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Clichés and Canapés (M) (Pt. 2)

Author: kpopfanfictrash

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.”

“No, Y/N,” Emilia says softly. “You really look amazing.”

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

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