of your stomach reminded you of last night’s indulgence—hence the purely devoted choice of water.
Hence Jungkook’s comment.
Even though he sounds amused now, teasing you for out-eating yourself, he had looked genuinely concerned when he first saw your face scrunch up in discomfort.
“What makes you say that?” you mutter under your breath.
To be honest, you’re slightly embarrassed. Not that all you could think about yesterday was taking Jungkook’s clothes off—and him doing the same to you—you couldn’t wait to get back to the beach house, as shameless as that sounds. Instead, you ended up feeling awful, spending the entire night tossing and turning—not at all in the pleasurable way you had imagined.
Jungkook cocks an eyebrow at you, a knowing smirk hiding behind the beer can as he takes a sip. You watch, mesmerized, as his throat bobs with each gulp. Feeling suddenly too hot, you push yourself up from the chair—maybe a little too quickly, because your stomach protests with an odd flutter. Ignoring it, you dip your toes into the lukewarm water.
Going down the stairs, you get inside the pool–seeing how Jungkook has eyed you the entire time.
“Who’s staring now?” you muse.
“Who said anything about staring?”
You chuckle. So that’s how he wants to play.
He approaches the pool with a smirk, and your grin slowly fades as a flicker of suspicion crosses your mind.
“What are you doing?” you ask, barely finishing the words.
Before you can react further, Jungkook leaps into the pool, sending a splash that soaks your hair and face. He surfaces, met with the sight of your frowning face. It cracks slightly when you see his wide grin, and the corner of your mouth twitches.
“You wanna laugh! I see it!” he teases.
You laugh, shaking your head. “You’re like a kid sometimes!”
He shakes his head, sending droplets flying from his hair and splashing you in playful revenge.
“Seriously–hey–”
As the laughter dies down, Jungkook inches closer, his gaze fixed on your face as you wipe away the remnants of his splash. “How are you feeling?” he asks.
“Like I’ve been on a boat for a month.”
“That bad, huh?”
You shrug. “Better than last night, at least.”
Diving into the water, silence surrounds you for a few seconds—until you surface a little too close and bump into Jungkook’s chest.
“Oops,” you tease, though it’s genuinely an accident.
The way he looks at you sends goosebumps down your spine, despite the lukewarm water that’s probably better than most hotel pools. You catch his eyes flicker downward for just a moment, taking in the swell of your chest just peeking above the water.
He reaches, catching a droplet between your breasts, and you inhale sharply at the touch. Your heart races, pounding wildly in your chest as you anticipate his next move. It’s as if he’s weighing whether to continue—or maybe it’s not a question of desire, but of what he should do.
Not wanting him to change his mind—selfishly—you press your hand to his chest, letting your fingers trace over him. He hovers close, so near that leaning in to kiss him feels almost impossible.
He takes the bait—if that’s what it can be called—and wraps his hands around your waist, guiding you toward the side of the pool.
“I thought you were feeling sick.”
Smiling at that and you hum, “It’s not that bad.”
“You were lying in bed the entire time. You’ve only been out here for, like, an hour.”
And an hour it has been!
“So?”
“You don’t lay in bed for too long. You always find something to do.”
“Yeah, okay,” you dismiss him, wrapping your arms around his neck. He instinctively holds your hips for support as you curl your legs around his waist.
“That’s how I know you’ve not been feeling well.”
“My stomach is fine as long as I don’t make rushed moves.”
“Well that’s too bad then.”
You pout, “I didn’t mean it like–” you sigh, “We can take it slow.”
“Y/N!” he gasps scandalously. “Are you suggesting we have slow sex?”
You roll your eyes, ready to unwrap your arms around him as he holds you tighter. “Why are you holding me then?” you mutter, annoyed. Can he just be horny at this moment? Like any other man would be?
“Maybe I just want to be close to you,” he suggests with a grin, making you tug at the hair on the back of his head.
Ignoring how soft and tingly it feels, you whisper, “Liar.”
“Why do you think so?”
You press your bodies together, causing him to groan. “For one, because of this.”
A soft gasp escapes your lips as he hoists you up and has you seated on the edge of the pool. He spreads your legs apart, moving your bikini bottom aside as he touches your clit.
“Ah, fuck.” you gasp.
“God, you really are dirty,” he teases. “Not feeling well, and look at you.”
“I’m suddenly all healthy,” you reply.
He laughs, drawing you closer so your hips rest partly on the edge of the pool.
“Now lay back and enjoy.”
“Wh–”
One hand, fingers tucked under your bikini bottom and the other spreading your leg apart, he dives in and it’s only a second before you feel his mouth on you. In one swift motion, you’re laying on your back just as he told you to, ignoring your stomach and focusing on what's going on between your legs.
He eats you out, slowly and delicately, leaving you a mess who silently begs for more. You move your hips toward him, yearning for more. Your back arches and chest heaves–and you feel you’re almost there. He flickers his tongue against you and soon enough, you reach the end–breathless as your muscles relax.
He pulls your bikini bottom back into place and hoists himself out of the pool as you sit up. A strange, lingering sensation washes over you as the intensity fades.
“You okay?” he asks.
Jungkook helps you to your feet and guides you to the lounge chair, offering a glass of water—now just melted ice.
“I think you should eat something,” he says, nodding toward the back door as you head inside.
Jungkook prepares a bowl of fruit for you, just like the one you had for breakfast, while he makes himself a sandwich. You nibble on the fruit slowly.
A wave of queasiness hits you like a punch to the gut, your stomach twisting and churning violently. Your mouth goes dry, a bitter taste rising as your body threatens to betray you, and your head spins slightly as you clutch your stomach.
“What’s going on?”
Hand covering your mouth, you stumble toward the bathroom. You barely make it in time, sliding the toilet seat up as your stomach releases everything. The retching sounds are just a noise in the background as you can feel the vomit in your mouth and nose.
Jungkook’s bare feet slap against the tiles as he rushes to the bathroom, worry etched across his face. He bursts in just as you’re leaning over the toilet and letting it all out again. He wraps his hand around your hair and holds it back for you. With a hand on your back, he rubs it gently.
“It’s okay, let it all out.”
He continues to rub your back until you lift your head once you think it’s over–sitting back softly.
“Fuck,” you murmur.
“Let me just–” he says, his footsteps rushing as he hurries out.
The taste of vomit is overwhelming, bitter and sharp on your tongue, the smell filling your senses. You reach for the flush button and press it, the swirling water washing away the evidence as you take a shaky breath, trying to steady yourself.
Fuck. The smell and taste linger everywhere, the entire bathroom probably reeking of your vomit. You want to call out to Jungkook, to tell him not to come in—there’s no need for him to be here, in the middle of this mess.
Though, Jungkook comes back with a glass of water, holding it out to you. You rinse your mouth first, letting the water spill into the toilet before taking a small sip. When you hand the glass back, he sets it on the sink and watches you carefully as you settle onto the toilet lid.
Holding your forehead, you give it a slow rub.
“I’m going to the pharmacy to get something to help with the stomachache,” Jungkook says, concern tightening his features.
You were almost feeling fine. What the hell? Did the fruit irritate your stomach even more?
You press a hand to your stomach, frowning as the discomfort lingers. Then it hits you—slowly, unsettlingly.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck!
You were supposed to get your period days ago. Your stomach churns for another reason now, one that has nothing to do with the fruit. A wave of unease settles over you as your mind races through the possibilities.
No. No. No. It can’t be!
Jungkook notices something is off—the way your eyes widen, the sudden stillness in your movements. His brow furrows slightly as he steps closer, searching your face. He drops to his knees in front of you, trying to get a clear view of your face, his brow furrowed with concern that has never left.
“What?” he asks, his voice gentle but edged with concern. “What’s wrong?”
“I—” you gulp, squeezing your eyes shut, unable to get the words out. The possibility swirls in your mind, each thought twisting tighter as you replay every moment, every detail that could make it real.
One thing is painfully clear: you had sex. Your mind won’t settle, and you can’t think straight.
“My period—” you gulp again, “it’s late.”
Painfully and slowly, you glance to your right at Jungkook. He jerks slightly, almost as if you’d slapped him, the realization dawning. He slowly meets your eyes again.
“That’s… we only had—” he stammers, trying to make sense of it.
“We had sex, Jungkook. Multiple times—and not just here.”
“I… I didn’t—”
“We both know we had unprotected sex. Women can get pregnant even if—holy shit. Fuck.”
Jungkook runs a hand through his hair, his eyes wide as he tries to process the news—not that it’s definite, but the possibility hangs heavy between you. “Okay… okay,”
“We’re so fucking stupid, Jungkook! I can’t be pregnant!”
Panic surges through you, your stomach twisting violently as if you’re about to throw up at any second.
Jungkook, however, keeps a surprisingly cool head. He reaches out, placing a steadying hand on your shoulder.
“Okay… we don’t know anything for sure yet,” he says calmly. “I’ll go to the drugstore and get a pregnancy test, so we know for sure.”
“Right,” you reply, rushed. “Yeah, that’s a good idea. I’m coming with you.”
He eyes you uncertainly as you stand, concern flickering across his face. “Are you sure? You don’t want to lie down?”
“And think of all the possibilities? Hell no,” you say, shaking your head.
You quickly change your clothes and head to the nearest drugstore, trying desperately to keep your mind off all the possibilities. You can’t even begin to count how long it’s been since you had sex back at home, and the thought twists your stomach again.
Fuck. You’re so stupid. You were so careless. Why would you have unprotected sex?
Jungkook remains silent the entire time, only speaking as he gives you directions where to go. Both of you are dead silent.
As you get to the store, you rush to find the right section and once you do, you’re met with multiple choices. Never done this before–not imagining you would be doing it anytime soon either–you stare helplessly.
“How about this one?” Jungkook asks, holding up a box, looking just as clueless as you feel.
You take it from his hands, studying the packaging before handing it back with a straight look.
“It’s an ovulation test.”
“Oh,” he mutters, frowning at the other boxes.
You examine another box, reading the description carefully. “I think this one might be good.”
By the time you finish, Jungkook already has another box in his hands. You check it and give him a nod—he picked the right test. He takes two boxes along with the one you’re holding.
“Just in case,” he explains, and you nod.
“Let’s go, or else I’m gonna throw up.”
“Are you feeling sick again?” he asks as you both head down the aisle to the cashier.
“I don’t know if it’s actual nausea or just the thought…” you murmur, your stomach twisting again.
You reach the cashier as she scans the three boxes. Jungkook pulls out his wallet and pays–not even waiting for the receipt as you politely bid your goodbyes and rush back to the house.
Once you’re back in the bathroom, you breathe in and out as you pull the test from the box. Jungkook leans against the doorframe, silent, watching as you read the instructions. It shouldn’t be difficult—you just have to pee on the stick and wait—but you still read every line carefully. It’s your first time doing this, after all.
You tap your legs nervously, biting down your lower lip before finally sitting down on the toilet lid.
“Hey—” Jungkook’s voice is tight, cautious. You hum in response, eyes unfocused.
“Y/N—” he says again, softer this time.
He lowers himself to one knee in front of you, making sure you’re really looking at him.
“What’s wrong?” you ask softly, searching his doe eyes. He looks… tender.
“I just—” he starts, a quiet, almost nervous chuckle escaping him. “Whatever the result is… please—promise me you’ll talk to me.”
Your features soften, the worry in your chest unraveling as empathy floods in. Here he is—this tall, broad man—on his knee before you, with the most vulnerable look in his eyes.
“Promise me, you wouldn’t just–”
And for the first time in a long while, you’re a witness of the aftermath of his trauma. There’s fear, memories and feelings that are brought back. It’s not that he doesn’t trust you. He just needs your affirmation.
“Of course, Kook.” you assure him softly.
He nods, slowly backing away to give you some privacy. You share one last time as he gently closes the bathroom door. You take a deep breath and lower your gaze, staring at the instructions one last time before you put it away and take the stick.
When it’s done–all three of them–you set the tests carefully on the counter as you wash your hands. Opening the bathroom door, Jungkook paces nearby as he turns around as soon as he hears you.
“We have to wait two minutes.”
He steps closer, nodding, his eyes scanning your face as if making sure you’re okay. It takes one look at you to see your distress. Well how vacation got another turn.
You sit on the toilet lid as Jungkook leans against the bathroom sink and crosses his arms.
“Kook–I don’t know what I am going to do if–”
“Hey–we’ll figure it out okay?”
“No, no–there can’t be nothing to figure out. I can’t be pregnant.”
“Y/N–”
“I’m not ready! I can’t be pregnant–that’s just absurd–we’re absurd–”
“Hey, hey–” Jungkook steps closer and cups your face. That causes you to pause as you stare at him. “We will figure out everything–like we always do. Let’s just wait for the result, yeah?”
“Yeah,” you whisper, “Let’s do that.”
Time feels oddly slow, as if it’s dragging purposely to torment you with the anticipation and fear of seeing the results. Both of you are lost in your own thoughts, minds separate and just hearing the awful silence before Jungkook’s timer goes off. You’re so out of it that you haven’t even noticed he has set one.
“We’re gonna both look at the same time, okay?” you say softly.
“Yeah, okay. Two lines mean pregnant, right?”
“That’s right.” Cautiously, you approach the counter where the sticks rest and before taking a big breath, you both face the sink and take a look.
You both take each test in your hands to scan it closely. Then your eyes land on yours—and relief floods through you.
Negative. Not pregnant.
“Fuck! Thank God!” you almost yell, tossing the sink into the sink as Jungkook does the same and sighs in relief. Rubbing his face, you both check the third just to make sure and once that comes out negative as well–you finally relax.
“Fuck.” he sighs in relief, relaxes his shoulders.
You toss the tests into the bin, you make your way out of the bathroom–as you sit on the bed.
“Why am I so sick then?” you whine, rubbing your stomach.
“It seems like you just irritated your stomach with all the food. I don’t think it’s food poisoning, or else you would’ve vomited shortly after the dinner and not the next day.”
Great. Well, it’s probably better than being pregnant.
However, there’s this odd feeling lingering in the pit of your stomach. A huge relief has washed over you, yes, but there’s that fear of it happening again. This situation just awoke a realization you’ve known based on basic facts of how biology and sex works, but after experiencing it on your own–you know you don’t want to go through this again.
The risk is too big. And as long as you and Jungkook will keep doing this–it’s not safe. It’s not right.
“I will go to the pharmacy and get you something for it.”
Jungkook pauses, watching as you step closer.
“Jungkook–”
“Hm?”
You stand, rubbing your stomach. “We got carried away,”
Jungkook stands, watching as you get closer.
“It keeps happening again and again.”
He doesn’t need clarification. Acknowledgement is written all over his face and it doesn’t take too much to realize where this is heading.
“I know,” he says.
You meet his eyes. “Can we even be friends?”
Jungkook’s features soften. “Y/N…”
“We keep falling into this—on and off. No matter what we say, what we promise—we always end up in bed together. Are we even friends anymore?”
“Of course we are.”
“Jungkook friends just don’t fuck on and off all the time. Ever since we started–we can barely keep hands to each other. We can’t control ourselves, no matter how many times we tell ourselves that we can. We just can’t.”
He doesn’t argue, knowing everything you’re saying is right.
“What would happen if the next test comes out positive?”
He has no answer for that.
“We are caught up in this–whatever this is–and we never even thought about what the consequences could be. This is a dangerous game we’re playing.”
The situation with Kiko was different—she was his girlfriend. When something like this happened to them, it made more sense because they were in a relationship. Stuff like that happens and makes more sense. But this?
You and Jungkook are not in a relationship.
You’re two best friends who got too close and got caught up in lust and attraction.
“I’m not putting any blame on you, please, don’t think I do.”
“I am not, Y/N. I don’t feel like you’re doing that.”
You smile sadly at him, “Kook. We can’t do this anymore. And I mean it this time.”
He smiles too, cupping your face as you close your eyes, wrapping your fingers around his wrist, letting them trace his skin softly as he caresses your cheek.
“Kook…”
All of this makes sense. All of this needs to end. And you have to go back to being just best friends. Without any physical contact that might indicate something more. Things might not be the same–how could they? But you can slowly erase all of this and just go back to the friends you once knew. It will probably be the hardest task you will have to do and no one knows how it will end up. If it’s even possible.
And that scares you.
Because your most treasured friendship is at stake—and that thought terrifies you more than anything.
So why does it feel like a part of you is being ripped away?
“I can’t lose you, Kook.” you whisper.
“You won’t lose me,” he says softly, almost smiling—as if the idea itself is impossible.
“What if we can’t go back to being just friends? No sex. No intimacy.”
He hesitates. “I don’t know.”
“Don’t say that,” you plead, your voice cracking, eyes stinging. Jungkook steps closer and presses a soft kiss to your forehead. You grab his wrist, holding on like he might slip away if you don’t.
“We’ll work it out,” he murmurs, stepping back but keeping his eyes on you. A small smile tugs at his lips. “We always do.”
“I hope so.”
“I’ll get you some meds, okay?” he assures you. “And I’ll take the couch from now on. You just lay down and rest.”
You want to argue. The words are on the tip of your tongue, ready to tell him it’s fine—you can share the bed. But you stop yourself. Jungkook notices; it’s evident, and you practically freeze before slowly retracing your steps.
“Thank you,” you whisper softly, almost afraid he won’t hear.
But the reassuring smile he gives proves otherwise.
As soon as Jungkook is out of the house, being the best friend you could’ve ever asked for, you sink down on the bed.
You feel empty. Even though your mind knows you’ve made the most rational decision—both of you have—tears start to stream down your face. Maybe it’s nostalgia? Or maybe it’s the ache of wanting Jungkook close so badly you can’t imagine not having him there.
No. You can do this.
It will take time—perhaps a lot of it—to get back to where you were. But you’ll do everything in your power to make sure you give it your best effort.
a/n: It’s finally here! Can you believe it? Because I can’t 😭 This year went by so fast – it honestly feels like only a couple of months have passed. I wanted to take this a/n to just talk for a bit, hope you don’t mind. If you stick around to read, thank you so much! Some of you might not know, but I started uni while also working every weekday. A lot has been happening, and it’s been busy. Like, really busy. Finding time to just relax or write has been hard, which is why updates have taken longer. It’s never on purpose, I promise – I just hope you can understand how chaotic adult life can get sometimes 😅 On top of that, my laptop has been acting up lately – glitching, running out of space, the whole deal – so working on my stories hasn’t been the easiest. So yeah, it hasn’t made things any easier 😭 But I’ve been managing, and I still really want to keep writing whenever I can because I love doing it.
I’ve even been offered a few part-time jobs, but I turned them down since I know it’d leave me with zero time (and energy) to write. These stories mean a lot to me – they’re like my little online babies – and I always want to give them the time and love they deserve.
This update and chapter is dedicated to everyone who’s been dedicated, supportive and extremely kind to me. Coming online always reminds me how rare these qualities are in people, and I’m genuinely grateful for every one of you. MH is a crazy journey and it’s coming to an end. I hope you enjoyed this chapter, it’s a year of hard work haha and I’m very happy how it turned out. Don’t kill me what happens in this one ahahah – you know I love realistic stuff and I’m a sucker for angst <33 All the love!!
If you’ve enjoyed this chapter, please consider buying me a coffee☕️: https://ko-fi.com/personasintro ♡
Summary: What begins as a simple favor for your best friend Namjoon soon pulls you into the rhythms of Yoongi’s life—afternoons spent caring for his son, late nights filled with candid conversations, and a connection neither of you thought you needed. You’re just fresh out of a long-term relationship with an ex who didn’t want a family with you, so did you really just stumble into a life you’ve always dreamed of? (Thank god Namjoon isn’t the only one who’s clumsy.)
Alternatively: It’s 2025 and BTS is prepping for their comeback. All members seem to have gained muscle weight from their time at camp. But Min Yoongi has gained a different kind of weight—an 8-pound baby and a fuck-load of responsibility. (Thank god you’re there to help him.)
Genre: Fluff, Angst, Smut, idol!au, Acquaintances to Lovers, Reader is Namjoon’s bestie
Warnings: Yoongi is a DILF (!!!) That’s it.
Chapter warnings: GRAB YOUR TISSUES!, this bitch is a whole ass kdrama episode and it’s gonna hurt before it gets better, happy ending tho!, themes of self-loathing, anxiety, and depression (MC), severe postpartum depression (not MC), it’s monsoon season and namgi don’t like umbrellas, (____) in the rain cliche scene, NAMTIDDIES because I can’t help myself, lastly… watch me morph this into another workplace romance/co-workers to lovers story lmao (real)
Word count: ~7k
Posting date: November 21, 2024
Notes: This is inspired by an ask/prompt sent by @yoongznme.
I am a clown 🤡 and a liar 🤥 From pretending this is a two-shot, then a three-shot. It has become a chaptered series, atp. There is a part 4 in the works and I fully intend to end it there, but again, I may have just jinxed myself. Anyway! Enjoy, my lovelies~ 💕
Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Masterlist
“She’s Haneul’s mom.”
The words hit you like a punch to the gut.
“What?”
“Sung Kyung and Yoongi… they’ve been good friends for years,” Namjoon explains quickly, his tone almost apologetic. “I didn’t think they were dating. But yeah, she’s his mom. She left for months and when she came back, she'd already given birth.”
You feel like the ground has been ripped out from under you. What Namjoon said made no sense. You clutch the edge of the counter, your mind racing. “What do you mean she left…?” You have never been more confused in your entire life.
Namjoon sighs. “I don’t know all the details. You know hyung, he tells you what he thinks you need to know. The rest, he keeps to himself. But I do know they did the paternity tests and everything, and Haneul’s his, theirs.”
Theirs. It’s easier if Namjoon just slices your heart open at this rate.
He places a tentative hand on your shoulder. “It’s better to hear it straight from Yoongi-hyung, since you guys are, you know.”
“I– I don’t know. I don’t know what we are,” you say, leaning your weight sideways against the wall to steady yourself.
Get a grip. It’s Haneul’s day.
Namjoon stands to shield you from the rest, in case anybody chances to look your way. You probably look like you’re about to puke. You definitely feel like it.
“Joonie…” Your voice is small when you ask, “Do you think she wants to come back now?”
Namjoon lifts his shoulder, lets it sag, “I don’t know. Maybe. She wouldn’t be here otherwise.”
Your chest tightens, a wave of insecurity crashing over you. Of course, she would want to come back now. She’s beautiful, successful, everything you’re not. And most importantly, she’s Haneul’s mother. That’s the kicker. How can you compete with that?
Spoiler alert: you can’t.
When you step back into the living room, the first thing you notice is Yoongi’s mom. She’s standing off to the side, her lips pressed into a thin line as she glares at Sung Kyung from across the room with a mixture of disapproval and barely-contained irritation.
“She shouldn’t be here,” she says quietly, her voice cold and clipped.
“Eomma,” Yoongi grits.
“She abandoned Haneul, Yoongi,” his mom hisses, her tone sharper now. “And she thinks she can just come here like nothing happened?”
Yoongi sighs, his hand briefly brushing his mother’s arm in a silent plea for calm. “Not here, eomma. Please. It’s Haneul’s birthday. Don’t make a scene.”
Of course he is siding with her.
You’re unable to tear your eyes away from Sung Kyung. How can she look so beautiful even if she looks miserable? She exchanges a few more quiet words with Yoongi near the door, her expression alternating between frustration and what looks like regret. You can’t hear what they’re saying, but you catch the way Yoongi’s shoulders stiffen, the way his jaw tightens as she reaches out to brush his arm. You see Yoongi nod, and you’re so curious, what is he agreeing to?
Finally, after what feels like an eternity, she leaves. The door is closed, but for sure this chapter isn’t. Not even close.
You entertain yourself by watching some of the BTS members play some video games. Their antics, as funny as they are, don’t really register. Your laughs are hollow, mind totally elsewhere. It’s a while before Yoongi finally finds you, after he disappeared to his studio after Sung Kyung left and went MIA for half an hour or so.
He corners you near the snack table as you pretend to be engrossed in arranging leftover cupcakes.
“Hey,” he says softly, touching your arm lightly.
You turn to face him, your smile brittle. “Hey. How’s everything going?”
“Can we talk?”
You nod, following him toward the hallway, away from the laughter and chatter. The noise completely fades as you enter his soundproof studio and he turns to face you.
He exhales deeply, running a hand through his hair. “I wanted to talk to you,” he says carefully, like he’s choosing every word with precision.
“About Sung Kyung.” you offer. He nods, shoulders visibly tense. “Yeah. And Haneul.”
The mention of Haneul makes your chest tighten, but you steady yourself, waiting for him to continue.
“She and I… we were close for a long time,” he begins, his gaze dropping to the floor. “And yeah, there was a point where I thought it was going somewhere. But then she just… disappeared.”
“Disappeared?”
“She left Korea. No warning, no explanation. Just… ghosted.” He shrugs. “I didn’t know where she went or why. She didn’t contact me for months.”
“And then one day,” he continues, “she called. Told me she just gave birth to a son. That it was mine.”
The words hang between you, heavy and jarring. You don’t say anything, letting him get it all out.
“She didn’t tell me she was pregnant,” he says, shaking his head as if he still can’t believe it. “I literally only found out after he was born.”
You feel a pang of sympathy, but then you’re also feeling angry at Sung Kyung. “Why did she wait so long to tell you?”
“She said she didn’t want to burden me. I was already doing my military service and I had that thing… that case. She thought she could handle it on her own.” He looks up at you then, his eyes dark and conflicted. “But after she had him… she couldn’t. She fell into really severe postpartum depression and some other health issues, basically telling me she was diagnosed unfit to take care of him.”
Your throat tightens, and you clasp your hands together to keep them from shaking. “So you stepped in.”
He nods, “I didn’t have a choice. Haneul needed someone, and I couldn’t—I wouldn’t turn my back on him. He’s my son. It was confirmed by a paternity test.”
“And now she’s back,” you say, more a statement than a question.
“Yeah,” he says quietly, dragging a hand down his face. “She says she’s better. That she wants to be in his life now. That she can be. And honestly… I don’t know what to do.”
You study him for a moment, your emotions warring between compassion and your own sense of inadequacy. “What do you want, Yoongi? Not for her, not for Haneul. What do you want?”
“I don’t know,” he admits, gnawing his lip before he says, “I just… I want to do what’s right for Haneul.”
The words cut deeper than you expected, but you force a small smile, nodding as if they don’t sting. “That makes sense.”
Yoongi takes a step closer as he studies your face. “But what about you?” he asks, his voice almost too gentle. “How are you feeling about all this?”
The sincerity in his question takes you off guard, and for a moment, you’re tempted to tell him everything. The ache in your chest, the jealousy you hate admitting to, the fear of losing whatever connection the two of you have built. But instead, you plaster on a smile, shoving all those emotions into a corner of your mind.
“I’m fine,” you say lightly. “It’s Haneul’s birthday. That’s what matters.”
Yoongi doesn’t look convinced, his gaze lingering on you as if he’s trying to read the truth in your expression. But after a moment, he nods, letting it drop. “Okay.”
Finally, you glance at the door, forcing yourself to straighten up. “We should probably get back to the party.”
“Yeah,” Yoongi says, stepping aside to let you pass. But as you reach for the door, his voice stops you.
“Thank you,” he says quietly.
You turn back, your brows furrowing. “For what?”
“For everything,” he says, his eyes filled with something you can’t quite name.
You don’t know how to respond, so you just nod. Because his words—why did it feel like a goodbye?
The rest of the party passes in a blur. You keep smiling, keep laughing, keep pretending everything is fine. You stand by as Yoongi helps Haneul blow out his single candle, snapping pictures of his chubby hands smashing into the frosting.
You’re wiping stray frosting from Haneul’s cheek when you glance at him and for a split second, you see her. Sung Kyung’s face is right there, faint but unmistakable, in the shape of his eyes and the curve of his brows.
The realization hits you like a freight train. You freeze, the cloth clutched in your hand, staring at this beautiful baby boy who isn’t yours. Who will never be yours.
It’s too much. You set the muslin down, excusing yourself to the kitchen with a muttered, “I’ll grab more drinks.”
You don’t even make it to the fridge. You stand there by the counter, gripping its edge as you force yourself to breathe, to keep the tears at bay. You’ve never felt more out of place in your life.
Namjoon finds you a few moments later, leaning against the doorway with a quiet, watchful look. He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t ask if you’re okay. He just stays there, close but not too close, his presence steady and silent. You appreciate him for that—for knowing exactly what you need when you’re unraveling. He’s your best friend after all.
But even his quiet support isn’t enough to keep the emotions at bay.
Across the room, Yoongi’s eomma catches your eye. There’s something pitying in the glances she throws your way, a faint furrow of her brow that makes you want to sink into the floor. You had the feeling she knows there’s something between you and Yoongi, but now… now it feels like she’s seeing through you, like she knows exactly how small you’re starting to feel.
Because the truth is, you’re nothing.
You’re not Haneul’s mom. You’re not Yoongi’s girlfriend. You’re just someone who helps out when it’s convenient, and now that they have a nanny, you’re not even that. And it hurts. God, it hurts because you thought—maybe foolishly, maybe selfishly—that you were becoming something more. That you were becoming someone to them. That, maybe, you were becoming a family.
But now, as you stand there watching Yoongi carry Haneul to his room, barely sparing you a glance, the truth sinks in like a stone in your chest. You’re not someone. You’re a placeholder. A stand-in.
And pretty soon, just like Jiyong, they’re going to discard you. Because that’s what always happens. You’re always easy to leave behind. Always replaceable. Always useless.
The thought claws at you, and you suddenly can’t breathe. You grab your things and run. The cool night air stings your skin, but it’s nothing compared to the ache in your chest.
The tears come before you can stop them, hot and angry and full of every ounce of self-loathing you’ve tried to bury.
You glance back at the building. Maybe for the last time. You’re on the outside now—of course you are. You’ve been on the outside this entire time.
Namjoon must have noticed you were gone because he texted shortly after:
Namjoon: You okay?
Namjoon: Don’t worry, I told them you weren’t feeling well. Go home and rest. Text me when you’re there.
That night, you ignored Yoongi’s call. You stared at the screen as his name lit up, your finger hovering over the answer button before you let it ring out. He left a voicemail. You deleted it without listening.
The next morning, you wake up to another call from him. This time, he doesn’t leave a voicemail. Instead, he sends a message.
Yoongi: Can I come over?
You stare at the text for a long time, your stomach twisting with guilt and anger and sadness. Finally, you type out a single word:
You: No
You throw your phone face-down on the couch, ignoring the way it buzzes again and again and again.
For the next few days, you ghost him.
It wasn’t easy. Every time your phone buzzes, you feel a pang of guilt, a deep ache that gnaws at your resolve. But you can’t bring yourself to answer. You need time. You need to figure out where you stood in all of this.
His messages come sporadically at first:
Yoongi: Hey, can we talk?
Yoongi: I don’t know what I did wrong, but I want to fix it.
Yoongi: Please. Just let me know you’re okay.
You delete most of them without reading too much into them. But then he starts sending pictures.
The first was of Haneul, grinning in his chair, wearing the capybara slippers you’d gifted him for his birthday.
Yoongi: Haneul misses you
The next day, another photo. This time, Haneul was lying on his playmat, still wearing the slippers, holding onto Bora.
Yoongi: Still missing you
Each message chips away at your resolve, but the one that breaks you comes Thursday evening:
A short video clip. In it, Haneul is sitting on the floor, babbling as he clutches Bora. And then, clear as day, he says it:
“Sa-ra.”
Your heart twists painfully. It’s clipped, but it’s unmistakably sarang. Your term of endearment for him, the nickname you’d called him since he started smiling every time he heard it. He’d never been able to say it back—not until now.
And Yoongi knows exactly what he is doing, sending this to you.
You stare at the screen for what feels like an eternity, leaving the video on loop, before finally opening your call log. His name was right at the top, of course. You hit the call button, your hands trembling as you bring the phone to your ear.
“Hello?” Yoongi’s voice comes through almost immediately.
You exhale shakily. “Hi.”
There was a pause. Then he speaks again, and you can hear his vulnerability. “I didn’t think you’d call back.”
You close your eyes, trying to steady yourself. “How could I ignore that video? Haneul… he said sarang.”
“Yeah, he’s been saying it non-stop since yesterday.”
You swallowed hard, gripping the phone tighter. “Yoongi… about… us.”
“Mmh?” He didn’t interrupt, didn’t rush you. He just waited.
“I’ve been thinking,” you began. “Haneul deserves to have a complete family. He deserves to know his mom, to have her in his life. If—if that’s what you both want.”
Yoongi was quiet for a long moment before he finally responded. “But… he needs you, too.”
Before you can back out, “Yoongi, I need space,” you say finally, your voice trembling.
There was a pause, and when he spoke again, his voice was quiet. “Okay.”
It wasn’t a protest. It wasn’t an argument. Just… okay. It’s the most ‘Yoongi’ reaction to things, and you hate it. You hate it so much.
You hang up, staring at the screen until it goes dark. Your chest felt heavy, your heart splintering in ways you didn’t know it could.
You’d told him you needed space and he said okay. The truth is, when you said space, you just wanted him to make room for you. To assure you that you belong with them. That there is a seat, warm and yours. But he didn’t.
You miss Yoongi so much it feels like a physical ache. But it’s not just him. You miss Haneul’s face, his giggles, his sleepy weight in your arms.
Namjoon has been doing his best to check in. He sends you UberEats nearly every other day, a steady stream of meals you barely touch. The one time he came over, unannounced, he walked into what could only be described as a disaster.
“Jesus Christ,” Namjoon muttered, kicking a stray box out of his way as he entered your apartment. The laundry basket was overflowing, your trash can piled up. You were in a 2-day old shirt, hair a rat’s nest, and you’re slouched on the couch with an empty brain.
Namjoon stared at you, his disappointment radiating off him. “Y/N, you can’t keep doing this to yourself.”
“I’m fine,” you lied, barely looking at him.
He scoffed. “Fine? You look like you’ve been run over by a truck. Twice.”
“So dramatic.” You rolled your eyes, but the truth of his words stung.
Namjoon crouched in front of you, placing his hands on your knees. “Move in with me for now. You know I have the space. You can’t stay here like this. It’s not healthy.”
“I’m not moving in with you, Joon,” you said, shaking your head. “I’m not your charity case.”
He sighed, rubbing his temples. “You’re not a charity case. You’re my best friend. And I’m not gonna sit back and watch you drown in your own misery.”
“I’m not gonna live in your and Soyeon’s sex den,” you snapped unnecessarily.
Namjoon just looked at you, shook his head, before he flopped beside you on the couch. He fed you, forced you to go take a shower, and watched some shitty reality show with you. He eventually left, though you could feel the weight of his disappointment long after the door shut behind him. If he only knew how thankful you were of those visits.
A week later, you find yourself standing in front of Yoongi’s apartment. You didn’t plan this. You don’t even know what you’re hoping to achieve by being here. All you know is that the ache of missing them—missing him—has become unbearable.
You knock on the door before you can second-guess yourself.
Mrs. Kwon opens it, her expression immediately uneasy. “Y/N,” she says, her tone cautious. “You should come back another time.”
“Why?” you ask, your voice sharper than you intended.
She hesitates, her lips pressing into a thin line. “It’s just… not a good time.”
“I need to see them,” you insist, stepping forward.
“My dear girl, please listen—”
But you’re already past her, your determination overriding her warnings.
When you step into the living room–
Fuck.
There she is. Sung Kyung, sitting on the floor with Haneul in her lap, holding a plush toy you don’t recognize. She’s smiling at him, her voice soft as she tries to coax him into playing with it. Adding salt to the wound–Bora, the capybara plush you gave Haneul, is discarded carelessly in the corner near the diaper pail.
Your heart stops, and before you can control yourself, you take a step back, your movement catching Sung Kyung’s attention. She looks up, confused. She doesn’t know you, why would she?
Yoongi’s voice comes from behind you, and you turn to see him emerging from his studio, his brows furrowed in confusion. “Who rang the—”
His eyes widen when he sees you, but you’re already moving, your feet carrying you toward the door in a blind rush.
“Wait—Y/N!”
You barely hear him as you bend down and snatch Bora from the floor. Haneul’s voice suddenly cuts through the air, his tiny, excited voice calling out, “Sa-ra! Sa-ra!”
Tears blur your vision as you wrench the door open and run, Yoongi’s voice calling after you, but you don’t stop.
It’s raining when you step outside. Great, because this day couldn’t get any worse. The cold droplets soak through your clothes almost instantly. You don’t have an umbrella, but you don’t give a shit. Tears stream down your face mixing with the rain.
You don’t know how far you get before you feel it—a warmth against your back, arms wrapping around you tightly.
Yoongi’s voice cracks as he says your name, his rain-soaked body like a furnace against your shivering frame. “Please.”
He sounds like he is begging, but why? What is he asking? What does he want from you?
You shake your head, your voice breaking. “This was a mistake. I shouldn’t have come.”
“Then why did you?” he asks, his tone desperate, his chest heaving as he pulls you tighter.
“Because I thought… I thought I had a place here. But I’m such a fucking idiot.”
“Don’t say that,” he pleads, his voice barely audible over the rain as he turns you to face him. His hands come up to cradle your face. He was starting to shake too, the pads of his fingers damp against your skin. His eyes search yours, desperate, and before you can stop him—or yourself—he closes the space between you and kisses you.
Against the pouring rain, your lips press against each other, clumsy, shaky, unexpectedly urgent. His lips move like he’s trying to say all the things he can’t find the words for, like this is his only way to make you understand. And for a second, maybe a minute, maybe more, you let him.
You feel his ragged breaths as he licks into your mouth, his hair brushing your temple, droplets trailing down your skin. His hand slides from your cheek to the nape of your neck, fingers threading gently through your wet hair. It’s tender and fierce all at once, like he’s afraid you might vanish if he lets go.
But there is a tinge of bitterness cutting through the taste of his kiss. This isn’t enough—not to fix everything, not to erase the doubt clawing at the edges of your mind. Not to prevent the new thoughts from worming its way inside.
Sung Kyung is in his apartment right now. So maybe it’s not just about Haneul anymore. Maybe they’re reconciling. Trying to sort out their own feelings that they put on ice. Yoongi did say he thought their relationship was going somewhere.
God, you do not want to be some homewrecker. You cannot do that to Haneul. Weakly you try to pull back.
But Yoongi doesn’t let you. His lips chase yours, teeth gently sinking into your plush and you’re unable to stifle the moan from your mouth at the delicious sting. You open up to him, lips sliding against his as his other hand grips your waist now, pulling you closer until you can really feel the heat of his body through the drenched fabric of his clothes. The world feels like it’s spinning, everything is blending into a dizzying blur, and you don’t know how to stop it.
Your hand hovers at his chest, not pushing him away but not pulling him closer either. Your heart is screaming to hold on just a little longer. But your head is telling you—
“No,” you whisper, breaking away as quickly as you can without slipping on the slick ground. Your chest heaves as you clutch Bora tighter against you.
Yoongi stands frozen, his lips parted as if he’s about to speak, his dark eyes locked on yours. The rain clings to his lashes, his hair plastered to his forehead, and for a moment, he looks completely lost.
“I can’t do this, Yoongi,” you choke out, your voice shaking. “I just… I can’t.”
And before he can stop you, you turn and run again, your feet splashing through puddles as you make your way to the nearest bus stop. By some miracle, you make your way home in one piece. Barring one vital organ that’s discarded somewhere in Hannam.
My tea's gone cold, I'm wondering why I
Got out of bed at all
The morning rain clouds up my window
And I can't see at all
And even if I could, it'd all be gray
But your picture on my wall
It reminds me that it's not so bad, it's not so bad
- Stan, Eminem
Your apartment is cold and quiet, the soft patter of rain against the windows the only sound. The mug of tea on your table has long since gone cold, untouched, as you sit curled up on the couch, staring at that grainy selca Yoongi sent you weeks ago.
You’re startled out of your thoughts by the sound of the door opening. Namjoon steps in, shaking off the rain and holding a grocery bag in one hand, his hoodie slung over his shoulder. He’s soaked to the bone, but he flashes you his dimples anyway.
“You know,” he starts, setting the bag on the counter, “for someone who always claims they’re fine, you sure as hell don’t look it.”
“Don’t start, Joon,” you mumble, pulling the blanket tighter around yourself.
Namjoon ignores you, glancing around the apartment with a disapproving look. “Seriously? It still looks like you just moved in. No decorations, no warmth. This part could be a photo wall or something…”
You roll your eyes. “Alright, Mr. Art influencer.”
“I need a dry shirt,” he says, gripping the edge of his tee and pulling it up and over his head without fanfare.
You’ve never felt attracted to your best friend in any physical or sexual way ever (seriously, ew), but you can appreciate a good physique when you see one.
“Wow, Joonie, are your tiddies getting bigger?” you say as you stand to find a shirt for him from your makeshift closet.
“You’re an idiot.”
Before you can respond, the doorbell rings. Namjoon straightens, wiping his hands on his pants. “You expecting someone?”
You shake your head.
Namjoon strides to the door, glancing through the peephole with a tsk before pulling it open. He doesn’t seem to care that he’s shirtless, which would be awkward enough if it were anyone else standing there.
But it’s Yoongi.
Yoongi stands in the hallway, his expression strained, his eyes immediately scanning the room behind Namjoon until they land on you, curled on the couch. You clutch the t-shirt you were about to lend Namjoon tighter against your chest, unsure whether to feel relief, anger, or the painful longing that’s been gnawing at you for days.
“I need to talk to her,” Yoongi says, his voice calm but heavy with emotion.
Namjoon steps into the doorway, crossing his arms as he blocks the entrance. “Maybe not today, hyung.”
Yoongi’s jaw tightens, but he doesn’t flinch. “I have to. I need to explain.”
Namjoon doesn’t budge, his voice soft but firm. “Sorry, hyung. Not after everything.”
Yoongi’s eyes flick to you again, desperate. “I just… fuck,” He swallows hard, his voice breaking slightly. “I can’t let her think she doesn’t matter to me. She does. More than anyone.”
Namjoon hesitates for the first time, glancing back at you. His expression softens briefly, but when he turns to Yoongi again, it’s your voice that responds.
“Yoongi.” Your voice is quiet, but it cuts through the tension like a blade. Both men turn to you, and the hope that flashes across Yoongi’s face makes your lungs shrivel.
You grip the fabric in your hands tighter, willing yourself to stay firm. “You should go.”
Yoongi’s lips part as if to argue, but the look in your eyes silences him. He nods once, slowly, his expression crumbling for just a moment before he turns away.
“I’m sorry,” he whispers, his voice so soft you almost don’t hear it.
Namjoon watches him for a moment longer before stepping back into the apartment and shutting the door.
The first step is always the hardest.
Namjoon didn’t sugarcoat anything when he told you to get your shit together. “I love you,” he said bluntly after Yoongi left that rainy night, “but you’re the only one who can pull yourself out of this. No one else is coming to save you. Not me. Not Jiyong. Not Yoongi. Just you.”
You hated hearing it, but he was right.
So you took the first step: you called a therapist. Twice a week, you sat in that tiny, clinical room and talked about everything you’d buried for years. The abandonment issues you’d carried since childhood. The shame you felt after your relationship with Jiyong fell apart. The way you constantly give pieces of yourself to others, just like you did with Haneul and Yoongi, leaving nothing for yourself. Thinking that’s okay.
Session by session, the fog began to lift. Slowly, you started to understand that happiness couldn’t come from someone else, no matter how deeply you loved them. It had to come from you—built piece by piece, nurtured, protected.
You realized that loving yourself wasn’t selfish. It was necessary. And for the first time in months, you began to believe you were worthy of it.
At home, you started small. One night, you finally tackled the pile of laundry that had been haunting you for weeks. Another night, you scrubbed down the kitchen until the counters gleamed. And then one weekend, you went to IKEA and bought a bed frame—not just a functional one, but a beautiful one that made you feel excited to wake up in the mornings.
You even hung up paintings on the walls, little pops of color that made the apartment feel like it was actually yours. Namjoon gave you some from his collection, too.
Running sucks, but it became your nightly ritual. At first, it was hard. Your legs ached, and your lungs burned. But the more you pushed yourself, the better it felt—the rush of endorphins, the rhythm of your feet hitting the pavement, the way your thoughts quieted for just a little while.
Bit by bit, you started to feel lighter. Like you were shedding layers of weight you didn’t even realize you were carrying.
And then there was Yoongi.
He was still a constant name on your phone, though the tone of his messages had shifted over time. At first, his texts were full of apologies and pleas for a second chance:
Yoongi: I know I messed up. Please let me make it right.
Yoongi: I’m sorry for everything. I hate that I hurt you.
Yoongi: I need you, Y/N. I should have told you sooner.
Yoongi: Can I come over? I really want to explain everything.
Yoongi: I’m an idiot.
Yoongi: I’ll wait for you. Just tell me when you’re ready to talk.
Then came the texts about Haneul:
Yoongi: Haneul misses you. Not to one-up my own kid, but I miss you more.
Yoongi: Han said your name today. He kept pointing at the door like he was waiting for you to walk in.
Yoongi: I bought him a new Bora. This giraffe is lame. [image attached]
Yoongi: Han’s been carrying Bora 2.0 everywhere. He even tried to feed it rice last night.
And now, weeks later, his messages had settled into something different.
Yoongi: I was in the studio all day, and Hobi made me take a break. We ended up eating too much fried chicken and now I have a zit.
Yoongi: How was your run today? Namjoon says you’re joining a mini marathon. Good luck!
Yoongi: Still have boxes of Silver Moon tea. It’s too bougie for my ghetto taste buds. Lmk if you want it.
Yoongi: Actually, no need. I'll send it thru Namjoon.
Yoongi: I fucked up the choreography to our new track at Mubank today like an amateur. I hope you didn’t get to watch it.
They were simple, almost mundane. But Yoongi’s texts had a way of hitting you square in the chest. You think back to that conversation in his home, the one where he admitted how lonely he sometimes felt—how he wished for someone to talk to about the little things, the big milestones, everything in between. Someone to share life with. And now, with every message he sends, it feels like he’s choosing you.
Even though weeks have passed without seeing him, he’s still there. Reaching out. Trying to stay connected. Even when you never reply.
But his messages have become tiny bursts of dopamine in your otherwise quiet days. You’re both surprised and relieved he hasn’t stopped trying, that he hasn’t grown tired of pouring himself into the void of your Kakao.
Namjoon told you recently that Yoongi and Sung Kyung have started co-parenting Haneul. She gets supervised visits twice a month. At first, the green-eyed monster threatened to come out. But your best friend tells you that Yoongi never wanted to rekindle anything with Sung Kyung, which gave you some peace. Maybe if you’d been braver back then, you could’ve asked Yoongi yourself. Maybe if Yoongi had been better at communicating, he would have told you then it wouldn’t have felt like such an uphill climb.
But, he was also having such a difficult time, sorting through his own circumstances. And your insecurities at the time were too heavy, too overwhelming to sift through. You probably wouldn’t have believed him then. The progress you’ve made now—to love yourself first—feels hard-won and necessary. And maybe Yoongi also needed to go on a journey to really know what he wants for him and Haneul.
You’ve come to realize through all this that you don’t really hate Sung Kyung. Maybe you were angry on behalf of Yoongi and Haneul for all the secrets she kept, for the ways her choices hurt them both. There was even a night when you found yourself doing a Naver search on postpartum depression. You hadn’t understood how debilitating it could be, how it could turn even the strongest person into a shell of themselves. It didn’t excuse everything, but it gave you perspective, especially as you battle your own demons.
Still, as you journey forward, there are moments when you imagine the “what ifs” with Yoongi, if Sung Kyung hadn't showed up that day. Sometimes, late at night, your mind drifts back to him. You replay his kiss, remembering the way it felt, the way he tasted. You can still conjure the image of his face under the rain, the way he looked at you in that fleeting, heart-wrenching moment.
You wonder if he thinks about it, too. You know he’s waiting. You just hope that when you’re finally ready to let him back in, he’ll still be there—on the other side, willing to try again.
One evening, Namjoon called, his tone unusually excited. “Hey, I’ve got something for you.”
“No, I don’t need more lube, I’m stocked,” you joked, just to be a piece of shit.
“Shut up and listen,” he said, laughing. “Hybe’s opening a daycare for employees’ kids. They need someone to run it. You’re perfect for this.”
Your stomach flipped. “What? Joonie, I don’t even—”
“Don’t even try to argue,” he interrupted. “You have a degree in early childhood education. You love kids. This was your literal job in the states. C’mon, this is made for you.”
“What if I’m not ready?”
Namjoon sighed. “You are. I’ve seen how much work you’ve been putting in. You’re stronger than you think. Just… apply. The worst they can do is say no.”
You’re quiet, so he added. “...and they won’t. I’ll have each member of Bangtan sign a recommendation letter for you.”
“You’re too much, Joonie,” you laugh. But you surely won’t put it past him to do that. “But ok, I’ll apply.”
So you did. And a week later, you got the call.
Your first day at Hybe’s daycare center feels like a dream you didn’t know you had. The space is beautiful—sunlight streams through floor-to-ceiling windows, casting a warm glow over the colorful toys, tiny tables, and pastel murals. There are only three kids who pre-registered, but you were expecting more to walk in.
Namjoon is there, truly your ride or die, sitting casually on your desk with his ever-supportive grin. “You nervous?”
“Nope,” you say, trying to sound confident. But the way your voice wavers gives you away.
Namjoon chuckles. “Relax. You’re going to crush this.”
Before you can respond, the door swings open, and in walks Hobi with Yunjin and their toddler, Jeongyeon. The little girl looks adorable in her sunflower-patterned overalls, her tiny pigtails bobbing as she walks toward the play area.
“Jeongyeon, say hi to teacher Y/N,” Yunjin says, gently guiding her forward.
“Hi!” Jeongyeon squeaks.
You crouch down to her level. “Hi, Jeongyeon! You’re gonna have so much fun today.”
“First kid of the day, ayeeee!" Hobi says, high-fiving Yunjin, before she runs to Jeongyeon who is mounting the toy pony. Then he turns to you, “Congratulations, Y/N.”
Just as they’re leaving, Namjoon nudges you. “By the way, did you know there’s a capybara mascot today?”
“What?” you blink, confused.
Before Namjoon can explain, something soft and warm suddenly envelops you in a hug. You turn to see a capybara mascot wrapping its plush arms around you, its giant head tilted adorably to the side.
“What the…” You laugh, surprised, grasping its arm. “Hybe really went all out, huh?”
Namjoon smirks. “Of course. First-day activations are a big deal here. And look at that, your favorite animal. What a coincidence.”
You grin, stepping back to look at the mascot. “Guess I’m a little biased, but this might be the cutest thing ever.”
The mascot gives you an exaggerated thumbs-up.
Shortly, Haneul arrives. The moment you see him toddling through the door, all your nerves, all the weight you’d carried for weeks—gone. There’s no ache, no tension. Just pure, uncomplicated happiness.
His nanny, a kind older woman, walks him in, holding his hand as he peers curiously around the room.
Haneul bounds toward you giggling, his gummy smile stretching wide as he lets go of the nanny’s hand and waddles toward you.
“Hi, sarang,” you say, crouching down to scoop him into your arms. He smells like baby lotion and sunshine, and your chest feels full as he buries his face in your shoulder. “I missed you.”
You glance toward the door, your eyes darting around instinctively, but there’s no sign of Yoongi. A small pang of disappointment settles in your stomach before you shake it off. He’s probably holed up in his studio, working on something brilliant. It would have been nice to see him though.
The capybara mascot wanders over, drawing Haneul’s attention instantly. His eyes light up as he points at it, giggling.
“Appa!” Haneul says excitedly, punching the knee of the mascot with his tiny fists.
You laugh, brushing a hand through his soft hair. “That’s not your appa, Haneul. He’s probably in one of the big studios upstairs working very hard right now.”
The mascot gives you a pat on the head, and something about its movements feels oddly familiar. But you don’t dwell on it, too caught up in Haneul’s delighted squeals as the mascot does a little dance for him. It sure loves to shake its ass.
For the rest of the morning, you’re in your element, guiding the kids through activities, wiping tears, and singing songs during circle time. Every so often, Haneul points at the mascot and calls out “Appa!” again, and you can’t help but laugh.
And if the capybara mascot seems to hover a little longer around Haneul, or if it lingers near you whenever there’s a chance, well… you just chalk it up to coincidence.
(One day, much later, you’ll find out the truth. But for now, you’re content not knowing.)
That night, your phone buzzes in your pocket, and you pull it out to find another message from Yoongi.
Yoongi: Congratulations on your first day!
You stare at the screen, your thumb hovering over the keyboard. For the first time in weeks, as you look at your thread of messages from him, you let yourself smile—a small, cautious smile, but a smile nonetheless. And for the first time in months of radio silence, you type up your first reply to him.
You: Thanks, Yoongi. I’m really happy. :)
His reply came almost immediately.
Yoongi: You deserve it
And it may have taken a while, but you finally believe that. So you decide you are also finally ready to do this.
You: Can we talk?
Yoongi: giv me 10 mins im cming overr
:)
A/N:
Alright!! Wheeeew! You good? How are you feeling?!?!? As usual, please sound off in the comments. 💕
I just want to say that am so proud of this chapter. I think I wrote my best, angst work here. Plus - Kissing in the rain? Namtiddies? A taste of smau? Hee hee. 🤗
If you make it to here, thank you so so much for reading this story, you lovely, beautiful, human! xo
Part 4 is coming uppp and it’s gonna be a doozy~ 🤭
P.S. As some of y’all know I am a mom and I have experienced post-partum depression before. It was nowhere near the severity of how it is depicted here (a condition that is grave and rare because the character also has other mental struggles), but I empathize. I cannot imagine being truly unfit to care for my own baby. So I request that we do not vilify L&L! LSK. She fucked up real baddd, she could’ve involved Yoongi earlier, etc etc but again she is trying to do better. Plusss, it needs to be said, she does not want Yoongi. Gasp. Y’all can rest easy. He’s yours! 💕
& If you want to read more of my work, please check out my masterlist.
& If you enjoy my work and want to buy me a ko-fi, I'd appreciate it.
Not your reblogs giving me heart palpitations thinking you dropped Part 2 Of L&L
Sorry, baby! Will you accept the first 500 words as my apology. ;)
Love & Lullabies | Part 2 (Teaser)
Ever since that dinner when you inadvertently confessed about your age-old attraction to him and assured him that any residual feelings are buried in a metaphorical time capsule, Yoongi seems to have made it his personal mission to rizz you up on purpose.
Haneul’s been especially rambunctious all day. Mealtime is no exception. Yoongi volunteers to feed him, thinking he can rein in some of the pent-up energy. At some point, Haneul squeezes his pouch of organic muesli and carrot puree with so much enthusiasm that it explodes everywhere, sending bright orange flecks across Yoongi’s face and pristine white tee.
“GAHHH!” Yoongi yelps, staring down at the mess, while Haneul absolutely loses it, tiny belly-shaking laughter filling the room.
“Silly, silly sarang,” you coo, using the pet name you’d started calling Haneul lately. It’s adorable how he beams every time he hears it, flashing you that gummy grin like he knows he’s your favorite troublemaker. You laugh too, as you wipe a splatter of puree from Haneul’s cheek with the muslin cloth you were holding.
“Do I have something on my face, too?” Yoongi leans towards you expectantly with the barest of smirks.
“Uh… yeah.” You say, flipping the cloth to a clean side and wiping off the smudge on his cheeks and his chin, and that pesky little morsel on the side of his lip.
For some reason, you seem to need a blast of oxygen straight to your lungs. Stat.
With a lick of his lips, Yoongi nods his thanks. “Gotta change,” he mumbles, lifting the shirt away from his chest with a grimace and walks towards the hallway to his room.
And you almost regret your decision to look back, almost.
Because, oh wow, he’s taking his shirt off. Yep. Fuckin’ dammit. The shirt is off.
Christ.
His shoulders are broad, muscles flexing as he runs a hand through his hair. The infamous “7” tattoo on his shoulder is taunting you. You are unable to pull your eyes away, already knowing you’re doomed.
Then, before he mercifully disappears into his room, he glances over his shoulder and catches you staring. Shit. Your heart plummets straight to your ass. He smirks, U-turns towards you shirtless and utterly shameless.
Your nerves short-circuit as he reaches out, just barely brushing your thigh to pick up his phone from the mat. His eyes hold yours, a dark glint of mischief in them, “You good?”
“Huh?” The brain fog is crazy. You will yourself to keep your eyes above his chest, but of course you gone did it.
Why are his nipples so cute? And damn is that a happy trail?
He snickers softly, like he knows exactly what’s going through your head. “I’ll be back. Han’s eating the remote by the way.”
And with that, he saunters off, leaving you there, a blushing, flustered mess as you find Haneul gnawing on the remote control.
You pull it quickly from his grasp, muttering under your breath, “Sarang, why are you and your appa being such a menace?”
He babbles happily at you, as if he knows he’s not the only troublemaker with a gummy grin in this house that got you wrapped around their finger.
Summary: You had everything you could ever dream of; the career of your dreams as a music producer, the best friends you could ever wish for, and a exes-turned-friends-turned-fuck-buddies relationship with Min Yoongi. You knew you and Yoongi would never move past that and you were okay with it. Until a friend from your past comes back into your life, offering to give you everything you deserve, everything Yoongi couldn’t. Will Jungkook show you what you’ve been missing? Or will the new guy threaten Yoongi enough to do something about it?
Chapter Warnings: SMUT. Sorry, Yoongi.
WC: 3.2k
[Membership]
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You didn’t do much the night before, except exchanging glances and stolen kisses. But you and Jeongguk talked. A lot. And you laughed even more. He told you he knew that the only reason you kissed him on the night of his fourteenth birthday was because some classmates were teasing him about never having kissed a girl before. And he wasn’t upset, he actually thanked you for it.
It was after that that he started coming out of his shell more, that he started talking to cute girls and not being so terribly scared of them. Jeongguk said he got more popular at school too, becoming the dude who had kissed a “hot seventeen year old from high school”. His words, not yours.
You stayed late and ended up falling asleep on his bed; where you woke up the next morning. Jeongguk was next to you, but he still kept his respectful distance. When all you wanted to do was to feel his warmth.
You knew you were losing your mind when it was Yoongi’s voice that pulled you out of your slumber. But as Seokjin’s voice followed, you knew it wasn’t a fragment of your imagination. Kneeling up on the mattress, you spied the two oldest of the group through a tiny window above the bed.
“Did you see Yn last night?”
Yoongi was the one who asked for you as he and his only hyung got ready for a nice morning of fishing. They had rods, baits and even lounge chairs.
“Not after the fireworks.” Jin answered as he prepared his fishing rod.
“I knocked at her door but she didn’t answer.”
“You know how much that girl loves her sleep.” Seokjin sounded tired, you wondered just how many times Yoongi had asked him about you.
You doubted it was a lot.
Gathering your shoes by the door, you slipped out of the boat house as you tried to remain hidden, hoping Jeongguk would stay asleep.
But Jeongguk had been awake even before you woke up. But pretending to be asleep seemed like a better idea at the time, when the other option was letting you catch him watching you like a creep.
So he heard what the hyungs were saying, and he heard the way you slipped out of his bed before you could get caught with him. Even if nothing really happened. Even if it shouldn't matter if something happened.
Jeongguk was feeling blissfully happy when he went to sleep. Like things were finally looking up for him. He had kissed you! Really kissed you, after years of secretly crushing on you and after weeks of trying to get closer to you. Yet it felt like he was still at square one.
He couldn’t help but feel like he’d always be one step behind Yoongi hyung, always second, always after him. Yeah he just got here and he was just now trying to get closer to you. But he knew he could make you happy, he knew all he could offer you.
If you’d only see it.
If you’d only let him.
You didn't see Jeongguk again for several hours and you started to get nervous. You heard from Joon that he went on a boat ride with Jimin and Tae, so he couldn't be avoiding you, right?
For some ungodly reason you were terrified he might regret having kissed you. Or maybe you were projecting your own fears and worries onto him.
"Yoongi hyung was looking for you." Hoseok said with a kiss to the crown of your head.
"You know where he is?"
"Upper house."
You excused yourself from Namjoon, who you had been doing a crossword puzzle with, and went to find Yoongi at the other house of the property. You had just been chilling with the boys, getting hugs and kisses like Hobi's all day.
Suddenly you couldn't remember why you didn't like birthdays in the first place.
"Heard you were looking for me." you found Yoongi outside of the upper house, sitting by the big wooden table, as he played around with a small black box.
"Mhm."
"What's up?"
You sat next to him, each leg on one side of the bench as you eyed the box suspiciously. Yoongi pushed it towards you with a very grumbled 'happy birthday'. That's when you knew it meant something, when he tried to downplay it.
"You didn't have to."
"You say that every year."
"And you never listen."
The box was a little square, clearly made for keeping something small. You pulled the lid open to find a delicate gold pendant with a heart locket inside. The one that you can open and put a picture inside.
"Yoon!" you chirped with a smile. "It's so pretty."
"There's nothing inside, before you ask."
You didn't expect it to be, you knew your tsundere friend. He'll go as far as to get you a heart locket, but won't put his picture inside.
"I just know you like those antique things." he shrugged.
"I love it." you smiled, taking it out of the box and handing it to him. "Put it on me."
You turned around on the bench so your back was facing him. Lifting your hair, you aided Yoongi in closing the pendant around your neck. You looked at the heart resting between your breasts, so you didn't notice the man behind you get closer to you until you were between his legs and he was kissing your neck.
"Yoongi." your voice came out more as a warning than a plea, which was new for the both of you.
"Missed you yesterday." he mumbled, making your resolve crumble.
Rationally, you didn’t have any major reason to resist him. But you still got a cold feeling in your stomach from the thought of Jeongguk walking in and seeing you. In a perfect setting, you wouldn’t have run away from the boy this morning, you would have talked about the kiss, you would have asked him what it meant to him.
But then again, maybe it was just a kiss. Just something funny because you had kissed him on a past birthday as well. Yeah, that must be it.
But what if it wasn’t?
“You’re overthinking.” Yoongi pulled you back down to earth as he always did.
Producer, rapper, cat boy, earth caller. A man of many talents.
“Sorry.”
“Let me take your mind off things.”
His hand went to your throat, bringing your face to look at him. Your eyes were wide as all thoughts but Yoongi left your brain. He had the most beautiful smirk as he pressed the sides of your neck, making your mind a little foggy, eyes a little droopy.
“Yoongi…”
“There we go.”
Those were the last words you heard before his lips molded over yours. There wasn’t an ounce of resistance, but you wondered if he could taste Jeongguk in your mouth.
Fuck, you felt guilty.
After hanging out – or making out– with Yoongi for a bit, you went back down to the main house. You were so lost in your own consuming thoughts you didn’t realize what you had just walked into.
“SHIT, YN!”
Taehyung’s scream came a second too late and a water balloon was falling right on your head. You were frozen for all of five seconds until you realized you didn’t die from an unidentified object falling on you. Hoseok had a scared look on his face since you obviously weren’t his target.
“Toss me a balloon, Tae.” you told your friend, who was coming over to check on you.
“Wait, no, hang on…” Hobi started backing down. “Two against one isn’t fair.”
“How about two against two?”
You hadn’t even realized Jeongguk was watching the water fight, and wanting to join in on Hobi’s team. As much as he probably avoided you this morning –for whatever specific reason he may or may not have– he was smiling at you now.
Suddenly all was right in the word again.
“You’re going down!” Tae needed to get better at trash talking.
The water fight didn’t last long, but it was still enough to get the four of you completely wet. Not only did the boys have water balloons, but they also had water guns. At one point Hobi and Tae were rolling around in the grass as they laughed loud enough to alert the other friends into coming to watch what was happening in the yard.
You were so distracted by their cuteness you didn’t even realize Jeongguk was sneaking up on you with a garden hose. His tattooed arm wrapped around your waist as he held the water stream right over your head.
“Jeongguk, stop it!”
You were screaming and trying to get rid of him, but he was too strong and you could barely see anything from the cold water falling on your face. As a ripple effect, the man behind you was getting just as wet, but his main concern seemed to be leaving you absolutely dripping.
At one point you fell to the grass, trying to crawl away from him, which resulted in getting your body pinned to the ground as the boy held you down; water hose leaking forgotten next to you. But you were giggling, and Jeongguk was giving you his sweet bunny smile.
You couldn’t help yourself, you didn’t really think about it, you just pushed your body up as much as you could so your lips could meet his. Just an innocent kiss between laughs, but it was still enough to ease up both of your worries.
Your official birthday dinner was a real banquet. Seokjin made sashimi from a fish he pretended to catch in the lake, Yoongi and Jimin baked and decorated a cake, Jeongguk grilled some pork meat, Taehyung and Hoseok cooked a mean japchae and Namjoon made soju cocktails for everybody.
You had party hats and everything, but Jimin was really sad you used all of the balloons during your water fight.
For the last two hours you stayed hanging out with Tae and Jimin, but they wanted their time alone and you weren’t ready to sleep just yet. So you made your way to the main house, climbing up the stairs towards the bedrooms on the second floor.
Your intention was to ask Hoseok if he wanted to share a blunt with you, or at least if he had something he could hook you up with, but your hand froze mid air before you could knock. Hobi wasn’t alone, and you could hear a moan. Deep and scratchy, one you knew too well.
But you were used to hearing it in your ear, not behind a locked door.
Out of anyone Yoongi could be with, you never minded when he hooked up with Hoseok. But it was still your birthday, and after feeling guilty all day for having kissed Jeongguk, you realized that maybe Yoongi meant more to you than you meant to him. At least you didn’t need to feel guilty about being attracted to the maknae anymore.
Your feet took you down the stairs and across the yard, only stopping when you were knocking at Jeongguk’s bedroom at the boathouse. He opened the door with a soft and sweet smile, dressed in comfortable pajamas and ready for bed.
“Going to sleep?”
“Not yet, just practicing.” he insisted, opening the door wider for you to come in.
As you walked into the bedroom, you saw Jeongguk’s black guitar resting on his bed. He sat in the middle, between the pillows, back resting against the wooden wall, as he picked up the instrument again. You joined him on the mattress, watching as his beautiful fingers strummed the chords.
"How long do you play?"
"A few years. I didn't have much time to practice while I was at uni, though." he sighed. "Hopefully I can pick it up again now. If my boss gives me enough free time."
"I think your boss is nice enough, she let you have a day off to travel with friends."
Jeongguk laughed, playing a few more notes and resting his guitar back on its open case. Jeongguk was so fucking pretty it was hard to look at him sometimes. And he knew it too. One of his eyebrows raised, hands dragging up and down his own thighs in what you hoped was an invitation.
With a small nod, he called you closer and you went in a heartbeat. His hands held onto your hips, guiding you to sit on his lap. Your breath was catching on your throat as you bit your bottom lip to stay focused.
"You're so pretty, noona." his words dragged out as his hands traveled up and down your legs.
"Aigoo."
You hid your face behind your hands, only peaking through your fingers.
"Don't hide from me, baby." he asked lowly, the sides of his lips pulling up after hearing the small gasp you let out upon hearing the pet name.
"Don't do this to me." you groaned in a breathless tone.
"Why?"
"You're driving me crazy."
Jeongguk never thought he'd hear you say those words to him, much less in that almost fucked out tone of voice. Your small hands rested on his chest as you looked anywhere but his eyes.
He couldn't help but laugh at the irony if it all. But he'd have more time to dwell on it later, for now he wanted to enjoy having the girl he had a crush on since he was twelve on top of him.
The man leaned closer to you, squeezing your thighs in a bold move that made you rock your hips on reflex. His own groan was swallowed by you as your parted lips met his.
His tongue found yours as you both fought for control, your hands climbed up to his neck, resting on his jaw. You loved how it moved under your fingertips as you both shared a deep and wet kiss. With every suck of his lips, every flick of his tongue, it went straight between your legs.
Jeongguk bit your bottom lip and you whined, rolling your hips over his to feel more of the erection pressing against your thigh.
"Baby– fuck." you loved the pet name rolling off his tongue.
But his tone told you he wanted to stop, so you pulled away from him. Maybe you had read the signs wrong, maybe–
"I don't want to rush. You mean too much to me." he made sure you understood. "As much as I'd really love to fuck you right now."
You giggled because Jeongguk sounded really pained in saying that.
"If it's what you want." you agreed, but you didn't want to leave him just yet. "Want to go back to the main house and watch a movie? Or maybe wake up the house with the karaoke machine?"
"Sounds good." he nodded, but looked down to the tenting on his pants, a small wet patch from his pre-cum. "Just give me, like, five minutes to think of something else."
"Or."
You started, fingers dancing on his chest.
"Or?"
"Maybe you don't fuck me…" you said in a seductive voice, kissing down his neck. "But I could still take care of it?"
"Fuck, you mean–"
He cut himself off.
"I can give you a hand." you whispered against his neck, lips sucking the spot under his ear. "Or I could suck you off."
You could quite literally feel his dick twitching at your words, a delicious whine leaving his lips. Maybe you wouldn't get your own release tonight, but you'd be satisfied if you could make him feel good. Not to mention having his cock down your throat sounded like a great extra birthday present.
Jeongguk was nodding and you were moving off of him to pull his pants halfway down his thighs. He wasn't wearing any underwear, so his cock almost hit you in the face when it jumped free.
"Fuck." you were the one cursing.
Jeongguk wasn't the thickest, but he was definitely longer. And your fingers still didn't meet as you wrapped a small hand around him to give it a few experimental pumps. His head fell back, but his half lidded eyes remained stuck on you and the way you started bending over his crotch.
Your tongue met with the tip of his cock, licking and lapping at the tick drops of pre-cum that started leaking as soon as you sat on his lap. You had barely done anything yet and Jeongguk was already panting and fighting his body to enjoy that moment a little more.
When your lips wrapped around the head and you sucked, his eyes scrunched shut. Lips parted, chest heaving. You felt so powerful by getting that reaction from him. Your hands were resting on his muscular thighs as you started to take more of his throbbing cock into your mouth. You had to stop halfway, not able to fit anymore.
But you weren't a quitter, and it was your birthday. If anyone in that lakehouse deserved a cock down their throat, it would be you.
You took Jeongguk’s right hand and brought it to your hair. If he noticed the moment his tattooed fingers tangled in your strands you didn't know. But you relaxed your jaw and took deep breaths through your nose, getting used to the intrusion.
Jeongguk could feel the constriction of your throat, the way your tongue still worked on his shaft, how your mouth was wet and warm and how your nails started to sink in on his thighs.
He was close already. Embarrassingly so.
When you started bobbing up and down his cock, hands using the saliva dripping down your lips to ease the slide of your hand, he felt his climax approaching fast and he could cry in frustration.
You noticed it too, from the throbbing of his cock on your tongue and hands, and how his head was leaking more of the bitter liquid now. But Jeongguk’s pretty face seemed to be contorted in pain, brows furrowed as his teeth sunk in on his lips.
He was holding back.
"Mhmm." you moaned with your lips around the tip, the vibrations sending his hips up and making you gag for not expecting the quick intrusion.
His eyes opened after that, but instead of finding you upset, Jeongguk watched as you sucked him harder. As your hand carefully squeezed and pulled at his balls, the man didn't have another second to warn you to pull out or ask if you wanted it in your mouth or not.
Hot and tangy liquid was spilling inside your mouth. So much of it you had to swallow quickly as it kept leaking out.
Jeongguk was whining your name, face split into a blissful grin. You kept licking his softening dick, making sure he was all cleaned up before tucking him back into his pants again.
"Fuck, baby." he panted lazily, watching you wipe the back of your hand on your chin, some of his cum had dribbled out. "I didn't know this felt so nice."
Your movements halted as you stared at him. Maybe you heard it wrong. Maybe he didn't mean it like that.
"Guk… was this your first blow job?"
"Ah. I said it out loud, didn't I?"
"Are you…"
He took a deep breath but shook his head.
"I'm not a virgin, if that's what you're asking." you didn't know if you should feel relieved or jealous. "But yeah… no one had gone down on me before."
"Wish you had told me." you pouted, sitting on your knees. "I would have done it better."
Genre: fluff, holiday, strangers to lovers, College!AU
Rating: T
Warnings: swearing, a lil’ smooching, Namjoon wears that blue cardigan, Namjoon also wears a beanie, it’s as fluffy as marshmallows in a mug of hot cocoa
Word Count: 2.2K
Disclaimers: None, other than obviously I don’t own BTS - they simply inspire me
Summary: Sometimes your clumsiness leads to a happy accident.
A/N: This is my third story for the Winter Wonderland Fic Event, run by the fabulous @hellojeongkook! Inspired by those insta pics of Namjoon all bundled up for the cold weather. And that blue cardigan he wore that one time. You know the one. Unbeta’d as usual. I’d love to know what you think - my inbox is always open! 💕
Sequel: Safe With Me - part of Milestone Celebration
I wish you would write a fic where....reader is going to get a pedicure but her normal nail tech is out, and the owner's cute son (you pick the member) who's back in town volunteers to do reader's appointment. (hehehe)
Jess!!! I did it 🤣 I didn’t think I could but I actually had a lot of fun with this! Thank you for this ask. I hope I did it justice 💜
******
Self-Care Sunday | JJK
Pairing: NailTech!Jungkook x Fem!Reader
Rating: 18+
Genre: Meet cute; fluff
Warnings: Some naughty thoughts but nothing explicit; slight references to gender stereotypes and occupations
Word count: 3k+words
Summary: You arrive at your mani-pedi appointment to find out that your usual technician is unexpectedly out. Instead, the salon owner’s son offers to do your nails instead.
A/N: Just for fun! Also, I was too impatient and wanted to actually post on a Sunday, which is why I didn’t have time to find a proper banner image for this. I’ll fix that tomorrow 😅 Thank you @midnightagust for your eyes 🥰 hope you all enjoy this!
Every weekend, you make a point to treat yourself to some form of pampering. Whether you went out to get your hair done or simply curled up on your couch to enjoy a book, ‘Self-Care Sunday’ was a big deal for you. It was a way to reset and prepare for the week ahead.
This weekend, you’re going for a mani-pedi. You walk into the nail salon about five minutes before your appointment time.
The small reception booth in front is empty, but the rest of the ladies who are busy with customers pause to greet you since you’re a regular. You begin to scan the room for your usual manicurist, hoping to check in and get set up.
Oddly, she’s nowhere in sight so you ask one of the ladies closest to you, who was giving a pedicure to another client.
“Annie just left. She said she was feeling sick,” she says to you.
“Oh no.” You look around again to see that everyone else is tending to their own clients. There’s no way any of these ladies would be able to take you on this morning. You’re disappointed but it’s not the end of the world. “I guess I could just reschedule my appointment–”
“No, hun, you don’t have to! It’s why she didn’t call to cancel. Our manager will take care of you.”
The salon’s manager, Lily, wasn’t afraid to jump in to help out whenever it was busy. It was a small comfort to know that the day wasn’t going to be a complete waste and you knew that you were in good hands.
The nail technician points to the vacant spa chair next to her and you help yourself. She pauses her work to fill the basin with warm water so you can soak your feet in while waiting for the manager.
“He’ll be right out, okay?” She says with a smile before turning back to her client.
Your eyebrows scrunch in curiosity. You could have sworn she said 'he,' but maybe you were hearing things. You dismiss the thought and activate the massage function on your chair, then start scrolling through your phone while waiting.
A few minutes later, you notice movement in your peripheral vision. As the figure settles on the low stool in front of you, you raise your head to greet them. Your voice gets caught in your throat when you realize that it isn't Lily.
"Hi!"
You’re stunned at the sight of a man sitting in front of you. He looks young and devastatingly hot. You would never expect to see someone who looked like him at a nail salon, let alone working at one. His big, round, beautiful eyes make you want to melt into the water your feet were soaking in.
“Uhm…h-hi,” you choke out once your brain lurches back to life. “I thought the manager was going to do my mani-pedi.”
He grins proudly, spreading a towel on the footrest of the spa chair. "Yep! You're looking at him!"
You feel confused. Did Lily quit or hire someone new? It’s been three weeks since your last appointment. In the background, you hear the other nail technicians giggling amongst themselves.
Seeing the worried look on your face, he explains, "My mom is taking a break, so I'm filling in for her."
You vaguely remember Lily mentioning her children in passing. Since she looks relatively young for her age, she’s always said that people are shocked to hear when she tells them that she has a grown son.
Well, consider yourself shaken to the core.
"I'm Jungkook, by the way," he extends his hand towards you. You're both baffled and overwhelmed by how handsome he looks. The massage chair's tapping setting propels you forward, snapping you out of your daze.
You reach forward to shake his hand and introduce yourself. Although he has a firm grip, his hands are surprisingly soft, sending a chill down your spine.
“When Annie said that she wasn’t feeling well, I offered to take the rest of her appointments for the day,” he divulges.
You look at him skeptically. You’ve never received a manicure and pedicure from a male technician before—especially not from one who was this cute.
He chuckles. "I know, I know. You're probably thinking, 'Does this guy even know what the hell he's doing?' Well, let me assure you that my mom personally trained me. If she's ever worked on you, you can expect the same level of quality from me. But I understand if you feel uneasy. The last thing I want is for a client to feel that way.”
You’re still apprehensive but he sounds confident. You get a grip and nod, giving him consent to continue with the appointment.
“Thanks,” he says softly and with a look of relief. “You booked a deluxe pedicure and manicure, right?”
The deluxe mani-pedi comes with a longer-than-usual massage on your hands and feet. Thinking about this man's hands kneading your tired muscles makes you sweat.
“Y-yes, I did,” you nervously confirm.
He nods in acknowledgment, and you gulp as he begins to dip the pumice sponge into the basin to scrub your heels. He’s careful and gentle with each pass, totally unlike what you’ve been used to. It’s a stark contrast to these ladies, who have manhandled you in surprising ways—especially the petite, older techs. They’re still sweet, though, and they do a great job, but you admit that this is a nice change of pace.
The rest of your pedicure prep goes smoothly until it was time for the massage.
He drains the water from the basin then he props your feet on the footrest. The stool is too low for his frame but he doesn’t complain. He’d rather make the adjustment so you wouldn’t have to bend awkwardly from your seat.
After drying your feet with a towel, he squeezes some lotion into his hands and starts massaging it into your calf muscles. Typically, some ladies prefer to keep their gloves on for sanitary purposes, but Jungkook has taken off his gloves just before the massage. You figured he was the manager on duty, so he could do whatever he wanted. And not that you had any objections, as the skin-on-skin contact feels nice. Better, actually.
You don't know why, but your gaze is drawn to his thighs, which are spread widely in front of you. It's incredibly distracting and you struggle to look away. You wonder if the awkward positioning of his knees against the spa chair is causing him to sit like that, or if there is something else between his legs that he's trying to adjust for.
“Is the pressure okay?” His question pulls you back into reality.
"What? Oh, yeah. It's good. It's fine," you manage to cobble together. His touch is firm, yet gentle enough to be relaxing. Silently, you think, if he was this good with your legs, how would his hands feel on the rest of your body?
"Are you sure? I could apply more, if you prefer. I always try to start off slow, but I can go deeper, depending on how you like it."
You grip the chair's armrests in response as your mouth goes dry. "N-no, you don’t need to go deeper. What you're doing is...great.” Your voice comes out breathy, but in an effort to distract yourself, you dig your phone out of your purse and start randomly scrolling through your social media feed. Now was not the time to be getting horny over your nail technician.
He suppresses a smile at your response. "Okay then.”
******
You manage to survive the rest of the pedicure without any additional incidents, much to your relief. He slips your sandals back onto your feet with ease, without smudging your freshly painted toes, and helps you over to the manicure table.
Once you settle in your seat, you rest your hands on the cushion and dip them into a cuticle-softening solution while he sets up the rest of his tools. While waiting for your fingers to soak up the solution, he checks in with you.
“Can I get you anything while you wait?”
“I’m good right now, thanks.”
"Okay.” Then, he leans in, lowers his voice, and asks, “How do you think I’m doing so far?"
You smile warmly at him. "I have to say, I'm pleasantly surprised." Your toes didn't look streaky, nor did he get polish on your skin. You were impressed!
Your response makes him smile from ear to ear, his nose crinkling in amusement.
"Thanks. I know most women think it's weird to get a mani-pedi from a dude."
You sigh and decide to fess up. He seemed self-aware and appreciated honesty. "Well, I have to be honest—I was definitely apprehensive at first," you admit then follow it with a shrug. "But then I thought, hey, it's a job. If you can do it and have the skills for it? Why not? It shouldn't be restricted by gender."
His brow arches at your remark. "My thoughts exactly!" He agrees emphatically.
You feel another spark of electricity surge through you as he lifts your hand. You watch as he examines your fingers under the light.
“Mm…nice, long, nail beds.” His compliment followed but his thumb brushing over your fingers makes your belly flutter.
“But I bet you probably get that a lot,” he adds with a laugh.
“Not as often as you think,” you say. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think he was coming onto you.
“Just a regular manicure, right? Not gel?”
“Yeah. I thought, if I got the gel, I can’t get the usual hand massage—”
“I can still give you the massage,” he interjects.
“Oh. But what about the oils? I thought it’s not good for the gel base?” You hesitate.
He shrugs as if it's a non-factor. "I can do the massage after I cure your nails under the light. That way, the polish adheres nicely and it’ll be all set. But if you still prefer a regular manicure, that's fine—we’ll do that. I just want you to know that you have the option," he assures you.
You purse your lips to think for a few seconds. “Well, if you’re sure the massage won’t mess with the gel—”
“It won’t, I promise!” He says confidently. “My mom’s old school and she’d never do it that way but I think that you can still make it work.” After he says it out loud, one of the female technicians next to him scoffs. Seems like she prefers the standard method, too.
Jungkook rolls his eyes subtly at her reaction and turns his attention back to you. “If you don’t like it, I’ll give you your money back.”
That sounded fair to you.
“Alright. I trust you.”
After you decide on gel polish colors, he begins to trim your cuticles and file your nails. But just when you thought you could easily survive the pedicure, him being this close, and at eye-level, was going to be an uphill battle. He looks so focused and precise in his movements; it’s relaxing to watch. Even the little pout he does while maneuvering your finger to apply the polish with the utmost precision to cover every surface of your nail is cute.
You make small talk while he works. Not the usual gossip that you’re used to with the female technicians. You feel comfortable around him but not enough to spill all of your secrets.
“So, are you doing this full-time?”
“No,” he answers before he guides your hand into the curing lamp. “I have a day job but I mostly work from home. My mom said that needed help and I didn’t hesitate to step up. She works very hard.”
Oh no…he’s not only cute but he also loves his mom. You can’t help but feel endeared. You also note that he doesn’t have a ring on his finger. Lily hasn’t mentioned any daughters-in-law, that you recall.
You decide to sound casual to break the tension a bit. “This job must be a great way to pick up women, too, huh?”
He pauses before meeting your gaze. The corner of his mouth curves into a cocky smirk. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”
Your cheeks heat up. You immediately realize that your comment may have crossed a line, thinking you were at that level of comfort with him just because he touched your bare feet. You kick yourself internally for being presumptuous.
“S-sorry,” you shyly tear your eyes away from him. “I was just trying to make conversation.”
He brushes off the exchange. “It’s cool. Honestly, there aren’t many women falling over themselves to go out with a male nail technician,” he says in jest. “Some people have specific perceptions. They’re usually wrong but I don’t bother to correct them.”
“Oh,” you suddenly feel bad as you’d made assumptions about him too. “I mean, I think you have a lot of patience to be working on nails. Not to mention that you’re a handsome guy who gives great foot massages. I don’t see why any woman wouldn’t want to get more of that.” You catch yourself too late when you realize what you’ve just said.
He snorts your comment but doesn’t pile on it. “You’d think, right?”
You clear your throat and attempt to recover. “Well, you’re also easy to talk to. You keep the conversation flowing.” Your voice is still tight, embarrassed from your ‘cute guy who gives great foot massages’ comment.
“I appreciate that,” he smiles. He examines your nails, one last time, running the pads of his fingers over the polish to make sure that it has set properly. When he’s satisfied, he says, “Looks good. I’ll be right back, okay? Then we can get to your hand massage.” He excuses himself and gathers his tools to soak them in a cleaning solution.
When he walks away and disappears into the back room, you release a breath you seemed to be holding in for far too long. You’d never been this wound up during a mani-pedi.
A few minutes later, he returns and sets a warm towel down. He then moves the magnifying lamp out of the way, giving you a complete and unobstructed view of him. Unfortunately, this doesn't bode well for you.
“So, do you have any plans after this?” He asks casually while massaging circles into your forearms.
You’re all flustered again. “Not much. Maybe I’ll grab some mid-day coffee or something then head home.”
“Nice. Where do you grab coffee?” The feel of him dragging the pads of his fingers on your slicked skin, couple with his piercing gaze are causing your breathing to go ragged again. Suddenly, your brain blanks out on where your favorite coffee spot is.
“Just, uhm—” you struggle to pull the name out of your memory at first but manage to blurt it out when he squeezes your fingers. “It’s not far from here.”
“Oh. I don’t live in this neighborhood so I’m not familiar.” His thumb and forefinger knead your muscles in a way that should normally not feel arousing to you, but it does. And you can’t help when your thoughts slide back into wondering what else those magic fingers can do.
“I figured, if I was going to be helping out here more, maybe I should get to know the area– especially places to eat. You think you can you give me directions to the cafe?”
You shift in your seat. “Well, it’s sort of a hole-in-the-wall place. The GPS is kind of spotty on it. You have to be a local to really know where it’s at.”
“Well, my break’s coming up after this. Maybe we can drive together?”
It takes a couple of seconds for you to realize it. He's not stupid, and you were right – he's definitely self-aware. He knows that you're affected by him. Smiling to yourself, you’re happy to let him know that the feeling is mutual.
Your eyebrows twitch at how forward he’s being. “A break? But it’s only 11:30?” You laugh.
“What can I say? I think I worked you really hard–”
His response makes your eyes bulge and causes your jaw to drop.
“Oh, sorry–I meant to say, you worked me really hard.”
You throw your head back in laughter, and it makes him laugh out loud, too. He was a cocky little shit but you’re not mad at it.
When your laughs die down, he says, “I think we can both agree that we did our best to fight this–” he gestures at the space between you two.
“Oh, is that right?” You ask playfully.
"Yeah. I think we deserve a little treat. Maybe grab some lunch, wherever you want." You’re mildly aware that the massage is over but his fingers are still lingering on your hands while he patiently waits for your answer.
This is one of the most unusual ways you've been asked out, but there's a first time for everything. After thinking it over, you decide to give it a chance. "Okay. But if I agree to go to lunch with you, do I still need to tip you for the mani-pedi?”
He purses his lips in thought for a few seconds before countering. "Tell you what—if you let me take you to dinner tomorrow night, the service is on the house. We can call it even then.”
His playful proposition catches you off guard but it also intrigues you. Again, you find yourself unable to resist his charm.
“Alright.”
Your response makes him smile full-on and it’s infectious, so you can’t help but smile back. He starts to clean up his station, then turns to the older nail technician next to him who saw the whole situation unfold.
“Auntie, please don’t tell my mom,” he whispers mischievously, causing her to laugh after she agrees not to rat him out.
You giggle at his request and tell him, “I guess I’ll meet you out front whenever you’re ready?”
“Sounds good. We’ll take my car so we don’t ruin my masterpiece there,” he points at your hands.
You laugh at his retort and shake your head. Never in a million years did you ever think that you’d find a date a the nail salon. It’s one of the better things to come out of your Self-Care Sundays.
Main Fic Masterlist
You’ve reached the end! Thank you so much for reading!
If you loved it, please comment, reblog, or send me feedback! 📩. I love hearing from readers! If you didn’t like it so much, I would still like to hear about it. Help me become a better writer! 💜
Warnings: kissing, Taehyung is a bit of a rapscallion, general silliness, this fic may cause your teeth to rot - my apologies to your dentists
Word Count: 6k
Disclaimer: SFW, obviously I don’t own BTS - they just inspire me
Summary: Jungkook has something he'd like to tell you, but he can't find the words. So he's thought of another way.
A/N: I wrote this for ficscafe's au pairing event, using prompt fifty-two: ceo x barista ; where the barista unknowingly writes daily cute little messages on the cup of the richest person in the country. Put my own little spin on it, and set it at Christmas time because I am a sucker for holiday fluff. Unbeta'd as usual. I'd love to know what you think - my inbox is always open! 💕
Masterlist 💜 Find me on AO3 💜
The bell chimed as the door to the coffee shop swung open. Jungkook’s head popped up above the counter where he was crouching as he cleaned, looking around frantically to see if someone had just walked in.
“Don’t worry, it’s not her,” Taehyung’s low voice droned over his shoulder.
“It’s not?” Jungkook whipped his head around to gawk at his coworker, who leaned casually on the cash register in front of him, waiting for the customer in line to put away his phone and give his order. “I mean, uh, what are you talking about?”
Taehyung rolled his eyes. “Her. You know. The woman you’ve been making eyes at for the last month or so? Always comes in on Saturdays at this time of morning, always orders a caramel macchiato to go. And you always stare at her like a lovestruck puppy the entire time.”
Jungkook felt his face heating. Was he really that obvious?
He didn’t get a chance to refute Taehyung’s words before the door chimed again, and you swept in.
It must’ve started flurrying outside, Jungkook realized, from the snowflakes that dotted your hair and face, tiny drops of white that melted away as the heat of the coffee shop slowly thawed you. You peeled off your gloves and queued up behind Taehyung’s customer. He watched as you scanned the menu that hung on the wall behind him, eyes flicking back and forth as if mulling over your options, even though you always ordered the same drink.
Jungkook thought you had the prettiest eyes he’d ever seen.
“Kook,” Taehyung’s voice broke through his reverie. “Large dark roast, with one shot of espresso, to go, for Yoongi.”
Jungkook sprang into action. “Got it.” He snatched a cup, grabbed his fine tip marker, wrote “Yoongi” on it in loopy lettering, then set about making the drink. Once finished, he stepped to the end of the counter and called out “Yoongi!” A sleepy-looking man with pink hair wandered up and took his drink with a grunt that Jungkook assumed meant “Thanks.”
When he returned to his spot by Taehyung at his register, you were already placing your order.
“Medium caramel macchiato to go, please,” you chirped, your voice the sweetest melody to Jungkook’s ears.
Taehyung asked your name and you mentioned it as Jungkook remained rooted to the spot, gazing at you softly.
“Did you get that, Kook?” Taehyung repeated your name. Jungkook blinked and nodded, reaching for a cup and his marker. He started to write, then paused, thinking hard.
A minute passed.
“Uh, are you planning on making that drink anytime soon?” Taehyung asked, smirking at his friend. “Or did you want to ogle our customer a little more?” Jungkook glanced up, relieved to see that you had wandered off to wait for your drink, well out of earshot of Taehyung’s teasing. He shot his friend a dark look, then finished what he was writing and hurried off to make your drink.
You heard your name called out a minute later and walked up to the counter where the doe-eyed barista stood. He didn’t acknowledge you, focused on cleaning his equipment, but you thanked him anyway and picked up your cup. Stopping by the door to put your gloves back on, you shifted the drink in your hands, noting in happy wonder that, below your name, there was an intricate, beautifully etched snowflake, with “Stay warm!” scrawled beside it.
❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️
A week later, an amused Jungkook watched as a pile of shopping bags on legs burst through the door of the coffee shop. It trundled up to the counter, a pair of bewitching eyes peeking over the tops of the packages.
“Hi!” your voice rang out. “Can I get a medium caramel macchiato, to go, please?” Your face appeared as you lowered the bags, gingerly juggling them as you attempted to reach for your wallet.
“Starting your holiday shopping?” Taehyung questioned as you handed him your card.
“Finishing it!” you trilled cheerfully.
“Wow, this early? It’s only the beginning of December! I’m impressed.”
You shrugged, a pleased smile crossing your lips. “I like to get an early start, beat the crowds.”
As you and Taehyung chatted, Jungkook’s hands worked swiftly, his marker flying over your cup. He half-listened to your conversation, wishing he could join in. You and Taehyung struck up an easy rapport, gabbing away while Jungkook worked on your order.
He envied the way Taehyung could talk to anyone. Jungkook sometimes found it hard to say what he was thinking, especially if he was excited. He’d get overwhelmed and the message would get mixed up, words jumbling together somewhere between his brain and his mouth.
When a beautiful woman like you got his heart racing, he’d lose his words completely.
He didn’t realize how long he was taking until Taehyung raised an eyebrow at him, silently asking what he was waiting for. Jungkook ignored him and scurried off to make your drink.
You managed to rearrange your purchases by the time your order was ready, giving yourself a free hand. As you reached for your cup, thanking the dark-haired barista who was once again occupied with wiping down his workstation, you giggled at the detailed drawing of a cute little elf, a tiny gift box in its hands with your name written across it.
❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️
“Hoseok!” Jungkook called out, pushing a tray of drinks towards the edge of the counter.
“Jin!” He slid another tray forward.
Another busy Saturday in December. Only two weeks left until Christmas. The closer the holidays got, the more hectic the little shop became, gallons of coffee flying out the door as sleep-deprived shoppers fueled themselves for more retail madness.
Normally, this made Jungkook happy, because it meant the hours ticked by faster - and he usually left with bigger tips. But today, he wasn’t particularly enjoying himself.
He tried to convince himself that it had nothing to do with the fact that you hadn’t been in this morning, for the first time in weeks. That was certainly Taehyung’s theory, which he’d told Jungkook during their break, complaining that Jungkook’s sour mood was killing his “vibe,” whatever that meant. But he wouldn’t give Taehyung the satisfaction of agreeing with him.
Jungkook was in the middle of whipping up another tray of eggnog lattes when he heard Taehyung call out your name. As he dusted nutmeg over the drinks, he risked a swift peek at the register, where you stood talking at the blue-haired man taking your order. You were the last customer in line, which meant Taehyung could catch his breath and rest for a minute, before the next crowd shuffled in and the frenzy started all over again.
Jungkook quickly handed out the lattes, then hopped over to grab a cup for your order. Spotting a sly glance leveled his way, Jungkook understood with a sinking feeling that Taehyung was going to take advantage of the lull not to relax, but to bask in his favorite pastime - torturing Jungkook.
“I’m guessing you weren’t out shopping, since you are shopping bag free today,” Taehyung mused as he leaned towards you, resting his chin in his hand. “Not to mention you don’ t look like you’ve been fighting the crowds. No one who’s been out in those throngs could come in here looking as pretty as you do.”
Jungkook frowned as his marker swirled your name over the cup.
“Oh, no, I just needed my weekly fix of macchiato,” you answered, smiling sweetly in return. “I would’ve been here earlier this morning, but I slept through my alarm.”
“Late night?” Taehyung cocked an eyebrow.
You shot him a conspiratorial wink. “Oh yeah. This project I’m finishing for work kept me up all night.”
“Hmph, how rude of it. Well, I’m glad you came in. Wouldn’t be a good Saturday without my weekly fix of you.” He grinned, lips revealing a brilliant, boxy smile, hitting you with the full dazzling Taehyung charm.
Something that sounded like a rather annoyed grunt sounded from your left, and you turned to curiously eye the shaggy-haired barista standing next to Taehyung. He must’ve felt your gaze, because he suddenly looked up. As your eyes met, he froze.
You were struck by the thought that he very much resembled a deer caught in headlights.
After a few seconds, he seemed to snap out of it and spun on his heel, rushing off to make your drink. You cocked your head, wondering what that was all about.
“Sorry about him. Overcaffeinated. Hazard of the job.” Taehyung commented dryly.
You peered at the flirty employee standing at the register. “I’m sure it is.”
Your gaze kept snapping back to the tall barista crafting your drink. You watched him work in thoughtful silence, suddenly remembering something.
“Oh, do you have comment cards?” you asked Taehyung. “I wanted to tell your bosses how much I love the little holiday illustrations on your cups! They’re so cute and festive!”
Jungkook’s ears perked up. He tried to lean towards the conversation as unobtrusively as possible.
“The… holiday illustrations?” Taehyung repeated in a puzzled tone.
“You know, the drawings? Snowflakes and elves? I really like them.” You beamed. “They even look hand drawn, like a little personal touch. It’s a nice change from the plain cups.” Catching the confusion on his face, your smile began to falter.
“I have no idea what y-“
“Here you go, miss!” Jungkook cut Taehyung off as he set your drink at the end of the counter.
You strode towards the other handsome barista. As ever, his eyes were averted, but you caught a slight nod when you thanked him. Grabbing your drink, you twirled it in your hands until you saw your name. You grinned and brandished the cup towards Taehyung.
“I think this one is my favorite!” you giggled as you displayed a little reindeer, its antlers all tangled up in Christmas lights, the caption ‘Oh deer’ hanging above its head. “Thanks, guys!”
As the door closed behind you, Taehyung scrutinized Jungkook carefully, realization slowly dawning across his face. “Ohhhhhhh,” he crowed.
“Shut up,” Jungkook growled, walking away.
❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️
“So, what will our artist-in-residence be sketching tomorrow, hmmm?” Taehyung teased Jungkook the following Friday. “Santa Claus? Christmas tree? Do you decide these things ahead of time, or do you find inspiration in the moment?”
“Don’t you have some work you should be doing right now?” Jungkook retorted as he tried to focus on the gingerbread latte he was crafting. Taehyung was crowding his workspace. “Cleaning? Restocking? Literally anything else?”
“Mmmm, nope,” Taehyung intoned. He draped himself across the counter to Jungkook’s left, not close enough to be in Jungkook’s way as he worked, but just close enough to be a major nuisance anyway. “You know what you should draw?”
Jungkook sighed, defeated. “What’s that?”
“Your phone number.”
“How… how do I draw a phone number?”
Taehyung stared at Jungkook.
Jungkook stared at Taehyung.
Taehyung sighed. “Dude. I just mean, give her your number already.”
Jungkook scowled. “Order ready for Namjoon!” He handed the drink to a tall man in glasses who flashed a dimple-laden smile. “Will you please drop it?” Taehyung had been hounding him about giving you his phone number all week.
Jungkook slipped past his friend, bolting for the stockroom in the hopes of ending the conversation. But Taehyung simply followed, undeterred.
“I don’t understand what the big deal is,” Taehyung went on as Jungkook paced the stockroom, pretending to take inventory of the cups and lids. “You like her, right? What do you have to lose?”
“I just… don’t you think that’s a little cheesy? Hey pretty lady, here’s my phone number! Call me!” Jungkook punctuated his words with finger guns, aiming at Taehyung.
“Well, yeah, if you do it like that, it’s definitely cheesy. Creepy, too.” Taehyung quipped. “Just write your number on her cup and leave it up to her. If she’s interested, she’ll call. If she’s not, she won’t. No harm done.”
“I don’t know,” Jungkook fretted. “What if she thinks it’s weird? Some random guy hitting on her? Or what if I make her uncomfortable? That’s the last thing I want!” Resigned to Taehyung’s nagging, he abandoned his inventory scheme and walked back out to the counter, knowing Taehyung would be on his heels.
“You’re overthinking this,” Taehyung declared.
“Maybe. Maybe not.” Jungkook waffled, turning to look at his friend. “I think I’d feel better about slipping her my number if we’d ever talked before. We haven’t even exchanged a simple ‘hello’.”
“Hello!”
Taehyung and Jungkook jumped, both surprised to find you standing at the counter, smiling brightly. Neither had heard the door open while they were in the stockroom.
“We gotta get a louder bell,” Taehyung murmured.
“Is it always this quiet on a Friday?” you wondered out loud as you surveyed the nearly empty shop. Pulling off your pink knit hat, you shook the snow from the fluffy pom-pom before unraveling your matching scarf.
“You just missed the morning rush,” Taehyung told you. “The usual, to go?”
Jungkook automatically picked up a cup and reached for his marker when you shook your head.
“Actually, could I have that for here instead?” You held up a laptop case. “Need to get some work done, wanted a little change of scenery.”
Jungkook slowly lowered the cup as Taehyung grinned widely.
“Of course! We’ll be happy to have your company today.” Taehyung rang you up as Jungkook marched rotely over to the espresso machine, lost in thought. “Have a seat and we’ll bring it right out.”
You chose a table by the window where you could watch the crowds drift by. Shedding your winter gear, you sat down and started typing away as you waited.
The shop was quiet save for some tinny holiday music rattling out of a speaker overhead. But after a few minutes, you thought you detected a whispered argument, a few choice expletives being hurled back and forth in hushed tones. You chose to mind your business and kept focused on your work.
You were so in the zone that you didn’t realize someone was hovering over you until they cleared their throat. You glanced up, startled.
The handsome barista with the big eyes was staring down at you. Jungkook, that was his name. He seemed almost as spooked as you. “Sorry. I, uh, didn’t mean to scare you.” He held out a large cup on a saucer. “Here you go.”
You slid your laptop to the side to make room. He lowered the cup and mumbled a quick, “haveagoodday,” about to turn and walk away when your fingers closed around his wrist. He stopped, going completely still with shock.
“Oh, how cute!” you cooed as you inspected your drink. The foam floating on top of your macchiato had been deftly swirled into the shape of a polar bear, bundled up in a big hat and scarf. In your delight, you had reached out to grab the barista’s arm unthinkingly. Upon realizing this, you gently released him.
Peering up at him, you inquired, “Did you do this?”
Jungkook nodded, tongue feeling too thick in his mouth to speak.
“That’s so cool. Do they teach you how to make different designs when you work here?”
Jungkook shook his head. “They didn’t - they don’t teach that stuff here. I figured it out on my own.”
“You taught yourself how to make foam art?” Your eyes widened. “Wow!” You watched the little bear bob gently across the surface of your drink. “I’m jealous of your skills.”
You gazed up at Jungkook with a warm smile. His heart somersaulted in his chest.
“Th-thanks,” he stammered, his hand rubbing the back of his neck. “Um, enjoy your macchiato.”
He bustled back towards the safety of the stockroom and sat down on a pile of boxes turned into a makeshift chair. A moment later, Taehyung strolled in, hands in his pockets, expression nonchalant.
“Sooooo, how did that go?” His tone implied innocence, but Jungkook knew he’d been stretching himself over the counter as much as humanly possible, trying to listen in. But he didn’t care.
“She liked my bear. She said - she said she was jealous of my skills.” Jungkook clapped his hands over his ears, feeling to see if the tips were as hot as they felt. He scrunched his nose as he grinned at Taehyung.
“And then?”
“And then I came back here.”
“That’s it?”
“Yeah.”
Taehyung looked aghast. “Good god, the way you’re reacting, I figured you’d asked her out - or, more likely, she’d asked you out. You just talked about foam art?!”
Jungkook nodded.
“You’re hopeless, man. Hope. Less.” Taehyung drifted away, leaving Jungkook still smiling to himself.
❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️
The next time you visited the shop, Jungkook did a double take. Then a third.
Every other time he’d seen you, you were dressed casually - usually jeans and boots, though one time in late October you’d worn yoga pants and a clingy tank top, apologizing for being sweaty by explaining you’d just come from your first (and last) attempt at pilates, and he’d accidentally inhaled a noseful of espresso when you’d removed your coat to reveal your form-fitting workout clothes.
But you’d never walked through the coffee shop’s door looking the way you did on this particular Monday morning.
You wore an immaculately tailored dark green wool coat, with large black buttons running down your torso, that nipped in tightly with a shiny belt at your waist, then flared out into a ruffled hem, accentuating your hourglass curves. A black pencil skirt peeked out from underneath the coat, stopping just above your knee. Your calves were swathed in dark nylons, and as you turned to make sure the door closed behind you, Jungkook noticed a seam running along the backs of your legs. He swallowed thickly as he followed the line down to the intimidatingly tall high heels you wore that gave you an extra few inches, bringing you eye-level with him as you sauntered up to the counter and smiled.
Right at him.
From his post at his register, Taehyung whistled. “Wow,” he said, breathing your name. “You look amazing!”
You tore your gaze away from Jungkook. “Thank you, Taehyung,” you flushed, giving a little twirl at his compliment. “I’m happy to hear you say that, because I haven’t worn my power suit in a very long time, and I really needed a confidence boost today!”
“Your power suit?”
“Yeah.” Your fingers dropped to your skirt, smoothing a nearly imperceptible wrinkle as you explained. “I’m hoping to close an important negotiation today. Business deals like this always make me super nervous. But this suit is my secret weapon. It’s like a coat of armor - makes me feel like I can conquer anything. And then, you know, I had to make sure the rest of me was pulled together nicely - hair done, heels on, complete the whole look.” You grinned, posing cutely. “You think it works?”
“It definitely works.” Jungkook heard the words leave his lips before his brain alerted him that he’d said them.
Two heads swiveled in his direction.
Before Jungkook could think about running away, your phone rang.
“Ah, excuse me, I gotta take this!” You stepped away from the counter as you swiped your phone open, but not before the baristas heard you answer with your full name.
Taehyung suddenly released his grip on his register, popping upright. “Did… did she just say…” He repeated your name to Jungkook, who nodded, still sweating from his accidental utterance.
Taehyung’s fingers flew over his phone. “Whoa. I knew that I knew that name!”
Jungkook just waited, knowing from his friend’s tone of voice that he had something interesting to share.
But he was not prepared for the headline on the article on Taehyung’s screen:
Country’s Youngest Tech CEO Now Country’s Richest Tech CEO
He gaped at the photo accompanying the headline. It was you, appearing very much like you did today, hair pinned up, makeup tastefully done, and wearing the same skirt with similar nylons and heels. The top half of your suit was on display, and Jungkook had to admit - calling it your ‘secret weapon’ was no lie, because you were absolutely lethal in the fitted jacket, ready to vanquish your enemies.
The satisfied smirk on your face knocked the air from his lungs.
Once he regained the ability to breathe, Jungkook peered at Taehyung, baffled. “You read Tech Biz Weekly magazine?”
“My roommate Jimin’s cousin’s boyfriend works for her.” Taehyung informed him as Jungkook scrolled his phone, reading. “He tweeted this article the other day. She’s a big deal in software. I guess she, like, revolutionized the work from home industry with a program or something? I don’t know, I just skimmed it.” He shrugged. “But the point is, her company is crazy successful and she’s stupid rich. Like, could probably buy several islands without blinking rich.”
“But… she wears jeans?” Jungkook’s brain was completely scrambled, making it even harder than usual to find the right words to express what he was thinking. You didn’t look like a CEO, he meant to say.
“Yeah, dude,” Taehyung confirmed. “Rich people wear jeans sometimes. You expect her to dress like that all the time?” He pointed to your back. You were still on your phone, pacing in an empty corner as you spoke.
“Well, no, of course not, but… she was here on Friday and not dressed in office clothing.” You didn’t appear to work in a stuffy corporate job.
“Right. Work from home technology, remember?” Taehyung shrugged again. “She probably uses her own products.”
“But she’s always alone? Shouldn’t she have bodyguards or something?”
Taehyung gave him a look. “I don’t think many people recognize her. She’s rich, she’s not Beyoncé.”
“She’s our age.” How could someone his own age be so rich and powerful?
“She’s your age, dude. I’m still your hyung, you know.” Taehyung gazed into the distance. “Oh. That means she’s younger than me. I need a minute to process.”
Jungkook attempted to reconcile everything he’d read and everything Tae was (rather blasély) telling him with everything he’d learned about you over the last few weeks. He already knew you were smart and confident. Was it really so surprising that you could be a tech savant, too? It… made sense, as much as it all could.
It just meant that you were even more out of his league than he’d thought. As if you’d ever be interested in a goofy, tongue-tied barista.
You returned to the counter, sliding your phone back into your pocket. “Sorry about that.”
“No worries,” Taehyung waved his hand. “So, medium caramel macchiato to go?”
“Better make it large today,” you stated, handing him your card.
Jungkook had barely put the tip of his marker to your cup before your phone went off again. Wincing, you mouthed an apology to the two men as you grabbed your card and took the call at the same time.
You were so absorbed in your conversation, going over the final details for your big meeting, that you didn’t note how long it was taking for your drink to be made. But eventually you heard your name called over the voice of the lawyer nattering in your ear, and you flashed Jungkook a quick smile as you grabbed your drink from him and dashed out of the store.
Jungkook tried to ignore the pang of disappointment that struck when you didn’t even glance at the drawing on the cup. Ah, well. You were clearly a very busy woman.
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Two days left until Christmas. The coffee shop was a madhouse, with last-minute shoppers and holiday travelers packing the lobby and keeping the staff hustling from open to close. Jungkook barely had the time to think about you.
Yet somehow he did it anyway.
He wondered how your meeting went while he was whipping up peppermint mochas and snickerdoodle lattes. Wiping down his station, he imagined your face when you saw his drawing, hoping it had made you smile. Running to the stockroom for more cups, he remembered how you’d spun in your gorgeous coat and skirt, and paused to stare unseeing at the shelves, adrift in reverie.
He knew he’d have to get over this crush eventually. But it couldn’t hurt to stand there and pretend for a few moments that you might feel the same way.
It was while he was in the back that you entered the shop, door chiming as you scanned the counter.
Taehyung stood alone. Leaned alone, to be more precise, draped as usual over his register, blissfully enjoying a rare moment of silence between the swarms of shoppers. Catching your eye, he grinned.
“If it isn’t our favorite customer,” he greeted you cheerfully. You clocked the “our” as you reached into your shoulder bag and produced an empty coffee cup, setting it in front of him.
Taehyung snatched it up, examining it curiously. “You brought your cup back? Um, we appreciate your commitment to recycling, but we don’t reuse our paper cups. They are biodegradable, though.”
You didn’t reply, but simply reached out and rotated the cup in Taehyung’s hand until he saw it.
Inscribed across the cup was a stunning sketch of a fierce-looking woman, wielding a shield, sword raised above her head. Next to her was scribbled “파이팅.” Most would assume it was an illustration of a random warrior, but you recognized the woman’s eyes right away.
They were your own.
Based on the way Taehyung glanced between the drawing and your face, he recognized them, too.
“What does this mean?” you implored, tapping the word written in Hangul.
“Paiting,” Taehyung smiled. “It’s like, good luck, or let’s go! Like someone’s encouraging you.”
“Mmm,” you hummed, staring at the cup. Taehyung handed it back to you and you held it delicately, lowering your head as you contemplated his words. He opened his mouth to ask if he could take your order, but the question died on his tongue when you gazed up at him, an intense expression on your face. “Okay. Thank you, Taehyung.”
He tilted his head, not really sure what he’d done for you. “You’re welcome?”
You smiled. “I’ll see you later,” you said, walking away. As you exited the shop, shoppers streamed past you, filling the lobby again, and Taehyung’s attention was diverted by the next wave of customers.
It wasn’t until he was lying in bed that night, drifting off to sleep, that he realized he’d never told Jungkook about your visit.
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Christmas Eve morning was mercifully slow. The neighborhood businesses were already closed for the holiday, so there weren’t any employees needing their daily caffeine fix. By now, most travelers had reached their destinations, so they were no longer piling into the shop. The only steady flow of customers were the remaining last-last-minute shoppers, those who had procrastinated until there were only literal hours left to shop, and thankfully they were more of a trickle than a flood.
Yet despite the holiday and the quiet, Taehyung wasn’t surprised to see you walk through the door.
“Is he here?” you inquired by way of greeting, dusting snow from your hat.
Taehyung didn’t bother to ask you to clarify. “Yeah, he’s in the back. Let me grab him.”
Jungkook was combing through boxes, scouring for more caramel syrup, when he heard his friend’s voice call out, “Kook. You have a visitor.” He lifted his head to glance at the doorway and ask who it was, but Taehyung had vanished.
He blinked, suddenly nervous.
Taehyung was missing from his register when Jungkook emerged from the stockroom. And you were standing at the other end of the counter, bundled in your winter gear, with a cup in your hands and a soft smile on your lips.
Jungkook forced his legs to carry him to his workstation. You looked up as he approached.
“Hi Jungkook.”
His name had never sounded so sweet.
“Hi,” he responded. “Um, can I help you?”
You waved the cup around. “Did you draw this?”
Jungkook nodded.
“I didn’t notice it until I was on my way to my meeting yesterday,” you confessed, twiddling the cup in your hands. “It… it made me smile. I wanted to tell you that. And thank you.” You looked away shyly for a minute before giving him another sweet smile, and Jungkook felt his face heating in response. “The meeting went so smoothly. Even though I didn’t know what you wrote, I still felt like someone was cheering me on, and it helped. A lot.”
Jungkook knew he was still standing in front of you, but he felt like he was floating towards the ceiling.
“You’re welcome,” he murmured, just barely loud enough for you to hear.
“Did you do all those other sketches? The reindeer, the elf… was that you?”
“Yeah.”
“I thought so.” You regarded him closely. “Did you draw them for all your other customers?”
He shook his head, fighting the urge to cover his ears, knowing they were burning. “No.”
“Ah.” You bit your lip, fighting a smile. “You’re not much of a talker, huh?”
Jungkook just blinked his doe eyes in alarm.
“It’s ok. I talk enough for the two of us.” You suddenly dug into your bag, searching for something. “Anyway, like I said, I wanted to thank you. This time of year can be... hard, you know? I didn’t intend to visit this place so often, honestly - I’m not much of a coffee drinker, as you can tell by my preferred order.” You grinned and Jungkook couldn’t stop himself from beaming as well. “But you and Taehyung have always been so nice, and then the little sketches… well, they made me happy. I wanted to show my appreciation, so… here.”
You thrust a small package into his hands. Jungkook stared at the beautiful gold wrapping paper, the gauzy white bow, and the tiny tag that read “Jungkook” in elegant handwriting.
A gift? For him?
He automatically moved to open the package and you quickly interjected. “Wait, don’t open that now!”
He stopped, gazing at you with wide eyes. You smiled at his startled expression.
“Sorry. I just… just open that later, okay? After I leave.” You cleared your throat. “I, uh, took the liberty of breaking it in. But I don’t draw, so… you’ll see,” you blathered, fiddling with the strap of your bag.
“Okay.” He easily acquiesced to your plea and tucked the package under the counter, out of sight.
“Okay,” you repeated, nodding. “I better get going. Got a lot of miles to travel today.” You edged towards the door. “Merry Christmas, Jungkook. Please give Taehyung my wishes for a good holiday.”
He nodded, watching you walk away. He felt like he was going to burst. As your fingers gripped the door handle, he found his voice, calling out your name.
“Merry Christmas. And… thank you.”
Your smile shone brighter than all the Christmas lights strung throughout the shop.
The moment the door closed behind you, Taehyung instantaneously reappeared. Jungkook assumed this meant he’d been hanging out in the back hallway, eavesdropping on your conversation. He didn’t care. He grabbed the gift and set it on the counter.
Taehyung gestured for him to continue.
The metallic paper sparkled as Jungkook turned the gift over in his hands. It was wrapped so neatly that it almost seemed a shame to tear into it. But he didn’t think he could wait a second longer.
Peeling back the layers of ribbon and paper, he found a gorgeous, leather-bound sketchbook. Tucked inside the cover was a row of pristine pencils arranged in a perfect rainbow of colors.
On the first page of the pad was written a little note:
Jungkook,
Talent like yours deserves a better canvas. Hope this helps.
And underneath your signature, a phone number.
“Whoa,” Taehyung marveled, plucking the sketchbook from Jungkook’s hands and inspecting the contents. “Fancy!”
Jungkook was halfway through the lobby before Taehyung looked up.
“Where are you going? You don’t have your coat!” he heard his friend yell as he opened the door and dashed out into the cold.
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Falling snow made it difficult to see very far as Jungkook spun around, scanning the street. He shivered, wishing he had grabbed his jacket. But he’d been moving on instinct, his gut telling him to run out the door before he lost you.
Though he was starting to fear that he already had as he surveyed the scene around him. The boulevard was mostly bare, only a few other people out trekking through the wintry weather. Then he spotted it - that fuzzy pompom, bouncing on the top of your knit cap as you strolled away a few blocks down from the shop. Jungkook started to run, skidding slightly on the slippery pavement.
“Hey!” A voice was shouting your name. You slowed your pace, glancing over your shoulder, eyebrows shooting up as you saw Jungkook dashing towards you.
“Jungkook!” you exclaimed as he came to a halt, breath huffing into little white clouds as he panted in the chilly air. You observed his lack of outerwear with a frown. “You must be freezing!” Taking his arm, you ducked into the entryway of a closed clothing store, tugging him behind you, giving him partial protection from the snow and wind.
Huddling close to you in the doorway, Jungkook forgot his words again.
The wind whipped up, nipping at your face. Brushing your hair out of your eyes, you retreated more, leading Jungkook further out of the cold, until your back bumped the door behind you. You peeked up at him patiently, giving him time.
Eventually, he spoke. “I just… wanted to thank you. For the sketchbook. It’s amazing.” A shy smile crossed his face, eyes crinkling as he beamed, and you swore your heart skipped a beat. “No one’s ever given me a gift like that before.”
“Well, I have to be honest. I gave it to you for rather selfish reasons,” you admitted.
His deer in headlights expression returned. “You did?”
“Yeah. Because I can’t wait to see what you do with it.” You looked down at your feet, feeling slightly bashful yourself. “I’m hoping you’ll show me.”
Jungkook’s gaze flitted to your lips. He licked his own unconsciously, fighting the urge to lean in. Would it be too forward to kiss you?
You lifted your head, and something hanging above Jungkook’s head caught your eye as it swayed in the wind.
“Jungkook,” you murmured, pointing. “Mistletoe.”
His eyes followed your finger, missing the way you glanced at his mouth, watching the perfect cupid’s bow and pouty bottom lip pop open in surprise. He gawked at the little green sprig someone had strung up above the store’s entrance.
How else should he interpret the tiny plant, but as an answer to his question?
Jungkook cupped his hands over your cheeks, drawing you to him for a tender kiss.
Your eyes fell shut, lips brushing against Jungkook’s as he pulled you close. Warmth flooded from your head to your toes, driving out the winter air’s icy sting. Your fingers fisted in his apron as Jungkook hummed into the kiss, stepping forward until he was flush against you, pressing your back firmly into the door, causing you to squeak slightly.
Jungkook broke the kiss. “Sorry! I - I got carried away,” he apologized, dropping his hands from your face.
You shook your head vehemently. “No! Don’t apologize. That was really nice,” you gushed, releasing your grip, trying to iron the wrinkled material of his apron with your hands. “But you should probably get back to work before you catch a cold! I can’t believe you’re out here like this.”
Jungkook lowered his head, grinning sheepishly. “Yeah, I, uh, didn’t really think this through. I just wanted to see you. And….” he trailed off, running his fingers through his dark, messy hair.
“And?” you prompted him lightly.
“And ask if you want to get dinner with me. Maybe next Friday?” He peered at you hopefully. “I’ll bring my sketchbook.”
“To show me or to draw me?” you teased.
“Both, if you’ll let me,” he replied, without hesitation, a playful gleam in his eye.
Your neck burned as you nodded your acceptance, suddenly too shy to speak.
Jungkook promised to text you before sprinting off back to work.
As the door chimed, announcing Jungkook’s arrival, Taehyung poked his head out from where he’d been standing in the back, savoring the quiet with a hot cocoa.
“Well?” he demanded.
Jungkook just smiled. He opened his gift, selected a pink pencil, and started to sketch.
amandla
titsay
vaporwave
