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infinitelibrary · 20 hours ago

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April Shower | jww x f!reader

Wonwoo meets a lot of people through his career as a travel photographer. Not one of them has ever made him want to stay in one place, until he met you.

Rating: M (18+) | WC: ~12.0k Pairing: jww x f!reader | Genre: romance, meet cute, smut, love at first sight

Story Warnings: alcohol and food mention

Smut Warnings: masturbation mention, dirty talk, dom!wonwoo, bigdick!wonwoo, wonwoo’s cold hands, size kink, light thigh slapping, fingering, oral reader rec., overstimulation, slight dumbification, squirting, sexual health/safety talk, unprotected sex (don’t do it), cumming on tits

Reader Notes: has breasts and a vagina, like half a foot shorter than wonwoo, wap, has a cycle to track

AN: written for my bestie @sluttywonwoo’s birthday! kaili, the light you bring to my life is immeasurable and i’m so lucky i’ve gotten to grow with you over the past 7 years 💖

Wonwoo draws in a deep, tremulous breath as he raises the camera to his bespectacled eye, wishing not for the first time that he was anywhere but the city of love.

This is the second proposal he’s photographed today, the fifth this week, and while he’s always thought himself to be someone who doesn’t mind love, he’s starting to grow a bit… weary.

His hotel room is obviously meant for two, as were many of the pastas and desserts he’s ordered so far. Everywhere he looks, there are people kissing or hugging or holding hands, their ages ranging from teens in puppy love to folks in their golden years shuffling down the street arm in arm, supporting each other as they have for decades.

He’s been working as a travel writer for five years, been single just as long, but this is the first time he’s ever found himself feeling lonely. He’s usually restless, never wanting to settle in one place, and he’s almost always solo, reluctant to give himself to someone who might want to keep him.

Lately, he’s felt a bit differently. Perhaps he’s getting old, outgrowing his bachelor lifestyle. He finds himself wanting to plant roots where before he was nearly offended by the notion of digging any deeper than surface level.

There’s just something about Verona that begs to be shared, to be experienced with someone else. Maybe it’s the romantic music flowing from the restaurants he passes, maybe it’s the fact that he seems to be the sole single person in this city. Regardless of the cause, he actually feels alone, for the first time in years.

It’s not a feeling he enjoys, or one he’s familiar with, and as he traverses the cobblestone streets, he almost wishes he was holding someone’s hand instead of the camera he’s carried for most of his life.

Wonwoo swears out loud when he feels the first drop of rain. He checked the forecast twice this morning, knowing he would be exploring an area a few miles from his hotel and that he wouldn’t be able to return to grab or drop anything off.

With the weather appearing to be clear and sunny all day, he left his umbrella in his room and headed out to catch his taxi.

He more than regrets that now, the rain starting to pour and his white button down beginning to soak through. He at least brought his water resistant backpack so for now, his camera is safe, but spending the rest of the day in sodden clothes sounds like actual hell.

He looks up and down the street frantically, finding only personal residences, not a single shop in sight.

Until he looks closer and realizes the building at the end of the row has a sign. He can’t read it from this far away, even with his glasses, but the hope is enough to propel him forward.

He darts down the street, splashing through puddles and swearing again as he feels water permeate his socks. The store comes into view, the sign becoming clearer and clearer the closer he gets.

Storie d’Amore, it reads. Love stories, of course. He shouldn’t have expected anything else from the city of love.

“It’s open, thank fuck,” Wonwoo murmurs as he wrenches the door open and steps inside, his clothes dripping all over the hardwood floors.

He feels terrible tracking rainwater into this store, but he had no other choice. His water resistant bag is only resistant for so long, and his camera is far too valuable to risk.

He glances around the small room, looking for the owner so he can apologize and instead finding shelves upon shelves of books. He walks slowly, squelches following each step, and reads over the spines.

He’s shocked to find novels in all kinds of languages, some he recognizes and speaks and some he doesn’t. He’s relatively fluent in five thanks to his years of language classes and traveling, and he has to resist picking up a book in each of the ones he knows.

He reaches the end of the first shelf, gasping at the large paned window he finds and gasping even louder at the black, tailless cat lounging on the ledge.

The cat pays him little to no mind, lazily peering at him over their shoulder before curling into a small ball. They blink their big peridot eyes a few times and let out a heavy sigh, settling into sleep faster than Wonwoo could ever hope to.

Enchanted, he swings his bag around to his front, digging through and pulling out his camera as quietly as possible.

Even with the mid-April shower, the light coming in through the window illuminates the subtle white notes in the cat’s fur, giving them a glow he begs his camera to capture.

He crouches until he’s eye level with the cat, holding his breath as he brings the viewfinder up to his eye and presses down the shutter button.

The cat doesn’t stir, too deep in slumber to register the quiet click. He takes a few more pictures, trying different angles and light settings until he feels he’s gotten every possible combination.

Maybe it’s stupid, but Wonwoo is more excited to share these photos than nearly any others he’s ever taken.

Which is why he balks and falls flat on his ass when he hears, “Anubis is a model, you’ll owe us royalties for those.”

Eyes wide, he looks around wildly to find the source of the words. There’s no one in sight, the store seemingly empty except for him and Anubis.

“Up here,” the voice calls out, drawing his eye and making his mouth drop open when he finally notices a spiral staircase leading up to a small loft.

He doesn’t know how he didn’t see it before. He must have been too busy staring at the cat to really take in the rest of the store, and as you slowly step down, he can’t tell if you’re amused or annoyed. What he can tell is that you’re the most beautiful person he’s ever seen, and that he suddenly wants to ask if you believe in love at first sight.

“I can give you royalties! Please don’t make me delete them,” he pleads, far less embarrassed than he should be by the fact that he’s practically on his knees begging a pretty stranger to let him keep photos he took.

You reach the landing and make your way toward him, your face unreadable. He’s surprised when you break into a sweet smile and hold your hand out to him. He hugs the camera close to his chest in response, making you roll your eyes and grab his free hand.

The warmth of your touch is a shock to his system, but he holds back the shiver that wants to roll down his spine as you lean back and tug. Still confused, he lets you help him up, feeling self conscious in his damp clothes.

He stands a little straighter when he realizes he’s over half a foot taller than you, the height difference giving him back some of his confidence. He’s not sure it should, especially with the unimpressed look you level at him when you set eyes on the trail he tracked through your store.

“I’m so sorry, I can clean it up if you give me supplies,” he offers, fully serious and almost hoping you’ll say yes just so he can assuage his guilt.

“These floors have seen worse,” you shrug, leaning down to pet Anubis, and Wonwoo has no idea what that means but he’s not about to ask. He introduces himself instead, shaking the hand still held by yours and repeating your name when you offer it.

He’s only slightly jealous when you pull away and hook your hands under the cat’s body to draw him into your arms, though whom he’s jealous of, he doesn’t know.

He would love to be holding the cat, but he has a sneaking suspicion he’d also love to be held by you.

Your hand was so warm, and so soft, and the rest of you looks just as warm and soft, if not more.

Anubis snuggles into your arms, his legs stretching and his toes spreading before he tucks them up against your forearm. His eyes go heavy lidded when you start to scratch his head, and now Wonwoo knows who he’s jealous of.

He hates to admit it but it’s been years since he let someone touch him, and after just a minute or two of knowing you, he’s already hoping you’ll touch him more. He doesn’t know if it’s because you hold Anubis so lovingly, so gently, or if it’s because you have this aura about you that soothes him, or if it’s even because he feels this attraction, this draw to you. Maybe it’s all three.

All he knows is that something about you makes him want to stay until his clothes are dry and the sun is setting, and then stay a little longer after that. Like for months, or even years, perhaps.

He’s relieved when you ask if he’d like some tea, directing him over to the small fireplace in the back of the store and nodding to one of the chairs. When he sits, you lean down and plop Anubis in his lap, surprise painting your face when he doesn’t immediately jump down.

“He’s usually wary of new people,” you hum thoughtfully, watching as the cat gets comfortable on his thighs. He brings his hand up and runs it over his soft fur, beaming up at you when he feels Anubis’s little body start vibrating beneath his palm.

“I love him,” Wonwoo admits, his voice grave and his eyes open and true behind his glasses.

You just laugh and say, “Me too,” before disappearing behind a door, leaving him alone with your cat.

Rain is still barraging the building, the steady sound lulling him into a trance as he pets the sweet being in his lap. The fire warms him quickly, making him realize just how cold he was before, a small shiver attempting to wrack his body again. He keeps it contained to his shoulders, wanting to avoid disturbing Anubis if possible.

He tells himself it’s just because he wants him to stay, but if he’s being honest, he also hopes that if you see that your cat likes him, then you will too.

Before long, you return with a tray of steaming mugs, one for him and one for you. You set it carefully on the side table between the chairs, telling him, “I would let it steep for two more minutes. There’s also biscotti, and some crostini if you’re allergic to nuts.”

“Wow, thank you so much,” he breathes, his eyes wide. He’s run into some very nice people on his travels, but it’s been a while since he was met with such hospitality. Here he is, sitting in front of a blazing fire with tea and snacks waiting for him, after dirtying your shop and taking unapproved pictures of your model cat. Cat model?

“So, how much do you expect in royalties?” He asks with trepidation, knowing the magazine he works for is pretty big but maybe not big enough to pay residuals for pictures of a cat.

You stare at him for a few seconds, squinting your eyes and quirking your head before chuckling, “That was a joke. Bubby isn’t a model, I just think he’s handsome enough to be one.”

“Ohhhh.”

Wonwoo feels himself blush, his cheeks and ears flaring red before he forces out a laugh to try to cover his embarrassment. He’s not used to jokes, usually relying on sarcasm, puns, and situational humor, and he’s a bit ashamed he didn’t realize you weren’t being serious. He stares down at Anubis, petting him softly so he doesn’t have to meet your eyes.

“Tea should be ready,” you say brightly, picking up your mug with careful hands and kindly allowing him to recover without your gaze on him.

He follows suit, cupping his hands around the hot mug and bringing it to his lips so he can blow gently, huffing when steam fogs up his glasses. He pushes them up into his hair, thinking absentmindedly that he should get it cut soon as he takes his first sip.

The flavors bloom on his tongue, mint, orange, cinnamon, honey, and something else he can’t put his finger on. It’s the most comforting tea he’s ever had, and he blinks over at you with misty, blurry eyes, sighing, “What is this? I need to buy four tons of it.”

“It’s called Evening Sorrento, it’s one of my favorites,” you smile indulgently, bringing your mug to your lips and drinking slowly before setting it down and reaching for the biscotti.

He follows your lead, taking a biscuit and dipping it in his tea like you do. The first bite has him groaning in appreciation, dark chocolate, citrus, and almond blending together flawlessly, the taste only enhanced by the tea.

“What’s the spiciness from?” He asks curiously, taking another sip to try to figure it out himself.

“Ginger,” you whisper like it’s a secret. “I candied some and put it in the biscotti, too.”

“You made these?” He sounds astonished, he knows, but he almost can’t wrap his head around someone being able to create something so delicious when all he can do is fry an egg. He still burns it half the time, more scared of undercooking than he is of overcooking.

“Yeah, my best friend taught me how, she loves to bake,” you smile sweetly, seemingly pleased to see him enjoying the food you made.

Anubis stirs, stretching out on Wonwoo’s lap before leaping onto the floor and up into your chair. You murmur, “Hi, baby,” and Wonwoo can’t help but grin as he watches your cat use your arm to pet himself.

He asks how long you’ve had him, then for pictures when he learns you rescued him as a kitten, gasping softly at the tiny version of the cat as you swipe through photos. The conversation shifts to Wonwoo’s desire to adopt a cat before he explains why he can’t, and the way you look genuinely sad for him makes his heart swell.

You ask more about his job, about the places he’s been and the things he’s seen, and in turn, he asks how you acquired all of the books in this store. It turns out you have contacts all over the world, friends who send you romance books when they come across them in exchange for a free one when they next come to visit. It seems like the perfect system, allowing you to collect novels in different languages and share them with the people you love.

Talking to you is so easy that he doesn’t even notice how late it’s grown until you check your phone, a startled expression on your face as you say, “I should have closed half an hour ago.”

He glances at his watch, blanching at the clock staring back at him. It’s been four hours since he burst into your shop looking for refuge from the downpour, and he doesn’t even know if it’s still raining. The sun has long since set, going down around six PM this time of year, which was over two and a half hours ago.

He rises swiftly, nervously smoothing out the wrinkles in his slacks and thanking you for your generosity. You stand with him, hugging Anubis to your chest before offering the cat for one last snuggle. Wonwoo takes him carefully, bundling him up against his now dry shirt and smoothing a hand from his head all the way down to the nub at the end of his body.

He starts purring immediately, the sound audible even over the crackling of the embers, making you smile softly and tell him, “Bubby likes you.”

“I like him,” Wonwoo beams, reluctantly handing the cat over when you stretch your arms out.

“You love him,” you correct with mirth dancing in your eyes as you walk him to the door.

He peeks out, sighing in relief when he finds that the rain has stopped before turning to you. He almost doesn’t know what to say, goodbye feeling too final, too formal. He thanks you again instead, dragging his feet now that it’s time to leave.

But he doesn’t want to be rude, or keep you any longer than he already has, so with one last wave and a scritch under Anubis’s chin, he leaves.

You call out, “Come back soon!” and while he’s sure you say that to all your customers, he can’t help but feel like you mean it.

Wonwoo has a plan for the day: take the train to Venice, splurge on a gondola ride, and capture as many of the historical buildings as he can while the boat is guided through the canals.

So why he finds himself standing outside of Storie d’Amore again, he doesn’t know.

He managed to stay away for two days, hiking all over Verona and taking enough pictures to fill an SD card. He would have made it three if he asked the cab driver to take him to the train station instead of your place of business, but here he is.

Some part of him wants to rationalize it. He didn’t get any photos of the area because of the rain, just of your (not) model cat, so he’s simply making up for lost time. That still doesn’t explain why he’s staring through the paned glass window at the end of your shop, hoping for a glimpse of you or Anubis.

Obviously, you’re both here, but he doesn’t see either of you, and he also wants to buy a few books to take home, so it only makes sense that he goes into your store.

He’s dry this time, thankfully, though he wonders if that means you won’t offer him tea and biscotti again. He can see a few people milling about, pulling books off the shelves to read the summaries and either placing them into mismatched baskets or putting them back.

He does the same, searching for novels in the languages he knows with the intent of buying one of each. He’s gathered Italian, French, and English when he feels something rub against his leg, looking down to find a black cat staring up at him.

“Anubis!” Wonwoo grins, leaning down to set the basket to the side so he can pick up his little friend. Holding him to his chest, he feels his heart warm as the purring starts, not even a little mad about the black fur accumulating on his shirt.

“Oh!”

He hears you gasp and glances up, smiling shyly at you and shifting to hold Anubis with one arm so he can send you a wave that only feels a little awkward.

“I didn’t think you’d come back,” you say, stepping closer to him and taking in the basket at his feet and backpack slung over his shoulder.

“You told me to,” he shrugs sheepishly, suddenly fearing that, “Come back soon,” is something you just say to everyone.

“I didn’t think you actually would. I thought you’d be gone by now, on to the next destination.”

He can’t tell if you’re happy to see him or not, but you haven’t kicked him out yet so he doesn’t plan on going anywhere.

“The next destination can wait. I needed something to read on the plane anyway.”

“Looks like you found more than just something,” you chuckle, peering closer to check out the titles he’s gathered so far. “All good choices,” you smile up at him, and he feels something unlock in his chest to make space for you.

“Can I take you out on a date?” He blurts out, his eyes widening and his free hand flying up to cover his mouth. The words escaped without his permission, but he can’t say he wants to take them back.

You tilt your head and look at him for a little while, like you’re searching for something, and you must find it because your smile grows before you nod and say, “I can close early tonight. Does seven work for you?”

“It works perfectly,” he breathes after lowering his hand, his heart racing and his body feeling warm for once.

A customer calls out your name, making you glance over before you turn back and say, “Leave your books at the register and meet me here later?”

He can only nod, grinning too wide to manage any words.

“Don’t take my cat, I love that little guy,” you warn him playfully (he thinks) and spin to find the source of the voice. He can hear you speaking in rapid French, easily translating it in his head without even meaning to. They’re asking for your help in choosing between two books, one a tragedy and one a comedy.

You go over the pros and cons of each genre and offer your own personal opinions on the specific books, making Wonwoo wonder if you’ve read every novel in here. You seemed to recognize the books in his basket and you apparently know the ones this customer is talking about; maybe you read them as you receive them?

But there are so many, there’s just no way, he thinks, letting Anubis wriggle out of his arms to follow you. He supposes that’s something he can ask you at dinner, the thought bringing a pleased little smile to his face.

He selects his last two books and wanders over to the checkout counter, stashing his basket on the stool behind it before heading out to get pictures of the neighborhood while he can.

He’ll be busy tonight, after all.

Wonwoo returns to your shop five minutes before the clock strikes seven.

He slips in without your notice, making his way to his favorite window and sitting down on the ledge next to Anubis to scroll through the pictures he took while he was out. The cat just sprawls a bit more so his feet are touching Wonwoo’s thigh, the tiny points of connection warming him from the inside out.

He captured another proposal today, but this one didn’t leave a hollow feeling in his chest like the others. Now that he’s thinking about it, neither did any of the couples he passed. He was able to truly appreciate all of them without that sense of bitter loneliness, and he can only attribute that to meeting you.

An unbidden smile stretches his lips as he thinks about the time he spent sitting by that fire with you, talking about anything that came to mind. It’s been months since he spent four straight hours with someone, just talking. It’s been years since he wanted to.

A tiny part of him fears he only feels this way because he’s been so lonely, but the rest of him knows he’d be enamored with you no matter what state he was in.

This is only confirmed when you round the bookshelf and come to a stop in front of him, an emerald green dress swishing over your thighs and a smile brightening your face. You cleared the store in the time he spent reminiscing, leaving the room empty but for you, Wonwoo, and Anubis.

The air feels tense, heavy with something Wonwoo can’t quite identify. It’s only when he rises to his feet and finds himself closer to you than he meant to be that he realizes that something is potential.

It’s the same rush of anticipation that fills his chest when he lines up a shot he knows will be incredible, when he finishes climbing a hill and sees the perfect sunset waiting for him, when he finally finds the words to describe the indescribably beautiful. The fact that he’s feeling it now, with you, tells him everything he needs to know.

His previous fear of meeting someone who would want to keep him has become a dream, a wish that he can only hope will come true, because now Wonwoo knows he wants you to take hold of him and never let go.

“Can I kiss you?” He asks, his voice so full of longing, it’s almost embarrassing.

“Before the first date? The scandal!” You say dramatically, feigning offense and lightly tapping him on the chest. He gasps at the contact and covers your hand with his, pressing it flat to his pec so you can feel his speeding heart.

You must realize how serious he is, how desperate, because the playful smile falls from your face, your gaze darting between his eyes and his lips. He feels himself flush under your attention, his ears and the back of his neck hot as you stare up at him.

“Yes, Wonwoo. You can kiss me,” you breathe softly, your face tilting up and your eyelashes fluttering as he begins to lean down. This moment feels monumental for some reason, like something he’ll remember for the rest of his life, and as he cups your face and carefully presses his lips to yours, he figures out why.

Everything about kissing you feels right, as if all of his jagged pieces have fallen into place, as if this is what he was destined for, as if the fates connected him to you with an invisible, unbreakable string.

He wasn’t restless, he wasn’t a bachelor, he was just waiting for you.

Suddenly his smile is too broad for him to keep kissing you, giddiness flowing through his veins as he pulls back and rests his forehead against yours. He leaves his hands on your face, brushing his thumb over the curve of your cheekbone before biting back his grin and kissing you one, two, three more times.

He feels shy when he takes a step back, letting one hand fall to catch yours and squeezing like it’s a lifeline.

“Was that… life-changing for you too?” Wonwoo asks quietly, scared to pop the bubble he’s found himself in with you.

“Maybe,” you whisper, vulnerability evident in your voice though your face gives nothing away. “We should get going.”

“Yeah, yes, we should,” he lets you pull away even though it physically pains him, following when you tug him to the door with the hand he’s still holding.

He doesn’t know what just happened, why you closed yourself off, but he’ll give you the space you seem to need, sure that if he pushes it will only make you freeze up more. For now, he’ll take you to that romantic riverfront restaurant he passed earlier and encourage you to order any and everything you like.

You ease up a bit after a glass of wine and some shared appetizers, the smile on your face genuine again though your light still seems dimmer than it was before. You ask him a lot of questions but don’t offer up much information in return, keeping your responses short and to the point.

It doesn’t disrupt the flow of conversation at all, thankfully; Wonwoo and you are compatible enough that it’s easy to bounce from one topic to another. There’s never a pause, never a moment where he doesn’t know what to say, and even with you being more withdrawn than expected, he still laughs himself to tears more than once.

It’s late by the time he pays the bill and walks you home, which he’s learned is the building right above your shop. There aren’t many people out, and though he startled you when he took your hand in his, he continues to hold it the whole way back. You’ve gone quiet again, pensive, making him wonder if he’s done something wrong, or, worse, if you regret kissing him.

You only started acting like this after he pressed his lips to yours, after he asked if it was life-changing for you like it was for him.

He doesn’t know what else it could be, unless you figured out you just don’t feel the same way about him as he does about you. His heart drops into his stomach at the thought, his fingers subconsciously clenching around yours, making you glance up at him in concern.

He stares forward resolutely, not ready to see confirmation of his fears in your gaze.

By the time that big window and Anubis’s sleeping body come into view, Wonwoo has convinced himself that you feel nothing but friendship for him and simply don’t know how to say it.

Still, he can’t help but try, one last time.

“Do you think I could see you again before I go? I’ve got plenty of pictures and I fly out tomorrow night, so my day is clear.”

You take a second to think about it, your eyes shuttering as if you don’t want him to see the thoughts behind them, before you answer solemnly, “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Oh,” he breathes out, feeling like all the air has been pulled out of his lungs. “You don’t… think it’s a good idea. Okay, I’ll, um, I’ll just go, then.”

He can’t even make himself look at you, knowing that his mouth is pinched in the way it does when he’s trying not to cry. He squeezes your hand once more before disentangling his fingers from yours, taking a step back, and turning to walk away so you can’t see him lift up his glasses and rub at his burning eyes.

He doesn’t get far before you call out his name.

“Wonwoo! I… It’s because you’re leaving,” you sound as close to tears as he feels, your voice plaintive and fragile.

He stops short and chews on his lip, swiping at his face with rough hands as your footsteps sound on the cobblestones. You let him stay where he is but he feels your fingers clench in the back of his shirt, like you’re afraid he’ll still walk away.

That touch is enough for him to turn around, his hand catching yours as it falls and his heart stuttering at the sheen of tear tracks on your face. He brings his other hand up to brush his thumb under your eye, sweeping away a freshly fallen drop.

“Is that why you said maybe, after I kissed you?” He asks in a gentle, low tone, less fearful of the answer now.

“Yes. This has an expiration date, I don’t get to keep you. I couldn’t admit that just one kiss had me ready to sell my shop, buy a new cat carrier, and join you on the road,” you laugh softly in a self-deprecating way, avoiding his gaze again like you’re embarrassed.

“Y/n, when I said it was life-changing for me, I meant it. As in, I would change my life for you. I can transfer to the Italian branch, go on shorter assignments, find a place here. You can keep me.”

“Wonwoo, I can’t ask you to do all that for me. I mean, we only met a few days ago, how do you know you won’t regret this?” You sound reluctant to accept his offer, but it seems to be coming from a place of worry for him instead of a lack of feeling, and he can work with that.

“I’ve been thinking about settling down anyway, I just needed a sign. Meeting you was that sign, and getting to know you like this has only made me more and more sure. Please, all you have to do is believe in me.”

Finally, you meet his eyes, searching them like you did when he asked you out, and once again, you find what you’re looking for. A watery smile stretches your lips as you step closer to him and up onto your tiptoes, wrapping your free arm around his neck and pulling him into a hug.

His eyelids flutter shut, his arm vining around your waist and hauling you up against his body so you can feel his galloping heart. He presses his lips to the top of your head and breathes you in, finding your scent absolutely intoxicating.

It’s fruity like pomegranate but sweet and floral too, reminding him of the lotus flowers he stumbled across in the southern Himalayas. There’s an underlying warmth, a natural musk that makes him wonder if you’re wearing perfume or if you just smell like this on your own.

He doesn’t really care either way, not now that he has you so close, your joined hands coming up to rest against his shoulder and your body relaxing into his. You stay like that until his heart returns to a somewhat normal pace, before he pulls away just far enough to look down at you. He tugs his hand free so he can cup your face, whispering, “I’m gonna kiss you again, okay?”

“Please do,” you whisper back, taking in a shuddering breath just before he locks his lips with yours. You sigh it out into his mouth and he swallows it like it’s a benediction, your tongue dragging against his as he kisses you and kisses you and kisses you.

He’s about to let out a groan when a wooden shutter bangs against the stone building above, a loud voice shouting, “Prendi una stanza!”

“É la città dell'amore, Stefano, dacci una pausa!” You break away to shout back, grinning at Wonwoo’s flaming cheeks.

“Y/n? Vai avanti, caro!” The shutter snaps closed again and Wonwoo bends over in a full body laugh, clutching his stomach as his abs flex with mirth. You’re not laughing like he is, but you are watching with affection and only the slightest bit of embarrassment.

When he’s finally regained his composure, he straightens and wipes at his cheeks again, crying for a completely different reason than before. You smile up at him fondly, reaching out to fix his hair and asking, “Since you’re free tomorrow, do you want to come up for some coffee?”

Wonwoo doesn’t know if you’re really offering refreshments or if the coffee is a euphemism for something else, but either way, it’s an easy answer.

“Of course I do.”

Anubis starts meowing as soon as you unlock the door to your shop, loping over on graceful paws and weaving between your feet.

“You had your dinner, why are you shouting at me?” You ask as you crouch to pick him up, holding him like a baby and scratching at his stomach gently.

“Maybe he missed you?”

You mull it over for a little bit, nodding your head in acceptance and admitting, “I don’t usually go out at night, so maybe he did.”

“Is that why your neighbor was fine with us making out as soon as he figured out it was you?”

You lightly jab him in the stomach with your elbow and he pretends to be mortally wounded, stumbling and groaning dramatically as if he’d been hit with an arrow instead.

He supposes he has been, but it was one of Cupid’s, not one of yours.

Anubis twists out of your arms and you let him, locking the entrance to your store and leading Wonwoo to the back. You unlock one of the doors with a huff of exertion and a jiggle of the handle, turning to say, “Old building,” before pushing the door open and letting Anubis dart up the staircase in front of you. Wonwoo jerks the door closed and locks it with the key you hand him, following you up the stairs in near darkness.

The room you lead him into is a bit smaller than your store, containing a compact kitchen and warm living room flanked by a wall with two doors. “Bathroom is on the right, if you need it.”

He slips off his shoes and excuses himself to freshen up, taking care of his business and washing his hands quickly. Chancing a look in the mirror, Wonwoo finds that he’s flushed, aglow with infatuation, his smile irrepressible and wider than ever. He almost can’t look himself in the eye, knowing that all he’d find is adoration for you, and perhaps a bit of nervousness.

He doesn’t know what to expect now, doesn’t know if this is leading where he thinks it is or how to act in whatever case. But, not wanting to keep you waiting, he opens the door and shuts off the light, finding you sitting at your dining table with a full french press and two mugs in front of you.

He wants to speed over but he strolls instead, trying to appear at least a little unaffected. That facade is broken when he stops a few feet from the table, suddenly unsure of whether he should sit next to you or opposite from you.

Blessedly, you make the choice for him, sliding one mug across the table before smoothly depressing the plunger of the french press.

The rich smell of coffee permeates the air as you gracefully pour, filling his cup with the steaming, dark liquid before filling yours. “Is black okay? I have sugar and oat milk, if you need them.”

“Black is great, thank you.”

He’s acclimated to the bitterness enough to appreciate the deeper notes, though it’s only because he was once too shy to ask for sugar. He sips carefully, wondering with a satisfied hum if this really is the best coffee he’s ever had or if he just thinks that because you made it for him.

You fall into an easy chat, discussing pictures he took and customers you had while he was out and about, before you bite your lip and stare down into your coffee like it’ll give you strength.

“Wonwoo, can I ask you something… personal?”

Your eyes slowly return to his, and the heat in your gaze makes him want to pop open a few buttons on his shirt and fan himself.

“Sure,” he says, with only a little trepidation.

“What are you like in bed?”

Oh.

Oh. You want to know what he’s like in bed.

Have you thought about what he’s like in bed? Have you thought about being in bed with him? Have you thought about him and touched yours-

He should answer you before he lets himself get carried away.

“Um, I’m a little different, I suppose. I like to be more… dominant. Maybe a bit rougher than I may seem,” his voice is hushed, and he wants to look away from the intensity of your stare, but he finds he can’t. It’s like you’ve hypnotized him, entranced him with a single question.

“Is there anything specific that you like?”

This conversation, he likes this conversation. A lot. He can feel his slacks tightening with it, his heart thumping far too hard to be healthy and his mind starting to offer up ideas so fast he can barely make sense of them.

They’re mostly images, sensations, feelings, all modeled after you.

“I like,” he begins slowly. “I like being in control. I think I’d like holding you down, making you take what I’m giving you. I like talking,” he chuckles wryly, before continuing.

“I like listening too. I wouldn’t want you to hold back, I’d want to hear every little noise I could pull out of you. And I think I’d really like using my hands first, making you cum until you cry. Or until you beg for my cock.”

You suck in a ragged breath and glance away before looking back at him. Finally, he can read you, desire obvious on your face and in the tight knuckled grip you have on your mug.

You set it down cautiously, aware of the still scalding coffee inside, and push away from the table to stand. Wonwoo watches you walk around to his side, his gaze fighting to stay on your face and not on the way your dress moves over your thighs as you get closer and closer to him.

You stop just a foot away, holding your hand out and waiting for him to take it with a slight air of impassioned impatience. He places his hand in yours and rises to his feet, valiantly ignoring the view of your breasts from this angle and following you when you turn and begin tugging him to the door on the left.

“Are we done talking?” Wonwoo asks, exhilarated and aroused, his dick hardening so quickly it leaves him feeling dizzy.

“Not even a little bit,” you breathe, pushing the door open and facing him again as you walk backwards towards your bed.

He crosses the few steps between you, crowds you up to the edge of the bed and pushes you to lay down with a gentle hand on your shoulder. His hands won’t stay gentle for long, and he hopes you understand what you’ve gotten yourself into.

“If you don’t like something I do, tell me,” he whispers before leaning down and taking hold of your legs, pulling them apart and filling the space in between with his hips.

“I will,” you gasp as he grinds against you, your dress pooled at the top of your thighs, just barely exposing your black panties. “But I don’t think I’ll need to.”

I like everything you do.

You don’t say it but he hears it anyway, the corner of his mouth lifting in a soft smirk before he braces his hands on either side of your head and moves in close. He doesn’t kiss you yet, just watches the way your eyelids flutter shut and your lips pout in preparation. You peek an eye open when he continues to hold himself away from you, your hand rising to cup his neck and attempt to tug him down to you.

The second your fingers come into contact with him, he shifts his weight to one hand and grips your wrist with the other, pushing it down to the bed and holding it there. You bite back a smile, wriggle beneath him to get more comfortable, and drape your other hand above your head.

That, he likes, and he rewards you by releasing your wrist and dragging his fingers up your inner thigh instead, digging them into the warm, soft flesh and groaning when he comes into contact with your panties. They’re soaking, so much wetter than he expected, and when he cups his big, cold hand over the seat of them, you shiver and buck up into his touch.

“How long has it been for you?” Wonwoo asks, as if it hasn’t been literal years for him.

“Um, a while, it’s been… a while,” you admit, seemingly shy for the first time. He should reassure you, but he likes the way you shrink beneath him, likes even more the thought of being your first in however long. He plans on being your last for the foreseeable future, so it’s only right he’s the one to break your dry spell.

“Good,” he grins wickedly down at you, pulling your panties to the side and letting his fingers glide through your arousal. You’re soft, and sopping wet, and hot, so fucking hot, just for him, and already he’s wondering if he’ll be able to make good on his words.

If he’ll be able to hold himself back from you long enough to make you beg for it.

He’ll do his best though, for you, and that starts with not grinding himself into your thigh. He needs to forget about his own pleasure, focus solely on yours, or he’ll be balls deep inside you before he’s even made you cum once.

That won’t do, not when he wants you writhing on his fingers and pleading for his cock.

So he pulls his hips away from you and tucks the tip of one digit into your entrance, sliding it in slowly enough that your face crumples in impatience, a low whine escaping you when he just leaves it there and drags his thumb over your clit.

He wants to take his time, wants to learn you with his hands and his teeth and his tongue, wants to catalog your reactions and be able to take you apart diligently, passionately, like you deserve.

This teaches him that you don’t like to be teased, and he decides to shelve the idea of edging for another day. He’ll go with overstimulation instead, he thinks, working another finger inside and rubbing more firmly with his thumb. Your face relaxes, your mouth opening on a sigh, and Wonwoo can’t resist leaning down to suck at your plump bottom lip as he curls his fingers inside of you, not yet searching for the spot that will make you gush for him.

He’ll find it when he’s ready, when he feels like he’s built you up enough, and then he’ll use it to push you over the edge as many times as you can take. For now, he’ll savor the taste of your noises and start stretching out your perfect cunt.

He pulls away from your mouth, fully aware that he could get lost in your kiss and intent on talking to you more before he lets that happen.

“You feel so fucking good wrapped around my fingers like this. You know that, don’t you? You know how your cunt hugs them, sucks them in deeper and deeper, because you touch yourself, right?”

You nod and Wonwoo allows it, won’t make you follow all of his rules until next time, until he’s sure you can handle it.

“Did you touch yourself for me that night? After we met?” He asks softly, rewarding you with a tap right into your sweet spot when you cry out, “Yes!”

“Did you say my name when you came?” His fingers pick up speed inside of you, fucking in and out to the beat of his own pounding heart.

“Yes, Wonwoo,” you whimper, your hands twisting in the sheets above your head and your eyes squeezing shut before he pulls his fingers out and lands a wet smack on your inner thigh. You gasp and try to close your legs but Wonwoo is stronger than you, holds them open with both hands before leaning in close to kiss the stinging skin and say, “Keep your eyes on me.”

You nod tearily, holding his gaze as he sinks his fingers back inside of you and hovers close enough to your pussy that he’s sure you can feel his breath. He quirks his fingers up just as his tongue makes contact with your clit, and the way your lashes flutter but don’t fall brings a proud smirk to his face.

“You’re a good listener, aren’t you?” He murmurs into your cunt. You start to answer but then he wraps his lips around your clit and sucks, and you shudder out a moan instead. The sound sends electricity zipping down his spine and straight into his cock, making it throb for you in his slacks.

He ignores it, shifting to rest on his knees and sucking harder, grinding his fingertips up into your front wall so he can draw that same sound out of you again. He told you before that he wanted to hear every little noise he could pull from you, and he meant it, including noises that don’t come from your mouth.

You’re getting so wet, he can hear it, his fingers squelching inside of you with every thrust, every curl. He doesn’t remember his past partners being so aroused, and he’s already obsessed, already dead set on making you fucking drench him.

He knows all he needs to do is make you cum and you’ll give him exactly what he wants, so he taps into your g-spot with more force, fucking his fingers into you hard and fast until your cries reach a fever pitch and your back arches. He doesn’t stop, dragging you through your orgasm and pushing you further even as your cunt ripples and squeezes around his fingers, the sensation so intense he almost feels the phantom pulse of you around his dick, too.

It makes him groan, a deep, dark sound muffled by your pussy, and that seems to be what sends you careening over the edge again, your thighs attempting to clamp shut around him. He lightly smacks one with his free hand, gripping the soft fat and pushing it up and out so he has enough room to work. The other settles on his shoulder but he doesn’t mind that, likes the weight of it, wants you to feel stable and secure as he takes you apart piece by piece.

You’re writhing on his hand, just like he wanted, your gaze teary and nearly empty, like your beautiful brain is focused on him and him alone, and ohhhh, he likes that, he likes that a lot. He wants to wreck you, wants to leave you with nothing in your head but thoughts of him and when he’ll make you break again.

He doesn’t know if you can, but he’s desperate to see you flood him, to make you squirt all over him, regardless of the fact that this shirt is dry clean only. He’ll scrub it out in the sink if he has to, doesn’t care what happens to the fibers if it means he can make you cum hard enough to ruin them.

You’re getting close again, he thinks with lurid satisfaction, his hand a blur between your thighs. He pulls away to murmur, “Hold your leg for me,” waiting for understanding to spark in your eyes. You wrap your hand beneath your knee and manage a wobbly smile, and Wonwoo feels affection burst in his chest like a firework, his lips curving in response as he brings his now free hand to your cunt.

His fingers push at the crest of your pussy, exposing your swollen clit for his thumb to cover, the pad of it pressing down and rubbing harsh circles. Your eyebrows furrow and your eyes water, your mouth stuck open on a needy moan that grows louder with every tap of your g-spot. It’s a whine soon enough, one that hitches in your throat as he fucks you with his fingers, and when he grinds his fingertips deep into you, he sees alarm grow in your eyes.

You try to warn him but you can’t seem to speak, only blubbers of his name gracing his ears, making him grin ferally and say, “Don’t worry, baby, I want it to happen. I want you to fucking soak me, now.”

He honestly didn’t expect that to work but apparently, you can cum on command, or, as he tells himself, on his command, because you suck in a deep breath and keen for him. Your cunt flutters wildly around his fingers, clenching down on them and sucking them in before tightening to the point that he can’t move them, his fingertips locked into your sweet spot as you fucking gush.

He can feel it spraying out onto his face and dampening his button down, arousal flowing out of you like a rushing river, making him groan out, “Fuck yes, just like that.”

His voice is gravelly and low, desire deepening its pitch, and you shiver above him, though that may have more to do with the thumb still strumming your clit and the fingers still plugging you up.

He could go again but he doesn’t want to push you too far this first night, doesn’t know where your limits lay or if you’re ready for him to find out for himself, so when your walls finally release his fingers, he slowly pulls them out and gently cups your pussy to help you calm down.

He’s surprised when you speak, and even more shocked that it’s enough to make him laugh out loud.

“All that and you didn’t even take my dress off,” you mumble, letting go of your thigh and reaching down to drift a hand over his hair, petting him like he’s an animal you’ve domesticated.

Maybe he is, and maybe you have. You’re the only one that’s ever made him want to stay, to plant roots, to be domestic.

Fondly, he says, “I did that on purpose. Now whenever you wear it, you’ll think about me.”

“I don’t need the dress to think about you, Wonwoo, I promise you that,” you hum, letting your eyes slip closed and missing the way his gaze fills with infatuation as he rests his cheek on your thigh and wraps his hands around your ankles.

His glasses are splattered with you and so is the rest of him, his cock is hard and aching and leaky, and his knees are all but decimated from kneeling on your wood floor for so long, but Wonwoo has never been happier in his life.

“Will you fuck me now?”

His brows raise in disbelief, his fingers twitching on your legs, and he stands as quickly as he can manage, bracing one hand beside your head and taking hold of your chin with the other. You blink open your eyes to look at him, the haze in them just a bit clearer, though he’s sure your thoughts are still clouded with pleasure.

“You still want me?” He asks in full seriousness, his dick pulsing at the thought of feeling your flawless cunt wrapped around it.

“Yeah, you gonna make me beg?” You murmur, your gaze just a touch defiant.

He wants to fuck that rebelliousness out of you.

“I said I’d like to, didn’t I?” He responds slowly, greed simmering in his veins and surely obvious on his face.

Your eyes narrow before you visibly collect yourself, finding that submissive side you seemed to lean into before. He watches as you let it take over, shrinking beneath him somehow, the expression on your face needy and compliant.

“Please Wonwoo, please give me your cock. I’ve thought about it since we met, since I noticed how built you were under that soaking white shirt. Your shoulders are so broad and your hands are so big and you’re so much taller than me. All I wanted was for you to pin me down and fuck me however you liked, and that’s still all I want.”

He sucks in a deep breath through his nose, carefully concealing how fucking wild your words make him feel. He needs to maintain this illusion of control or you’ll gain the upper hand, and he can’t let that happen. He’s already going to give you exactly what you want, he’ll die before he lets you be smug about it too.

It takes everything in him but he manages to pull away, releasing your chin and standing at his full height, a smirk rising at the way your hands leave their place above your head to cling to him.

“Get up. Take your dress off,” he commands stoically, backing up and giving you space to push off the bed onto your feet. Your hands tremble as you reach for the hem, and in a brief moment of tenderness, he covers them with his and lifts it with you, laughing and helping you wrench it off when it gets stuck at the elbows.

He stops laughing when you fling the dress onto the chair in the corner of your room and stare up at him, clad in just your skewed panties and a little bitten off grin. His eyes fall to your breasts, the shape and weight of them immaculate, just begging for his mouth. He fully plans on worshiping them at the next possible opportunity, but he’s got a different goal in mind now. His hands gravitate to your hips, fingertips tucking in the waistband of your underwear and pulling them down before returning to push you gently toward the bed.

“Lay down for me.”

Wonwoo doesn’t know why he’s being soft on you now. He’s still hard enough to cut glass but something in him just can’t be harsh when he feels like he does about you, especially after you already took what he gave you so well. Maybe it’s the vulnerable look in your eyes, maybe it’s the way his heart feels three sizes too big for his chest.

But maybe it’s because when he looks back on your first time together, he doesn’t want it to look like his previous encounters. He wants it to look like a couple that loves each other, that knows they want to be together, that will make sacrifices for each other.

Obviously, dominating you can still look like that, but right now his soul aches to be gentle with you. Emotionally, at least.

He’s still going to fuck you into your mattress, he’ll just be kinder about it.

You can tell that something has shifted in him and somehow it makes you even more pliant, your face open as you patiently wait for his next instruction. He doesn’t give one yet, reaching up to take his glasses off and wipe away the drying release with the edge of his button down before setting them on your night stand.

He works on getting naked, swiftly unbuttoning his shirt and shrugging it off, carelessly letting it float down to the floor as he undoes his pants. He removes his socks next, pairing them up and dropping them to the side before pushing down his boxer briefs.

It occurs to him that you haven’t talked about safety at all, and as he climbs over you, his thick, leaking dick dragging against your skin, he asks, “Do we need a condom?”

You swear under your breath and look down, biting your lip before whispering, “I’m not on birth control, and I have condoms but I honestly don’t think they’ll fit you. Do you have any?”

He swears too, remembering the expired one in his wallet and sighing, “Not one that we could use. I get tested regularly and I’m negative for everything, but what do you wanna do?”

“Um, well… I haven’t had sex since I last got tested and everything was clear, so what if you pull out? I track my cycle and I’m not ovulating right now.”

It’s risky, and sex without a condom isn’t something Wonwoo’s ever had, but he wants you more than anything, and he believes in his ability to honor your wishes and pull out when he needs to.

“Let’s do that this one time, and I’ll get condoms for the future,” he agrees, smiling at the way your eyes get brighter when he says ‘future’.

He settles back into his role seamlessly, though this time, he’s less domineering and more caring, to be sure. Your legs are already spread for him, but he slips his hands under your knees and tucks them up to your chest, resting your calves on his shoulders and setting one hand on the bed to hold himself up.

The other reaches for his dick, and he fights back a shiver at the chill of his own touch, his perpetually cold hands freezing compared to his searing hot cock. He can’t help but lay it over your pussy, feeling his ears and the back of his neck tingle with a blush when he estimates where he’ll end inside of you.

You squirm beneath him and he brings his hands back to your thighs, pulling his hips back enough to notch the head of his dick in your entrance before starting to push inside. You’re tight like this, all folded up, but your walls part to welcome him like he’s a missing piece of you, like he’s always been meant to fill you up when you’re empty.

He moves slowly, not to tease you but to savor you, luxuriating in the feeling of your velvet heat, your perfect cunt as it forms around him. It could be minutes or hours before he bottoms out, but when he does, he almost can’t think, he’s so consumed by sensation.

He closed his eyes without realizing it, and now he forces them open, only to find you already staring up at him, your gaze unwavering and your hands coming up to hold his where they push at your thighs.

You seem breathless, and it’s probably partly due to the position but Wonwoo prefers to think it’s because you’re as overwhelmed as he is, so wrought with pleasure that it toes the line of pain.

You’re still shorter than him, even like this, so he has to curve down to kiss you but it’s worth it because you bloom for him, moaning into his mouth and clenching around his cock when he glides his tongue against yours. With your lips still pressed to his, he draws his hips back a few inches, enough to feel air cling to the wetness on his cock, before thrusting inside sharply. His hips meet your ass with a loud smack, the only other noise in the room being your muffled whimpers and the wet sound of his lips moving against yours.

Again, he pulls out, almost to the tip this time, and sends his hips forward, grunting at the feeling of your cunt embracing him. It’s perfection, you’re perfection, and he resolves to be nothing but perfect for you too.

He swallows your sounds and categorizes them; you whimper when he pulls out far and thrusts in deep, moan when he just grinds himself into you, yelp when he fucks you with sharp, fast bucks of his hips. He follows their lead like he’s untying a knot or working through a maze, methodically dismantling you down to your nuts and bolts.

You’re barely kissing him back when he finally derives the best combination of pace and depth, your lips quivering against his as you whine continuously, the pitch rising every time he reaches the end of you. Your eyes are open but they’re glazed over, and he can’t tell if he’s fucked you dumb or fucked you to tears but either way, it makes his lips stretch in a vicious grin.

He loves kissing you but that’s not what’s happening anymore, so he pulls away and puts more of his weight on your thighs, using the leverage to fuck into you harder. He doesn’t go faster, knowing that if he does, this will end far sooner than he wants it to.

He’d like to draw at least one more orgasm from you before he cums, and he can’t do that if he’s got even more friction on his cock. He’s a little surprised there is any with how wet you are, but you’re perfectly matched to his size so your walls grasp him tight every time he pulls back, the drag of them flawless on his sensitive skin.

Your sounds are louder now that he’s not muffling them with his mouth, melodic in his ears and something he knows he’ll reproduce in his mind again and again, whenever he’s away from you and feeling particularly lonely.

He’ll have to cut down on his traveling now that he’s got you, but that doesn’t scare him like it used to. Instead, he’s excited to have someone who makes him want to stay and build a home, build a life. He kind of feels like this is the first step, making you his and giving himself to you in return, and it’s enough to make his cock twitch and leak just a little bit of precum inside of you.

He takes that for the warning it is, consciously veering away from thoughts of domesticity and belonging before dedicating the whole of his body to making you cum. He pushes away from you to sit up on his knees and haul your ass into his lap, your calves still resting on his shoulders and his dick just barely inside of you.

He angles his hips and thrusts back in shallowly, no longer hitting as deep but aiming the head of his cock at that innervated patch inside of you. Your eyes grow wide and you suck in a deep gasp, your fingers clenching around his where they hold your legs, your reaction letting him know he’s got you.

He fucks into that spot relentlessly, wondering if he can make you cum with just his cock. He stimulated your clit before too but you feel like you’re getting close, and he doesn’t want to change something trying to help only to hinder you instead.

He doesn’t have much time to think before you’re crying out his name urgently, your tone plaintive and your voice thin. It sounds like you’re right on the edge, looks like it too, your brows screwed up in pleasure and your eyes bright with bliss. He’s almost as close as you are, his orgasm spooled up at the base of his spine and ticking like a time bomb, just waiting for him to let himself go.

“Cum, baby,” he pants, hoping beyond hope that you’ll listen and obey just one more time. He doesn’t know how much longer he can hold on, prays that he’ll be able to endure the euphoria your climax will bring, that he won’t have to ruin it by pulling out while you’re deep in its thrall.

But you do listen, thank fuck, you do, your eyes rolling back and your cunt clamping down on him in a vise grip, the sheer heat and wetness of you enough to pull a strangled groan from deep in his throat. It takes everything in him not to cum with you, the feeling incredible and the sight just as glorious, the impact of both beyond the realm of imagination.

He lasts just long enough to get you through your aftershocks, his chest heaving for air as he makes himself pull out of the eden of your cunt. Blood rushes in his ears and fluffy cotton candy fills his head, his thoughts no more than paper airplanes gliding on a warm breeze. He watches his cum cover your perfect tits in white stripes, feeling as if he’s out of his body and out of his mind.

Your hands squeeze his and you breathe his name, slowly pulling him back to you, like he’s a balloon that’s floated away and you’ve miraculously caught his string. You’re blurry in his vision and he can’t tell if it’s because he doesn’t have his glasses on or if he’s just crying, but either way he releases your legs and leans in close to see you better.

You cup his cheeks and pull him into a soft kiss, the soothing, reassuring pressure bringing him back down to earth, back to you. He should be the one taking care of you right now, but he feels like he’s been cracked open, his soul and his heart bare, unprotected.

“You’re okay,” you whisper, petting his cheekbones with your thumbs, and that’s what restarts him.

He presses his lips to yours ardently, gathering up all of his feelings and pouring them into you, the intensity drawing a gentle sigh that travels from your mouth to his. He breathes it in before pulling away and focusing on you.

Lying down next to you, he pulls you into his arms, uncaring of the sticky cum that smears on his chest when your breasts press against him. He holds you for a while, until his heartbeat feels close to normal and his head feels close to clear. He’s about to drift off when he remembers how dirty you both still are.

“Do you want to shower?” He asks in a low voice, grinning at the way your face scrunches in displeasure at the thought before you look up at him and respond, “Are we going to fuck again tonight?”

He thinks on it for a moment, weighing options and offering his opinion, “I don’t want to tempt fate too many times, so I think we should just go to sleep for now and go out for condoms and Plan B tomorrow morning. Then I’ll fuck you all day, if you want.”

You smile serenely and nod, your eyes already half lidded with exhaustion.

“Does that mean you do want to shower, then?” He confirms, his fingers drumming on your bare back.

“Yeah,” you pout, obviously reluctant to get up and get clean.

“I’ll go start it and come get you when it’s warm. Don’t worry, baby, I’ll do all the work,” he promises you, grinning when your pout stretches into a pleased little smile.

He climbs out from under you and off the bed, walking on shaky knees to the bathroom, his soft cock hanging between his legs. He wonders if you have a washer, his shirt and boxers are not usable in their current state, but he can just use the sink if he needs to. He’ll have to go back to his hotel sometime tomorrow, to change and gather his things for his flight back home, and he’s already dreading the idea of it.

It would be nice if he could get his film camera, maybe take a few pictures of you to tide him over until his transfer is finalized and he can find an apartment here. He feels like you’d be up for that, imagines photographing you in all kinds of positions and varying states of undress, safe in the knowledge that he can rent a darkroom and develop them himself.

He struggles for a minute but figures out your shower eventually, turning it on and standing by until steam gathers on the mirror. He catches a glance at himself just before it fogs over, blushing at the image staring back at him.

His lips are swollen and red, his cheeks flushed with exertion and joy, his eyes luminous for what feels like the first time in years. You’ve made your mark on him, tattooed him in gold, and he doesn’t think he’ll ever be the same.

That’s not something he minds. He even finds himself smiling at the idea of rearranging his pieces to fit with yours, of making space in his life for you and Anubis to fill.

When he leaves the bathroom to get you, the cat is laying on the dining table, sprawled out with his eyes closed, and Wonwoo breathes a sigh of relief. If he’s being honest, he forgot entirely that there was another being in this apartment, and he’s glad your activities didn’t seem to disturb him.

He wants to smooth a hand down Anubis’s side but doesn’t want to wake him, so he stares at the cat for just a second longer before turning to your bedroom and poking his head through the door frame.

You’re starfishing on the bed, his cum mostly dry on your tits and your eyes gently shut, and he can’t contain the laugh that bubbles out of his chest.

Like mother, like son.

Wonwoo draws in a deep, centering breath as he raises the camera to his bespectacled eye, grateful not for the first time that he’s in the city of love.

This will be the first proposal he’s photographed today, the third this week, and for someone who’s always thought he didn’t mind love, he finds himself unbelievably excited.

He calls your name, watches dust motes float through a shining sunbeam as you stir in the bed you share, your tired gaze finding him before it lands on the book beside you. Or, more accurately, on the ring sitting on the book beside you.

You draw in a sharp gasp, your eyes flying to his, and he depresses the shutter button just as your face breaks into a beam bright enough to rival a supernova.

He thinks this will be his favorite photograph yet.

AN: And the book was titled April Shower and it contains your love story as written by your best friend, the end 💖

“Prendi una stanza!” - "Get a room!"

“É la città dell'amore, Stefano, dacci una pausa!” - "It's the city of love, Stefano, give us a break!"

“Y/n? Vai avanti, caro!” - "Y/n? Carry on, dear!"

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infinitelibrary · 20 hours ago

Text

First Snow

pairing; jeon wonwoo x f reader

genre; fluff, angst, smut (minors dni)

warnings; ceo!wonwoo, single mom!reader, reader has a son, divorce is mentioned, ex-husband, parent of reader mentioned, svt members cameos, eating/drinking, alcohol, slight power imbalance (assistant!reader), unprotected sex, sexual health talk/reader iud, oral (f receiving), fingering, handjob, teasing, pet names, switch!wonwoo, switch!reader, manhandling (wonwoo can lift the reader), tears of pleasure, scratching, breast play, body worship, begging -- i am sure i am missing something.

w/c; 33k and some change + 1.1k of bonus content exclusive to patreon

a/n; this was a pleasure to write and it certainly got out of hand. i love a good plot. i hope you enjoy it and merry christmas/happy holidays my babes. thank you to @wonwussy for proofreading.

before continuing remember reblogs are incredibly important and please read how to support me here

“Hello?”

Wonwoo rests the phone against his shoulder as he turns in his office chair towards his desk. He had been answering his own phones for the past twenty minutes since you were already running late. It wasn’t usually a common occurrence but lately it has become more frequent.

“I am so sorry. I’m literally in the parking lot, Mr. Jeon. I just have Jacob with me. His babysitter is sick. I’m waiting for someone to get back to me about coming to pick him up.”

Your voice made Wonwoo smile. You were a good assistant and a good mother. He had met your son a few times since you started working for him about two years ago. Shaking his head, Wonwoo glanced out of the glass window that separated his office from the rest of the building and the others already working before he sighed softly.

“Until they can get here, just bring him inside. There’s no reason to sit in your car, Y/N. I’m sure he’s not thrilled sitting in his car seat.”

Wonwoo had no idea how right he was. Three year olds were, in your opinion, worse than the terrible twos. You weren’t even sure who had come up with that bullshit. Jacob’s eyes were red from crying as he clawed at the straps, keeping him safely contained in the seat in your backseat as he pouted at you in the mirror. Yet, the idea of taking him inside and sitting at your desk outside of Wonwoo’s office sounded like a nightmare. Jacob wasn’t the quietest child.

“I couldn’t. He’s–” Like clockwork to put emphasis behind your point, Jacob screams “momma!” and it breaks your heart as big, fat tears stream down his face.

“He’s bored in your car. You can work out of my office with me until someone comes to pick him up. It won’t be a bother. I like Jacob; we’ve always gotten along.”

You can’t help the sigh that slips from your lips. They had always gotten along. Wonwoo had probably met your son a handful of times but it was true that at that time he had a way with kids. It was a shock to you that he didn’t have some of his own. It was a bigger shock that he wasn’t already married, but that wasn’t any of your business.

“Out! Momma? Take shoes off!”

Jacob’s demands make Wonwoo laugh as he sighs, leaning back in his chair and looking at his computer screen. His finger moves over the scroll wheel of his mouse, moving the screen down as he reads every other word. It was cute hearing your little sighs of uncertainty. Everything about you was cute to Wonwoo, though he wasn’t sure it would be very professional to tell you that.

“I–Jacob, calm down. Fine, yes, okay. We will be right up. I’ll catch up on your schedule. Oh, Wo–Mr. Jeon? Call Mr. Kim. I meant to put that on your calendar first thing this morning. He wants to set up a lunch.”

Before he can say anything, the call disconnects, causing Wonwoo to laugh under his breath, feeling his cheeks burning. He had asked you to call him Wonwoo on several occasions, but you insisted that since he was your boss, he deserved respect.

Shaking his head, Wonwoo glances towards the window behind him to watch you wrangle your bag and an upset toddler to your hip, along with his things, before you move towards the door. You were amazing. Parents in general were amazing, but there was something about a single parent that made Wonwoo just take a step back in wonder.

He was sure that you had some help. You had mentioned your parents helping you in the past, and other relatives too, but he knew you still did almost everything on your own. Just the simple act of carrying another human and all of those belongings seemed overwhelming to Wonwoo and you did it without a second thought.

Using your badge on your keys, you let yourself into the building, already apologizing as Jacob sniffles back tiny sobs, catching the attention of your co-workers. You hadn’t wanted to bother any of them but especially not Wonwoo. The sheer thought of him drew your eyes up the stairs, where his office door was next to your desk.

“Don’t worry about it, Y/N. You know that my Jenny is around the same age. Your little one won’t be a problem.”

Lia’s voice brings your eyes back to her as she smiles at you, moving towards you to offer to help carry something. She had always been so kind to you. Everyone had, and you had really gotten lucky with this job. Everything had fallen apart and you had vowed to Jacob that you’d pull yourself together and figure it out. This job had shown up in the listings and two years later, it was still the best place you had ever worked.

"Thanks, Lia. Oh no… I’ve got it. I have to go upstairs to Mr. Jeon’s office. Jacob is so fussy. He said I could work in there until my mom comes to pick him up.”

A knowing smile spreads across the woman’s lips as she stops and lifts her fingers to brush away Jacob’s tears, causing the small boy to smile at her and grab her fingers like a toy.

“Did he? That’s so nice of him. He’s such a kind boss.”

Sighing, you laugh, letting her pull her hand away from your son carefully so you can start up the stairs and hear her small laughter as you whisper back to her.

“Don’t even start. I’ll text you later.”

Waving at you, Lia returns to her desk but you know she wasn’t the only one to note your words. You had worked hard not to start any rumors about you and Wonwoo. Mainly because there was nothing to talk about. He was just a kind man and there was nothing happening, but that didn’t stop some people from thinking otherwise.

Swallowing hard, you start to knock on Wonwoo’s office door when the door opens just before your knuckles can make contact. He had been watching and waiting for you to make it up the steps.

"Here, let me, uh? I can take this.”

You start to tell him no but Wonwoo takes Jacob’s bag from you before you can tell him otherwise. A sigh of relief leaves your lips at the weight taken off of your arm as you step into the room and hear the door close behind you.

“Thank you. I could have handled it, though.”

Wonwoo just grins, putting the bag onto a leather couch before making his way back towards his desk, choosing to lean against it. You have to look away when your brain screams about how handsome he looks. It was amazing how he could look like the lead in some drama. The hot CEO of a company was just sitting on the end of his desk, about to deliver some profound lines.

“I know you could have, but you don’t have to do it all alone. At least not today. Unless you are just wanting to hold him, I don’t mind if Jacob is down on the floor.” Seeing the look on your face, one of uncertainty as you look around for anything breakable or any uncovered outlets, Wonwoo laughs and continues, “There’s nothing he can mess up. Everything is replaceable, and I babyproofed everything months ago.”

Swallowing hard, you feel Jacob wiggling in your arms to be put down upon hearing his name out of Wonwoo’s mouth. With a sigh, you lean to let him on to the floor, watching him crawl towards the couch and reach for his bag just out of his reach, prompting you to walk towards it, opening it, and handing him his sippy cup.

"Uh, why would you? I mean, why did you babyproof your office? You don’t have a kid of your own? I–shi…I mean, not that I’m aware of. That seemed out of line. I apologize.”

Laughing, Wonwoo watches Jacob with his drink, finding the small boy adorable as he holds both handles and looks up at him with curiosity. Shrugging, Wonwoo finally finds your eyes again before shaking his head and gesturing towards Jacob.

“My assistant has a child. It would be irresponsible of me not to. Even if something like this hadn’t happened, what if we had some other reason for him to be in my office and he wound up hurt because I hadn’t?” Shaking his head again, Wonwoo moves back around his desk, letting out another long sigh. “No, I couldn’t allow that. He’s far too important.”

Smoothing his tie down his abdomen, Wonwoo sits down before looking up at you to find you staring at him as if he had just read you a complex piece of literature. Tilting his head, Wonwoo laughs and clicks his tongue against his teeth before leaning to pick up his phone.

“I’m going to call Mingyu and set up that lunch. Do you want to go get your laptop so you can work from here for a bit? I can watch Jacob while you do.”

Surprised by Wonwoo’s words, you look down at Jacob, who smiles at you, holding his sippy cup up at you before smacking it against the floor and laughing. That would be fine, right? You would just go outside, get the laptop, and do a couple of other things.

“Yeah? Yeah…sure okay. I’ll be right back. Jacob? Momma will be right back. Behave for Mr. Jeon.”

God, what were you even saying? Giving one more look to Wonwoo, you watch him smile as he leans back in his chair. His eyes move to the toddler on his office floor, and his attention splits between him and the phone, allowing you to slip out the door.

Wonwoo shakes his head, a chuckle on his lips, when Jacob babbles a few words before looking up at him and showing him the sippy cup. The phone was ringing, waiting for Kim Mingyu, his best friend and partner, to pick it up.

“Yeah? You got your cup, little man?”

Mingyu smirks a bit, pulling his phone from his ear at Wonwoo’s words, before narrowing his eyes and letting out an amused breath.

“Since when do you call me little man? Do we need to hit the gym together again?”

Wonwoo’s cheeks were burning but he knew that Mingyu was full of shit. He had just picked up at the wrong time. Laughing, he adjusts himself in his seat to follow Jacob as he shakily moves himself to his feet and walks towards his desk, babbling about momma.

“No, shut the hel–shut up. Y/N said you wanted to set up lunch.” Distracted, Wonwoo leans to watch as Jacob moves around the desk, grabbing at his pants and offering him his sippy cup, trying to pull himself up into his lap. “I–momma will be right back. Do you need—? Hang on, Mingyu.”

Confused, Mingyu just laughs, walking towards his office and offering a wink to his own assistant before closing the door behind him as he listens to Wonwoo. The sound of shuffling and then the same toddler he had thought he had heard in the background makes Mingyu stop in his tracks before he even reaches his desk.

“Alright, as I was saying—"

“Dude, do you have a kid right now?”

Wonwoo smiles at Jacob, who smacks his sippy cup on Wonwoo’s desk before he sighs and nods to answer Mingyu before doing it out loud.

“Yeah, it’s Y/N’s son. She’s getting her laptop so she can—” Realizing the details of that weren’t important, Wonwoo just sighs again and laughs, reaching up to smooth Jacob’s hair and trying to change the subject. "Lunch. When do you want to get lunch?”

Dropping his briefcase on to his desk, Mingyu scoffs, trying to imagine his best friend with a baby but then hearing who’s baby it was makes it all make sense.

“Ah, Y/N’s son. So is it “bring your hot assistant’s kid to work day” at your office?”

Scowling at Mingyu’s words, Wonwoo looks towards the door, afraid you will overhear him. He had kept it professional with you as much as he could, but that didn’t mean that he had drunkenly mentioned his crush on you to Mingyu once or twice. And clearly, his best friend was an asshole who wasn’t going to let him live it down.

“No, shut up. She was in a bind; someone should be coming to get him in a bit. Can we stay on track?”

Mingyu purses his lips, sliding into his chair with a relaxed groan, a smile playing at his lips. He could get used to hearing Wonwoo flustered. Wonwoo might remember just a couple times talking about his “crush” on you, but Mingyu recalled multiple times of Wonwoo detailing his wish for a life with you. This was serious.

"Yeah, sure. Make you a deal? We can get lunch tomorrow and go to our usual spot. I’ll pay as long as you ask the hot little milf out.”

That was it—the last straw. Groaning in annoyance, Wonwoo pulls the phone from his ear and hits end, knowing it wouldn’t be the last time he talked to Mingyu today. The man was like an annoying little brother he could never get rid of.

Balancing your laptop and a mug of coffee, you use the toe of your shoe to open Wonwoo’s door, only to stop in your tracks when you see Jacob sitting in his lap. A quick train of thoughts races through your head. One: Oh my god, what if Jacob spills something on his suit? Two: Oh my god, he looks so handsome with a kid in his lap, especially your kid. And three: just, oh my god.

“I was gone too long. You didn’t have to pick him up. He’s clingy.”

Now you were rambling. Moving into the room quickly, you place your laptop at the end of Wonwoo’s desk before letting him take the mug of coffee from you with an appreciative smile.

“He’s just fine and you weren’t gone too long. You didn’t make yourself a cup of coffee?”

Glancing at the laptop and the mug, you laugh just as Wonwoo does before he slides his cup towards you and Jacob lifts his cup towards Wonwoo’s mouth.

“I can get another in a few minutes. Sit down and get settled for a few minutes. You’ve been running from the moment you woke up, it seems.” Glancing down at the toddler and the cup, Wonwoo laughs, taking it and pretending to drink from it before offering it back to Jacob, who giggles. “Thank you, buddy. See, I can share with him.”

Sliding into the chair, you take a breath while watching him with Jacob. It seemed so natural and easy for him. You shouldn’t enjoy watching your boss with your son so much. Shaking your head, you clear your throat and open the laptop before bringing the mug to your lips and taking a sip of the coffee, letting it warm your throat and chest. The caffeine is a welcome hit to your system as you watch the device in front of you power up.

“Mm, oh. My mom will be here in about less than an hour to get Jacob. Thank you for being so patient and kind about this.”

Wonwoo nods, a smile on his lips as he looks over your pretty face. He could see you were tired and yet you always managed to look so put together at the office. He wished there was a way to help you out and let you get the rest you needed but yet he had a feeling that if he gave you time off, you’d just use it to do something else productive.

“It’s really not a problem. I talked to Mingyu. Can you put a midday lunch on my schedule for tomorrow? Also, once things are up and running, could we go over what I have for the day?”

Wonwoo watches you switch into assistant mode, the mug back onto a coaster on his desk. You cross your legs, drawing his attention unknowingly to your thighs as your skirt hugs them perfectly.

“Do you want to start with what you have first? I can already see things are going to overlap after lunch. We will need to reschedule your meeting with Mr. Hwon. I can do that easily; his assistant is easy to work with.”

The hour passed too quickly for Wonwoo’s liking. Jacob had found his way back onto the floor, and you had given him some toys from his bag to play with as the two of you worked as if nothing was different. Wonwoo was beginning to enjoy having you in the same room as him instead of having to call for you either through the door or to send you a message. Besides, the view was much better than usual.

When you make a sound of surprise looking at your phone, Wonwoo looks up from his computer again to watch you stand up and move around to collect Jacob’s things. Your mom must be outside. It almost made him sad to know things were going to go back to normal so quickly. Sighing softly, Wonwoo slides out of his chair and around his desk to offer his assistance, causing you to laugh and shake your head.

“I��oh, Mr. Jeon. I’m okay. I will just run him downstairs and be right back up. Say bye bye to Mr. Jeon, Jacob.”

Pouting, Jacob looks up at you and then at the tall man before babbling about his shoes. Wonwoo can’t help but smile, noticing one of the pieces of velcro had come undone, making it probably uncomfortable for the toddler.

“Bye bye, Jacob. Here, let me fix it. Is that better?”

You can feel your heart tightening once again as Wonwoo kneels down to adjust the velcro on Jacob’s shoe, making the little boy smile. Nodding, Jacob babbles bye bye a few times, moving to hug Wonwoo’s leg and Wonwoo can only close his eyes. It was his turn for his heart to feel heavy. He liked this kid.

“Have fun with your grandmother.”

“Nana…”

“Ah, with your nana.”

With your quick correction, Wonwoo laughs and ruffles Jacob’s hair before watching you pick him up and leave the room. He was in trouble. He wanted to see you like this again. Something more casual, and he wanted to see Jacob again.

Outside, you lean into your mother’s car, adjusting the straps over Jacob’s chest and waist as he babbles about his cup and toys before finally landing on Jeon. Your mother’s brow lifts in curiosity as she tries to hide her smile, but fails when you meet her eyes and shake your head.

“Stop it; don’t even start with me. He hears me say my boss's name all the time, and we were just upstairs. I told him to say bye bye to Mr. Jeon. He’s learning new words all the time.”

Nodding, your mom leans in to press a kiss to your cheek before laughing against your warm skin. All she wanted was for you to be happy and you had been happier than you ever had in the past few months. Things seemed to be finding a normal pace but she still wanted you to find someone to settle down with, but all you ever seemed to do was work and talk about Mr. Jeon.

“I didn’t say a thing, darling. We will see you after work. Have a good day. I love you.”

Muttering that you love her back, you then turn to Jacob to tell him how much you love him and beg him to behave. It isn’t until he realizes that he is leaving you that he starts to pout and cry, making your heart hurt as you have to go back upstairs and work.

Giving Wonwoo a courtesy knock on his office door, you slide back in, offering him a sad smile before moving to the laptop to start to collect your things. His eyes move over you curiously as he tilts his head.

“You okay?”

Nodding, you laugh softly, pulling your purse onto your shoulder as he stands watching you move so closely that it makes you feel like the room is smaller.

“Oh yeah. It was just hard to see him crying after spending more time with him today. I’m fine, though. I’ll get to my desk and get back to work. Again, thanks for accommodating me today.”

Wonwoo wanted to tell you that you didn’t have to go back to your desk but he knew that working from a corner of his wasn’t ideal. The chair you had been sitting in wasn’t good for your back and as much as he wanted to keep sneaking peeks at you, this was work.

“Of course. Really wasn’t a big deal. Thank you for…you know. Being great at your job.”

Furrowing your brows, you can’t help but laugh under your breath at Wonwoo’s wording. He was usually so well spoken, but that was a bit clumsy and almost as if he were flustered. Biting at your bottom lip a bit, you just smile and lower your head before leaving his office, letting Wonwoo catch his breath.

Maybe it was getting a later start in your day or the fact that you were desperately trying to keep yourself busy so that you’d stop trying to sneak peeks at Wonwoo, but the end of the day came quickly. Sighing softly, you send one last text to your mom, letting her know you’d be on your way soon when Wonwoo’s voice pulls you out of your little world and back to reality.

“Have a good evening, Y/N.”

You smile at Wonwoo, whispering for him to do the same, when he bites at his lips, stopping and turning back towards you, pointing with his briefcase in your direction. The action makes you laugh and tilt your head. Had he forgotten to tell you something or had he forgotten something in his office? Glancing over your shoulder, you start to speak when he beats you to the punch.

“Are you busy this Saturday evening?”

Wonwoo watches you look from his office door and down to your desk. Your eyes were wide and you looked like you had seen a ghost. He hadn’t even said why he was curious but he knew you weren’t an idiot.

“I–well…”

Jacob…fuck. You have a kid. Wonwoo thought to himself, thinking he was such an idiot for even bringing it up without giving you much time to prep for his question.

“Probably right? Stuff with Jacob?”

You shake your head and Wonwoo’s head tilts curiously this time. No? That was different. To be fair, Wonwoo wasn’t sure what you really did on weekends.

"Actually, he will be with his dad this weekend. He gets him once a week... Why are you asking?”

Right, he would need to answer that question. Wonwoo could feel his palm go sweaty around the handle of his briefcase the moment you answered the question. Licking his lips, Wonwoo reaches up to scratch the back of his neck with his free hand, offering you a smile.

“I wanted to see if maybe you wanted to get dinner and drinks. Especially if you have the night free."

Your boss was asking you out. That wasn’t something your brain was making up, was it? Looking past Wonwoo to make sure no one else had heard him, you take note that at least no one was in ear range when you let out a nervous laugh.

“I–is that appropriate? I mean…fuc–” Swallowing hard, you take a break to recenter yourself before meeting Wonwoo’s eyes to find him grinning at you. “You are my boss…”

Wonwoo knew who he was and who you were. He already knew there were rumors about him dating you swirling around the office, so it wouldn’t be like he was doing something to shock anyone and there were no rules that said he couldn’t.

“I don’t find it inappropriate. I mean, if you do, we can forget that I asked. I just didn’t want to miss out on this brief moment of bravery that I had and not ask you out.”

His words cause your head to spin. He had to work up the courage to ask you out. Him? Be brave enough to ask you? In what world did any of that make sense? Smiling, you bite at your bottom lip as you fiddle with a few papers on your desk out of nerves before daring to look at Wonwoo again and shrugging.

“I don’t really want to forget that you asked.”

A small laugh escapes Wonwoo’s lips at your words. What did that mean? Did that mean yes? You’d go? Stepping towards your desk, Wonwoo watches you take in a breath. He finds himself wondering, if he touched your cheek, if it would be warm with how you were acting.

“Does that mean you’ll go out with me?”

When you nod, Wonwoo grins and looks down, reaching up to push his glasses up his nose and clearing his throat. He needed to keep his cool. It was just dinner and drinks. It wasn’t like he had asked you to marry him and you had said yes or something. He wasn’t some high schooler asking a girl to the prom. He was the CEO of a multimillion dollar company asking his incredibly attractive assistant out on a date, and she had said yes.

“Great. I’ll see you in the morning, Y/N. Have a good evening.”

You whisper out the same to Wonwoo, watching him jog down the steps before he gets to the door, leaving enough space between him and you that you feel like you can let out the breath you had been holding. It comes out with a small squeal as you lean forward on your desk, a smile on your lips, finding everything that had just happened to be unbelievable.

Pulling into the parking lot next to the matte black Lamborghini, Wonwoo shakes his head at how ostentatious the car seems. Putting his own car into park, he sighs, hitting the lock button on his keyfob, noting that he didn’t have much he could really say. His own Mercedes wasn’t that much better, but at least he wasn’t driving a Lambo.

When he had been in university, he and Mingyu had swore to one another that they would make it. At the time, they weren’t even sure what that meant. Earning business degrees and keeping their heads down for a few years had been the first step, but quickly they had both learned the ropes and now they were two of the most influential people in the business world.

What had started as a pipe dream of two sleep deprived broke university students became a hard earned reality. Each was now the CEO of their own company, in charge of dozens of employees, and making 7 figure salaries a year.

Wonwoo kept himself a bit more grounded than Mingyu, but he couldn’t blame the younger man for enjoying his wealth just a little here and there with things that he loved, like cars. Meanwhile, Wonwoo’s money was invested and while his car was nice, his true wealth could be seen in his choice of house and accessories.

Walking into the restaurant, Wonwoo glances at the Roger Dubuis watch on his wrist, pursing his lips. He wasn’t late but he hated leaving the office, but mostly you, as the phones were persistent today. You had told him to go enjoy his lunch, despite him offering to take you along.

“Mr. Kim said this was a leisure lunch, Mr. Jeon. You don’t need your assistant for that.”

He wanted to punch Mingyu for telling you that. Couldn’t he play it off as a business lunch? He was the one who wanted him to ask you out in the first place. Sighing, Wonwoo simply offers a nod to the hostess, who directs him to Mingyu, already seated at their usual table.

“You could at least look happy to see me…”

Mingyu smirks as Wonwoo sits down across from him. Their chosen restaurant was familiar; not only did they visit often but being friends with the owner had it’s perks.

“Just been a long morning. I am happy to see you. Has Junhui been out to the table yet?”

Shaking his head, Mingyu shifts in his chair, studying Wonwoo. Something was on his mind and he wasn’t as open as some of their other friends when it came to sharing their feelings.

“No, apparently he’s already making our food. We don’t get to pick.”

Scoffing, Wonwoo scoots the useless menu away from him before leaning to pick up the glass of water meant for him and taking a long sip.

“Sounds like Junhui. Whatever he serves us will be delicious anyway.” Clearing his throat, Wonwoo swipes his finger across a bead of condensation on his glass, looking down at it as he speaks. “Y/N told me this was a leisure lunch. You have something on your mind you want to talk about?”

There it was. Mingyu knew Wonwoo would get around to the reason he looked like there was a stick up his ass eventually, and this time he didn’t even have to try. Pursing his lips, Mingyu tilts his head, scooting one of his legs out under the table as he sighs. In truth, there hadn’t been a reason for the lunch. He had just missed his friend and tried to make it a weekly occasion to meet for a meal but Wonwoo made it harder and harder every week.

“Do I need to have something on my mind? Do you have something on yours?” Offering Wonwoo a smile when he receives a dirty look in return, Mingyu can’t help the chuckle that follows. “We should see if Junhui can whip something up for Y/N that you can take back to the office for her.”

That wasn’t a horrible idea but Wonwoo’s only reaction is to lift his brows and sit down the glass of water in his hand. He hadn’t told Mingyu that he had asked you out yet. The silence becoming deafening Wonwoo is pleased to hear the familiar voice of Junhui drawing his and Mingyu’s attention.

“The coconut chicken for Wonwoo and the huang men ji for Mingyu.”

Food sat in front of him. Wonwoo grins at the bowl of food. It was simple but it smelled like comfort. Mingyu laughs while standing up to hug the man they had both known for the better part of a decade before Wonwoo does the same.

“You didn’t come by last week. I thought you didn’t like my food anymore.”

Wonwoo feels an instant pang of guilt at Junhui’s words. He knew it was his fault that he and Mingyu hadn’t come by. He had cancelled their lunch at the last minute because of business but Mingyu is quick to cover for him like always.

“You know that’s not true. Just some work bullshit got in the way. He’d live out of this place if he could. Wonwoo would sit in your kitchen and let you make him ramyeon or sweet and spicy chicken.”

Seeing Junhui smile the way he did after Mingyu spoke was truly a gift. Mingyu was always good at making people happy and being genuine. He was a bit of an ass sometimes but at the root of it all, he was a good person.

“Well, I just hope you enjoy lunch today. I’d stay and chat more but you know how hectic lunch can be. Let one of the servers know if you need anything."

Taking a breath into his words, Wonwoo stumbles on the first before finally meeting Junhui’s eyes, making the man stop in his tracks.

“Actu–actually…Could you, you know, if you aren’t incredibly busy, make something for my assistant? I want to take her some lunch back to the office.”

Mingyu grins, looking down at his food, at how Wonwoo stumbles over his words and at how he has taken his advice. Maybe that wasn’t the only time he had taken it?

Junhui simply smiles and furrows his brows, trying to remember your name, before nodding. “For Y/N, right? No problem. I’ll have it ready before you all finish.”

Nodding, Wonwoo looks down at his food, unwilling to meet Junhui’s or Mingyu’s eyes just yet. It isn’t until Mingyu clears his throat, shirting in his chair to pick up his chopsticks and then a piece of chicken that Wonwoo looks up, meeting his eyes.

“Don’t say it.”

Mingyu smirks, the chicken almost against his lips, before he shakes his head, pausing to speak before taking the first bite.

“I didn’t say a thing.”

Wonwoo groans, picking up his chopsticks and a piece of his chicken and eating it with more force than necessary. Mingyu didn’t have to say anything; he was saying it all with a look on his face.

“The chicken isn’t going to fight back, Wonwoo. Why are you so defensive when Y/N is mentioned? By the way, you brought her up with time. I was going to wait until at least dessert.”

He knew he was being ridiculous about you. He was almost 30 years old. There was no reason for Wonwoo to be acting like some teenager afraid of a crush but you made him feel that way. Especially when he considered everything about your life and how he wanted to make it better for you and Jacob. He had never even considered children until you showed up and started working for him.

“I–I don’t know. She makes me nervous.”

That much Mingyu knew. Everyone in a ten mile radius could see that. Taking another bite of his food, Mingyu licks his lips and lets out a breath, appreciating the taste before wiping his mouth with his napkin.

“It’s not like she knows you like her. You won’t even ask her –”

“I did ask her out.”

The surprise is evident on Mingyu’s face as Wonwoo confesses to asking you out on a date. He is proud and impressed but also a sinking feeling of nervousness takes over him as he tries to read Wonwoo’s face before finally just biting the bullet and asking the question he needed the answer to.

“And? What did she say?”

Wonwoo tries to hide his smile but it only ends up making it harder to keep his lips from turning up at the corners. Glancing down at his food, he licks his lips and shrugs before meeting Mingyu’s eyes, narrowing his own as if the words might backfire on him.

“She said yes.”

Tossing his chopsticks to the table, Mingyu reaches over to smack Wonwoo’s arm harder than necessary, causing the slightly smaller man to grimace at the shock of the hit.

“Fuck yeah, man. I knew she would. I mean, why wouldn’t she? What’s the plan?” Rambling, Mingyu suddenly thinks of your son and his eyes widen, cutting Wonwoo off before he can answer, “What about the kid? You aren’t taking him on the first date, right? Surely someone can keep him?”

“Can I speak now?” Getting a nod from Mingyu, Wonwoo watches him pick up his chopsticks, going back to his food as he grins at the younger man fondly. Mingyu was always excitable, but Wonwoo couldn’t help but indulge him.

“I haven’t decided on a place to have dinner yet but I have some options. I’m surprised she said yes. She was concerned because I’m her employer.” Swallowing hard, Wonwoo furrows his brows before shrugging and pushing around his rice. “She said Jacob will be with his dad this weekend so Saturday is a good time.”

Sitting up straight like a puppy that had heard a new word, Mingyu tilts his head and blinks a few times at Wonwoo. That was the first time he had heard anything about your ex. I mean, it made sense. It took two to make a kid but he had just assumed the guy was completely out of the picture.

“Dad? Do we have a name? How close are they?”

Rolling his eyes, Wonwoo picks up a bite of his food, chewing it before even trying to answer Mingyu. He knew what he was trying to do and while he appreciated it. He didn’t need Seungcheol to do a background check on your ex.

“Yes, Jacob’s father. I don’t know his name; I didn’t ask and she didn’t offer it. I have no idea how close they are but they share a child, Mingyu.” Sighing, Wonwoo meets Mingyu’s eyes, seeing the incredulous look in them, before adding, “But they are also not together so I can assume they are not terribly close.”

Mingyu wasn’t thrilled with Wonwoo’s answer but he figured that if his friend changed his mind, he could do some digging in the meantime. He did have a point, if there was a good relationship there, you and your ex would be raising Jacob together in the same home.

“Fine, I won’t call Cheol…yet. Let me know if you change your mind.”

Shaking his head, Wonwoo picks up another bite of food, sighing heavily before laughing humorlessly into his words.

“I can promise you, I will not change my mind.”

The rest of lunch was as normal as possible. Beyond Mingyu offering date options and letting Wonwoo borrow his car for the date, it was back to their normal topics of conversation before Junhui joined them for the last part of the meal. Desserts were served and a takeaway container sat beside Wonwoo. Junhui grinned at Wonwoo suspiciously before Mingyu filled him in on the “good news” about the upcoming date.

“I’m happy for you, Wonwoo. You need to date more often. It’s been months since you’ve even tried. All I’ve even heard about is Y/N since she started working for you and no one comes close to your standard of Y/N.”

Rubbing the back of his neck, Wonwoo could only smile sheepishly. Junhui wasn’t wrong. You were not someone that most people could dream of living up to and no other woman came close.

“I..I just want to see where it goes. I’m not going to force it. I know she will have Jacob on her mind.”

Junhui nods, his fingers running over the tablecloth under them as he listens to his friend talk. He could tell how important this was to Wonwoo and he wanted it to work for his sake.

“Then just tell her how you feel and what you want. It seems to work out in books and movies.”

Laughing, Mingyu just shrugs when Junhui shoots him a look. It wasn’t that he was wrong but it was the fact that he was sourcing books and movies as his knowledge bank. Wonwoo just smiles fondly at his friend and nods before leaning back to sigh into a groan. He needed to go back to work now. He wanted to see you and give you lunch but already the butterflies were fighting for space in his stomach.

“Thanks, both of you, and Junhui, for the food. Ours and Y/N’s.”

Mingyu echoes Wonwoo’s words before hugs are exchanged, along with more well wishes. Wonwoo finds himself wondering when they had gotten to the age where this was the topic of lunch conversation and not the next kegger. Either way, he didn’t mind as he held your food in his hands, heading for his car, willing the butterflies to calm down.

Watching Wonwoo as he raised the spoon of cereal to his mouth, Mingyu smirked and shook his head. It was the fourth jacket his friend had put on and taken off before even waiting for his opinion. That had been his entire purpose for being here—well, and to raid Wonwoo’s pantry but mostly emotional support.

Wonwoo had been stressed out over this date the entire week. You had noticed his being a bit more awkward than normal, including offering you the food after his lunch with Mingyu by clearing his throat and all but dropping the box into your hands.

He wasn’t trying to make this harder than it needed to be but you were important. No other woman had made him feel like this. It wasn’t the fact that you had a kid; that didn’t even phase Wonwoo, even though he had many other friends who thought it was a red flag or a reason not to pursue you, no matter how attractive you were. He had quickly shut them down, reminding them to mind their business.

“I–fuck. What about this one?”

Mingyu wipes his lips with his thumb tilting his head, his eyes narrowing at the mirror in front of Wonwoo. The jacket looked suspiciously like one he had put on three jackets before and he remembered telling him it looked sharp.

“Isn’t that the same one as before? Look at the tag. Did you buy out Dior? Do you own the entire collection in that pattern?”

Scoffing, Wonwoo pulls on the lapels of the jacket before reaching up to adjust his glasses and sweep the curls of his brown hair from his forehead before he mutters under his breath.

“Shut the fuck up.”

Smiling, Mingyu shrugs, sitting the bowl aside so he can stand up and move towards Wonwoo, smacking his shoulder and sending the man forward a step.

“I’m trying to get you to lighten up, man. You look good. You look classy. I know you wanna impress her but I don’t think you have to try so hard.”

Wonwoo knew Mingyu was probably right but he didn’t want to ruin this and lose his chance with you. If he tried too hard, he might scare you off, but if he didn’t try hard enough, you might think he thought you were just every other woman. There was a fine line, and Wonwoo had to walk it like a tightline.

“Yeah, maybe.” Swiping his phone from his dresser, Wonwoo checks his email, confirming his reservations and making Mingyu laugh once again. Hissing out an annoyed sound, Wonwoo pushes back his elbow into his friend’s ribs, hearing the taller man grunt before taking a step back and putting up his hands in submission. “I get that I don’t have to try so hard but I’m going to. She…deserves it.”

The last of Wonwoo’s words are quieter, as if he says them too loudly, it might give too much away. He worked with you almost every single day and yet he hated having to say goodbye to you when 5 o’clock rolled around. Wonwoo felt like there was something else on the tip of his tongue as he watched you smile up at him and finish the last of your tasks as he glanced back at you, his briefcase in hand.

Pursing his lips at Wonwoo’s words, Mingyu crosses his arms and studies the man. He was whipped and there was no other way of putting it. He had known he was falling for you about two weeks after Wonwoo hired you. He had listened to call after call about the wonderful new assistant that Wonwoo had found and how it all just seemed to work. Mingyu remembered thinking even then that that wasn’t how you spoke about your employees, no matter how wonderful they were. That was how you spoke about someone you were falling in love with.

“Hey, I’m not saying shit, man. I support you, and I support this. You are as happy as I have seen you in a long time.”

Taking a breath, Wonwoo slips his phone into his pocket and shakes his head at Mingyu’s words. He didn’t disagree with them per se; he just didn’t know how to feel about them or even what to say in response to them. Mingyu wasn’t wrong. He was happy and he was excited. For once, he felt like there was possibility.

Smoothing your dress down at your sides, you slide into the chair at your vanity, already feeling your leg bouncing under the table. You could hear Jacob just behind you talking to his toy about his juice but your mind was still a blur. You couldn’t help but glance away at your own reflection in the mirror.

This was the first time you had dressed up like this besides work dinners and even then, you didn’t dare try to be anything anyone would consider sexy or bordering on it. You were a mom. That was your first job—the most important job.

“Momma, ‘ook!”

Drawing your attention from your thoughts, Jacob’s excited words cause you to turn in your chair to look at him as he picks up the car in front of him, making something that sounds between a roar and an exhaust.

“Wow, you are so cool. What is that, baby?”

Looking down at his toy, Jacob giggles, pushing the wheels with his fingers, before smiling at you with a smile that melts your heart.

“Car!”

Nodding, you can’t help but laugh and clap, encouraging him before Jacob keeps repeating the word over and over again to show you he knew it for sure. You knew he was smart but speech had been a bit difficult for him in the beginning. You had a hard time not blaming yourself or the situation; stress, change—kids were so resilient and yet fragile. So when he started to pick up more and more words—full sentences—no matter how broken they were, you couldn’t help but feel your heart get fuller with pride.

Watching Jacob for a moment longer, you rest your chin on your arm before letting out a soft, slow breath. You were excited and nervous for your date with Wonwoo but you always dreaded anything new. Just like you always dreaded any time you had apart from Jacob, you knew it was something you needed to get used to and it wasn’t like you didn’t want his dad to have a relationship with him. You were just attached. It was hard not to be when he was the most important person in your life.

Finally, turning back to the mirror, you get the courage to look into it, meeting your own reflection. You could tell you were tired. You knew you needed the break. Working a full time job and taking care of a toddler wasn’t easy. Reaching for your concealer, you dab a bit under your eyes, pursing your lips as you use a brush to blend it in with the rest of your makeup. You couldn’t get more sleep but at least you could attempt to hide how much sleep you hadn’t had.

When the doorbell rang, Jacob squealed in excitement. Not even knowing who was at the door, your son was always excited to see anyway. You knew you needed to teach him more about stranger danger but there was something beautiful and whimsical about seeing a child so eager and loving to meet someone.

His little feet hitting the carpet and then hardwood, Jacob calls for you as he reaches the door, only to smack at it, trying to figure out how to open it when he hears the voice on the other side.

“Is that my buddy?”

“Dadda! Dadda! Momma, dadda’s here!”

You had been trying to watch the time but 4 o’clock had snuck up on you. Biting your lip, you struggle with your bracelet, hurrying towards the door to unlock it and usher Jacob back all while trying not to drop the delicate gold chain around your arm as your ex-husband moves into the house.

Flinging his arms around his dad’s legs, Jacob giggles as he feels his fingers brush over his head. Your ex, Daniel, grins, muttering another hi to his son before finally giving you an appraising look and letting out a low whistle.

Rolling your eyes, you feel your cheeks warm at his attention. There were no longer romantic feelings between the two of you but you were both lucky that a friendship had remained. It had been easier than anticipated after the divorce to be close for Jacob’s sake and to actually be there for one another when each of you needed it.

Daniel laughs at your reaction, watching your fingers struggle with the bracelet before he reaches out to help with the tiny clasp, earning himself a small thank you. Shrugging, the man simply offers you another smile before leaning down to pick up Jacob with a groan, pretending that he hurt his back.

“Don’t mention it. You, however, can. Are you eating all the vegetables? You are twice as big as last week!”

Smiling fondly, you watch Jacob giggle as his dad kisses his cheeks, your son holding on to the man like an anchor. Stepping to the side, you allow him to move further into the house with Jacob as the boy babbles about his car, making your ex glance at you, noting the new word as you just smile and nod.

“Car huh? Dadda has a cool car, you know. Momma doesn’t let me bring it to pick you up but I’ll show you when we get home. It’s not as cool as yours but it’s close.”

You roll your eyes again, letting out a scoff that cues Daniel to smirk at you. His eyes once again move over you before he lifts his brow, letting Jacob down to play as he watches you gather the last of his things, putting them into his bag.

“It is a nice car. You used to like it when we’d go out on the town. Speaking of –”

Looking up quickly, you watch Daniel lift his hands at the look on your face. Another laugh slips from his lips before you zip Jacob’s bag, offering it to him.

“Your car is dumb, just like you. I–yes I’m going out. Do I look…you know?”

Narrowing his eyes playfully at the comment about his car being dumb, Daniel lets it go instead, choosing to focus on what you had said next. Shaking his head, he takes a step back, giving you another once over before letting out a breath. He might be your ex-husband and your friend but he had eyes and there were very good reasons he had been attracted to you in the first place, besides your amazing wit.

“You look hot. You said “going out?” Out as in…”

Groaning, you narrow your eyes at the man as he smirks at you. He was worse than your girlfriends when it came to things like this. He was worse than your mother and that was saying something. You knew things with Daniel were good and that what had been there had ended long before the divorce had even been finalized, but there were times like this when you started to talk to him about a man you were going to go on a date with that you felt like you were talking to your husband again.

“Just…out. With someone, a friend.”

Not believing you, Daniel glances towards Jacob as he pretends to run the car over the couch cushion, making the same car noise he had for you. The sound brings a smile to his lips but it’s short lived as the attention is brought back to you. He wanted you to be happy. It wasn’t like he hadn’t dated or wasn’t currently dating. You should do the same, even if you have primary custody of Jacob.

“A friend? A man? Y/N? Are you going on a date? Why are you so afraid to tell me?” Scoffing softly, Daniel leans against the kitchen counter next to him, studying you as you look down almost in shame before he reaches up to hold your shoulder as he talks. “Why in the hell would I be mad that you are trying to be happy? I’m not an asshole."

Fighting the tears that were threatening to well up in your eyes, you shrug as Daniel leans down ever so slightly to meet your eyes fully. His smile is genuine as he watches you try to keep your composure.

“Y/N, we have a cool ass kid. We didn’t work married but we work as friends. I’m not going to tell you that you can’t find a man who will love you like you deserve.”

Closing your eyes, you laugh but the tears fall to your cheeks, causing Daniel to sigh apologetically. He reached up with his thumbs to delicately push them off your face, knowing that you had probably worked hard on your make up.

“Don’t cry; I didn’t mean to do that.”

“Momma cry! Don’t be sad, momma. I’m ‘ere. I love you.”

Feeling Jacob trying to climb your legs causes your heart to tighten in your chest. Daniel laughs a bit, trying to calm him down, trying to tell him you are okay. Your son doesn’t listen, too concerned about you, until you reach down to pick him up, letting the little boy look at your face. His small hand moves over your face with less care than his father as he tries to help with your tears, before he leans in to kiss the corner of your lips and cheek.

“You love a lot of people, Y/N. You teach him to love people fiercely so he loves you just as hard.”

Daniel’s words make you smile as you lean your forehead to rest it against Jacob’s, whispering that you love him and that you are okay. Your son smiles, running his fingers over your cheek again, checking for more tears. He's happy when he can’t find any more.

“Momma’s okay, bud. She’s gonna have a good night with a friend. Me and you are gonna stay up late and eat pancakes.”

Jacob gasps at hearing his dad’s words, glancing back at him and babbling about pancakes, making you laugh, and letting him wiggle his way over to his arms.

“Thanks, Daniel.”

Shrugging, you watch him lean his head against Jacob’s, his eyes mirroring your sons and making your heart warm.

“No problem. Text me later and let me know how the date goes. I’ll send you pictures of him later but I won’t bother you too much. Don’t wanna interrupt. I want you to have fun and actually enjoy a night out.”

Agreeing to the text and promising to at least try to relax, you walk your ex-husband and son to the door, kissing Jacob’s forehead once more before watching the two of them leave, knowing it was going to be a long couple of days before he would be back with you.

Checking his watch at 6:45, Wonwoo looks at the outside of your house before pulling into the driveway. He knew he was a little early but he had a habit of it. You couldn’t be late if you were early. It has always worked for him thus far.

Taking a deep breath, Wonwoo straightens his chosen jacket of the night and takes the first step towards your front door. It wasn’t that long of a driveway but by the time he made it there, he felt like he had been walking for an hour, despite checking his watch to see that it was now only 6:47. He was letting his nerves get the best of him.

Wonwoo could hear Mingyu’s voice echoing in his head even as he lifted his hand to the doorbell and waited for you, wondering if you would change your mind. Stay calm, man. Don’t try too hard. You look like you have a stick up your ass. Wonwoo did not, in fact, have a stick up his ass. He was just nervous. So fucking nervous.

You had heard the vehicle pull into the driveway so you couldn’t really explain the dread that was in your stomach when you heard the doorbell ring. You knew it was Wonwoo and you were excited, but you were also terrified. You had spent an hour cleaning up everything he could possibly see from at least the front door and even if he were to come into the kitchen, but as you walked towards the door you let out a squeal when you see another toy, picking it up and putting it behind your back before pulling the door open.

He smiled, his brows furrowing at the sound he had heard behind your closed door. Wonwoo can’t help but tilt his head in concern before he finally gets a good look at you and loses his resolve. You were stunning. He had seen you in business professional clothes and even a nicer dress for a work dinner but this... you looked amazing.

“I–wow. Hey.”

Your cheeks are burning, and you feel a bit confused as you hold the small toy behind your back, balancing your toes on the hardwood next to your other foot as you look at Wonwoo in your doorway. He looked amazing. He always did. He looked expensive, but you knew that he was. You weren’t a complete idiot. That was another reason that this was all making you so nervous. Your life was nothing compared to his.

“Hi, I mean… hello, Mr. Je–”

“Oh…no please. Don’t call me that tonight. I told you at work, just Wonwoo. It would be so strange to hear you call me that on a date.”

A date. Yeah, you were going on a date with your boss. Fuck, your stomach was churning. Swallowing hard, you offer Wonwoo a smile before looking down and stepping to the side to let him step in. The air was crisp and your heat was already kicking on.

“Come in… I need to get my jacket and, uh, shoes.”

Smiling as he steps inside, Wonwoo glances around, thinking that your house was perfectly you but it lacked all the things that he had expected when it came to Jacob. He had expected toys to be lying around and perhaps shoes in the entryway. Things he had seen in his own childhood home growing up but it appeared you either kept an incredibly kept house, or you had cleaned up prior to his arrival.

“I know I’m a bit early. Kinda sad I won’t see Jacob today.”

Watching you back away from him, Wonwoo watches your hand slide from behind you to in front, making him grin when he sees the toy in it that you had been trying to hide from him. So you had just cleaned, and that made him feel a bit better.

Nodding along with his words, you toss the toy into a basket before moving to slide your feet into your heels as Wonwoo watches you. His eyes are moving along your frame with interest before he stops at your face, listening to every word you have to say.

“I’m sure he will stumble back into your life unceremoniously in the near future because my life is a mess. Uh, but his dad came and got him a few hours ago.”

Wonwoo chuckles at your wording but he can’t help but enjoy the idea of Jacob and you both stumbling into his life. He didn’t mind it and he didn’t feel that he ever would. Glancing at the jacket on a hook near him as you start towards it. Wonwoo makes a sound, drawing your attention to him before he takes your jacket down and holds it open for you, surprising you.

Carefully sliding your arms into your jacket, you step backwards, careful not to get too close to Wonwoo but no matter how much you try not to, you can still feel the warmth of his body close to yours as he situates the jacket on your shoulders.

“Thanks…”

With a small smile on his lips, Wonwoo takes a step back, letting you grab your purse and offering you a nod in response. To him, it hadn’t been anything special, just something he wanted to do, but to you, it had been the beginning of something special.

“No problem. I have reservations for us at 8 o'clock; it’s a bit of a drive so I hope you won’t mind.”

Wonwoo watches as you shake your head. You seemed shy and sweet. Not that you didn’t give off a similar vibe most days but today it was different. You were reserved and Wonwoo knew that it might take just a little bit of time and some conversation to get you past what you were holding on to about him being your boss.

Walking you to his car, Wonwoo surprises you once again by joining you at the passenger's side door and pulling it open for you. It wasn’t that you hadn’t had men do chivalrous things for you in the past. It wasn’t even that Daniel hadn’t done similar things for you; it was the fact that it was Wonwoo. It was the fact that he was one of Forbes 30 under 30 and he was treating you like the most important person in the world at the moment.

Sliding into the Mercedes, you let your fingers glide over the leather seat, enjoying the soft feeling before you reach for the seatbelt as Wonwoo closes the door and makes his way around to get in beside you. He was already enjoying having this extra time with you. Neither of you needed to say a thing but one look in your direction granted him a sweet smile that melted Wonwoo’s heart.

He could see you glancing around the car as he drove. Your fingers are moving nervously in your lap on top of your purse. You were possibly more nervous than he was and that was saying something. Reaching out towards the radio, Wonwoo turns it on, letting it play quietly so perhaps that will help you feel less awkward before he lets out a sigh, smiling over at you.

“You look beautiful tonight, Y/N. I’m really happy you accepted my invitation.”

Your face was hot again. All you could do was look down and grin like an idiot at Wonwoo’s compliment. Lifting your hand, you swipe away a loose bit of hair from your cheek before glancing back over at him, whispering a thank you and clearing your throat to regain your composure.

“Th-thank you. I was, well, you know, surprised you even asked me. Beyond the facts that I brought up at work... I just assumed you would be seeing someone.”

Furrowing his brows, Wonwoo tightens his grip on the steering wheel with his left hand, his right resting on the gearshift as he leans his head back against the headrest.

“Like who?”

You can’t help but let out an amused scoff at Wonwoo’s question. He actually sounded intrigued or maybe even confused, by your assumption. You could think of plenty of people better than you for him.

“Well, any model you wanted for one. I believe Mr. Kim had one on his arm at the last dinner…”

Trailing off, you look out the passenger’s side window as Wonwoo looks at you. He wasn’t Mingyu and he didn’t want a model; he wanted you. He wasn’t even sure Mingyu wanted a model; that date was for the press, but that was a fact that even you didn’t seem to pick up on.

“He barely knew how to say her name and she spoke maybe three times to him that night. It was a publicity arrangement. I turn them down frequently because I am not interested in helping to boost anyone’s image, especially when I have someone I’m already interested in.”

Pressing your lips together, you can’t even dare yourself to look over at Wonwoo after hearing his words. He was interested in someone. You weren’t stupid and you weren’t going to play that card. He wouldn’t have said those words with you in the car if he hadn’t been talking about you. It was making you feel short of breath and your heart was beating like a drum in your chest.

“Mingyu does it because he likes the playboy persona, even if its a lie. It looks good on paper and it’s fun for him. But, Y/N…please look at me."

There is a slight whine in Wonwoo’s voice as he asks you to look at him. He knew you could hear him but he wanted to make sure you understood what he was going to say next. He knew that his lifestyle was different from yours in many ways but not as different as you might want to believe.

Finally turning your gaze to his as Wonwoo slows down to a stop at a red light, you press your lips together, drawing his attention to them for a brief moment before he looks back into your eyes. He was entranced by you; he wanted nothing more than to see you happy and for this date to go well and so far he was afraid it was off to a rocky start because of your assumptions.

“But I am not Mingyu and I am not a rich playboy. I’m just... me, and I like you.”

Your lips parted slightly with a tiny breath and Wonwoo wants nothing more than to act on how he’s feeling. You look kissable. Your lips parted just slightly, a rosy color making them already look bitten but a honk from behind him made him smile and he pressed down on the gas, putting the car back in motion.

“I didn’t mean to sound like I was accusing you of something, Wonwoo. It is very clear you aren't. You know a play–” You stop and laugh to yourself, not sure what you were even saying. Wonwoo made you so nervous. You hear him laugh, your eyes moving over his handsome face as his cheeks become fuller, his eyes almost catlike, letting you know the laugh is real. “I’m serious. I know you are a good person. I’m just not in your circle.”

Wonwoo’s laugh and smile fade with your words. It wasn’t that he hated being wealthy or successful. That had been the plan, and he had worked hard for it. It was the fact that you felt less and unworthy of him because of his wealth and success when, in his eyes, you were far more wealthy.

“You are. I don’t even know what that means. Do you mean part of my friend group? You can meet them if you want. You already know Mingyu.”

Sighing, you smile and lean your head back against your headrest, looking over Wonwoo’s handsome face. He was perfect in every single way that you could think of. He was every girl’s dream and you couldn’t think of a single reason not to want this, yet every single alarm was going off in your head.

“I do know Mr. Kim, but as kind as he is do you think the rest of your friends would be as enthused by meeting me? Your assistant, who is a single mother to a three year old?”

His brows furrowing, Wonwoo grips the steering wheel tighter once again. He remembers a couple of his friends bringing up your occupation and a few others bringing up your status as a single mother. He didn’t care what those friends thought because the ones who really cared about him supported him and encouraged him, just like Mingyu had.

“Y/N…” Wonwoo sighs out your name, glancing down at your hands, before looking back out at the road in front of him. He wished he was close enough to you to take your hand, to glide his thumb along yours and to explain this while having that contact with you. “You’ll meet them one day and they will fall in love with you so easily. It’s impossible not to.”

The silence in the car was deafening. You didn’t know if he had meant those words the way they had come across but even Wonwoo seemed to realize what he had said as he tugged on the turtleneck that now seemed to be suffocating him as he drove.

Smiling, you look out the window, opting to hum along with the radio for a moment before finally putting Wonwoo out of his misery by glancing over at him. It was clear he was stressed; this conversation wasn’t going exactly as planned but in truth, he wasn’t sure how he had planned it.

“I’m sorry I’m being so difficult, Wonwoo. I’m not trying to push you away. I’m just…nervous.” You look down and away from Wonwoo as he glances from the road to you, listening to you speak. “I haven’t really dated much since I got divorced. It’s not exactly a conversation starter.”

Divorced. Right. Wonwoo nods and licks his lips. Your ex was your ex-husband. Why hadn’t that dawned on him before? It didn’t change anything; it just meant he needed to figure out more about you and your life.

“How long were you married?”

You laugh, surprised that Wonwoo was going to literally use what you had said as a conversation starter. He was different, that was certain. Shrugging, you decided to just lay out all of your cards. The worst that could happen was losing your job and the date going poorly, so what else could go wrong?

“Four years. We got divorced about a year and a half ago.” Glancing at your phone, you look at the date and count in your head before nodding. “Two weeks ago.”

Wonwoo does math in his head and lets out a breath with a long sigh. That was a longer time than he had anticipated and yet it was a short amount of time when you considered what he wanted from a marriage.

“What is his name?”

Picking at a string on your purse, you run your tongue along your lips, considering Wonwoo’s question before just answering it.

“Kang Daniel, and he is Jacob’s father.”

Grimacing at how you had answered his question, Wonwoo glances over at you and tilts his head.

“I figured he was, Y/N. If you don’t want to talk about—"

“It’s fine… I’ve just had men assumed that perhaps that was why Daniel and I weren’t together anymore. I cheated and had Jacob. It’s not; we were happy with Jacob. We just weren’t happy together.”

Wonwoo hated that people treated you that way; the thought had never even crossed his mind. He never assumed the separation had ever been your fault. He knew there were a million reasons marriages failed and for a great many of them, neither party was at fault.

“I would never assume something about you. I would rather learn about you. You are a great mother."

Smiling softly, you nod, the string between your fingers like a safety net as you whisper out your words just loudly enough for Wonwoo to hear.

“Thank you. I try.”

“It shows. Jacob is a great kid. You can tell he has a really good life.”

You worked hard to make sure he did and you knew that Daniel tried to do the same. His life was different from yours and that had been part of the problem with your marriage. He was always gone, and when he was there, he was still gone in his head until it came to Jacob.

“I do my best and I know Daniel does too. I have primary custody of Jacob. It’s just easier. I'm more stable.” You knew that Wonwoo didn’t ask for the details but he did say he wanted to learn. This was the most important part of your life, your son. If anything, he needed to learn about it. "Daniel travels for work often but sees Jacob once a week for two days. I’ll get him back Monday morning before work. It’s the hardest two days of my life, every single week.”

Wonwoo watches your finger wrap a loose string around it and he wants to grab your hand again and offer you comfort. While its clear there is no animosity between you and your ex, your love for your son is even more evident.

“I’m sure he misses you too.”

You laugh and shrug, reaching into your purse to take out your phone to show Wonwoo the picture that Daniel had sent you of Jacob. The small boy's face was covered in bits of syrup, and a destroyed pancake was in front of him. The next picture shows the man and your son, both leaning against an older model Mustang as Jacob holds up a toy car.

“He’s having a great time with his dadda. He needs that time with him. I’d never take that time away from him.”

Smiling at the pictures, Wonwoo then smiles at you, in awe of you. It would be so easy to be the type of person to want to keep Jacob all to themselves and instead you wanted him to love and be loved. It said alot about you and who you were and it made him want you even more.

Turning into the parking lot of a smaller restaurant, Wonwoo watches you perk up out of the corner of his eye as he pulls into a reserved space turning his car off. You look around curiously before finally turning to him as clearly this wasn’t what you had expected.

“Hm? I promise it doesn’t look like much but it’s the best money can buy. I wanted something special for you.”

Holding up his hand, you smile at Wonwoo as he tells you to wait for him when you go to reach the door. Rolling your eyes, you turn to watch him jog around the car and make it over to you, opening the door and offering you his hand. He was ridiculous but you were starting to enjoy it.

Wonwoo waits with his fingers extended, slightly trembling out of nerves, until you slide your hand into his and step out of his car next to him, looking up into his eyes with your bright, sweet smile. Wrapping his hand around your fingers, Wonwoo keeps his touch loose but dares to brush his along the back of your hand as he gestures with his right towards the walkway.

“There isn’t even a sign for this place, Wonwoo…”

A small grin plays on Wonwoo’s lips at your hushed words. He nods and leans towards you, causing you to take in a sharp breath when you feel the warmth of his breath against your ear as he speaks in hushed tones as he whispers like it’s a secret and dozens of people are listening.

“I know, it’s invite only. Like I said, special.” Standing up straight, Wonwoo moves your hand to his arm, resting his right hand over it for a moment as he takes in a breath of the crisp air and walks you to the front of the building. “It’s called Éblouissante.”

Running your fingers over his jacket, you feel goosebumps spread along your skin at how soft the fabric is under your touch. It was expensive; he was just expensive and here you were feeling like you were cheapening his brand.

Meanwhile, Wonwoo was thinking the furthest thing from what was on your mind. He felt like the luckiest man in the world with you on his arm. You were beautiful and he didn’t care how much your clothes cost or how much you spent on your accessories. All Wonwoo cared about was you, and you were worth more to him than anything money could buy.

Smiling at the hostess, Wonwoo offers her his phone, letting her check his reservation code before she grins widely, welcoming him in. Her gaze then falls to you and you are surprised when it doesn’t change from how she had been looking at Wonwoo. She gives you just as much respect before offering to take your jackets and leading you to your table, of which there were only ten in the entire restaurant.

“Oh my god, this place is wild. I swear that Yoon Jeonghan was sitting across the room.”

You shake your head as you speak, making Wonwoo tilt his head before he leans up, looking for the man and grinning. You watch him wave before you see; in fact, Yoon Jeonghan does the same back to him.

“You’ve got to be kidding me."

“He’s not that important; he just thinks he is. His last movie sucked and he knows it.”

Of course, he would know Yoon Jeonghan. Why wouldn’t Jeon Wonwoo know actors, multi-million dollar CEOs? Hell, he probably knew politicians by name as well.

“I liked it…”

Wonwoo grins at your words, crossing his leg over his knee as you look at your menu, noting the lack of prices attached to any of the listings.

“You can let him know.”

Jeonghan glances over your back before walking past you to lean down and hug Wonwoo with a chuckle. It had been too long since he had seen his friend. You watch, trying to keep your mouth closed, as two of the most handsome men you have ever met in your life talk as if they had known each other for the better part of their lives. Perhaps they had.

“Fancy running into you here, Wonwoo. The last time I saw Gyu, he said you ditched because of work. Junhui was sad…tell me you’ve gone back to his place and eaten at least."

Wonwoo sighs as Jeonghan reaches out to pat his cheek before laughing once again. Of course Mingyu had said something and of course he had missed someone else at that last lunch.

“I have and in my defense, Mingyu didn’t tell me you were going to join us.” Glancing at you as you try not to intrude, instead you choose to look over the wine list, Wonwoo grins, letting out a soft breath and gesturing towards you. “Jeonghan, this is Y/N Y/L/N.”

His eyes widening, Jeonghan mouths your first name towards Wonwoo, who gives him a look, only causing the actor to smirk. Turning his attention to you, Jeonghan gives you a dazzling smile, reaching his hand out for yours and saying your name sweetly.

“It’s so nice to finally meet you. You are even more gorgeous than Wonwoo let on. My god…”

With your fingers resting in his, you feel your face burning from Jeonghan’s words. You figured he would be a smooth talker given his career but then again, you had never dreamed in a million years that you would be talking to Jeonghan much less like this.

“I–thank you? He’s spoken about me?”

Jeonghan trails his thumb over your fingernails, assessing you as he nods, feeling Wonwoo’s eyes on him, knowing he is annoying the man. He knew exactly what he was doing and he wanted to rile him up because he wanted that fire inside of his friend to flame hotter when it came to you. He was tired of watching his friend pine and pine and never go for the gold.

"Oh, often, and always good things, scouts honor. I’m so happy to see him finally taking you out, like he’s been wanting to. He’d be an idiot not to. I mean, seriously, Y/N…you are stunning.” Grinning at how you shy away from compliments, Jeonghan glances towards Wonwoo, who purses his lips, glancing to where your fingers barely hang on to the other man’s.

Jeonghan laughs, leaning down to press a kiss to your knuckles before letting you take your hand back completely. “If you aren’t 100% satisfied with your date, let me know. Think of me as quality assurance.”

You scoff into a laugh at his blunt flirting in front of his friend as Wonwoo groans in annoyance. Jeonghan simply laughs, winking at you, before knocking his hip against Wonwoo’s arm as he grumbles about having his own date to get back to.

“I do, and she’s a sweetheart but not really my type. However, she is my next co-star so I need to be nice and treat her to a meal. You two have the most wonderful evening, and remember what I said, Y/N.”

Watching Jeonghan saunter away, you shake your head before looking back at Wonwoo, who pinches the bridge of his nose as if he’s getting a headache. You can’t help but pout towards him, feeling bad for your own actions. It wasn’t as if you had flirted back with his friend, but you hadn’t exactly told him to back off.

“I–I’m sorry…”

Glancing up at you, Wonwoo looks confused before he smiles at you, reaching out to take your fingers in his hand and shaking his head.

“For what? Jeonghan? I should be sorry. I knew exactly how he’d act. He’s predictable. He was trying to get a rise out of me, and he got what he wanted. He made me jealous.”

Wonwoo was jealous? Jealous of another man flirting with you? You can’t help but smile and bite at your bottom lip, looking down at your hand in Wonwoo’s grasp as he rubs your fingers before letting go of them in place of picking up his menu.

“You don’t have to be jealous. I–well, I’m not interested in him. He’s handsome and funny but I don’t know him, and I don’t feel anything towards him.”

A small smile threatens the corners of Wonwoo’s lips as he scans over the different wines. His eyes are glancing at you once again over his glasses, before he rubs his lips together and lifts his head to meet your eyes completely.

“That is relieving. I’d hate to have to ruin his date.”

Laughing softly, you shake your head at his dramatics before sighing towards your menu. You weren’t even sure what half of the words said. Making a face, you look back towards Wonwoo, whose eyes had never left you. It was clear you were struggling but he could only smile.

“Could…okay. You seem to understand what this menu says. So could you pick something to drink and something to eat?”

Nodding, Wonwoo uncrosses his legs in order to lean towards you, showing you his menu.

“Have you eaten much today?”

Shaking your head, you watch him furrow his brow out of concern before he simply nods and runs his finger over the menu, pointing out a few things.

“We can stay simple. I don’t like this place because it is incredibly fancy, Y/N. I enjoy it because the food is out of this world. The wine is old and worth the price every time I take a sip. I wanted you to experience that.”

Your cheeks once again flair up with warmth, a bit of tingling in your stomach as you simply nod and mutter an okay to his words as he walks you through his ideas for dinner. You were hungry and everything sounded amazing.

“Have we made a decision on what we will be enjoying this evening?”

The server's voice pulls you and Wonwoo out of your little bubble and causes Wonwoo to let out a soft sigh as he nods.

“We have. Two glasses of Gevrey-Chambertin François Leclerc. We will share the half baguette while we wait for the rest of our food. For the lady, she will have the truffle and mushroom risotto, and I will have the Bouillabaisse.”

You watch Wonwoo order with such ease, the words slipping off his tongue as if he had ordered food such as this a hundred times before, when you realize he probably has. The server smiles at the order and collects the menus, promising to be back as soon as possible.

Wonwoo leans back in his chair, his eyes moving across your face and down to where your hands nervously mess with the end of your napkin, causing him to smile softly. You were anxious again. He was still trying to figure you out completely, and he had a feeling he would be doing that for a long time.

“What’s on your mind?”

Looking back up when he speaks, you smile, meeting Wonwoo’s eyes. Your fingers are still rubbing over the cloth napkin as you laugh softly and shake your head. You watch as he picks up his glass of water, taking a long sip and giving you time to collect your thoughts. He never rushed you; he just waited and listened.

“Well, I’m thinking about a lot of things. About Jacob, about what he is doing and should be doing right now. It’s his bedtime but I doubt Daniel has put him down. He never does it on time.”

Smiling, Wonwoo tilts his head a bit as you take in a breath and furrow your brows. You loved talking about Jacob; that was the easier point of conversation. Everything else was hard.

"Uh, thinking about work. I’m thinking about how nice all of this is and how much it must cost.” Knowing you are starting to ramble, you laugh into your words, lifting your hand to brush your fingertips against your lips before finally giving in and being vulnerable. “I’m thinking about you and how much I am enjoying spending time with you and what that means.”

Wonwoo had known there was something on your mind, perhaps a lot but hearing you say it out loud made him take a pause and take a deep breath. He understood your hesitation but all he ever wanted to do was put you at ease with all that he could.

Leaning forward once again, Wonwoo rests his arm on the table as he looks at you in the candlelight. You were seamlessly beautiful without trying. Even though he knew you had tried tonight to hide the circles under your eyes, he could see them in the lighting and it didn’t matter. The thought makes Wonwoo smile, seeing you in what you were tonight or in just sweats on his couch, your hair messy, no makeup.

“Let’s go one by one."

Watching you nod, Wonwoo sighs, only pausing long enough to watch the server drop off the wine and bread. He watches the man pour wine into your glass and then he nods at him and looks back at you, continuing.

“You trust Daniel with Jacob so I’m sure he is just fine, but at any time you are with me, if you want to call and check on him, you are welcome to. I will never stop you from being a mother. That is the most important thing to you and therefore the most important thing to me, Y/N.”

Swallowing hard, you feel the tension in your chest lessen. One fear you always had with any man was that he would feel jealous of your relationship with your son or try to change it. So hearing Wonwoo on a first date put that fear to rest made you take a sigh of relief.

Picking up his wine, Wonwoo gestures towards you, urging you to do the same before he places his glass against his lips, taking a small sip while watching you do the same. He wanted to make sure you approved of his choice. Wonwoo watches your brows furrow, then rise. You pull the glass from your lips and smile, causing Wonwoo to do the same.

“Good? It’s smooth; in this one, I can taste the strawberries and liquorice. It’s nice.”

You laugh softly, only nodding to agree as you take another sip and enjoy the feel of the wine on your tongue. Wonwoo grins, thinking to himself how much he enjoys watching you enjoy something. It was something he could get used to. Picking up a piece of bread, Wonwoo puts a bit of butter on it, taking a bite of it with an approving sound before continuing what he had started.

“Then you mentioned work.” He watches you nod as you reach for your own piece of the baguette to follow his lead. “There is nothing in the rules about my company that says anything about relationships in the company. I expect people to act like adults. That includes myself.”

He wasn’t wrong; you had read your company policy book back to front after joining the company and recently, just to check on the rules about dating your boss, there had been nothing. Swallowing the bite in your mouth, you wipe your lips and take another sip of your wine before furrowing your brows and gesturing towards him.

“People already talk about us, Wonwoo. Isn’t that going to be uncomfortable for you?”

“Is it uncomfortable for you?”

With the question put back on you, Wonwoo watches as you take a breath, leaning back in your seat.

“Slightly. I don’t want them to think that I slept my way into a position.”

Smiling, Wonwoo attempts to keep the laugh from slipping between his lips but fails, causing you to gawk at him in disbelief.

“I’m serious!”

“So am I, Y/N. I couldn’t care less what they think about me. As long as they are happy in their position in my company, that is all that should matter to them. If they think so little of you, perhaps they aren’t happy in that position.”

Your brows furrow once more at Wonwoo’s words and how much sense they make. You hadn’t considered that. It wasn’t as if you were making much more than anyone else on the second floor or the first for that matter. The salaries weren’t kept a secret, bonuses were given regularly, and promotions were announced publicly in the company.

Gesturing to the wine and the table, Wonwoo shakes his head before looking back up at you with a small sigh.

“As for this, how much does it cost? How much anything costs that I give you or treat you to doesn’t matter to me. I’m not saying that as a way of gloating.” He could already see the look in your eye and you weren’t impressed, but he wasn’t trying to impress you like that. “I’m simply saying that I am not concerned with how much dinner costs when time matters more to me. Enjoying delicious food and drinks long with it? That is just a bonus. We could do this in my living room, eating chips and drinking beer and I’d still be just as thrilled because I’m spending time with you.”

You start to speak but Wonwoo holds up his finger, giving you an apologetic look. He wanted to hear what you had to say in response but he wasn’t finished just yet.

“Money isn’t everything, and I can tell it’s something that is weighing on your mind. I’m not trying to use it to impress you. I wasn’t always living the way I do now, Y/N. Sometimes, it’s even too much for me. But I won’t apologize for wanting to treat you to nice things.”

The last of his words takes your breath away. You bite at your lips before lifting your wine to take a larger sip of it as the server approaches your table once again, sitting your meals in front of you with a quick bon appétit before leaving you both once again to enjoy your food.

“Wonwoo…” Meeting your eyes, Wonwoo smiles as you say his name, even though he can feel the apprehension behind it. You hadn’t meant to offend him or make him defend his success but that is what had happened in a way. “I’m sorry. I do appreciate this meal. I appreciate you wanting to treat me to nice things; I am just not used to it. It scares me a little.”

That was understandable. Wonwoo could remember the first time money really started hitting his bank account and how terrifying it was to think it could all just vanish as quickly as it had appeared. He had been smart then and he was smart now.

“I get that; I really do. I’ll do whatever I can to help you not be so scared. Try your risotto. It looks great.”

Smiling, you let your shoulders relax when you realize he isn’t upset with you but instead he is still trying to make you feel okay about the situation. Dipping his spoon into his soup, Wonwoo watches you eat a bit of your food, your eyes closing as you take in the explosion of different flavors on your tongue.

“Oh my god…”

Wonwoo grins, eating a bit of the soup with a nod as you open your eyes to look at him as if he had given you the most special gift in the entire world with the first bite of food. Taking a second bite, you shake your head and allow Wonwoo to just enjoy you for a few moments before he sits back, sipping his wine, before swirling the red liquid in the glass, almost as if he’s lost in thought.

“Before, the last thing you said that was on your mind was me. You said that you were thinking about me, how you are enjoying spending time with me, and what it means.”

Clearing your throat, you reach for your water, taking a large drink of it before wiping your mouth clean with your napkin and nodding subtly to Wonwoo’s words. The man smiles, running his thumb along the bowl of his glass as he looks over your face before biting at his bottom lip and sighing.

“What do you think it means, Y/N?”

Why was he always turning this around on you? You could once again feel your face heating up. Now you were reaching for your wine as Wonwoo chuckled quietly, tipping his own wine back to his lips, savoring it on his tongue as you just let it hit your throat quickly. Only when it feels like the wine is down do you try to speak.

“I’m not—I don’t know. I think it means that I like you. God, that sounds stupid, because I know I like you. I’ve liked you for... Jesus, ever.” You whine as you gesture towards Wonwoo, making him laugh nervously, his face heating up this time as well as his neck as he reaches up to pull at his turtleneck out of nerves. “How could anyone not? You are gorgeous and, well, you. You are so kind and treat Jacob so well. I couldn’t help but start to fall—I started to like you.”

Glancing down, Wonwoo tries to play it cool and not smile like an idiot but fails. You were too cute, and the answer was too sweet. God, he liked you; he more than liked you. You were perfect. You watch Wonwoo’s nose scrunch in the most perfect way as he smiles and your heart melts as you feel yourself falling even harder for the man in front of you. Why did he have to be perfect?

“For a long time huh?” You just nod and Wonwoo laughs nodding along with you reaching across the table to run his fingers along yours, letting you take his hand this time. “Me too. I think I started talking to Mingyu about you two weeks after I hired you. About how pretty you were and how my day had never felt so bright.”

Whining, you look down at your half eaten risotto making Wonwoo laugh against as he pulls his fingers from your hand to reach for your chin tilting your head up so you will look at him. Your eyes were beautiful and just had to see them again, especially with that almost desperate love sick look in them as he ran his thumb along your jaw and you leaned into it.

“I’m serious, you are so beautiful and I am so lucky to have found you. Not just as my assistant…like this. I’m sorry I was such an idiot and waited so long.”

Reaching up to wrap your hand around his wrist you shake your head not knowing what to say. His words didn’t seem real, and you felt like if you tried to say anything you’d just make a fool of yourself, so luckily you were saved by the voice of the server.

“How is everything? Would you like a dessert? How about a cocktail to end your evening?”

Wonwoo sighs into a laugh, dropping his hand from your face. He wasn’t upset with the man but he had some timing. Looking back over to you, Wonwoo waits for your answer but as you look at the menus, a bit confused, he sighs and clicks his tongue against his teeth before pursing his lips in thought.

“Sure, make tonight special. The moka French cheesecake, a parisian blonde, and a carajillo.”

Pleased with Wonwoo’s order, the server takes the menu’s back and leaves you alone once again, causing the silence to be deafening. You can’t help but smile as you take one last bite of your food and sigh, daring to look up and meet Wonwoo’s eyes as he looks at you intently.

“You’re staring at me.”

Grinning, Wonwoo tips back the last of his wine. You were observant. He had been staring but he just couldn’t stop looking at you in the candlelight.

“Sorry, you can’t see yourself in this light but it’s hard to look away.”

Tsking, you try to ignore his flattering remarks, knowing you can’t look as good as he is trying to make you feel, though you appreciate his efforts. Rubbing your hands together in your lap, you swallow hard and glance around the room to the other tables, noticing Jeonghan getting up to leave. A quick two finger salute in your and Wonwoo’s direction makes you shake your head, before you nod at him and Wonwoo sighs while doing the same.

“He’s encourageable, but he does mean well. I hope you’ll meet some of my other friends. They aren’t all like Jeonghan. Some of them are even likeable…”

Smiling at his words, you pick up your wine, finishing off the last of it, savoring what you can before offering him a soft, amused laugh.

“I like Mr. Kim. He’s very funny and not that hard on the eyes.”

Wonwoo rolls his eyes and scoffs before pausing once again as the server returns with drinks and the largest slice of cheesecake that you have ever seen in your entire life. Leaning forward, he slides the cocktail towards you and pulls the smaller, simple, dark drink towards himself.

“Just call him Mingyu. You seriously boost his ego too much. He isn’t even here, and I’m sure it’s inflating by proxy.”

Running your fingers along the bottom of your glass, you laugh so sweetly that Wonwoo feels his chest tighten. He loves your laugh, especially when it sounds like that. It’s like bells on the best day of the year, marking every hour something good is happening. But every single thing that is good is you.

“He’s my best friend but honestly, I have a tight friend group of about..." You watch Wonwoo do a quick count in his head as he narrows one eye closed before nodding. “Twelve guys. They each have their issues but they are all good people. You met Jeonghan tonight; despite his bullshit, he’s reliable.”

Twelve close friends. God, you weren’t sure you had two people you could call close friends. Wonwoo was incredibly lucky. Shaking your head, you simply smile before taking a sip of your cocktail, making a surprised and happy sound to the taste of it before pulling back from it to look at Wonwoo, who grins.

“I thought you’d like that one. It is one of my favorites when I’m in the mood for something sweeter and some rum.”

Pointing to his drink, you take another sip before licking your lips.

“What did you order?”

Wonwoo lifts his drink, tilting it before taking a sip and nodding to the taste. It was simple but what he wanted for the night.

“A carajillo. It’s liquor 43 and espresso. Simple but delicious.”

Taking another sip, Wonwoo then sets the drink aside in place of picking up his spoon, cutting off the tip of the cheesecake, and turning it towards you.

"The first bite is yours. It’s their signature dessert.”

Pressing your lips together, you weren’t sure if it was the alcohol making your face feel warm or the idea of Wonwoo feeding you but you just smiled. Wonwoo’s lips curve up into a matching smile before he lifts the spoon upwards to entice you, causing you to finally give in and lean in, taking the dessert from his spoon as he watches.

The entire act is more intimate than you intended, but you quickly feel that embarrassed feeling fade as the luxurious dessert starts to melt on your tongue and you reach up to cover your lips in shock. Wonwoo just grins at your reaction and cuts into the dessert, turning his spoon towards himself this time to take a bite.

“Mm, I don’t admit this to many people but I usually order an entire cheesecake to take home when I eat here.”

Laughing at Wonwoo’s confession, you put your hand over your chest, reaching for your own spoon to cut off another bite as you shake your head. It was like eating happiness from a plate and sharing it with Wonwoo, which somehow made it even better.

“I don’t think anyone would blame you, least of all me. I don’t even know how much it costs, and I would still buy an entire one to take home.”

Smiling around his spoon, Wonwoo lifts his hand to get the server's attention, who comes over promptly with a smile on his face.

"Yes, sir, are you enjoying the dessert?”

You look up midbite with a smile on your face, causing Wonwoo to laugh and nod.

“Absolutely. Could we please get a full cheesecake to go? Also, give my compliments to the kitchen."

Reaching into his pocket, Wonwoo watches the server start to say something he doesn’t like but the moment a business card is in his hand and the man reads it, he brightens and agrees, walking away.

“You’re like magic. He was going to say no.”

Shrugging, Wonwoo cuts off another bite, leaving the rest for you as he sips on his drink, enjoying watching you finish off the dessert.

“They don’t sell the whole dessert. I’ve been told no before.”

Furrowing your brows, you sit up, picking up the last of the cheesecake, tilting your head as you do.

“But seeing Jeon Wonwoo, CEO of Jeon Infrastructures LLC, changes their mind."

Turning your spoon towards Wonwoo this time causes the man to perk up. You watch Wonwoo lean forward, accepting the last of the dessert from you this time, before he smiles and nods, feeling a bit proud of himself.

“Mm, usually. I don’t use it much but getting the dessert I want seems like a good enough reason to bring up that you are Forbes 30 under 30 blah blah bullshit.”

You were falling for this man. Most people in his position would use his name for discounts and to get free things in designer stores, but no, Jeon Wonwoo used it to buy cheesecake. You loved that he didn’t take himself so seriously or the Forbes title. Leaning in your elbow on the table, you smile at Wonwoo, sincerely causing him to laugh, feeling shy at your attention.

“What did I do?”

Shaking your head, you use the straw of your drink to take a sip before lifting your brows and sighing happily.

“Exceeded my expectations.”

With the cheesecake securely placed in the backseat floorboard, you watch Wonwoo grin at you from his driverside window before he opens the door and slides in beside you, starting the car.

“Will the cheesecake make it?”

Laughing, Wonwoo purses his lips and leans his head back against the headrest before nodding firmly.

“She’ll make it. Couldn’t have something so precious sliding around the backseat or the trunk. Speaking of…”

Furrowing your brows, you laugh when Wonwoo leans across the center console to reach over you, grabbing your seatbelt to click it into place.

“Now everything precious in my car is secure.”

“You are so full of shit, Jeon Wonwoo.”

Meeting your eyes, Wonwoo glances down at your lips with a small chuckle before moving back into his seat. He wanted to kiss you but like this, in his car? That wasn’t the move. No matter how pretty you were, no matter how much he wanted it, he could wait.

“Maybe, but it’s true.”

You could tell he wanted to kiss you and you were almost sad when Wonwoo moved back from you. Your breath had hitched in your throat but at the same time, you felt relief when he hadn’t kissed you. You needed time to get your brain in the right place. Shaking your head, you reach up to brush your hair from your forehead and clear your throat into a small laugh as Wonwoo drives back in the direction of your house.

“Such a smooth talker. Not as smooth as Jeonghan, but pretty smooth.”

A gasp of faux shock leaves Wonwoo’s mouth, causing you to laugh as he reaches over from the gearshift to slide his fingers along your wrist and into your hand, lacing his fingers with yours.

“I’m appalled.”

Glancing down at your hand and Wonwoo's, you feel the butterflies in your stomach fluttering around to the point where you feel queasy. You can’t help but smile like a girl falling in love for the first time as you bite at your lip and shake your head, trying to regain your composure.

"Oh, I’m sure you are. Entirely appalled and disgusted.”

Wonwoo grins, his thumb gliding along yours as his hand rests on your lap. He feels the fingers of your other hand tracing the back of his hand and Wonwoo thinks he has died and gone to heaven over such a simple action.

“I am, completely.”

You just smile, looking down at Wonwoo’s hand as you trace each of his fingers, watching as he extends them to let you do so. Your head is tilting as you marvel at how pretty his hand is and how much you are enjoying his attention. You had almost forgotten what you were talking about, so much so that you just hummed out a sound to his words, making Wonwoo glance at you and smile as you lean your head back on the headrest and close your eyes.

“Take a nap; it’s a long drive.”

Wonwoo watches you shake your head no, muttering something about keeping him company but as soon as he starts to tell you it’s okay, he’s smiling at your soft breath, knowing you lost your own fight.

Sliding his hand from yours, Wonwoo reaches up to brush his fingers over your cheek before keeping his hands on the wheel, unwilling to let anything happen to the most precious thing in the car while he was driving.

When you feel the car come to a stop and hear Wonwoo’s deep but soft voice say your name, you furrow your brows, instantly realizing what had happened. Opening your eyes slowly, you frown, seeing the front of your house, before looking over to a smiling Wonwoo who chuckles at your cute frown.

“You let me sleep.”

Wonwoo nods, reaching to brush his thumb across your cheek as you whine his name, feeling frustrated with yourself.

“Of course I did. You had drinks and I know you don’t sleep enough. You weren’t asleep for more than an hour. Come on, don't be upset.”

You just pout at Wonwoo as you undo your seatbelt, causing the man to laugh once again. You were unbearably cute and all he wanted to do was take care of you. He wanted to take you inside and make love to you, let you curl up against him, and sleep the night away but he knew that wasn’t going to happen. Not tonight.

“Seriously, I’m happy you got some rest. Let me walk you to the door.”

Watching Wonwoo slide from his seat, you are surprised to see him stop at the backseat, taking out the cheesecake, before he moves to your door to see you looking at him suspiciously.

“I got it for you.”

You wanted to hit him but you were afraid he would drop the probably incredibly expensive cheesecake and it was far too delicious for that.

“Why? It’s your favorite.”

Wonwoo hums in agreement, moving to the side so you can stand beside him and lead him towards your front door.

“But you are my favorite and you liked it so much. Maybe I can enjoy a piece of it sometime soon.”

Swallowing hard, you understand the underlying message of his words. Did he want to be invited inside? For cheesecake, were you the cheesecake? God, you were being ridiculous and reading far too much into this.

Wonwoo can almost see the wheels turning in your head as he stands beside you on your porch. It was cold; you were already shivering and as much as he wanted to stay and talk to you and be with you for longer, he didn’t want you to catch a cold. You watch as he turns to set the bag down in a chair on your front porch before turning back to you with a smile.

“I hope you had a good time."

You tilt your head a bit like a confused puppy and Wonwoo can’t help but coo at you under his breath, taking a step towards you to not only block the wind but also run his hands along your arms over your coat.

“Yeah, I did. Thank you. I would love to see you again.”

That made Wonwoo smile brighter than you had seen all night. He knew he had done this right. Nodding, Wonwoo bites at his bottom lip, glancing at yours, before sighing your name and closing his eyes briefly before biting the bullet and speaking up.

“May I kiss you?”

He was asking? God, your head was spinning. You couldn’t remember the last date you went on, and at the end of the date, the man actually asked you before he kissed you. This was some romance novel shit and you were living for it. Nodding, you whimper out a yes as Wonwoo’s thumb brushes your jawline up to your ear.

A small smile pulls at Wonwoo’s lips as he nods to let you know he heard you before he leans down to brush his lips against yours for the first time, listening to your whine into the kiss. You were so cute and the sound went straight to his head and his pants.

Gripping your arms briefly to calm himself, Wonwoo then slides his hands down to yours, taking them into his own and linking his fingers with yours before deepening the kiss. He wanted more; he could taste the chocolate still on your tongue but mostly he could just taste you and that was intoxicating. You were better than he had even imagined.

Leaning up to meet his kiss, you tighten your hands in Wonwoo's, digging your nails into the back of his hands when Wonwoo’s tongue glides along yours. This was one hell of a first kiss. He was making your knees feel weak, your stomach was doing flips, and all your body was doing was screaming his name.

Pulling back from the kiss gently, Wonwoo nudges your nose with his as he smiles, feeling you chase him. He wanted to give you more. He wanted to give in and ask to come inside but he knew he shouldn’t. He didn’t want to be that guy. He didn’t want to give you that impression of him. So instead, he leans to kiss your cheek and then your jaw, listening to your whimper as he catches his breath, keeping his voice low.

“Goodnight, Y/N.”

Holding the cheesecake in your arms, you rest your back against the door, listening to Wonwoo’s car drive out of your driveway and disappear down the road before you can make yourself move. Your lips still tingling, you close your eyes and stomp your feet like Jacob during one of his tantrums before walking towards the kitchen, putting the box into the fridge, and shutting it with more force than necessary.

You weren’t mad at Wonwoo for leaving. You knew it was for the best. You weren’t that girl. You didn’t give yourself up the first day but for him... God, you would have. After that kiss, you were uncomfortable and needy and all you wanted was to call him and tell him to come back and finish what he had started but instead you kicked your shoes off and fell on your bed, whispering Wonwoo’s name like a prayer.

Leaning against your counter, you look at your phone, wondering if you were being silly or if you were being dramatic. It was just a phone call. He could say no. He could say yes. Which would be worse? Neither if you never called.

Groaning to yourself, you hit Wonwoo’s name in your contacts list and put your phone to your ear, listening to its ring as you bite at your thumbnail. Finally, you hear his deep voice say your name on the other end. Instantly, you can’t help but smile and feel shy, just whispering back a hi.

Wonwoo had wanted to call or text you all day but he didn’t want to see you desperate or crowd you. He felt like he had done enough of that the night before with his kiss but he couldn’t get you off his mind. Not that he wanted to. All he could remember was the taste of your lips and the feeling of you against his chest. So hearing you smile through the phone made Wonwoo feel giddy.

“Hey, how are you? What are you up to?”

You had called him; he shouldn’t have to lead the conversation but you were glad he was because the moment you heard him speak, you felt like a teenager trying to remember how to talk to a boy. Flexing your toes on the tile under your feet, you smile into your words, wrinkling your nose as you try to calm yourself down, knowing where you want this conversation to go.

“I’m okay; how about you? And, uh, I’m just lazing around the house... I wanted to see if you wanted to come over and watch a movie. Eat some of that cheesecake.”

Wonwoo leans his head back on his couch and grins. He wasn’t even sure how he had been feeling a moment before you asked him over but now he was nothing but perfect. Laughing into his words, Wonwoo tries to hide the smirk in his voice but fails.

“I’d love to. Anytime, or did you have something in mind?”

God, why did he sound so sexy today? Maybe it was because you were letting yourself think about him that way. Whereas yesterday you were keeping it more professional and trying not to let yourself get ahead of the game, but now... there was a rasp to his voice. You could listen to him talk all day long. You could listen to him telling you what to do all nig–

“Y/N?”

Fuck, you had started daydreaming and hadn’t answered out loud. Clearing your throat, you press your thighs together and let out a breath away from the phone before nodding.

“Anytime is good.”

Wonwoo could hear your voice shake, and it made him curious as to why that was happening. It caused something in his brain to fire off, his hand tightening into a fist over his knee as he smiles and looks down at the floor.

“Then I’ll get ready and head over. I’ll see you soon, beautiful.”

Shit, holy shit. You just whine out an okay to finish the call when Wonwoo calls you beautiful as a pet name. You had gone far too long without being touched, and now you were acting like some touched, starved lunatic even after touching yourself last night.

Smacking your hands against your thighs, you shake them out as if shaking out the anxiety and glance at the clock, trying to calculate how much time you would have before Wonwoo showed up, and you needed to be as normal as possible.

Perhaps Wonwoo broke a few speeding laws in order to make the best time he could to get to your house, but he had figured out what that sound was in your voice. You had sounded needy, and now Wonwoo was fighting an internal battle with himself to keep it in his pants. That wasn’t why he was over at your house. He was here for cheesecake, a movie, and your company.

Ringing your doorbell, Wonwoo is a bit shocked at the difference in time it takes for you to open the door compared to the day prior. Today, you still took his breath away. Your makeup was light; you looked a bit better rested, but your clothes were casual. He loved you like this. You looked perfect.

He hadn’t dressed up either, opting for a simple black longsleeved shirt, jeans, and a jacket now discarded. You were still looking at him like he was dressed in a suit that cost more than your paycheck.

“Hey.”

“Hi…”

Things were awkward but it wasn’t because neither of you wanted to be there; instead, there was so much unspoken and undone. There was tension in the air and Wonwoo wasn’t sure how to ease it so instead he just laughed softly, leaning to press a gentle kiss to the corner of your lips.

“You look pretty.”

God, he had to stop saying things. Just stop speaking all together, or you are not going to make it. Giving him a pained smile, you just laugh, lifting your hand to your neck to rub it as you move into the kitchen, letting him follow you a bit confused.

“Did I say something wrong?”

Wonwoo watches you shake your head. His eyes follow you as you take the cheesecake out of the fridge and then a plate from your cabinet to put one slice on it.

“Not even close.”

Furrowing his brows, Wonwoo leans towards you over the island as you take out a spoon and finally glance up at him.

“Then tell me what’s going on. I don’t wanna fuck this up.”

Biting your lip, you sigh and lean your head back, making Wonwoo laugh softly as he watches you be dramatic.

“I really like you, Wonwoo. Last night was perfect, and the kiss... I don’t know how to ask for any of this.”

Tilting his head, Wonwoo smirks a bit when you shoot him a look, turning away to put away the rest of the cheesecake. He follows you, laughing once again, as you seem to almost run away from him with the cheesecake in hand, towards your living room, plopping down on the couch with a pout on your face.

“Ask for this? I–Y/N…” Reaching out for the plate, Wonwoo sits it on the coffee table before sitting beside you, leaning towards you, and brushing his thumb along your neck, causing you to shiver at his touch. “You want me to kiss you again?”

When you whine instead of answering, Wonwoo can’t help but coo at you like he did the night before. You were so cute when you couldn’t just speak. You weren’t used to this; you weren’t used to asking for what you wanted or getting what you wanted. Wonwoo was going to change that.

“I’ll kiss you. Anytime you want. As much as you want.”

With his lips hovering over yours, Wonwoo smiles when you lean forward, trying to make him keep to his word. You feel his thumb press to the side of your neck, gently keeping you back from him as he tsks softly. Wonwoo brushes his nose against yours and whispers your name as your lips part for him and he gives in by pressing his lips to yours softly.

Wonwoo loved kissing you already. You were soft and tasted so good that he felt drunk off of you. It didn’t take much for him to want more. Your hands are pulling at his shirt, one tangled in the front and the other pulling him closer to his side. He wanted to push you down on your couch and climb on top of you, but he wanted to take it slow. This wasn’t why you had said you had invited him over.

Pulling back slowly, Wonwoo gently pecks at your lips before smiling and sitting back, completely listening to you catch your breath. His eyes finally open, and Wonwoo feels his cock twitch already starting to get hard from just kissing you. You looked like a dream. Your lips were bitten and slightly swollen from his kiss. Your chest was rising and falling quickly from how excited you were.

Wonwoo watches you start to calm down as he leans towards the coffee table to pick up the plate with your cheesecake, cutting off the tip of the dessert, waiting for you to open your eyes before he offers it to you. You can’t help but laugh as he does.

“In my opinion, the first bite of any dessert is the best bite, and for cheesecake, there is no better bite than the tip of the triangle. You deserve the best.”

Furrowing your brows, you lean forward, taking the dessert from him, only to smile at the now welcome and comforting taste. Wonwoo’s words make your chest feel tight and warm as he smiles at you, watching you enjoy the first bite as if it were him doing it instead.

“So what movie are we watching?”

Halfway through The Family Stone and the second slice of cheesecake, you find yourself wrapped in Wonwoo’s arms. Your legs pulled up onto the couch as he rested his feet on the coffee table once he knew it was okay to do so.

This was your idea of a perfect evening and the perfect date, but you were still stealing glances at Wonwoo as he chuckled at the movie occasionally and reached up to brush his fingers against your cheek. He was so handsome it was hard not to watch him instead of the movie, and around the twentieth time you had done it, Wonwoo glanced down into your eyes and grins, grabbing your chin between his index finger and thumb before you could look away.

“Not so fast.”

He watches as you laugh, knowing you are caught. Wonwoo’s eyes look over your pretty face so close to his own before he leans in to press a kiss to your lips slowly and gently. There was no urgency behind his kiss but it still took your breath away. You couldn’t help but furrow your brows, feeling his tongue play with the idea of touching yours before he would just catch your bottom lip between his teeth and let go with a soft, happy breath.

Sliding your hand along his chest, you find yourself whining when Wonwoo’s hand slides from your face to your neck and lowers to rest just above your chest. You can feel his thumb pressing against your collarbone, and you want nothing more than to feel his hands all over you. So you press your fingers into his chest and drag them downward over his stomach,feeling him suck in hard and smile against your lips.

“Fuck—careful. Trying to be good.”

Shaking your head, you grip his shirt and tug at it, feeling Wonwoo’s hand slide along your arm up to your wrist, keeping your hand in place as you nip at his lips this time.

“Y/N, I want you too much. If you keep that up…”

“Why do you think I’m doing it, Wonwoo? Touch me, you idiot.”

Wonwoo laughs against your mouth as you insult him and then tug at his shirt, pulling your leg along his thigh and begging for him to touch you. God, how could he say no to that? You felt so good against him, and even your breaths sounded so pretty on his lips.

“You want me to touch you? Here?”

Sliding his hand from your chest to your shoulder and along your back, your whine furrows your brows as you all but growl annoyed against his lips. Wonwoo grins into the kiss, deepening it as his hand finally moves to your ass, gripping it tightly and earning himself a moan from you as he does. Your hand loosens on his shirt and goes back to scratching at his torso over his shirt until you find a bit of skin just above his jeans and slide your hand under his shirt over his abs, causing Wonwoo to groan your name.

“Shit…baby.”

Wonwoo hadn’t meant to call you a pet name, but your nails felt too good scratching his skin as your mouth moved to his neck. You just smile, enjoying it as his fingers dig into your pants under your ass before he presses his fingers between your legs, making you arch your chest towards him, your breath getting caught in your throat.

“This okay?” Wonwoo watches you nod, a soft yeah falling from your lips as he rubs at your pussy through your sweat pants and panties feeling your soft breasts press against his chest through your clothing. “You’re warm, baby. Wanna…God, I wanna —”

He wasn’t sure he could finish the words but he didn’t have to as you whined his name and met his eyes. The need is evident in your gaze before the words ever leave your lips.

“Take me to bed, Wonwoo. I need you.”

He wasn’t even sure where your bedroom was but Wonwoo nodded and let you grab his hand, tugging him up from the couch and towards the hallway. His eyes only move from you once or twice to glance into rooms, noticing which one is Jacob’s before you pull him into your bedroom and drop his hand, letting him decide what to do next.

Wonwoo just stares at you for a moment in awe. He was overwhelmed with what he could do and what he wanted to do. He had dreamed about this for longer than he was willing to admit. He had pictured laying you on the bed and having you moan his name, and now you were standing in front of him, wanting him to fuck you.

Stepping forward, Wonwoo shakes his head as he wraps his arm around your waist, pulling you back into his arms so he can lean down and kiss you deeply once more. He knew he would never get tired of the feeling of your lips against his or the way you melted into his arms as he did it. Your panting moans against his lips are the only reason he pulls back and works his finger tips under your shirt as he walks with you back towards the bed, letting you sit on it as he smiles down at you.

“I’m so fucking lucky... before we go any further. Baby…I didn’t come over here to plan this. Do you have a condom for me?”

As you shake your head, Wonwoo feels a bit of disappointment rush through him, but he just nods. There was still plenty he could do. He simply smiles and leans down to press a kiss to your jaw as he lays you back on the bed, dragging your shirt up to your chest over your breasts.

“That’s okay. I can just take care of you.”

You shake your head again, lifting your leg to rub along the outside of his thigh before doing the same between his legs, carefully listening to him groan quietly against your stomach as he presses kisses on your skin.

“No, I have an IUD. I haven’t been with anyone in over a year. Wonwoo…I want you.”

Burying his face against your breasts, your bra soft against his cheek, Wonwoo groans at your words before glancing up at you with a nod. You were trusting him with something important and he wasn’t going to fuck that up.

“It’s been over 6 months for me, but I get tested. I am clean…baby if this is what you want, I’m…yeah, I want you too.”

Arching off the bed, you roll your hips towards Wonwoo’s to answer his question, making him groan into a laugh as you do.

“Okay…yeah. I got you.”

Wonwoo’s hands find the end of your shirt as you lift your arms, letting him drag it up and over your head. His eyes move over your upper body as if he were looking at a piece of fine art. You can’t help but smile, feeling your cheeks burning at his attention when Wonwoo grins down at you, the back of his right hand running between your breasts as his left moves behind you, working the clasp open.

He was intoxicated without taking a sip of alcohol and it was all because of you. Wonwoo could picture himself dreaming about this moment every night. He could envision waking up next to you and burying his face against your neck and his fingers between your legs, listening to your moans.

“Wonwoo…”

There was that needy sound in your voice once again. It was making Wonwoo painfully hard; he could feel how much he was leaking in his boxers. It was driving him insane how much he wanted to be inside of you. Each one of your moans drives him a little bit more insane with lust.

“Baby, you’re killing me…”

You could feel Wonwoo’s cock pressed against his jeans as you rubbed your leg against him. You wanted him out of his clothes and you wanted him to get your clothes off of you. He was moving too slowly for your liking.

“I might kill you if you don’t get inside of me.”

Laughing, Wonwoo drags the straps of your bra down your arms as he shakes his head. He knew it was an empty threat and yet he knew he wouldn’t keep you waiting for long. Every time he glanced up at your face, your eyes were on him; your lips were either parted or you were biting on them. He was dying either way.

Arching towards Wonwoo, you whimper as his breath fans across your chest. His hands slide along your sides until his thumbs press under your breasts, pushing them upwards. Wonwoo smiles as he looks up at you before pressing a kiss on the swell of each of your breasts. He was enjoying watching you fall apart. He was enjoying watching your mind melt as all coherent words fade away into nothing but Wonwoo, Wonwoo, Wonwoo...

“You are so beautiful. Please don’t make me rush, baby. Not this time…”

This time. The words make you laugh into a moan as Wonwoo’s lips wrap around your right nipple, his thumb and forefinger lightly massaging your left. This time, you think again. He wanted another time. How many times did he want? You wanted forever with how he was making you feel.

Wonwoo smiles upon hearing you moan his name, his eyes moving back up at your face as he rests his teeth against your nipple, just barely applying any pressure. He watches as you push your head back into the pillow, your hand reaching up for the headboard, only for your nails to scratch at the fabric lightly. Wonwoo groans against your skin as you roll your body like a wave towards him, enticing him to move further and give you more.

“Don’t rush me…”

His voice is a whisper between kisses as Wonwoo works his lips across your breasts and up your chest to your throat as his fingers slide towards your sweatpants. You weren’t trying to, not consciously, but your body was begging him to hurry. He could feel the goosebumps spreading along your skin at his touch. He could feel the hitching of your breath in your throat under his lips as his fingers slipped under the top of your pants and over your panties between your legs.

“Mm… Won—Wonwoo…”

All that need and desire. Wonwoo hisses as you moan his name again. His teeth scratch against your neck as his middle finger presses to the center of your slit, feeling your warmth and how you were soaking through the lace covering you.

“I’m here. Let me tell you what I’m gonna do, mm—okay?”

You nod and let out a loud breath as Wonwoo’s teeth catch your ear, only for him to breathe against your ear and then laugh at your reaction. It wasn’t a cruel laugh, but instead, you could tell that he was overwhelmed with his own desire. He was fighting every instinct to fuck you into the mattress without ceremony. He knew you deserved better.

“I’m going to finish undressing you and myself.” Wonwoo smiles as you grab at his shirt, making a happy sound. “Then I’m going to taste you; use my fingers to prep you for my cock…”

Furrowing your brows, you whine to Wonwoo’s words, looking up at him as he leans back, opening his eyes. You could feel him through his jeans as he laid against your hip on the bed. He was big, perhaps bigger than any man you had been with before. Hearing his words while his finger pushed your panties to the side and you felt his skin slide between your wet folds caused you to say his name with even more lust laced in your voice.

He had told you what was coming next and yet when Wonwoo slid his hand from your pants you still wanted to cry. You could hear the soft coo in his voice as he tried to keep you calm.

“Shh… I’m not leaving you. Told you what I was doing, didn’t I?”

You nod as you watch Wonwoo take off his glasses and lean to put them on your nightstand. He looked good either way you instantly think to yourself but there was something mildly dangerous about Wonwoo without his glasses. A smirk forms on the man’s lips as you watch him drag his shirt over his head. He can feel your fingers in the loops of his jeans as an anchor to keep him tethered to you, forcing him to keep his promises.

You had begun to play with the button, keeping his pants closed but you weren’t sure if you should. You didn’t know if Wonwoo would be okay with you undoing it but one low chuckle that went straight to your core, causing a new rush of arousal, told you otherwise.

Glancing down at your fingers as you circle the button, Wonwoo bites his bottom lip before looking up at you. Your fingers were delicate compared to his. There was something about that that was causing his brain to misfire and picture the dirtiest things but he would never tell you not to undo his pants, especially as he had already been undressing you.

“Go ahead, baby. I’m yours…”

Wonwoo’s words make you look up at him in surprise. He just smiles at you as you rest your fingertips on the top of his jeans before you let out a breath and mutter something under your breath. Wonwoo feels pressure release as you unzip his jeans; a bit more space is given for his hard cock but he can’t help but tilt his head and reach down to your face, titling it back towards him out of curiosity.

“What did you say? You were so quiet.”

Your cheeks were already burning from his attention but when Wonwoo wants you to repeat what you had barely whispered above a breath, you all but whine in protest, causing him to laugh. Shaking his head, Wonwoo slides back from you to kick off his jeans before reaching for the top of your sweatpants, beginning to drag them down as he looks into your eyes and asks again.

“What did you say, sweetheart?”

Closing your eyes, you swallow hard at the pet name and the feeling of Wonwoo’s knuckles running along the length of your legs as he pulls your pants from your body completely.

“I–just…that I want to be yours too. If–” Your words get caught in your throat as Wonwoo kisses your inner thigh, his fingers wrapped in the sides of your panties pulling them down just like your pants, before he groans for you to go on. “Wonwoo! I can’t talk like this when you are kissing my thighs.”

Chuckling once again, Wonwoo opens his eyes as he leans back to lift your legs, pulling lace from your feet, and drop your panties onto the floor onto a growing pile of clothes. He keeps your legs closed on purpose as he looks over your body up to your face, lifting his brow in a daring look, allowing you to finish.

This hadn’t been what you had wanted. You hadn’t wanted him to stop. You wiggle in Wonwoo’s grasp, his hand holding your ankles as his free hand runs along the back of your thigh. You could see the patience in his eyes and it was frustrating.

“Wonwoo…”

“Finish what you were saying.”

Damn him. Pressing your head back against the pillow, you scratch at the comforter under you, listening to Wonwoo smile into a breath as you do.

“If you are mine, then I want to be yours.”

Wonwoo knew what you were going to say. At least he had a good idea of where you were going with your words but he had to hear them. It was all that he wanted—for you to be his…completely.

“Then you’re mine.”

You feel Wonwoo’s fingers let go of your ankles in place of lifting your left leg and placing it on the bed. A soft whimpering moan slips from your lips when you feel the way your folds pull apart between your legs as Wonwoo pushes your legs up, giving him room to lay between them.

Licking his thumb first, Wonwoo then presses it between your wet lips, barely putting any pressure on your clit to watch your reaction. The way that you hold to the bed, rolling your hips towards his hand, Wonwoo can only smile as he leans to press a soft kiss to your thigh.

With a brush of his knuckles, Wonwoo teases his fingers down to your leaking opening while leaning forward to press a kiss to the top of your mound. The center of your legs is warm and inviting and Wonwoo thinks to himself how he could be here for hours if you’d let him. He could picture himself listening to your whimpers as he ran his tongue along your soft folds, avoiding your clit as he slowly rutted his hips against your bed for some bit of relief.

“Shit, baby… You taste good.”

Wonwoo couldn’t help but lick his lips, already tasting the arousal you were leaking that was running along his fingers from just teasing you. He needed more and he was getting greedy. Slipping the first finger into you, Wonwoo groans when your soft walls not only welcome him in but they also tighten and quiver.

He can’t help but breathe hot breath against your pussy as he slides in closer to you, getting addicted to the feeling of the warm velvety walls around his finger and thinking how good it will feel around his cock. Groaning your name, Wonwoo circles his finger inside of you and curls it back towards him before adding a second.

Your reaction is like bliss for Wonwoo and he can’t stand it anymore. You arch your back, feeling his tongue run flat from the base of his fingers over your clit and back. It’s messy between the way you are leaking from each pump of Wonwoo’s fingers and how he groans, pulling back from your folds with spit covering you and his mouth.

“You’re so tight.”

You aren’t even sure if Wonwoo is actually speaking to you or if he is just saying the statement out into the room as he leans back in to pull at your folds with his lips. You could feel how tightly you were closing in around his fingers but you were going to cum and there was no way you could stop it. Whimpering his name, you lift your hips only for Wonwoo to push them back down his mouth, finding your clit when your whisper becomes a sound from your chest as you orgasm hard around his fingers for the first time.

Wonwoo smiles, feeling you cum, his tongue teasing your clit until you reach between your legs to tug at his hair, making him chuckle against your pussy. It was bad enough his fingers were still inside you, fucking your cum back into you lazily. You couldn’t stand his skillful tongue abusing your tender clit anymore, not right now.

With one last kiss to your thigh, Wonwoo groans, slipping his fingers from your pussy. His eyes move from your now swollen folds to his fingers before he glances up at you and sucks them clean with a groan to your taste. When you smile and lift your hand to cover your face, you hear Wonwoo laugh. You feel his knee rest between your legs and his clean hand pulls your hand from where you were trying to hide.

“What’s that about?”

Looking up at him, you watch as he once again sucks his fingers clean before leaning over you to press a kiss to your jaw as you sigh happily.

“You’re lewd.”

Wonwoo laughs surprised against your cheek, turning his face so he can look at you even so close. He shakes his head and rubs his thumb along your wrist, holding your arm to the bed as he hums out an amusing and thoughtful sound.

“Am I? I don’t think I’ve ever heard that word said aloud, first of all, and secondly, I’ve certainly never been called it before. All of this because I was cleaning my fingers.”

You smile, turning your head to the side so you can feel Wonwoo’s lips press against your throat. He was giving you time to come down from your first orgasm and you could appreciate that but you were already rubbing against his thigh and you wanted him out of his underwear.

“You should find more sophisticated circles if you’ve never heard the world ‘lewd’ spoken aloud, Jeon Wonwoo. And it was...you–" You laugh, trying not to feel embarrassed by what you wanted to say and the action you wanted to repeat but Wonwoo's chuckling against your ear caused you to rub your lips together. “It was my cum you were licking from your fingers.”

Grinning, Wonwoo rolls his hips towards you so he can press his thigh up flush with your warm pussy. He could feel you trying to ride his thigh as he ran his fingers along your arm and his lips along your neck. There was something special about hearing you say something dirty, even if it made your face hot against his touch.

“How lewd of you to say, Miss Y/L/N.”

When you push playfully at Wonwoo, he laughs, sliding back and drawing your eyes with him. Any bit of playfulness that you had fades away as you watch him step off the bed and press his thumb into the top of his boxers. Instead, you swallow hard and fight over whether you should look away or just take in what is in front of you.

Wonwoo watches your face start to turn when he is about to push his boxers over the top of his cock and he can’t help but smile at you. You were perfect and you were his. There was no reason for you to look away from what was yours.

“Baby…”

His voice drawing your eyes back to him, you hum out a soft yeah in question only to hear it die on your lips as Wonwoo pushes his boxers down for you and steps out of them.

“You don’t have to be shy around me, okay?”

You were fully looking at every inch of Wonwoo now and he was telling you not to be shy around him. Whining, you look up from his cock to Wonwoo’s eyes, causing the man to laugh at your reaction. Sliding back on to the bed, Wonwoo trails his hand along your stomach and to your hand, picking it up and guiding it to his hip.

“Talk to me.”

Shaking your head, your eyes fall to where he had placed your hand, noting that he hadn’t left you there by yourself. Instead, Wonwoo was dragging your fingers along his skin and somehow that made it more sensual. Your brain was cloudy with want, your mouth was watering, and now your eyes were back on his very well endowed cock that rested on your thigh as he let your fingers to it.

“Big.”

Well, Wonwoo thought to himself with a smile on his lips as you spoke one word. He had told you to speak to him and that was speaking. Shaking his head, Wonwoo chuckled a bit, lifting his brows as he wrapped your fingers and his around his shaft, causing himself to shiver and groan.

“Boosting my ego?”

Letting Wonwoo guide your hand over his head and collect some of his pre-cum making the glide smoother, you press your head back against the pillow, glancing from your hand up to Wonwoo’s face and back as he speaks. You weren’t necessarily trying to do that; you were just saying what was on your mind and that was that Wonwoo was big. You could already feel the stretch between your legs but it was all you wanted.

“Wasn’t my intention? You don’t seem like the kind of man who looks for ego boosts.”

Wonwoo grins; you were right. He didn’t need his ego boosted. He wasn’t like some of his other friends when it came to things like that. It was enough to see your delicate hand and fingers around his cock. This was what he had pictured when your fingers were on his pants earlier and he had given into his own dirty little desires. Now he was leaking pre-cum on to your thigh like an excited teenager, but he wasn’t going to apologize for that when you looked like a goddess spread out under him.

“I’m not. I don’t need them, not when I can have you. I have a feeling that I’m not going to need much of anything if I have you in my life, Y/N.”

You suck on your bottom lip at Wonwoo’s words. Did he even know what he was saying or was it the lust going to his brain? Watching him pull your hand back from him, you almost pouted, but you could see it was getting harder for him to control himself.

“Can I? I — I wanna be inside of you."

Your head spinning with his words, you moan, feeling Wonwoo’s hand sliding along your thigh up to your hip as he asks to fuck you. You hadn’t expected him to ask. You were enjoying what he was asking. With your nails digging into his skin, you hold on to Wonwoo’s forearm as you nod, watching him smile in response.

“Fuck…okay.”

Wonwoo was quickly remembering that he had the privilege to be with you just the way he was. There was no need to get up and find a condom. No latex kept his cock from feeling those warm, smooth walls that had hugged his fingers before. Cursing under his breath, Wonwoo shakes his head to push the thoughts away for the moment, feeling his cock jerk against your thigh. If he thought too hard about it, he would cum before he got inside of you from the anticipation.

You watch Wonwoo lay on his side, your brows furrowing, until he smiles at you and helps you do the same. Pulling your leg over his hip, Wonwoo reaches up to push your hair back over your cheek before glancing between your bodies to line himself up with you.

The stretch, as you had anticipated, is intense but welcomed. Wonwoo is slow and steady, his hand moving to the back of your thigh once he knows he is nestled inside you deeply enough. He uses the movement of his hips and pulls you towards him to bury himself inside of you the rest of the way before staying still and listening to your breath as you adjust.

Though there was nothing wrong with lying on your back and having a man on top of you, there was something special about laying this close to Wonwoo, feeling your body press up against his as he breathed against your lips. You could feel his cock twitch inside of you as he did everything he could not to start to beg you to let him move.

Instead of using your words, you roll your hips towards Wonwoo, granting yourself a deep moan from his chest. Wonwoo smiles against your lips at the feeling of your soft, warm walls constricting around him as you slide over his cock, finally muttering on his lips to move.

Simply nodding, Wonwoo digs his nails into the thickest part of your ass, pulling you back towards his hips so he can roll his hips towards you, burying himself deeply inside you once again. Both of you seeing stars, you moan his name before Wonwoo swallows it in a deep kiss, repeating the movement with his hips. He could already feel the pressure building in his stomach, his thighs tightening as his climax balanced on the edge of a cliff, threatening to barrel over.

“More Wonwoo…please.”

Hissing against your lips, Wonwoo listens to your whispered request, pressing his fingers into your skin. He wanted to go slow to keep you in this position but there was only so fast he could go like this and you wanted more. Groaning, Wonwoo rests his forehead against yours and nods.

You gasp in surprise when Wonwoo puts you on your back, his body easily finding its way between your legs. With one hand holding yours, Wonwoo presses his lips to your throat, reaching between his legs to press his cock back into you while listening to your loud moan.

He was deeper. The thrusts were more urgent and he was giving you what you wanted. You had asked for more and this was more. You could feel every inch of Wonwoo as he made sure to press his hips flush with yours and roll his hips upwards, listening to your cries of pleasure. You were close and he could feel it as your pussy clenched around him as you had around his fingers before.

"Baby, oh my god. Are you gonna cum for me again?”

Wonwoo feels you nod against the side of his face. He doesn’t pull his lips from your ear; instead, he just chuckles, a warm and soft feeling that makes you shiver uncontrollably under him as you fall over the edge.

Just as quickly as he laughed, the sound faded from his lips to the feeling of you cumming on his cock. Pushing back from you to look down at your face, Wonwoo groans, seeing the way your lips parted in the perfect way before you bit down on your bottom lip, trying to silence yourself. Even then, he can hear you say his name as he quickens his thrust, burying himself so deeply inside of you that he hopes you won’t want or need anyone ever again.

“Perfect, you’re perfect, Y/N. Shit… I’m gonna cum too. Where do —”

Hearing his words, you try to process them as quickly as possible but your leg is quicker than your mouth as Wonwoo starts to pull out of you. Wrapping your leg around his back, you pull him back against you and Wonwoo groans into a laugh at your possessive nature until you roll your hips up and he’s a goner.

The sound of Jeon Wonwoo cumming isn’t one you thought you would ever hear but it isn’t one you want to ever forget. His voice is deep and if you would ever admit it to him, it caused you to get wet even at work but his groans as he came were a bit higher and mixed with deep praises for how good you had made him feel.

Collapsing onto you, Wonwoo groans against the crook of your neck, feeling your fingers through his sweaty, damp hair. He was still inside of you, though he could feel himself softening. He could feel the sticky combination of his cum and yours against his skin and between your thighs, and he knew that should make him feel gross, but instead he could only think about laying between your thighs to clean you up with his mouth.

Perhaps another day, he thought to himself with a smile before pushing back on his right hand to look down at you. You were a vision to behold. Sweat running down your temples, tears of pleasure still on your cheeks, and those bitten lips inviting him to kiss them. Wonwoo groans your name before giving in and kissing you softly, his thumb wiping away your tears gently.

Taking a breath, you run your fingers along Wonwoo’s arm humming out a happy sound to his attention as you come down from your orgasm. You feel him finally slide from you, hearing his soft grunt and you can’t help but to pout at the empty feeling.

Seeing your pout, Wonwoo grins, kissing your lips once again, wiping your other cheek and letting out a soft sigh before he bites at his lips in thought. He was trying to tell himself to chill but the more he looked at you the more he knew there was no way he could. He was in love with you.

Your alarm clock made your brows furrow deeply. You could feel warmth against your back, an arm wrapped around your waist, and then the soft breath of Wonwoo against your neck that caused you to smile. The memory of the night before flooding back in and how it had all ended.

You had asked him to stay the night despite knowing it was Monday the next day. You couldn’t bear the idea of him leaving you alone in that bed after he had held you in the shower and ran his fingers over your body, working your body wash over your skin as if he had done it hundreds of times.

Reaching over to tap the stop button on your phone, you turn in Wonwoo’s arms to look at the still sleeping man, enjoying the moments to yourself. He was so handsome. You loved the shape of his mouth, the perfect sharpness of the bridge of his nose, and the way he scrunched it when you dared to touch it in his sleep.

You would have stayed like this forever if it wasn’t for the sudden realization that it was Monday. Monday was the day Daniel would be bringing Jacob back. Jacob was coming back and Wonwoo was in your bed. Wonwoo was in your bed and he was naked. He was very, very naked.

“Wonwoo!”

Hearing your panicked voice, Wonwoo’s eyes flutter open in alarm, his hand grabbing your waist before he sits up, looking around for any signs of danger. Furrowing his brows when he realizes there is nothing, you watch Wonwoo blink a few times before he looks at you sitting up, a look of confusion on his face.

“What’s wrong?”

“Jacob will be here soon.”

Taking a deep breath, Wonwoo wonders if you are panicked because you don’t want Jacob to see him in your house or if it’s about your ex but you put all of his fears aside with your next words.

“We are naked, Wonwoo…”

You watch Wonwoo reach up to rub his neck, a laugh slipping from his lips as he nods in agreement. You were right; both you and him were naked. That wouldn’t be ideal for a toddler or an ex-husband to see.

Sliding out of your bed, Wonwoo moves to pick up his clothes, sliding them back on as he sneaks a glance at you moving to your closet. He knew he would have to go by his house and change before coming into the office, but being the CEO of the company did have it’s perks…he could be late.

You could feel Wonwoo’s eyes on you as you got dressed. Your cheeks were burning almost as badly as they had when he had been undressing you but you couldn’t help but smile at the feeling. You knew you could ask him to leave but for some reason, you couldn’t find the words or the will to do it. Instead, you wanted to make him coffee and offer him food. There was still time.

"Uh, they will be here anytime. Do you want—want some coffee? I can make eggs.”

Wonwoo smiles, sliding his glasses up his nose. You were still acting nervous around him. You had slept with your body pressed up against his all night long and yet you were still stumbling over your words. God, he was in love with you. He just couldn’t say it yet. He was terrified of scaring you away.

Reaching out to catch your hand as you start to walk past him, Wonwoo pulls you back into his arms so he can lean down to press his lips against yours. He smiles to the happy sound you make, his fingers pressing against the small of your back as you give into the kiss and melt against him, wrapping your arm around his neck.

“I’d love eggs and coffee. Do you want help —”

The doorbell stops Wonwoo midsentence, his lips hovering over yours. He could feel his heart start to race in his chest. He had seen Jacob plenty of times but not in this house, and he found himself suddenly very intimidated by the idea of meeting your ex-husband. Putting on a brave face, Wonwoo smiles as you lean back, clearing your throat, to look up at him.

“Told you…anytime.”

Following behind you, keeping a safe distance, Wonwoo stops in the living room just out of sight, not sure if you want him to be seen as you move to the front door to open it. He can hear Jacob’s happy voice saying momma as you greet him. He can hear a man’s voice telling you good morning and your own voice saying the same. It sounds friendly but nothing raises any alarms with him.

Small feet hit hardwood, and then carpet, as Jacob moves towards the living room for his toys, only to stop when he sees Wonwoo gasping up at the man in surprise. You hear the sound and make a face that Daniel can only raise a brow at.

“Something wrong?”

“No, uh, no. My—I have a friend… Wonwoo is here. Jacob…Mr. Je–uh Wonwoo is here.

Your voice trails off as you get confused on how to approach the situation, moving towards the living room, only to hear Daniel laugh at your struggle. Stopping, you shoot him a look and point in his direction, muttering for him to shut up. Watching the man put up his hands, he follows you, still holding Jacob’s bag, into the living room to see the taller man leaning against the couch.

Jacob claps excitedly, moving back to his dad to pull open his bag, taking out the toy car, before turning towards Wonwoo to hold it up towards him, showing it off.

“Car! ‘Ook! Car! Play with me!”

Laughing, Wonwoo reaches down with a gentle hand to ruffle Jacob’s hair before squatting down to his level and looking at the car with the same excitement that Jacob had shown it to him.

“That’s so cool. Is it your favorite?”

Nodding, Jacob moves in closer to Wonwoo’s chest, making his car sound as you and Daniel watch for a moment. With a fond look on your face, Daniel can only smile and nod, clearing his throat softly, drawing your attention back to him while at the same time drawing Wonwoo’s.

“We can look at it in just a second, okay, little man? Momma said something about eggs.”

“Eggies! Tots too peese!”

Jacob giggles at his own request, moving to the couch and running his toy across it as Wonwoo stands back up, offering a friendly smile towards the other man.

“Uh, hey. I’m Wonwoo.”

Glancing towards you, Daniel raises his brow playfully before offering Wonwoo his hand to shake, reconizing the name.

"Daniel, it's a pleasure to meet you. Thanks for treating Jacob like that. It's clear to see he likes you. I know he can be a little hyper, especially after a couple days with me.”

Swallowing hard, you watch your ex-husband and your—what was he? Your boss, your friend, or your boyfriend? Your brain was going crazy now as you watched the two men laugh and shake hands like friends before they glanced at Jacob and then back to you. Wonwoo sighed softly and shook his head.

“It’s no big deal at all. He’s a great kid, and I really enjoy being around him. You two clearly do a great job with him.”

Reaching up to scratch the back of his neck, Wonwoo watches you stare at him for a moment before Daniel smirks at you and lifts Jacob’s bag, only to put it on a chair, breaking your concentration.

“Thanks, Wonwoo. Well, I have to get going. Let me say bye to Jacob and I’ll be out of your hair so you two can get back to your morning.”

Groaning, you catch the teasing in Daniel’s voice, which in turn makes Wonwoo catch it. His cheeks start to burn as he looks down with a chuckle.

“No problem. Uh, Y/N…I’m gonna go see how your coffeemaker works.”

You just nod at Wonwoo, letting him slide his fingers over yours as he passes by you, which doesn’t go unnoticed by Daniel even as he hugs Jacob and kisses the top of his head. Moving back around the couch, your ex-husband chuckles, leaning to poke at your arm before he glances into the kitchen, watching Wonwoo open cabinets like he lives there.

“You little slu–”

“If you finish that sentence... I will knee you right in the dick, Kang Daniel.”

You knew he was teasing and you were smiling but you couldn’t handle it right now. Not with Jacob so close and Wonwoo in just the other room. Pointing at the front door, you listen to Daniel laugh as he offers Wonwoo a wave in passing, getting one in return before he walks with you to the door.

“I know who he is.”

Sighing heavily, you stomp your feet on the tile, lightly glancing over your shoulder to make sure no one is watching you as Daniel speaks.

“I know you do; now hush.”

Shaking his head, Daniel grins and reaches up to pat your cheek once before dropping his hand. He loved to see you happy and to tease you. You were always so cute when you were flustered.

“I like him. If you don’t date him, I will.”

“Oh my god, if you don’t get out of my house..."

Laughing a bit louder than intended as you try to kick his leg, Daniel puts his hand over his lips to stiffen the laugh, opening the door to the cold air to escape your attack.

“Fine, fine. I will talk to you later. Have a good rest of your day, Mrs. Jeon.”

Pushing his shoulder hard, you listen to Daniel laugh as he stumbles on to the porch when you close the door behind him, leaning against it. Your heart is racing but there is a smile on your face. As annoying as your ex could be, you didn’t mind the name hitting your ears.

Taking a moment, you collect yourself, enjoying the smell of fresh coffee filling the air as you move back towards the living room to find Jacob. You half expected him to rush towards you like he did most mornings after being with his dad. He usually wanted to tell you all about his trip but today you press your fingers to your lips as you lean against the wall, watching him sit on Wonwoo’s lap, going through his toys one by one.

“Oh yeah? What’s that one?”

Jacob laughs, trying to say bear, only for Wonwoo to help him get the word right on the third try. Wonwoo grins and holds the boy a bit tighter, only then seeming to notice you watching him. Offering you a smile, he tilts his head, starting to move but you shake your head and lift your hands.

“I’ll start breakfast.”

Smiling up at you, Jacob babbles about tater tots once again, making you and Wonwoo laugh.

“I’ll make you tots; show Wonwoo your book.”

Wonwoo smiles, reaching for the small book and offering it to the boy, who points at it and says book, then at the word on the cover.

“Colors.”

Grinning, Wonwoo smiles against the small boy's head and nods.

“That’s right. You’re smart, little man.”

You can only put a hand on your chest, feeling your heart tighten with how much you love the sight of Wonwoo with Jacob. Pulling open the fridge, you smile, listening to both of them laugh as Wonwoo helps Jacob through the book, reading each color and listening to your son repeat them back to him.

“So, if you aren’t busy tonight, would you want to come over for dinner?”

Wonwoo glances up from his computer to look at you standing next to his desk. Your tablet is in your hands as you scroll through his schedule. The two of you had done a great job at pretending like nothing had changed at work when the door was open but behind closed doors, it was a bit harder for him not to want to put you on top of his desk and eat you out. Your skirt was hugging your thighs deliciously, and all Wonwoo could think was how it had been days since the first time he had been with you. He knew he was being insatiable.

“I’m not busy; I’m never busy when it comes to spending time with you.”

You smile, unable to keep it from your lips, at Wonwoo’s words. He was a charmer and it had only gotten worse since your date and night together. You had wanted to see him again but work and Jacob made things a bit more difficult. You couldn’t just get a babysitter and take time from your son to spend it with a man. You were a mom first and Wonwoo understood that. But then Jacob started asking for “Woo,” and you knew you had to do something.

“Okay…Jacob will be with me, of course but he’s been asking to see you. He’s been asking for Woo to come back over and see him.”

God Wonwoo’s chest was tight. His heart felt like it was going to burst upon hearing that. He was desperately in love with you and he adored Jacob. He wasn’t sure if he had ever seen himself as a father, but the moment Jacob sat down in his lap at your house and started showing him toys, asking him how to say them, he knew he wanted to be in that little boy’s life for the rest of his life. He wanted to be in your life.

“Oh yeah? I’d be happy to see the little man. I’ve missed him and his momma.”

That shouldn’t make you want him. That was a sweet comment. It wasn’t flirty, so why did your thighs push together on instinct? You were down bad for this man. Clearing your throat, you push together your lips, trying to stop yourself from smiling so broadly but it’s impossible as Wonwoo watches your own smile on display.

“Then I’ll see you after work, Mr. Jeon.”

Your bright smile and the use of Mr. Jeon cause Wonwoo’s breath to hitch. You were testing him. He was going to put you over the desk if he looked at you for much longer but much to his dismay, you laugh sweetly as you close his door behind you, leaving him half hard in his dress pants.

“I could do the dishes, Y/N.”

Wonwoo sighs as you smack at his hand, lifting the plates from the table. You had already told him no several times but he was trying to be insistent on helping.

“No, seriously. Go relax. Jacob will have to go to bed soon and he wanted to see you. You can’t see him if you are helping me load the dishwasher.”

Grumbling under his breath, Wonwoo leans to kiss your cheek, making you smile, and glances around for Jacob, making sure he can’t see it happening. Wonwoo had been good up to that point. He had snuck in a couple of kisses here and there, but he seemed to know to watch his hands when your son was around. You were appreciative of that.

Moving into the living room, Wonwoo smiles when Jacob perks up seeing him. He loved that look on the toddler's face and that he could be the one to put it there. He wasn’t sure what he had done to deserve it but he would do anything to keep it there.

“What’s up, little man?”

“Woo! Turn tv on."

Wonwoo wasn’t sure what the after dinner rules were but you haven’t said that Jacob wasn’t allowed to watch television so he shrugged and slumped down on the couch, picking up the remote as Jacob pulled himself up next to him.

“What are we watching?”

Smiling, Wonwoo lets Jacob wiggle his way into his lap and back against his chest as the boy looks at the television.

“That! ‘Ook! Cars!”

Wonwoo laughs as he stops watching the movie, putting the remote next to him. It was well into the movie, the red racecar riding around the town with the tow truck as they talked to one another but Jacob seemed happy as he held his own toy car to his stomach.

Dinner had been delicious; Wonwoo’s stomach was full and now he had a warm toddler laying against him like a blanket. Jacob giggled at the movie and then curled up against him, running the wheels of his car over Wonwoo’s leg before his breaths became more steady. The little boy was starting to fall asleep as Wonwoo’s hand ran along his back calmly.

Smiling down at him, Wonwoo couldn’t help but run his fingers through Jacob’s hair as he watched his small eyes flutter closed. It was around his bedtime. Wonwoo remembered from your date that this was around the time you had mentioned so it made sense, especially with a full stomach, that he would be tired.

Maybe he should put him to bed? But then he might wake him up? Shaking his head to his own thoughts, Wonwoo just smiles as his own eyes start to close, the movie a quiet background to the soft breaths of the toddler asleep in his arms.

Finishing the dishes and cleaning up the kitchen, you curse under your breath, seeing the time and realizing it was past Jacob’s bedtime. It wasn’t a huge deal, but you didn’t want him to be wound up and harder to put down, especially with Wonwoo over. You start to speak but stop short when you move into the room to find Jacob asleep, laying on Wonwoo’s chest. The man’s eyes closed as he pats your son’s back gently.

Your heart was full and you felt tears on the rims of your eyes as you watched them for a few minutes, not wanting to interrupt the moment. It was so rare that Jacob was this content, and you weren’t sure how Wonwoo’s life was outside of what he had spent with you but it was nice to see him at peace.

Finally moving into the room, you turn off the television before leaning to brush your fingers over Wonwoo’s hair, causing him to smile and open his eyes to look up at you. Whispering hi, he glances down at Jacob, causing you to smile as you drop your fingers to that of your son’s hair, brushing through the slightly tangled locks, careful not to wake him.

“I can get him to bed.”

Furrowing his brows, Wonwoo shakes his head and shifts slightly before looking up at you.

“I can carry him, if that’s okay with you.”

Your heart was so tight with how much you were falling for Wonwoo that it was almost painful. Pressing your lips together, you nod and take a step back, letting Wonwoo move to his feet carefully. You watch as he cradles your son to his chest, shifting him so that his little cheek rests on his shoulder, Wonwoo’s arm against his legs, and his other hand behind his back, before he smiles at you, waiting for you to lead the way.

Reaching up to pat your lips and trying to keep yourself from smiling too big, you just shake your head and start walking in the direction of Jacob’s bedroom with Wonwoo in tow. He watches as you turn on Jacob’s nightlight and pull back his covers, letting him lay down in the small bed.

“Thank you, Wonwoo.”

Smiling, Wonwoo nods at you, taking a few steps back so you can sit next to your son, tucking him in and shushing him back to a deep sleep. Leaning against the door frame, Wonwoo can’t help but picture every night going exactly like this. Watching you put Jacob to bed—perhaps another child in the future—before he would bring you back into his arms...

You nuzzle your nose against Jacob’s cheek as he smacks his lips, his little hand wrapped around your fingers. You could tell he was tired and happy and that was all you wanted in life—for your son to be happy. Pressing your lips to his forehead, you smile and lean back, carefully taking your hand back before whispering as you smooth his hair one last time.

“Goodnight, baby. I love you.”

Wonwoo watches. You have to pull yourself away from Jacob, but the moment you turn back to him, you smile, and he just shakes his head in awe of how beautiful you are. Reaching out his hand, he takes yours, leading you out into the hall and letting you stop to close Jacob’s door before he leans to press his lips against your forehead.

“Stay…”

Your words cause Wonwoo to close his eyes. He hadn’t been sure what you would want but he had hoped you wouldn’t want him to leave. Lacing your fingers with his, you turn towards your bedroom, leading Wonwoo with you.

Wonwoo’s fingers fall from yours as you step to close your door, turning to rest your back against it as he watches you. Swallowing hard, he furrows his brows, almost nervous to move this time. He didn’t want to do anything wrong, especially since he knew the two of you weren’t alone tonight and if that meant just sleeping with you in your bed, he was okay with it.

As if sensing his apprehension, you smile and step forward, pulling your shirt up and over your head, only to drop it and hear Wonwoo’s shaky breath once you are in reach of him. His fingers run over your sides and up to the clasp of your bra, resting in the middle of your back, when you look up to meet his eyes.

“Make love to me. Yes…we have to be quiet but you can still make love to me.”

Wonwoo nods, his fingers working open the clasps as he leans down to meet your lips gently at first, only to deepen the kiss when your nails scratch under his shirt, pulling him closer to you. You listen to him bite back his own groan by pushing his lips against yours when your nails dig into his skin at his hips, causing you to smile on his lips.

“Fuck, Y/N. You told me to be quiet.”

Nodding, you look up at him innocently and Wonwoo shakes his head, scoffing at you. A small squeak slips from your lips when Wonwoo’s arms slide under your ass, picking you up even for a moment so he can lay you back on your bed. Laying over you, Wonwoo grins down at you, seeing a look of surprise in your eyes.

“Don’t tease me.”

You smile, your bottom lip caught between your teeth at Wonwoo’s words. He didn’t mean it and you knew it.

“No?”

Shaking his head, Wonwoo narrows his eyes at you playfully as you lift your hips, letting him help you out of your jeans and panties. Between brief kisses to your breasts, stomach, and legs, you watch Wonwoo strip out of his own clothes before he is back on your bed, resting against your headboard and pulling you onto his lap.

“I don’t think you mean it.”

Wonwoo’s brow lifts at your words before a long, soft groan slips from his lips as your hand wraps around his cock, twisting slowly. You were sitting back on his thighs just enough that he could picture you sitting on his cock but now here he was watching your pretty hand work over his length, teasing him like he had told you not to.

“I–fuck. Did mean it.”

Leaning to press a kiss to his cheek, you stroke Wonwoo’s cock from his base to his head, letting your palm roll over his head before repeating the process all over again.

"No, you didn’t. You like to be teased, Wonwoo. Least by me, I think... am I wrong, baby?”

Baby…Wonwoo groans your name when you call him the pet name. God, you were his, and he wanted you forever. You were right about everything. In the past, he had hated to be teased but as you pressed your thumb into his slit and then played with the pre-cum that oozed from his tip, Wonwoo could only pant out your name like a prayer.

“I’m not wrong. You are so wet, baby. You came so much inside me last time. Will you cum as much this time?”

Since when did you talk this dirty? You had been so shy. Where did this confidence come from? Wonwoo was in love with every side of you. The shy little pillow princess that he had fucked into the mattress last time and this vixen who was making him whimper like a puppy looking for a treat now.

“Yeah…fuck, yeah. I will... for you. Babe…fuck me. Let me be inside you. Don’t make me cum like this, please?”

Jeon Wonwoo was begging you. Swallowing hard, you feel the power of that rush to your brain and between your legs as arousal drips from you and onto his thighs. This was the same man that you had daydreamed at work about letting him push your skirt up and fuck you over his desk and now you’d have new daydreams. Perhaps you’d do this exact thing at work as you sat on his desk, watching him try to work.

This man was bad for your work professionalism.

Wonwoo’s head falls back against the headboard as you lower yourself down over him. He had missed your pussy. He had missed being inside of you. He had dreamt about it. Not only fucking you but just being inside of you. Just sitting and being warm inside your walls as he worked or watched television. You were that good.

With your hands resting on his chest, you whimper Wonwoo’s name, feeling that now familiar stretch as he pushes his hips up to meet yours. Sliding his feet up on the bed, Wonwoo grasps your hips and lifts you up to rest your knees on the mattress on either side of him so he can thrust up into you slowly and deeply.

Wonwoo was already close. You had put him right on the edge of his climax with your hand, and now your perfect pussy was gripping him like a warm, wet vice, and his head was spinning. Reaching down with his right hand, Wonwoo rubs his thumb between your folds and you have to bite down on your lips to stop the scream from escaping your lips with how quickly your own orgasm starts to sneak up on you. The pressure between the way his cock fills you up and the circles his thumb draws over the bundle of nerves plummets you over the edge.

With your thighs shaking, you fall forward, your mouth resting against Wonwoo as you orgasm hard and fast. Clenching his jaw, Wonwoo breathes through the feeling of your body, milking him for every last drop he has to offer until he can’t stand it anymore and gives it to you. With a groan you are quick to silence, Wonwoo thrusts up hard, pressing his hips flush with yours as he cums as he promised, filling you just as full as he had the first time.

Your body is weak as you rest against him, and you can’t help but laugh softly as Wonwoo’s hand runs along your back. Letting out a slow breath, Wonwoo shakes his head and starts to speak when the sound of tiny cries comes from a room down the hall, drawing your attention.

“Jacob is awake…”

With a look of panic in your eyes, Wonwoo watches as you quickly but carefully climb from him to rush to the bathroom as he reaches for a tissue, cleaning up the best he can before pulling on his sweatpants. The sound of tiny feet and then hands smacking your door broke Wonwoo’s heart as he glanced at your bathroom door.

Unsure what to do, Wonwoo paces in place, meeting your eyes when you move out of the bathroom dressed in a long t-shirt. Raising his hands, Wonwoo whines as you whisper it’s okay to him and you move to the door, opening it for Jacob.

Moving into your arms, Jacob sobs softly and mutters about scary things and a dream as you pat his back, lifting him into your arms. Watching for a moment, Wonwoo glances around the room, quickly picking up a few clothes before moving towards you to run his hand over Jacob’s hair, drawing the toddler’s attention.

“It’s okay, little man. Your momma’s here.”

You smile as your son sniffs away his tears nuzzling against you for a moment longer before reaching for Wonwoo, causing the man to mutter a surprised oh.

“Yeah, okay. I got ya… what do we—”

He looked so lost and handsome that it broke your heart. Laughing softly, you move to your bed as Wonwoo comforts your son, bouncing him gently in his arms. Pulling back the covers, you pat your bed and Wonwoo nods, moving to lay Jacob down, only for the boy to cling to his neck, pulling him towards him.

“It’s okay, Wonwoo... lay down with him. You are comforting.”

Jacob whines when Wonwoo looks unsure, a panicked “Woo!” falling from the toddler's lips, making Wonwoo’s face soften as he lays down next to your son, letting the child curl up on his chest.

“I think, for one, you remind him of his dad and for two, he really likes you. I can’t blame him.”

His cheeks burning, Wonwoo smiles at you, lifting his hand to brush Jacob’s hair from his forehead as the boy finds a comfortable spot.

“Just don't… I don’t wanna overstep.”

Shaking your head, you turn off the light before sliding into the bed next to Wonwoo and Jacob, feeling a tiny hand reach for you, pulling you closer to him and Wonwoo.

“You aren’t.”

Wonwoo can only nod as he listens to Jacob’s breath steady out. The same sound of the toddler falling asleep on the couch starts to make him feel at peace as he watches Jacob relax, and he finally looks at you as you brush Jacob’s hair with your fingers humming softly under your breath.

He isn’t sure how long he watches you, and just listens to you softly sing your son to sleep but when you finally meet his eyes, giving him a smile, Wonwoo can’t help himself. You are the most beautiful you have ever been, just like this, and this is the most he has ever been in love with in his entire life. So he just says it...

“I love you, Y/N.”

You don’t say it back. It isn’t that you don’t love Wonwoo back; it’s that you weren’t expecting it. Especially not like this. Not while he is holding your son, looking exactly how you would love to see him for the rest of your life. You bury your mouth against your pillow, your cheeks burning as Wonwoo’s fingers brush over them and he smiles, seeming to know, before he closes his eyes, letting you off the hook for the night.

After a few moments, you listen to the sound of Wonwoo and Jacob’s breaths as the two most important men in your life sleep, and your head spins with how lucky you are before you follow them both in both restful and restless sleep.

Mingyu makes a face as he carefully adds the pork belly to the pot on the stove as Wonwoo leans over the island, watching him like a hawk.

“Do you want to make the Bossam?”

Shaking his head, Wonwoo leans back and points at his rice maker, clearing his throat.

“I said I could make rice.”

Seungcheol laughs, leaning back in his chair and listening to his friends banter. He wasn’t sure why they were all over at Wonwoo’s place hours before dinner, but if Wonwoo needed emotional support, they would provide it.

“I’d prefer to eat something edible, Gyu, so please keep Wonwoo out of the kitchen, even if he owns it.”

Wonwoo mocks Seungcheol as he leans over the sink, washing the rice, hearing Mingyu chuckle behind him. He was grateful they were there. He had wanted you to meet a few of his close friends. Perhaps not all of them at once, but at least a few of them, so he asked you over to dinner without thinking about what he would make or order. Lucky for him, his best friend was Kim Mingyu.

Seokmin peeks over Mingyu’s shoulder, grabbing a piece of cabbage to snack on, only to have his hand smacked by the larger man as he curses under his breath, shooing him away.

“Mingyu’s a jerk. I was just trying to help.”

Jeonghan shakes his head, leaning it over to rest on Seungcheol’s shoulder as the eldest of the friend group chuckles into a sigh. There was only one of them missing tonight who had accepted the invitation, but the sound of Wonwoo’s door beeping and a loud hello announced Soonyoung’s arrival.

Wonwoo glances over to the last of his friends to arrive as he holds up two bags with a grin on his face, feeling proud of himself. His jacket has a tiger print that makes Wonwoo groan in embarrassment as he quickly remembers that you will be there in just a couple of hours around these men that he has told you are perfectly normal and good people.

“I brought refreshments. Seokmin told me that Wonwoo’s girlfriend will be here and probably doesn’t get to party much so I will change that.”

Dropping the rice into the maker, Wonwoo sighs loudly before pressing the button to start the cooking before all eyes are on him, including Soonyoung.

“It’s…look, okay? This isn’t a party. If she wants a drink, that's great, but don’t treat this like some frat party.”

Mingyu purses his lips, putting a basil leaf into the pot, before he glances up to watch Soonyoung’s reaction to Wonwoo’s words.

“I’m just trying to make sure your girlfriend has a good time, Wonwoo.”

Wiping away some grains of dry rice from the counter, Wonwoo laughs at Soonyoung’s words, but the laugh is one of unamusement as he shakes his head.

“I–we haven’t discussed what we are. I just wanted her to meet my friends—you know, my family. So just be nice to her. Just get to know her and be on your best behavior.”

Sitting up, causing Jeonghan to have to do the same, Seungcheol clears his throat as he rubs his thighs, nodding.

“We can do that, man. Soonyoung…lose the jacket. We’ve grown up; we can act classy for a night.”

Wonwoo grimaces at Seungcheol’s words, especially hearing Jeonghan’s light chuckle. He wasn’t so sure but he was willing to let them try.

“No, seriously. He ate ramen for six months before he became my roommate. It was tragic.”

Your laugh makes Wonwoo smile, though his cheeks burn from Mingyu’s words. He should have known the conversation would turn to college and how each of them had met, but he didn’t know his friends would be so quick to air his “dirty laundry.”

“Y/N? Would you like another drink?”

Soonyoung’s voice draws your attention, and you can’t help but coo at the man. He had been so sweet to you and made the most delicious Manhattans. Nodding, you watch him hurry off to the bar cart as Wonwoo leans back in his chair beside you, a glass of whisky in his hand that he had been nursing for some time.

“The food was wonderful.”

Wonwoo smiles and nods, glancing at Mingyu, who seems to shy away, turning to Seokmin to speak.

“Compliments of our personal chef, Kim Mingyu. I swear, if he hadn’t gone into business, he would have gone into the culinary arts like Junhui.”

You smile brightly, leaning forward to look at Mingyu as he shyly meets your eyes. He wasn’t at all what you had mistaken him for. Wonwoo had been right; the playboy persona was an act for the press and underneath it was a good soul who was going to make someone very happy one day.

“The best food I’ve had in years. Perhaps better than what Wonwoo treated me to last week, seriously.”

Jeonghan grins, reaching towards the middle of the table for one of the cupcakes he had provided for dessert, only to place it in front of you.

“Don’t stroke his ego too much. Here, speaking of where you ate last week, I picked these up today for dinner. I thought you might enjoy them.”

You watch as Jeonghan sits back down, reaching for his glass of wine, as Seungcheol, who sat on his right, reaches for a cupcake curiously.

“What did you get, Han?”

The man grins while watching you cut your cupcake in half, the center melting, causing you to gasp in surprise. Wonwoo just smiles, resting his free hand against the back of your chair as you pick up half of the cupcake, bringing it to your lips to take a bite, before closing your eyes in wonder.

In that instant, Wonwoo wished the two of you were alone. It was one of those moments when he wanted to watch you enjoy something alone, but when you laugh, lifting your fingers to your lips to clean a bit of melted chocolate from them, he can’t help but smile into his own laugh.

“Is it good?”

You whisper a yes and nod at Wonwoo, lifting the rest of the cupcake half towards him, making him flustered as he leans to take it from your fingers as his friends watch. Jeonghan just smirks, tilting his head, feeling like his job was complete. He knew love when he saw it. He was schooled in it, having acted like he was in love hundreds of times but real love... that gave off a feeling and he could feel it even from feet away between you and Wonwoo.

Seungcheol nods at the taste of the cupcake, muttering that it was good, until Jeonghan elbows his side and nods towards you and Wonwoo, making him shut up and smile. Seokmin and Mingyu had noticed and tried to keep their conversation low but Soonyoung, in his own world, put your drink in front of you and gestured towards it proudly.

“One Manhattan for the lovely lady, compliments of Kwon Soonyoung.”

Kicking his leg out, Mingyu hears Soonyoung complain about being kicked before he almost notices you giving lovey eyes to Wonwoo, and he backs off with a chuckle.

“Oops…I’ll just—I’ll go over here.”

Wonwoo groans, licking his lips, as the moment is ruined and you can’t help but laugh, knowing it wasn’t the right time or place. So many of Wonwoo’s friends were there and you were, in essence, being rude by monopolizing his time and making the atmosphere awkward.

“Sorry…”

Shaking his head, Wonwoo watches you start to put your hand down as he takes your hand in his and kisses your fingers.

“Don’t be. Enjoy your drink.”

Wonwoo watches you after dinner as he cleans up. He can’t help but smile as you do, chuckle when you laugh at Seungcheol’s stupid jokes. He finds himself happily watching from across the room as his friends go on about how they adore you and how you are welcome to call them anytime.

That was what he had wanted. They loved you; how could they not? He knew exactly who you were and he knew his friends. There was no way you all wouldn’t get along.

“I just don’t have time to date. Wonwoo’s lucky; he found you. He’s always been the lucky one in our group, if I’m honest.”

You smile at Seokmin as he leans against the back of the couch, his head on his hand as his elbow presses into the cushion. Wonwoo was finishing up the last of the cleaning with Mingyu in tow, and you had already said goodbye to Soonyoung and Jeonghan.

Seungcheol just smiles at you, thinking how wonderful you are, as his eyes move back to one of his best friends as he laughs talking to Mingyu in the kitchen, putting the last of the dishes into the dishwasher. He was listening to two conversations when you said his name, making him look over at you fondly.

“Hm?”

“I was just asking if you were in the same boat as Seokmin or if there was a lucky somebody for me to hang out with at the next function."

Grinning, Seungcheol shakes his head and sighs heavily, lifting his hands off his legs before putting them back down.

“I guess we’ve all been wrapped up in work but I won’t lie... Seeing Wonwoo this happy makes me wanna try.”

Seokmin just nods in agreement, making your cheeks warm up as you look over at the man who had made you smile more recently than you could remember.

“He’s liked you for such a long time, Y/N. He’s a good guy. I know things aren’t perfect for him, and he’d probably be pissed at me for saying this but he’s genuine.”

Looking down at your hands as Seungcheol speaks, you just nod, understanding what he was saying, before you hear him sigh and stand up, drawing your attention upwards.

“You’re leaving?”

The man nods, glancing at his watch, causing you to frown.

“It’s getting late and it’s only going to get colder. They are calling for snow, you know?”

You hadn’t looked at the weather today, but he had made a good point. Seokmin makes a face at the idea of the cold before sighing and standing up, making you pout and follow his lead so you can say goodbye to both of them.

Moving from the kitchen, Wonwoo looks surprised when Seungcheol offers him a hug, followed by Seokmin, who then moves to you to do the same. You really did feel like you had been welcomed into his family, and it was causing you to feel a bit overwhelmed suddenly.

“I guess it is getting late. Let me see these guys out, and I’ll be right back.”

Mingyu groans, looking at his phone, before moving to you to hug you tightly, causing you to laugh at how strong his grip is and yet how warm it feels.

“Don’t be a stranger, Y/N. I like you better than him.”

You feel Mingyu’s head move towards yours before he laughs, and you know that Wonwoo has pushed him, making you smile as he offers you a wink and all the men leave you in the large living area alone. You hear their voices trail off as you wrap your arms around yourself and walk towards the large windows that offer a view of the city for miles.

Sighing, you furrow your brows at how cold you suddenly feel in such a large house. You hadn’t seen all of it but even in just this space, you felt out of place. You were beginning to remember how different your life was from Wonwoo’s as you started to turn from the window, only to see a bookshelf holding a vast number of books and picture frames. One in particular catches your eye.

In the picture, you see Wonwoo, much smaller and younger than he is now, in the middle of a group of other boys. They look to be around 19 or 20 years old as they stand in front of a frat house. You look around at the other faces, and you can pick out Mingyu, Seungcheol, Jeonghan, Seokmin, and Soonyoung. Your lips pull up into a smile as you run your index fingernail over Wonwoo’s smiling face as Mingyu holds his shoulders and another much shorter man on his other side.

He hadn’t always had what he has now, you remind yourself. He had told you that many times. You didn’t feel comfortable now but perhaps he hadn’t always either. Maybe it was cold and lonely at times in this big house when he was alone, and you find yourself frowning as you look at the picture, counting the men, including Wonwoo. Thirteen. He had lived with twelve others, and now he was alone. No…not anymore.

Walking back into the room, Wonwoo stops seeing you by the window with a picture frame in your hand. He can’t help but smile a bit at how pretty you are at first, but then the smile fades as he sees the concerned look on your face when he gets closer. Wrapping his arms around you from behind, Wonwoo rests his chin on your shoulder and looks down at the picture of him with his friends in college; he was still friends with all of them. They had all reached varying levels of success, like they had promised. He was proud of all of them.

“Are you okay?”

You nod but then sigh, leaning back against Wonwoo as you put the picture back on his shelf, sliding your fingers along his arms and glancing back out of the window at the view. Wonwoo follows your eyes but he focuses more on your reflection in the window.

“Are you lonely, Wonwoo?”

Furrowing his brows, Wonwoo holds you closer and tightens his hand on yours as you lace your fingers with his. “No…I mean, not now. I used to be.”

You were right. Sighing softly, you slide your free hand along his arm and shake your head as you look out at the city. Seungcheol had been right. It looked like the weather was getting worse. It looked like it was going to snow.

“Why do you ask, baby?”

Shaking your head again, you just smile softly, leaning your cheek against Wonwoo’s.

“This house is so big for just you. I worried you might be lonely.”

Wonwoo can’t help but smile at your reasoning. He loved you so much and your caring heart. Leaning to kiss your cheek, Wonwoo feels you smile again as you let out a soft breath.

“I love you, Y/N.”

His words are spoken against your cheek as you watch the first bit of snow begin to fall. Your tiny happy gasp causes Wonwoo to look out the window as you make a happy sound, commenting on how pretty it is—the first snow of the season.

“Mm, it is pretty, and so are you.”

Turning in Wonwoo’s arms, you feel his fingers run along your dress at the small of your back as he smiles down at you. Your eyes meet his almost shyly, before he leans down to press his lips to yours gently as your fingers hold his face on either side with a featherlight touch.

“I love you, Wonwoo.”

Hearing you say the words back to him for the first time, Wonwoo freezes and smiles against your lips. He simply sighs, happily stepping in closer to you, his hands pulling your body in tighter to his as he deepens the kiss briefly before letting you take a breath so he can rest his forehead on yours.

“Say it again.”

You laugh, rolling your eyes playfully, as Wonwoo traces the line of your zipper up the middle of your back to your shoulders so he can pull it down as he waits for you to speak. It’s only when you tell him that you love him that he drags the zipper down.

“I love you too. So, so fucking much.”

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infinitelibrary · 20 hours ago

Text

۶ৎ BROKEN CHORDS AND MENDED HEARTS —

“I love you,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “I’m yours, baby. Always. Don’t leave me. I can’t—I can’t breathe without you.”

pairing: dom!yoongi x sub!femreader

genre: established relationship, producer!yoongi, artist!reader, domestic life, lots of angst, conflict in relationship, fluff, smut

warnings: 18+, explicit smut, emotional distress, mental health discussions, hurt/comfort, reconciliation, career pressures, arguments, saying hurtful words to each other, they love each other so much but are literally idiots, yoongi loves her so much he cries, neglect, ignorance, miscommunication, love confessions, crying due to love and heartbreak, make up sex, emotional sex, passionate and intense sex, oral sex (f. receiving), penetrative sex, unprotected sex, breast play, nipple play, dirty talk, tearful intimacy, body worship, making out, hickies/marking, fingering, clit play, tongue fucking, eating out, face riding, cum swallowing, oral sex (m. receiving), cock sucking, face fucking, missionary, passionate sex, riding, creampie, praise kink, aftercare

wc: 7.08k

a/n: dont hate me for making this emotional but trust me it has a happy ending ! i also wrote this one because i miss my yoongi boongi, come home baby :((

masterlist

۶ৎ

The autumn of 2018 in Seoul was a canvas of crimson and gold, the air crisp with the promise of change. You were 24, a freelance graphic designer with a penchant for capturing the world’s quiet beauty in your sketchbook. Your life was a delicate balance of late-night coffee runs, client deadlines, and solitary evenings in your cramped Hongdae apartment, where you’d lose yourself in charcoal and ink. Min Yoongi, 25, was a rising star in the music industry, a producer whose haunting melodies and razor-sharp lyricism were beginning to ripple through Seoul’s underground scene. His name, whispered in dimly lit studios, was synonymous with raw talent, though he carried himself with a quiet intensity that kept the world at arm’s length.

You met him in a cozy café tucked away in a narrow alley, its walls lined with mismatched bookshelves and fairy lights that cast a warm glow. The scent of roasted coffee beans mingled with the faint musk of old paper, and an indie playlist hummed softly in the background. You sat by the window, your sketchbook splayed open, fingers smudged with charcoal as you traced the silhouette of a stranger across the room. That stranger was Yoongi, slouched in a corner booth, his black hoodie pulled low, earphones dangling loosely around his neck. His pale fingers danced across a tattered notebook, his brow furrowed in concentration, as if he were unraveling the universe one word at a time.

You didn’t know who he was, only that his presence was magnetic—a quiet storm in human form. His sharp jawline, the faint scar slicing through his left eyebrow, the way his lips pursed slightly as he wrote—it all drew you in. You sketched him instinctively, your pencil capturing the curve of his cheek, the shadow of his lashes. When he glanced up, catching you staring, his dark eyes pinned you in place. They were cold at first, assessing, but then a flicker of curiosity softened them. You flushed, dropping your gaze, but he was already moving, his sneakers silent on the wooden floor.

“You’re sketching me without permission,” he said, his voice low and gravelly, as he slid into the seat across from you. Your heart stuttered, but you managed a nervous laugh, flipping the sketchbook to show him. He studied it, his expression unreadable, his long fingers brushing the edge of the page. “Not bad,” he said finally, leaning back. “But you missed the scar on my eyebrow.” His lips twitched, the barest hint of a smirk, and that was the moment you knew you were in trouble.

You apologized, stumbling over your words, but he waved it off, his eyes lingering on you. “What’s your name?” he asked, and when you told him, he repeated it softly, like he was testing how it felt on his tongue. You learned his name—Min Yoongi—and that he was a producer, though he downplayed it, shrugging as if it were no big deal. You exchanged numbers, a casual “maybe we’ll talk” hanging in the air, but the spark was undeniable.

What began as sporadic texts about art and music bloomed into something deeper. Yoongi was guarded, his messages short and clipped at first, but he warmed over time. Late-night calls became your ritual, his voice a soothing anchor as he shared fragments of his life: his childhood in Daegu, where he’d sneak into his father’s study to play old jazz records; his teenage years grappling with anxiety and ambition; his relentless drive to create music that mattered. You opened up too, telling him about your dream of designing album covers, your love for capturing fleeting moments in your sketches, the way you found solace in the chaos of creation. He listened, his silences thoughtful, his rare replies piercingly insightful. “You see the world differently,” he said once, his voice soft. “I like that.”

Your first date was at a vinyl record store in Itaewon, Yoongi’s choice. The shop was a labyrinth of crates, the air thick with the scent of aged vinyl and dust. Yoongi moved through the aisles with purpose, his slim frame weaving between stacks, pulling out records. He spoke with a quiet passion, explaining how each artist shaped his sound, his hands animated, his eyes alight. You watched, captivated, as he handed you a record. “Listen to this tonight,” he said, his voice low. “Tell me what you see.”

That night, you played the record, the soulful trumpet filling your apartment. You sketched as you listened, your pencil tracing swirling blues and purples, abstract shapes of longing and melancholy. You sent him the images, your heart pounding. He called immediately, his voice husky. “You get it,” he said. “You get me.” The words felt like a confession, and you knew then that you were falling.

Yoongi’s love was subtle but consuming. He wasn’t one for grand gestures; his affection was in the details. He’d leave sticky notes on your sketchbooks, his slanted handwriting scrawling things like, “Your art is my favorite song,” or “Don’t forget to eat, baby.” He’d memorize your coffee order—black, no sugar, with a pinch of cinnamon—and bring it to you unprompted, his fingers brushing yours as he handed you the cup. When you were stressed, he’d pull you into his lap, his arms a fortress, his lips grazing your temple. “Breathe, baby,” he’d murmur. “I’ve got you.”

His pet name for you, “baby,” was a melody, soft and reverent, a word he used only for you. It slipped from his lips naturally, whether he was whispering it in the dark or saying it casually over breakfast. It was a claim, a promise, and it made your heart flutter every time.

Your relationship with Yoongi evolved into a dynamic of dominance and submission, a balance that felt as natural as breathing. Yoongi was protective, possessive in a way that thrilled you. On crowded streets, he’d grip your wrist, his touch firm but gentle, guiding you through the chaos. In private, he was commanding, his voice dropping to a low growl when he told you what he wanted. “Come here, baby,” he’d say, patting his thigh, and you’d obey, your body humming with anticipation. His dominance was never harsh; it was rooted in love, in his need to care for you, to make you feel safe.

“You’re mine,” he’d whisper, his lips trailing down your neck, his hands mapping your body with reverence. “But I’m yours too.” You trusted him completely, surrendering to his control because you knew he’d never push you beyond your limits. He’d check in, his eyes searching yours—“Is this okay, baby?”—and your soft nods were enough to spur him on. The dynamic deepened your bond, a silent language of trust and desire.

By 2019, you’d moved in together into a sleek apartment, a space that married Yoongi’s minimalist aesthetic with your vibrant touches. The living room was stark—black leather couch, glass coffee table, a grand piano in the corner where Yoongi would play late at night, his fingers coaxing melodies from the keys. Your influence was everywhere: colorful throw pillows, framed sketches of cityscapes and abstract emotions, potted plants spilling over every surface, their green leaves softening the room’s edges. Yoongi’s home studio was his sanctuary, a soundproofed haven filled with monitors, keyboards, and stacks of notebooks. He left the door open for you, a silent invitation. You’d curl up on the couch inside, sketching while he worked, the hum of his equipment a comforting pulse.

Life together was a rhythm of shared moments. Mornings were slow, Yoongi brewing coffee while you scrambled eggs, his arms slipping around your waist as he kissed the back of your neck. “Smells good, baby,” he’d murmur, his voice still rough with sleep. Evenings were for music and art, you sketching at the dining table while he played rough demos, asking for your thoughts. “What’s the vibe of this one?” he’d say, and you’d describe colors and shapes, your words guiding his edits.

Yoongi’s love was a constant, a quiet devotion that anchored you. He was cold to the world, his face a mask of indifference, but with you, he was soft, vulnerable. His rare smiles—gummy, unguarded—were yours alone, blooming when you danced around the kitchen, singing off-key to his tracks. He’d pull you close in the dead of night, his breath warm against your neck, whispering, “You’re my everything, baby.” He’d listen to you ramble about your day, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on your thigh, his eyes never straying from your face.

Your life with Yoongi was punctuated by moments of pure romance, each one etched into your memory like a painting. One summer night, he surprised you with a picnic in a secluded park, the city skyline glittering in the distance. He’d packed your favorite foods—kimchi fried rice, spicy tteokbokki, mango sorbet—and spread a blanket under a canopy of stars. He played a playlist he’d made for you, soft R&B tracks that felt like a caress. When you danced, his arms around you, he swayed slowly, his lips brushing your ear. “I don’t say it enough,” he said, his voice low, “but I love you more than anything.” You cried, overwhelmed, and he kissed your tears away, his touch grounding you.

Another memory was a rainy afternoon in 2020, when you were stuck indoors, the windows streaked with water. You’d been sketching, frustrated with a client’s revisions, when Yoongi pulled you from your chair. “Enough of that,” he said, his voice firm. He put on a jazz record, the saxophone filling the room, and danced with you in the living room, his hands guiding your hips. When you tripped, laughing, he caught you, his eyes warm. “You’re perfect, baby,” he said, kissing you deeply, the rain a soft symphony outside.

Then there was the winter of 2021, when Seoul was blanketed in snow. You’d dragged Yoongi outside at midnight, insisting on building a snowman. He’d grumbled, his breath visible in the cold, his scarf wrapped tightly around his neck. “This is ridiculous,” he muttered, but when you pouted, he relented, helping you roll snowballs, his gloved hands brushing yours. When you slipped on ice, he caught you, his laugh—a rare, bright sound—echoing in the quiet night. He kissed you right there, snowflakes catching in his dark hair, his lips cold but soft. “You’re gonna be the death of me, baby,” he said, but his eyes were full of adoration.

At industry events, Yoongi was Min Yoongi, the untouchable producer, his demeanor icy, his words clipped. But with you by his side, he softened. His hand would rest on your lower back, a possessive touch that sent shivers down your spine. If someone flirted with you, his eyes would darken, his voice cutting like a blade when he spoke to them. “She’s taken,” he’d say, his tone final. The moment they were gone, he’d turn to you, his expression melting. “You okay, baby?” he’d ask, brushing a strand of hair from your face, his thumb lingering on your cheek.

By 2024, Yoongi’s career had soared to dizzying heights. He was producing for global artists, his name a staple in award show credits, his tracks dominating charts. But success came at a cost. His days were consumed by studio sessions, international Zoom calls, and late-night meetings with executives. He’d leave the apartment before dawn, his side of the bed cold when you woke, the faint scent of his cologne the only trace of him. He’d return past midnight, collapsing beside you, his body heavy with exhaustion. You’d reach for him, hoping for a moment of connection, but he’d be asleep within seconds, his breathing uneven, his brow still creased with stress.

His home office became his fortress, the door often closed now, the glow of his computer screen seeping under it. You’d knock softly, bringing him coffee or a plate of kimbap, but he’d barely look up, muttering, “Thanks, baby,” before diving back into his work. His touches grew fleeting—a quick kiss on your forehead as he rushed out, a distracted “I love you” over his shoulder. You missed him, the Yoongi who’d hold you for hours, who’d look at you like you were his entire universe.

The distance grew like a weed, subtle at first but choking over time. You’d wake to an empty apartment, the silence deafening. You’d eat breakfast alone, the clink of your spoon against the bowl a lonely sound. You’d text him, asking how his day was, and his replies were short, delayed: “Busy. Love you.” You’d linger outside his office, hesitating, then walk away, the rejection stinging even though he hadn’t said a word.

You tried to be supportive. His work was his passion, his legacy, and you’d always admired his drive. But the loneliness was a slow poison, seeping into your bones. You felt like a ghost in your own home, unseen, unheard. You stopped waiting up for him, stopped knocking on his office door. You threw yourself into your own work, designing album covers for indie bands, but the joy was dimmed by the ache in your chest. You’d sketch late into the night, your pencil tracing images of longing—empty beds, shadowed figures, broken hearts.

You began mirroring his distance, pulling back to protect yourself. You’d eat dinner alone, the TV on to fill the silence. You’d sleep on your side of the bed, not reaching for him when he slipped in. Your conversations dwindled to brief exchanges. “How was your day?” you’d ask, your voice flat. “Busy,” he’d say, eyes on his phone. “You?” You’d shrug, swallowing the lump in your throat. “Fine.” The silence between you was heavy, suffocating, a chasm neither of you knew how to bridge.

One evening, you’d planned a special dinner, hoping to reclaim a piece of your old intimacy. You’d spent hours cooking—bulgogi, japchae, a strawberry cake you’d baked from scratch. You set the table with candles, your heart fluttering with nervous hope. But Yoongi texted at 7 p.m.: “Stuck at the studio. Don’t wait up.” You sat at the table alone, the food growing cold, the candles burning low. When he came home at 2 a.m., you were asleep, the table untouched. He didn’t mention it the next day, and you didn’t bring it up, the hurt too raw to voice.

The final straw was a weekend you’d planned to spend together, a rare break in his schedule. You’d booked a cabin in the countryside, dreaming of quiet walks and late-night talks by a fire. But at the last minute, he canceled, saying a client needed an emergency revision. “We’ll go another time,” he said, his voice distracted. You didn’t argue, just nodded, your heart sinking.

The tension erupted on a rainy evening in April 2025. Yoongi had been home for barely an hour, his jacket dripping from the downpour, when you snapped. You’d spent the day spiraling, your heart raw from weeks of neglect. He was in the kitchen, scrolling through emails on his phone, his shoulders hunched, when you stormed in, your voice trembling.

“Do you even see me anymore, Yoongi?” you demanded, your hands shaking. He looked up, startled, his brows furrowing. “What are you talking about, Y/N?”

“You’re never here!” you shouted, tears welling. “You leave before I wake up, you come home when I’m asleep. You’re always in that fucking office, and when you’re not, you’re glued to your phone. I’m right here, Yoongi, and you don’t even look at me!”

His jaw tightened, his eyes narrowing. “I’m working, Y/N. You know how important this is. I’m doing this for us.”

“For us?” you laughed bitterly, your voice cracking. “When was the last time there was an ‘us’? You don’t talk to me, you don’t touch me. I feel like I’m living with a ghost! I’m not your baby anymore—I’m nothing to you!”

His face hardened, but his eyes flickered with hurt. “That’s not fair,” he said, his voice low, controlled. “I’m killing myself to provide for us, to build something. You think I want to be this busy? You think I don’t miss you?”

“Then why don’t you stop?” you cried, your voice rising. “Why don’t you choose me for once? Or am I not worth it anymore? Maybe you don’t even love me anymore, Yoongi. Maybe you never did!”

His expression cracked, pain flashing across his face. “Don’t say that,” he said, his voice shaking. “You know I love you. I’ve chosen you every damn day since we met. You’re my whole world, Y/N, but I can’t just drop everything because you’re feeling neglected.”

“Neglected?” you spat, tears streaming down your face. “That’s exactly what I am! You treat me like I’m invisible. I bet you’d be happier if I was gone, wouldn’t you? Maybe you’d rather be alone with your precious music than deal with me!”

His eyes widened, his breath hitching. “Y/N, stop,” he said, his voice breaking. “You don’t mean that.”

“I do!” you shouted, your voice raw. “I’m done being your afterthought, Yoongi. I deserve better than this. I deserve someone who actually gives a shit about me, not some selfish man who only cares about his career!”

His face paled, his hands trembling as he stepped toward you. “You’re breaking my heart, Y/N,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’m trying so hard, and you’re twisting it into something it’s not. Maybe you’re the one who doesn’t care, throwing all this in my face like my love means nothing.”

His words stung, but yours had been crueler, each one a dagger aimed at his heart. You saw the hurt in his eyes, the way his shoulders slumped, but your anger was a wildfire, consuming reason. “Maybe it doesn’t,” you whispered, your voice venomous. “Maybe I should just leave and make it easier for you.”

His eyes filled with panic, but before he could respond, you turned and ran to the bedroom, slamming the door and locking it. You collapsed against it, sobs wracking your body, your words echoing in your mind. You hated yourself for what you’d said, for wounding him so deeply, but the pain was too raw, too overwhelming.

Yoongi’s voice came through the door, soft and desperate. “Y/N, open the door. Please, baby.” You didn’t answer, curling into yourself, your tears soaking the carpet. He knocked, harder now. “I’m sorry, Y/N. I didn’t mean it. Let’s talk, please. I love you.” His voice cracked, raw with emotion. “Don’t shut me out like this.”

He knocked for hours, his pleas growing quieter, more broken. “I’m not leaving,” he said finally, his voice hoarse. “I’ll stay right here until you’re ready. I love you, baby. I’m so sorry.” You heard him slide down the door, his breathing ragged, and you knew he was sitting there, his body pressed against the wood, his love for you keeping him anchored despite the cold, hard floor.

You cried yourself to sleep, the sound of his presence outside a bittersweet torment. He spent the night there, curled up in the hallway, his devotion unwavering even as your words tore at his heart.

You woke at dawn, your eyes swollen, your throat raw. The fight replayed in your mind, each word a fresh wound. You couldn’t stay, not like this. The loneliness, the hurt—it was too much. You needed space, time to heal. You packed a small bag, your hands trembling as you folded clothes, each item a reminder of the life you’d built with Yoongi. Your favorite sweater, the one he’d bought you on a whim; the scarf he’d wrapped around you during a winter walk; the sketchbook filled with drawings of him. It all felt like a betrayal to pack them away.

When you opened the door, you found Yoongi slumped against the wall, his head resting on his knees, his face pale, his eyes red-rimmed. He scrambled to his feet, panic flashing across his features as he saw the bag. “Y/N, no,” he said, his voice hoarse, raw from a night of pleading. “What are you doing?”

“I need a break,” you said, your voice shaking but firm. “I’m going to my parents’ place. I can’t do this anymore, Yoongi.”

His eyes widened, his hands reaching for you, gripping your arms. “No, baby, please,” he said, his voice trembling. “Don’t leave me. I’m sorry, I’m so fucking sorry. I know I’ve been distant, I know I’ve fucked up, but I’ll fix this. I swear I will.”

You shook your head, tears falling. “It’s not just about last night, Yoongi. It’s everything. I don’t feel like I matter to you anymore. I’m tired of begging for your attention, tired of feeling like I’m nothing.”

“You’re not nothing,” he said, his voice breaking. “You’re everything, Y/N. You’re my heart, my home. I’ve been an idiot, I know, but I can’t lose you. I love you more than anything. Please, baby, give me a chance to make this right.”

His words shattered you, and for the first time, you saw tears in his eyes, glistening on his lashes, streaming down his cheeks. Yoongi, the man who never cried, who hid his pain behind a stoic mask, was breaking before you. “I’m begging you,” he whispered, his hands sliding to your face, cupping your cheeks. “Don’t go. I’ll do anything, Y/N. I’ll quit if I have to. I’d rather die than live without you.”

You sobbed, your resolve crumbling under the weight of his desperation. “I don’t know if you can fix this,” you said, your voice wavering. “I don’t know if I can keep doing this.”

“You don’t have to do it alone,” he said, his thumbs brushing away your tears. “I’m here, baby. I’m right here. I’ll prove it to you, every day, for the rest of my life. Just don’t walk away. Please.”

He pulled you into his arms, his body trembling, his lips pressing frantic kisses to your forehead, your cheeks, your lips. “I love you,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “I’m yours, baby. Always. Don’t leave me. I can’t—I can’t breathe without you.”

You clung to him, your tears soaking his shirt, your heart torn between pain and love. His desperation, his vulnerability, chipped away at your walls. “Yoongi,” you whispered, your voice breaking. “I’m so tired.”

“I know,” he said, his arms tightening around you. “I know, baby. Let me carry it for you. Let me make it right.” He kissed you then, hard and desperate, his lips tasting of salt and regret. The kiss was a plea, a promise, and you felt yourself melting into him, your bag slipping from your shoulder to the floor.

The kiss deepened, a collision of longing, apology, and raw need. Yoongi’s hands tangled in your hair, his body pressing against yours as if he could fuse you together, keep you from slipping away. “I’ve missed you,” he said, his voice rough with emotion. “I’ve been so fucking stupid, baby. Let me show you how much I love you.”

You nodded, tears still falling, as he lifted you, carrying you to the bed. His touch was both tender and urgent, his fingers trembling as he undressed you, peeling away your clothes like he was unwrapping something sacred. “You’re so beautiful,” he whispered, his lips brushing your collarbone, your shoulder, the curve of your breast. “My baby. My everything.”

He kissed every inch of your skin, worshiping you with a reverence that made your heart ache. His lips found your nipples, sucking gently, his tongue swirling, drawing soft moans from you. “So perfect,” he murmured, his hands cupping your breasts, his thumbs brushing the sensitive peaks. He moved lower, his kisses trailing down your stomach, his breath hot against your skin.

When he reached your pussy, he paused, his eyes meeting yours, dark with desire but soft with love. “I’ve neglected you,” he said, his voice low. “I’m so sorry, baby. Let me make it up to you.” He kissed you there, his lips soft at first, then hungry, his tongue exploring you with a devotion that sent shivers through your body. He licked and sucked, his hands gripping your thighs, holding you open for him. “You taste so good,” he groaned, his voice muffled against you. “I could stay here forever.”

You moaned, your hands fisting the sheets, your body arching into his mouth. He worshiped you, his tongue circling your clit, his lips sucking gently, until you were trembling, your breath hitching. “Yoongi,” you gasped, and he hummed, the vibration pushing you closer to the edge. “I’m—I’m gonna—”

“Come for me, baby,” he said, his voice a low command. “Let me feel you.” You did, your body shuddering, your cries filling the room as pleasure crashed over you. He didn’t stop, his tongue coaxing every aftershock from you, his hands stroking your thighs soothingly.

When you were spent, he kissed his way back up your body, his lips finding yours. “I love you,” he said, his voice raw. “I’m never letting you go.” You reached for him, your hands tugging at his shirt, and he helped you, stripping quickly until he was bare before you. You took him in, the lean lines of his body, the faint scars from old injuries, the hardness of his cock, already leaking with need.

You pushed him onto his back, straddling him, your hands roaming his chest. You kissed down his body, your lips tracing the planes of his stomach, the sharp jut of his hipbones. When you reached his cock, you took him in your hand, stroking slowly, watching his face. His eyes fluttered shut, his lips parting, a low groan escaping him.

“Baby,” he breathed, as you took him into your mouth, your tongue swirling around the tip. You sucked him deep, your hands stroking what your mouth couldn’t reach, your eyes locked on his. He watched you, his gaze heavy with lust and love, his hands tangling in your hair. “Fuck, you’re so good,” he groaned, his hips twitching. “So perfect for me.”

You hummed, the vibration making him curse softly, his grip tightening. You worked him until he was panting, his control fraying, then pulled back, kissing his thigh. “Not yet,” you said, smiling, and he laughed, a rough, desperate sound.

“Come here,” he said, pulling you up, flipping you onto your back. He settled between your legs, his cock brushing your entrance, his eyes searching yours. “Is this okay?” he asked, his voice soft, and you nodded, your heart swelling.

“I need you,” you said, and he kissed you, deep and slow, as he pushed inside you. You gasped, the stretch delicious, his cock filling you perfectly. He moved slowly at first, his thrusts deep and deliberate, each one pulling a moan from your lips. “Yoongi,” you whimpered, your nails digging into his back.

“I’ve got you, baby,” he said, his voice low, his lips brushing your ear. “I’m right here.” His pace quickened, his hips snapping, his cock hitting that spot inside you that made you see stars. He fucked you with a desperation that spoke of weeks apart, of love and longing, of apologies unspoken. “You’re mine,” he growled, his hand slipping between you, his fingers finding your clit, rubbing in time with his thrusts. “My baby. My everything.”

You cried out, your body tightening, pleasure building to a crescendo. “I love you,” you gasped, tears spilling down your cheeks, not from pain but from the overwhelming love, the pleasure mingling with the ache of reconciliation. “I’m sorry, Yoongi. I didn’t mean those things.”

“I know,” he said, his voice breaking, his thrusts growing erratic. “I’m sorry too, baby. I love you so much.” You came undone together, your cries mingling, your bodies trembling as pleasure and emotion crashed over you. He fucked you through it, his movements slowing, his lips kissing away your tears.

Yoongi held you close after, his arms tight around you, his heart beating against yours. “I love you,” he whispered, over and over, like a mantra, his lips pressing soft kisses to your forehead, your cheeks, your lips. You clung to him, your tears drying, your apologies spilling out.

“I’m sorry for what I said,” you whispered, your voice muffled against his chest. “I didn’t mean it, Yoongi. I was just so hurt.”

“I know, baby,” he said, his hand stroking your hair. “I hurt you, and I’m so sorry. I’ll never let it get that bad again. You’re my priority, always.”

He pulled away only to run a warm bath, the bathroom filling with the scent of lavender from the bath oil he added. He carried you to the tub, settling in behind you, his arms encircling you as he washed your hair, his fingers massaging your scalp. “Relax,” he murmured, his voice soothing. “Let me take care of you.”

He washed your body with care, his hands gentle, his touch a silent apology. He kissed your shoulder, your neck, whispering soft words of love. “You’re so precious to me,” he said. “I don’t deserve you, but I’m never letting you go.”

When the water cooled, he dried you off, wrapping you in his oversized hoodie, the scent of him enveloping you. He carried you back to bed, tucking you against his side, his hand stroking your back. “Sleep, baby,” he said, his voice soft. “I’m right here.”

You fell asleep in his arms, the weight of the fight lifting, replaced by the certainty of his love. He stayed awake, watching you, his fingers tracing your features, his heart full.

The weeks following your reconciliation with Yoongi were a testament to the resilience of your love, a delicate yet powerful rebirth that transformed your relationship into something even stronger. Yoongi, true to his promise, restructured his life to place you at its center, his actions a living apology for the distance that had once threatened to tear you apart. He scaled back his studio hours, delegating tasks to junior producers and setting firm boundaries with clients. “No more late nights unless it’s with you,” he’d said one morning, his voice low and resolute, as he kissed your knuckles across the breakfast table. His dark eyes held yours, unwavering, his thumb lingering on your hand, tracing the curve of your fingers, and the sincerity in his gaze sparked a warmth in your chest that felt like coming home.

Your apartment, once a silent battlefield of unspoken hurts, was reborn as a sanctuary of shared moments. Evenings became sacred, filled with rituals that wove your lives back together. Yoongi took up cooking, his slim fingers deftly chopping vegetables, his brow furrowed in concentration as he perfected dishes like spicy kimchi jjigae or delicate japchae. “Gotta keep my baby fed,” he’d say, a playful smirk tugging at his lips, though his eyes glowed with quiet pride when you hummed in delight at the first bite. You’d perch at the kitchen counter, sketching him as he worked, your pencil capturing the way his dark hair fell into his eyes, the subtle intensity of his focus, the faint scar on his eyebrow that you loved to trace. He’d catch you staring, leaning over to steal a kiss, his lips warm and tasting faintly of garlic, murmuring, “You’re distracting me, baby,” against your mouth.

Weekends were your haven, a time to rediscover each other. Yoongi insisted on reclaiming the countryside cabin trip you’d missed, booking a long weekend in a secluded retreat nestled among pine trees and rolling hills. The drive there was a journey of reconnection, his hand resting possessively on your thigh as he drove, his fingers occasionally squeezing gently, a silent reminder of his presence. A playlist of your favorite songs filled the car—soft R&B, soulful jazz, and a few of his own tracks—and you sang along, off-key and unapologetic, your voice cracking on the high notes. Yoongi laughed, a bright, gummy smile that made your heart ache with joy. “You’re terrible,” he teased, but his fingers tightened on your thigh, his eyes soft with adoration as he glanced at you, the sunlight catching the sharp planes of his face.

At the cabin, time seemed to slow, each moment a brushstroke on the canvas of your renewed love. Mornings were spent wrapped in blankets on the porch, sipping coffee as the mist curled over the hills, Yoongi’s arm around you, his chin resting on your head. His warmth enveloped you, the faint scent of his cologne—sandalwood and cedar—mingling with the crisp air. “This is what I want,” he said one morning, his voice low, almost reverent, his lips brushing your temple. “You, me, this quiet. I was an idiot to forget it.” You turned to kiss him, your lips lingering, the heat of his breath chasing away the morning chill, his hand slipping under your sweater to rest against the small of your back, grounding you in his love.

Afternoons were for exploration, hand in hand, through forest trails, your laughter echoing as you chased each other through the trees, pine needles crunching underfoot. He’d catch you, spinning you around, his kisses playful but possessive, his hands firm on your hips. “Got you, baby,” he’d murmur, his voice a low growl that sent shivers down your spine, his lips finding the sensitive spot below your ear. Nights were intimate, a blend of passion and tenderness, the cabin’s wooden walls a cocoon for your love.

One such night, under the soft glow of a lantern, Yoongi’s touch became a language of its own, speaking of longing and devotion. You were curled up by the fireplace, the crackling flames casting shadows across the room, when he pulled you into his lap, his hands slipping under your sweater, his fingers tracing the curve of your spine. “You’re my home, baby,” he whispered, his lips grazing your neck, his voice thick with emotion. The air between you thickened, charged with a need that had been simmering since your reconciliation.

You turned to face him, straddling his thighs, your hands cupping his face, your thumbs brushing the sharp line of his jaw. His eyes were dark, heavy with desire, but softened by love, the firelight dancing in their depths. “I want you,” you said, your voice husky, and he groaned softly, his hands tightening on your hips. “You have me,” he replied, his lips crashing into yours, the kiss deep and hungry, tasting of coffee and unspoken promises.

Your fingers tugged at his shirt, pulling it over his head, revealing the lean planes of his chest, the faint scars from old injuries that you’d memorized with your lips. He undressed you with reverence, his hands trembling slightly as he peeled away your sweater, your jeans, until you were bare before him, the firelight painting your skin in warm hues. “Fuck, you’re beautiful,” he murmured, his hands roaming your body, his touch both possessive and tender, as if he were afraid you might vanish.

You pushed him back onto the plush rug, the heat of the fire warming your skin as you climbed over him, your hands splaying across his chest. His cock was hard, straining against his sweatpants, and you tugged them down, freeing him. He was thick, the tip glistening with need, and you felt a rush of heat between your thighs. “Baby,” he breathed, his hands gripping your hips as you positioned yourself above him, your pussy hovering over his length. “Ride me,” he said, his voice a low command, his eyes locked on yours, dark with lust and love.

You sank onto him slowly, gasping as his cock stretched you, filling you completely. The sensation was overwhelming, a delicious burn that made your breath hitch, your hands bracing against his chest. Yoongi groaned, his head falling back, his lips parting as he felt you envelop him. “Fuck, you feel so good,” he said, his voice rough, his hands guiding your hips as you began to move.

You rode him with a rhythm that was both desperate and deliberate, your hips rolling, your pussy clenching around him with every thrust. His cock hit deep, brushing that spot inside you that made your toes curl, sparks of pleasure shooting through you. Yoongi’s hands roamed your body, one sliding up to cup your breast, his thumb brushing your nipple, the other gripping your ass, urging you faster. “That’s it, baby,” he growled, his voice low and commanding. “Take what you need. You’re mine.”

You moaned, your head tipping back, your hair spilling down your back as you moved, the firelight catching the sweat on your skin. “Yoongi,” you gasped, your nails digging into his chest, leaving faint red marks. He hissed, his hips bucking up to meet your thrusts, driving himself deeper. “Fuck, say my name again,” he said, his voice raw, his eyes burning into yours.

“Yoongi,” you whimpered, your movements growing erratic, pleasure building like a storm inside you. He sat up suddenly, his arms wrapping around you, his lips finding your nipple, sucking hard as he thrust up into you. The sensation was electric, your body trembling, your pussy fluttering around his cock. “I love you,” you cried, tears pricking your eyes, not from pain but from the overwhelming connection, the love that pulsed between you.

“I love you too, baby,” he said, his voice breaking, his lips crashing into yours as he fucked you harder, his cock relentless, his hands anchoring you to him. “You’re everything. My fucking everything.” The words were a vow, each thrust a promise, and you felt yourself spiraling, your orgasm cresting.

“Yoongi, I’m—I’m gonna come,” you gasped, your body tightening, your pussy clenching around him. “Come for me, baby,” he growled, his fingers slipping between you, finding your clit, rubbing in tight circles. The pleasure was blinding, a wave that crashed over you, your cries filling the room as you came, your body shuddering, your pussy pulsing around his cock. Yoongi groaned, his thrusts growing erratic, and he followed you, his cock throbbing as he spilled inside you, his hands gripping you tightly, his lips murmuring your name like a prayer.

You collapsed against him, your bodies slick with sweat, the fire’s warmth enveloping you. He held you close, his hands stroking your back, his lips pressing soft kisses to your shoulder, your neck, your forehead. “My baby,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “I’m never letting you go again.”

Back in Seoul, Yoongi’s commitment deepened. He started leaving his office door open, inviting you into his creative world. One night, he called you in, his voice tinged with excitement. “Listen to this,” he said, playing a new track, a soulful melody of soft piano and subtle beats. You closed your eyes, the music painting deep blues and warm golds in your mind. When you opened them, he was watching you, his expression vulnerable. “It’s for you,” he said. “I wrote it thinking of you, of us.” You cried, pulling him into a kiss, your heart swelling with the knowledge that you were his muse, his anchor.

He attended your freelance showcases, his presence a quiet pillar of support. At one event, as you nervously presented your album cover designs, he stood in the back, his eyes fixed on you, a proud smile softening his stoic face. Afterward, he pulled you aside, his hands cupping your face. “You’re incredible, baby,” he said, his voice low, meant only for you. “I’m so fucking proud of you.” His kiss was fierce, possessive, and you felt invincible with him by your side.

Yoongi’s cold, reserved demeanor remained for the world, but with you, he was transformed. At industry events, his hand rested on your lower back, a silent claim. If someone lingered too long in conversation with you, his eyes darkened, his voice cutting like ice. But alone, he softened, his fingers brushing your hair, his lips finding yours. “You’re mine,” he’d whisper, not with jealousy but with a love so deep it was etched into his soul.

Your dynamic as dominant and submissive deepened, rooted in trust and rediscovered intimacy. In the bedroom, Yoongi’s commands were firm but tender, his voice a low growl that sent shivers down your spine. “On your knees, baby,” he’d say, and you’d obey, your body humming, knowing he’d care for you completely. He’d check in, his eyes searching yours—“You good, baby?”—and your nods spurred him on, his touch both commanding and reverent. Outside the bedroom, his dominance was subtler: guiding you through crowds, his hand firm on your wrist; tilting your chin to meet his gaze when you were nervous, murmuring, “You’ve got this, baby.”

One memorable night, Yoongi surprised you with a rooftop dinner at home, the city skyline glittering below. He’d strung fairy lights across the balcony, a small table set with candles and your favorite foods—bulgogi, tteokbokki, a mango tart he’d attempted to bake himself, slightly lopsided but made with love. He played a soft jazz record, the saxophone weaving through the night air, and pulled you into a slow dance, his arms around you, his lips brushing your temple. “I almost lost you,” he said, his voice barely audible, his hands tightening on your waist. “I’ll never let that happen again.” You cried, not from pain but from the certainty of his love, and he kissed you deeply, the city fading until it was just you and him.

Your relationship wasn’t perfect—no love ever is—but it was stronger for its trials. The memory of your fight lingered, a reminder of love’s fragility, but also of how fiercely you’d both fight to protect it. Yoongi’s love was your constant, his presence your home. He’d wake you with soft kisses, his voice rough with sleep as he murmured, “Morning, baby.” He’d fall asleep with you in his arms, his breath warm against your neck, his whispered “I love you” the last thing you heard.

Years later, you’d look back on this time—the pain, the reconciliation, the rebirth—and know it was the moment your love became unbreakable. Yoongi was your muse, your protector, your heart, and you were his baby, his everything. Together, you faced the world, hand in hand, your love a melody that would never fade.

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infinitelibrary · 1 day ago

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In Bloom Collaboration

Pass the end of winter's cold // until the spring day comes again. This April, join us for seven (loosely) spring-themed stories from @kpopfanfictrash, @kithtaehyung, @yoonia, @syllviere, @leahsfavefics, @suga-kookiemonster, and @cybrsan.

Spring symbolizes hope for renewal, new growth and change, and the anticipation of good things ahead. With the return of BTS on the horizon, enjoy these stories centered on romance and possibility.

Content Creator: @kithtaehyung for creation of all these wonderful banners!

[ Links will be added to this post as stories as published ]

Title: Clichés and Canapés

Author: @kpopfanfictrash

Pairing: Seokjin x Reader (f)

Rating/Genre: M (18+); smut; best friends to lovers; fake dating; billionaire au

Summary: 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.

Posting Date: April 20

Title: Satsuma

Author: @kithtaehyung

Pairing: Yoongi x Reader (f)

Rating/Genre: m (18+); angst, smut; iron chef au, rivals to lovers

Summary: this particular culinary prodigy has always bested you—time, and time, and time again. but not today. today? you will break him. you will finally beat min yoongi—the bane of your existence and the youngest ever iron chef.

Posting Date: April 22

Title: Sunset Glow

Author: @yoonia

Pairing: Hoseok x Reader (f)

Rating/Genre: M (18+); past lovers!au; lawyer!Hoseok, artist!reader; New Beginning; inspired by Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind (yes, the movie)

Summary: As you accidentally stumble upon a reminder of the past that you have been slowly walking away from, you finally get to see Hoseok losing his resolve for the first time. It is now your turn to become his rock, and help remind him the reason why he has always been yours.

Posting Date: April 24

Title: Sealed With a Kiss

Author: @syllviere

Pairing: Namjoon x Reader (f)

Rating/Genre: M (18+); Cardiac Surgeon Namjoon x Demon Reader; Fake Fiancé; Strangers to Lovers; Smut; Urban Fantasy/Paranormal Romance; Not Christian hell

Summary: When Namjoon offered you one quick favor for another, he should’ve known something was wrong the moment you kissed him instead of shaking his hand to agree. He might’ve known when dark shadows seemed to start following him around every corner. And he definitely knew the night you dragged him to hell and not-so-kindly reminded him that he owed you.

He’d never been very good at negotiating.

Posting Date: April 26

Title: Mr. Park is an Asshole

Author: @leahsfavefics

Pairing: Jimin x Reader (f)

Rating/Genre: M (18+); reverse tropes: nice guy who only hates you; academic rivals, but it's two teachers competing to have the best class

Summary: Ever since you joined the team as Darling Elementary's new art teacher, you've been welcomed with open arms. By everyone except Mr. Park, the music teacher. Jimin seems to be the school's golden child, beloved by all (except you), and the organizer of the school's most popular event, the annual Spring Recital. When the school's poor budget planning requires Jimin to enlist your help on the recital, you wonder how you're going to manage working with your sworn enemy.

Posting Date: April 28

Title: Lost and Found

Author: @suga-kookiemonster

Pairing: Taehyung x Reader (f)

Rating/Genre: M; smut; strangers to lovers; resort!au

Summary: to give yourself credit, you’ve put up a great fight. but the inevitable has finally happened—after pushing yourself to your very limits, you’re forced to concede when an overwhelming meltdown stops you in your tracks. concerned, your mother insists you utilize her aunt’s timeshare to get some much needed R&R. you’re not quite sure how your life has spiraled to the depths it has, but you figure if you’re already in hell, you might as well enjoy the flames with cocktails in-hand.

enter taehyung—the timeshare’s absurdly hot pool bartender. tae is chill, carefree, and wholly unbothered about having no life plans beyond flirting with old ladies for tips. a planner to a fault, you simply can’t fathom how someone could flit though life without direction. but in the midst of piecing yourself back together, it gradually starts to dawn on you that the two of you might not be that different after all.

Posting Date: April 30

Title: Timezone

Author: @cybrsan

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader (f)

Rating/Genre: M (18+); smut; idol!jk + non-celeb reader; inspired by the Måneskin song, Timezone

Summary: Concerts. Fansigns. Interviews. Jungkook's schedule has been so jam-packed lately that he barely has time to breathe. After a particularly rough day, he struggles to fall asleep because you aren't beside him, and suddenly he doesn't care about his responsibilities or the fact that there are 7,000 miles separating you. He needs to see you, consequences be damned, because you're the only thing that truly matters.

Posting Date: May 2

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infinitelibrary · 1 day ago

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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.

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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infinitelibrary · 1 day ago

Text

Clichés and Canapés (M)

Author: kpopfanfictrash

Genre: best friends to lovers; fake dating; billionaire au

Pairing: Seokjin x Reader (f)

Word Count: 40K

Rating: 18+; explicit sexual content

Warnings (explicit content): oral (f. receiving), nipple play, delayed orgasms, sex w/out a condom, cum play, semi-public sex, light spanking, fingering, dirty talk, mention of voyeurism

Warnings (other): depictions of micro-aggressions, mentions of divorce (past tense), emotionally abusive/manipulative parents (side character)

Time is relative. A year can be both long and short, depending on which side you stand on. December is always a surprise, despite having lived through the months prior. The ‘you’ of today compared to the ‘you’ of last year always makes you feel ancient. The past year in particular packed more punches than most – some of them small, and some monumental enough to stop you in your tracks.

For example, this time last year – how is it already May? – you still worked in consulting, nimbly hanging from the top rung of the corporate later. But by the end of last summer, you had unceremoniously quit in a flurry of anger and paperwork. Last year had many difficulties but honestly, quitting wasn’t one of them.

No – one thing no one tells you in school is that all jobs kind of suck. There’s no one right answer, one right path. There are many careers you can enjoy – some of them taken by choice, others by happenstance and you’ll likely be good at more than one. Each one has a different toll, though. A different cost-benefit analysis, as you would have said last year.

You were good at consulting. There were many reasons you rose through the ranks. You always enjoyed a good challenge; enjoyed the thrill of being good at your job, but slowly realized work didn’t make you happy. Not when the cost was your free time and every ounce of value you saw in yourself.

Ambition is also a funny thing. Chasing a dream, even someone else’s, can be satisfying but eventually, you look down and notice the cracks in your life. Crevices between who you are and who you want to be, widening until the gap is unpardonable. The moment you notice is the moment you’re forced to make a decision.

For you, the decision was to quit.

God, it felt good to drop all the burdens. To leave your equipment with IT and stop caring about which projects were on track, which coworkers were slacking, and what the impact would be if certain laws passed. Petty concerns about petty people, all washed away by the sunlight outside.

The ‘you’ of ten years ago would have been embarrassed to call yourself a barista. The ‘you’ of ten years ago though, still believed in golden lies spun by corporations. The idea that if you worked hard enough, long enough – translation: made enough money – you would be happy. News flash: you weren’t. Or at least, not happy enough.

Working in a coffee shop has been fun. Enjoyable. Of course, there are rushes and harried customers and your feet hurt, but at the end of the day, you still have the energy left to be creative. That’s what matters to you.

Your friends have been saying as much to you for years. One friend in particular was convinced you needed to take a step back, but you rarely listened to Seokjin when it came to matters of work. With his upbringing, his family, it wasn’t like money was ever a concern to him, and –

“Y/N? Hellooo? Y/N!”

Jerking upright, you realize Jimin has been calling your name. Screwing the cap on the syrup, you glance over your shoulder.

Jimin leans against the counter at an angle which, frankly, defies gravity. One impeccable brow lifted, he watches with both arms folded over his apron.

Slowly, you set down the syrup. “How many times did you call my name?”

Jimin shakes his head. “At least three. I understood at first, but then I started worrying you were losing your hearing. You know, because of your age.”

“I’m three years older than you, Jimin. Not decrepit.”

“Right.” A deep sigh. “Thirty. And here I am, young and virile and still in my twenties.”

“Ugh,” you say, wrinkling your nose. “Please don’t ever say virile to me again. And you’re in your twenties for now,” you add. “You’ll be thirty someday.”

“Yes. In the far, far, far future.”

Despite his teasing, Jimin joins at the sink with an armful of bottles. He stacks them neatly on the counter, reaching to fill one with syrup.

The café is quiet on a Tuesday afternoon. A few patrons linger, typing on laptops with their over-ears on, but the morning and noon rush have come and gone. Until someone enters, there’s nothing to do but clean and prep for tomorrow. Reaching for the next canister, you realize Jimin is wearing a Look.

It’s a Look you’ve grown familiar with over the past month, since Jimin insists on having the same conversation.

“Oh, no,” you sigh.

“Oh, no – what?”

“Oh, no – why are you looking at me like that?”

“Like what?” Jimin widens his eyes, the picture of innocence.

“Like I just kicked a dog,” you grumble.

Someone glances up from their laptop, appalled, and your face heats, realizing they overheard between songs. Busying yourself, you turn around and place your back firmly to them.

Jimin grins. “W-ow, Y/N. Can’t your good friend – and roommate, might I add – look at you without an agenda? It’s like you’re so used to being alone, you push people away at the first hint of discomfort.”

You make a sputtering sound. “Okay, first off – ouch. Too real for a work conversation. And second, that is not what’s happening here.”

Even if Jimin does have a point, says a voice in your head. Although you met Jimin in college, the two of you only recently reconnected. You were in the same theatre group back then, overlapping your senior and his freshman year. When you needed a roommate, you posted on the alumni social media page and Jimin responded. Since then, you’ve become close friends – along with Jimin’s boyfriend, Hoseok, one of your favorite people.

Jimin has been watching you withdraw socially for the past year, although much of that, you’d argue, is for a valid reason.

“So, does that mean you’ve changed your mind about the cabin?” Jimin asks, resting his chin on his fist.

“No,” you say through gritted teeth. “It does not.”

“Come on.” Jimin slumps dramatically. “It’ll be so much fun! And a bunch of my friends are single. And hot.” He wiggles both brows. “Now that I’m dating Hoseok, I need to set you up with someone.”

Despite yourself, your lips twitch. Jimin has been trying to get you to join his college friend cabin trip. Although you like his friends, an entire week with them is out of the question. Every single one of them is Type B – seriously, all of them – and if you went, you know you’d be instantly relegated to the ‘mom’ role. Even with the hottest of people, that’s a hard no for you.

Jimin is right there with them, flying through life by the seat of his pants, whereas you plan for all contingencies. Like the time you went backpacking through Europe and all the trains were cancelled due to something mumbled hastily at you in Spanish. It was up to you to solve – something you did within the hour; a story Seokjin likes to tell people at parties.

Of course, the response at Seokjin’s family parties tends to be shock at having taken public transportation in the first place. Seokjin’s family are rich-rich. Like, funded-the-railroads rich. Have-statues-in-historic-downtowns rich. Wear-clothes-that-look-like-Goodwill-but-actually-cost-five-figures rich.

It’s been a long while since Seokjin has said anything in your presence though, since you haven’t joined his rich-people parties in months. In fact, the last time you saw Seokjin was at his birthday party last year.

Wincing at this, you return to Jimin.

Admittedly, he makes some good points. You haven’t dated someone in ages. Your former job took up most of your time, and when you did date, it was friends of co-workers or people you met through work. Since quitting, you’ve taken a step back from the dating pool. As nice as it is to be wined and dined, you haven’t felt the need to take on someone new.

Not with how messy your personal feelings already are.

Mostly, you’ve thrown yourself into the coffee shop and writing. Jimin has encouraged you to branch out and meet new people, but it’s been hard. Especially after everything that happened with Seokjin.

“Maybe,” you sigh, looking up.

Bzzz-zzzz. Your phone jolts on the counter, and you choose to ignore it.

Jimin’s face brightens. “Maybe? Yes! I’ll text the group and have them add you to the chat. They’re going to be so psyched to have another driver, Y/N – you won’t believe how slowly Max goes on the highway, and – okay, who has been texting you?” Jimin glares at your phone when it buzzes again. “That has to be the tenth text in a row.”

“Probably emails,” you say, reaching sideways. “I need to turn notifications off. Ever since that info leak last year, I get so much spam that–”

Unfortunately, the name on the screen stops you, mid-sentence. You do have emails, along with a text from your sister, but it’s the name at the top driving your current state of paralysis.

Seokjin – (1) unread text.

“What?” Jimin attempts to peer over your shoulder. “Who is it?”

“No one,” you blurt, yanking your phone away. “Nothing.”

Hovering over the trash can, you swipe sideways. Seokjin’s text fills the screen.

Seokjin: *emergency emoji* so, I have news… [3:11 PM]

Fear grips your chest, filling you with dread while you await the next text. For months, you’ve anticipated this message. Seokjin has finally proposed, and his girlfriend, Emilia, has accepted. Your best friend – if you can still call him that – is engaged. Fully taken. Off the market.

Of course, if Seokjin were still your best friend, you’d have no doubts regarding his text. You’d be elated, excited by the next stage in his life. You’d be happy for him, happy for Emilia, and eager at the prospect of an over-the-top wedding invite. Emilia’s family is as rich as Seokjin’s, after all.

Instead, you find yourself feeling – well. Not happy.

In an attempt at distraction, you read your sister’s text about what to get your mom for Mother’s Day. The two of you have combined gifts for years, but the burden usually falls on you. Something about your mom’s latest boyfriend rubs your sister the wrong way.

Another text flashes on top of your screen.

Seokjin: Emilia and I broke up [3:13 PM]

Your eyes widen.

Dimly, you realize this is a terrible way to receive information, but your fingers are already moving. Returning to Seokjin, you see he’s still typing. His ellipses pause, then start, then pause again. At last, a new message comes through.

Seokjin: well, we broke up a while ago but guess what haha [3:15 PM]

Seokjin: now she’s dating Jaesuk [3:15 PM]

Before you can recognize the foolishness of doing so, you gasp. Jimin thrusts himself over the top of the screen, blonde hair falling forward as he tries to read.

“Y/N,” he whines. “Come on! Tell me what’s happening – did Tom and Zendaya break up? Get engaged? Break up, then get engaged?”

Dazed, you shake your head. “It’s uh, Seokjin.”

Jimin pauses. “Seokjin?” Glancing upward, his brows furrow. “Your friend, Seokjin? The one who’s… you know,” he says, miming something with one hand.

“… sexually active?”

“No.” Jimin huffs. “Loaded! That was me, swiping my black card.”

“Oh. That was unclear. But yeah, Seokjin’s family is well-off.”

Jimin whistles and looks at the ceiling. “Well-off. That’s what the uber-rich say to make it sound like they’re still in touch with reality. This guy must be dripping money.”

You have no response to this, since Jimin isn’t wrong. Although Seokjin himself is an untenured professor, there’s no way he could afford his current apartment without his inheritance. No way he could have completed his PhD in four years without the luxury of not having to work. Not to mention he teaches at a university with one of the largest endowments in the country and a building donated by his great-grandfather.

Because Jimin is a more recent friend, he’s never met Seokjin. Seokjin and you didn’t go to college together – he attended the same university he teaches for now. Jimin knows who Seokjin is, though. Hard to be friends with you and not know who he is.

As the second Kim son, Seokjin escaped the gargantuan task of inheriting the family business. Mostly, Seokjin’s parents leave him alone to do what he wants. Jaesuk, Seokjin’s older brother, wasn’t as lucky.

Which takes you back to the text. Emilia is dating Jaesuk.

“Anyways,” you say. “Seokjin texted me something surprising. That’s all.”

Jimin clasps both hands together. “Oh?”

You feel your face heat. “Not like that, you idiot. He has a girlfriend. Or – well, he had a girlfriend. He just texted me that they ended things.”

“And?”

“And…” Against your better judgement, the words rush out, “Now, his ex-girlfriend is dating Seokjin’s older brother.”

“WHAT,” Jimin yells at the unfortunate moment a new customer enters.

Both your heads jerk sideways. Before Jimin can recover, you scoop up your phone and dart towards the back. “Gotta go,” you blurt in a split-second decision. “Can you greet that customer? I’m due for my break. Thanks, Jimin!” you call, pushing through the staff door.

Through the frosted window, you see Jimin fume, then paste on his best customer service smile. Exhaling lowly, you lock the door and collapse at the small, wooden table.

Your heart pounds in the silence, unnaturally loud. Placing your phone on the table, you stare at the wallpaper – a photo of the city skyline you took last fall. Before that it was a photo of you and Seokjin. Your screensaver has always been you and Seokjin, something you never questioned until last year. Last summer, to be precise.

“Get ahold of yourself,” you mutter.

Taking a deep breath, your fingers hover over his name. You press call before you can second-guess yourself, Seokjin’s name filling the screen. He answers almost immediately.

“Hello?”

You squeeze your eyes shut. Seokjin sounds out of breath, deeper than you remember. How unfair would it be for him to experience a second puberty burst. The first was torture enough for you as a teenager. Overnight, Seokjin transformed from your nerdy best friend to a soft-spoken, hilarious man the entire school wanted.

“… Y/N?”

Opening your eyes, you scoop up your phone and take it off speaker. “Oh, hey – yeah, it’s me.”

He chuckles. “I figured when I saw your name calling.”

“You never know.” Aimless, you pick at the lint of your apron. “Maybe I was in a tragic accident, and someone found my phone at the scene of the crime.”

“Does that mean I’m your emergency contact, Y/N? I’m touched.”

Your cheeks heat since yes, you’re not sure you ever changed that. What you say though, is, “Don’t get cocky. I have all my phone contacts listed as emergency contacts. I like to hedge my bets.”

He laughs, louder this time. “Hey, no judgement here. Pretty sure you’re still mine.”

Your fingers still on your apron. You shouldn’t be his contact – not after everything. Harshly, you stamp out the hope rising within you. Seokjin’s lack of foresight and planning shouldn’t be taken as anything but just that.

“Right.” You pause. “Sorry – is this a bad time? I should have texted back, but I’m at work, and thought it’d be easier to call…”

“You’re at work? Y/N, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to –”

“I’m on a break, don’t worry about it.”

A long pause. At last, Seokjin sighs and the knot in your chest tightens. You can count on one hand the number of times you’ve seen him upset. Once when your parents were getting divorced, and you ignored his texts for a week. Another, when he and his college girlfriend, Lisa, broke up. Another when his mom was diagnosed with breast cancer (currently in remission). And then again, when your ex cheated on you with your supposed best friend senior year. Seokjin drove across state lines all night to be on your campus by morning.

He sounds upset now, too.

“Yeah.” Seokjin exhales. “You thought this conversation would be better in person, and as always, you were right, Y/N.”

The way he says your name sparks wistful familiarity. It also reminds you of a darkened hallway, whiskey on Seokjin’s breath and – you stop the memory in its tracks.

“What happened?” you press. “I just… damn, Seokjin. The last time I saw you and Emilia, the two of you seemed so, um… so…”

“Coupled?”

“I was going to say nauseating, but yeah.”

Seokjin barks out a laugh. “Way to kick a guy when he’s down, Y/N.”

“Sorry,” you say, but your lips twitch. “Although… I don’t mean to be rude, but… you don’t sound down? You sound… surprisingly chipper for a man who was cuckolded.”

The truth of this statement resonates within you. Seokjin sounded tired when he answered, but everything since has felt almost normal. Almost – because the elephant in the room has not gotten smaller.

The last time you spoke face-to-face was December.

“Whoa, whoa – hang on,” he sputters. “Who said anything about cuckolding?”

“Were you not? Le cuckold, as the French say?”

“Wait.” Seokjin sounds amused. “To be clear, which party is the cuckold? The guy who cheats or the guy cheated on? Also – why is there no name for the woman in this scenario?”

“Oh, there are plenty of names for the woman. They’re just not as fun, and heavily drenched in misogyny.”

“Right, right. The patriarchy, etc. – but seriously, Emilia didn’t cheat on me. Or she says she didn’t, and I’m inclined to agree.” He pauses. “I think.”

“You think?”

“I do believe her. But… well, even if she didn’t technically cheat… even if we broke up in December, then waited a respectable period of time and then they started dating – it still feels weird. Like, was she into him the entire time we dated? Was my brother into her?”

“No good answers come from that line of questioning,” you say grimly.

“I know.” Seokjin groans, and you imagine him dragging a hand down his face. “You’re right, but I can’t stop picturing it. And they didn’t.”

“They didn’t what?”

“Wait a respectable amount of time,” he mutters. “Emilia and I broke up in December, and they told me at the end of March they were dating. Meaning they started dating before and only deemed it serious enough to tell me in March.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah. Hence the thinking.”

“About the timeframe, or the general weirdness?” you prompt.

In the back of your mind, you can't help wondering what made Seokjin reach out. According to what he just said, Seokjin has known about Jaesuk and Emilia since March. Granted, everything about this is strange and it's valid to vent, but you haven't spoken to Seokjin in months. Even before the break-up, it's been ages since you spoke about anything real.

“Both,” he says in response to your question.

“Not… anything else?”

“What else would I be thinking about, Y/N?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” you huff, twisting the thread of your apron. “Are you still in love with Emilia? It’s hard to be around an ex normally, but this…” Trailing off, you shake your head.

“What? No. I mean, yeah – it’s not fun to be around them. But no,” Seokjin says, decisive. “I’m not in love with her.”

Your lips tighten, unsure how much to believe. Still, you decide not to push him. Years of experience have taught you that if Seokjin isn’t ready to talk about something, you won’t get a peep out of him. If it were you, though, five months isn’t enough to fall out of love.

“Okay,” is all you say. Glancing at the staff door, you watch Jimin hand the customer their drink. Your break will be over soon, one way or another.

“I’m… actually glad you called me, Y/N.”

The hesitancy in his voice draws you back. “You are?”

“Yeah.” Seokjin clears his throat, a nervous tic. “Jaesuk called me yesterday. You know how my parents’ anniversary is in May?”

“Of course.”

Obviously, you know. Seokjin’s parents are strange for many reasons, not least of which is their genuine love for one another. They are also – you can say this after many years working in consulting – the most normal rich people you’ve ever encountered. Most of their wealth is donated each year, with a small stipend (still an insane amount) granted to each family member.

The weekend of their anniversary is the exception to this rule. Seokjin’s parents go all out, spending an entire week at their lake house, hosting lavish parties which cumulate in the main event. Growing up, you attended as Seokjin’s plus one. This all changed when Seokjin got his first girlfriend, although you still attended a few years later as the date of his sister, Seohyun.

Glancing at the calendar on the wall, you realize their anniversary is coming up. Seokjin’s family will probably leave for their lake house next weekend.

“Yeah.” Seokjin again clears his throat. “So, uh, my brother called and… at first, he and Emilia weren’t going to come. They decided to skip this year because of the obvious.”

“The cuckoldom, yes.”

“I said the obvious,” Seokjin says drily. “But anyways. Well.” He exhales, and you remember again that between you, Seokjin could be called mild-mannered. “Jaesuk wants to know if it would be okay with me if they come together. Emilia’s parents were invited, and they thought it might be weird…”

Your jaw has dropped again. “How would that be weirder than Emilia attending with your brother?”

“I don’t know,” he groans, and from the way his voice muffles, you imagine him laying his head on his desk. Seokjin usually grades papers in the late afternoon.

His apartment is gigantic, a three-story brownstone located in Hyde Park with a view of Lake Michigan. His study (yes, he has a study) always reminded you of the library in Beauty and the Beast. Perhaps a bit smaller, with less fiction on the walls.

Dimly, it registers that Seokjin’s parents invited the Astors. Granted, Emilia’s family runs in the same circle, but the invitation feels odd. Odd – and cruel, to invite Seokjin’s-ex-slash-Jaesuk’s-current girlfriend.

What a mess.

Numbly, you shake your head. “They want you to spend an entire week together? Alone? In the middle of the wilderness?”

“Michigan isn’t exactly Siberia, Y/N.”

“But… you, your brother, and the woman you’ve both slept with – in one house?”

“I probably wouldn’t put it like that, but sure.”

“You… said no, right?”

A long, awkward pause follows.

Your voice rises. “Right?” you demand, gripping the phone tighter.

“No.” Seokjin’s voice muffles once more. “I told them I wasn’t sure, but I’d let them know.”

“Seokjin! You absolutely cannot spend an entire week with them alone.”

“Aha!”

“What?” you ask, blinking at his note of triumph.

“You’re absolutely right. I can’t spend the week with them… alone.”

Your brows furrow. “So… you agree with me?”

“No, Y/N,” Seokjin says. “I can’t spend the week with them alone. But… with someone else…”

A beat passes.

“Are you dating someone new?” you ask. “Is that it? You’re going to subject some poor, unsuspecting person to your Shakespearean family drama?”

“Not a poor, unsuspecting person, no…”

Suspicion slowly dawns. “Seokjin…”

“Yes?”

“You can’t be serious.”

His throat clears. “I was thinking… maybe... you could join.”

The silence stretches between you so long, Seokjin grows concerned. “Y/N?” His voice dims, like he’s checking the call hadn’t dropped. “Are you still there?”

“Yeah,” you croak. “Physically. Mentally, I think something has broken, because I just heard you ask me something insane.”

“See!” Seokjin blurts. “This is why I need you there. You’re so good at making things less awkward. And my family loves you – their attention would all be on you, and not on how weird and insane my life is.”

Groaning out loud, you sink further into the chair. This is a bad idea. Truly abysmal, but…

You already know you’ll say yes. Saying no to Seokjin has never been an option.

Back in college, you joined his family trips all the time. Back then, your dad wasn’t taking care of himself, your mom had run off with her first new boyfriend, and you had nowhere to go during summer holidays. Frequently, the Kim’s referred to you as their second daughter – but all that was ages ago.

Seokjin didn’t even call when he and Emilia broke up.

“Seokjin,” you sigh. “Why are you asking me this?”

A long pause. “I just told you why.”

“No. I mean… I didn’t even know you were single.” You hesitate, then barrel on. “This is the first time we’ve talked on the phone since – god, I don’t even know. Last year?”

Seokjin’s ensuing silence is damning. An unspoken question hovers between you: Has anything changed since the last time we saw each other?

"I’m… sorry, Y/N." He exhales. "I know… I should have reached out to you sooner. I just… I just couldn’t.”

Your lips purse, watching the door. Your break must be over, but luckily, Jimin has given you space to process. As much as he pretends to be needy, his ability to read the room is remarkable.

“Ugh,” you groan, tipping your head back. Your eyes close. “Let me think about it.”

“Wait – really?” Seokjin blurts. “Thank you, Y/N! You won’t regret this – I swear.”

“I haven’t agreed to it yet!”

“Right, sure. Of course,” he hastens, attempting to sound mollified.

Your lips twitch. “I have to get back to my shift.”

“Yes. Make that money.”

“Eh.”

“Make… minimum wage plus tips?”

“Closer,” you sigh, pushing yourself to stand. “I’ll text you later, okay?”

“Okay. And Y/N?”

You hover near the door. “Yeah?”

Seokjin pauses. “There are a lot of logical reasons why it’d be great if you came, but honestly?” His voice thickens. “I just… want you there.”

There’s an ache in your chest you wish could say was a stranger. In truth though, the feeling is exactly why you should say no.

You never had a great sense of self-preservation, though. Instead, find yourself saying–

“Yes.”

Honking outside your apartment at 8:00 AM on a Sunday does little to endear Seokjin to Jimin. Standing by the window of your third story walk-up, he holds the curtain back with his pinky finger. Dressed in a green silk dressing gown, Jimin purses his lips.

“Does he really expect to just… honk, and have you fall in line?”

“That’s what we agreed,” you huff, dragging your luggage into the living room. “He said he would be here at 8:00 and I’d meet him outside.”

Jimin’s frown deepens. “He’s blocking the alley. If someone sideswipes him, that’s not my problem.”

You struggle to break free from your purse strap, which seems determined to fight back. “Seokjin isn’t used to driving in the city, give him a break.”

“Oh, he’s not the one driving.”

“What?”

“Someone else is in the car.”

Succeeding in getting your purse to lay flat, you join Jimin at the window. True to his word, a sleek black town car idles at the curb. The only reason someone hasn’t rammed into it yet is due to the early hour. Otherwise, your neighbors wouldn’t be shy about making their displeasure known. Read: petty vandalism.

Pulling the curtain back further, you curse. Seokjin leans against the side of the car, the trunk already popped. Someone else clearly sits in the front seat, which means Seokjin hired a driver.

“That’s just his driver,” you mutter, turning around.

The curtain falls, and Jimin whirls. “So, he is a one percenter.”

You choose to remain silent, dragging your suitcase to the top of the landing. Jimin follows close behind, hair sticking up in several directions.

“He’s also hotter than you led me to believe,” he accuses, following you down the stairs. You continue to ignore him, your suitcase banging each step. “Granted, I only saw him from three stories up, but I can tell. You undersold. Hmm… now, why would you do that, Y/N?”

“You’re dating Hoseok,” you remind him. “And Seokjin is straight.”

He continues, unbroken. “What would be the reason to downplay your best friend’s hotness?”

There’s a teasing note in his voice that says Jimin knows damn well why you’d do such a thing. It’s the same reason you’re going on this trip, and why you continue to reject every guy he sets you up with.

Reaching the front door, you set your bag down. “Okay,” you growl, turning around to poke Jimin in the chest. “You stay inside. This is precisely why I said I’d meet Seokjin at the curb.”

“Because of me?” Jimin clutches his chest, wounded. “Come on, Y/N. I just wanna see the guy you’re so damn in love with that you refuse to go out with any of my super cool friends. Pleaseeee –”

A loud knock makes you jump.

Eyes wide, you hold a silent, one-sided argument with Jimin that he clearly ignores. Exhaling, you spin around and grasp the handle. This is fine. Everything is fine. You can do this; all you need is to stay cool and composed – all this dissolves when you open the door.

Seokjin stands with a hand outstretched, as though about to knock.

Next to you, Jimin inhales. “Whoa,” he mutters close to your ear. “Okay. I get it.”

Seokjin’s gaze flicks to him. “What?”

Slowly, you turn and glare at your roommate.

To his credit, Jimin swiftly recovers. “I get… I mean, got your scone, Y/N! You forgot it upstairs,” he amends, shoving his own half-eaten scone into your empty hand. “I saw it on the kitchen table, so I followed you down.”

“Oh.” Seokjin looks between you. “That was nice of you…”

“Jimin.” Beaming, Jimin shoves past to shake Seokjin’s outstretched hand. “I’m so glad we met. I’ve heard so much about you – Y/N’s best friend, in the flesh. Someone’s going to hit your car if you continue blocking the alley.”

Seokjin doesn’t seem to know what to do with this information, especially not while Jimin vigorously pumps his hand up and down. Deciding this is too much before coffee, you begin to pass Jimin with your bag in tow.

“Oh – here,” Seokjin hastens, breaking away to grab the handle. “I’ve got it. Nice to meet you, man,” he says, glancing at Jimin.

When you start to leave, Jimin contorts himself enough to drop a kiss on your cheek. A moment of what can only be described as negative sexual tension follows, and you stare at him, baffled, before walking away. Jimin winks as you go, the purpose of which you realize when you catch Seokjin watching.

He looks almost… mad?

He also looks insanely good. The benefit of Jimin being chaotic means you had no time to second-guess your greeting. You were so busy trying to contain the conversation, you didn’t worry about what would be appropriate to say during your first meeting in months.

Now, though, you have time to look at him. Seokjin is simultaneously perfectly put together and artfully tousled. His hair is longer than the last time you saw him, piece-y black waves falling over his forehead. The morning is cold enough that he wears a light jacket, a white button-down and slacks freshly pressed underneath.

Great. Seokjin looks hot. There goes all your hope for a painless vacation.

You glance at your suitcase. “You don’t have to do that.”

“Do what?”

“Take my bag,” you huff, reaching out.

Innocent, Seokjin yanks it behind him. “It’s the literal least I can do, Y/N. You’re the one doing me a huge favor.”

“Well, when you put it like that.”

Seokjin chuckles when you head for the car, carefully picking your way to the curb. April showers really did bring the May flowers or, in your case, serious flooding that has since subsided but left a mark.

Sliding into the backseat, you glance at your building and spot Jimin in the window, still clad in his dressing gown. He waves enthusiastically at the car and blows another kiss. Scowling up at him, you almost don’t notice when Seokjin slides in.

When the door shuts, you notice – it should be criminal to smell as good as he does. It doesn’t help that you know exactly which Molton Brown body wash Seokjin uses, nor that you were there when he picked the scent in high school.

The two of you became friends in elementary school. Seokjin was seated beside you in class; his parents wanted him to experience 'normal life' and enrolled him in public school. Really, the only thing normal at that school was his friendship with you.

Extracting yourself from your purse, you watch Seokjin lean forward and press a button. “George?” he asks, lowering the partition.

A middle-aged man sits in the driver’s seat. He smiles at you in the rearview mirror, the corners of his eyes crinkling.

“Yes, Mr. Kim?”

Seokjin winces at the formality. “We’re ready to go. I’d like to –”

BEEEEEEEEEEEP.

A car honks from the alley and, hiding a smile, you slump lower. Seokjin blinks, glancing behind you to spot a car revving its engine.

Sighing resignedly, he faces forward. “Wormhole Coffee, George – thank you.”

George nods, ever the professional while rolling up the partition to move the car forward. You rumble along side streets in silence until you peer at Seokjin.

“So,” you say casually. “A driver?”

His gaze meets yours. “The weather looked bad. I figured it’d be nice to have George drive us out of the city.”

“Just out of the city, huh?”

“Yep.” He nods. “Then we’re on our own. Figured we could hitchhike, or maybe steal someone’s car?”

“Oh, cool. With the way the world’s going, I’d hoped to die young.”

Seokjin’s laugh echoes around you. The sound makes your heart twinge, and you move your gaze to your lap. By the time you reach Wormhole Coffee, your thoughts are muddled. You didn’t expect this to be so awkward and – not for the first time – wonder why Seokjin invited you. He could have asked anyone; a co-worker or college buddy, hell, even a neighbor.

Stepping from the car, you barely reach the door before Seokjin appears. “Hey,” he says, placing a hand on your arm.

You blink downward, and he swiftly removes it.

“I… uh.” Again, he clears his throat. “I hope this weekend doesn’t make things weird for you. You know you don’t have to come if things are… complicated.”

You look at him. “If what things are complicated?”

“If” – aimless, he waves – “you know. Let’s say you and I were dating, and you suddenly went on a trip with your guy friend alone. I might feel weird about it.”

You’re so hung up on Seokjin saying you and I were dating, you nearly miss the important bit. Once that sinks in, you can’t help but grin.

Seokjin frowns. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Do you… think Jimin and I are dating?”

Your tone is almost gleeful, and Seokjin’s eyes narrow. “I thought that maybe…”

“We’re not,” you declare, pushing open the door. “But I appreciate the concern. Jimin and I just work together. He’s happily dating someone else.”

“Ah.”

Stopping at the counter, you survey the menu. Ordering one of the spring coffee specials, you move to the end and grab several napkins. Seokjin joins you, waiting patiently until both your orders are called. George is idling at the curb – you have to admit, a personal driver has benefits – and you slide into the backseat with your iced latte procured.

Once the door shuts, Seokjin turns. “I’m sorry. I promised this wouldn’t be awkward, and here I am, being awkward. Thank you… for being here.”

“No problem.”

A loud silence follows, interrupted only by the sound of the car starting. George heads for the highway, and you take a long sip of your coffee.

Despite your exterior, you’re freaking out on the inside. Apparently, you were right to worry because this is going about as terrible as you imagined. Not because of the obvious – you have feelings for your best friend and he’s jealous of his ex – but because somehow, the two of you have nothing to say.

“Seriously.” Seokjin struggles to find his next words. “I can’t tell you how much I’ve been dreading this week. I know I played it cool over the phone–”

“Uh, that was playing it cool?”

“–but actually,” he continues, as though you haven’t spoken, “I’ve been panicking.”

Another twinge when you realize you were right. Seokjin claimed he was over Emilia, but there’s no way he could be. If it were, he wouldn’t need you to be here. He wouldn’t be dreading this interaction if he had moved on.

Of course, Seokjin isn’t over her. They’ve barely been broken up for six months. You’ve waited longer to get a new pet.

“Well, sure,” you say, softening as you face him. “That makes sense. Anyone would be freaked out by the prospect of spending an entire week with their ex. Doubly so, if said ex was now dating their sibling.”

Seokjin pulls a face. “And that’s not even the worst part.”

“… did they kill someone, too?”

“Okay, fine – that is the worst part, but it sucks how weird everyone else is being. How nice,” he elaborates, catching your look. “My parents tiptoe around me, not knowing how to act. Jaesuk is practically self-flagellating, and Emilia is ignoring me, because –”

“Hang on – how is Jaesuk self-flagellating?”

Seokjin exhales and sinks lower. “Jaesuk has apologized to me so many times, he’s going to leave permanent knee indents on my floor. He keeps randomly texting me, offering to buy stuff, which is just plain insulting.”

“You know who isn’t insulted by expensive gifts? Me.” You jab a thumb at your chest. “Tell Jaesuk if he wants to make things up to you, he should make things up to me.”

Rather than laugh at your joke, Seokjin’s face flushes. You tilt your head, unsure where you went wrong until he dispels the tension with a soft chuckle. Eyes narrowed, you study him. Strange.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he says. “Anyways, since I said you were coming, things have been almost normal. Now, at least my parents are fixated on you and not whether they should console their broken-hearted son” – he points to himself, mimicking your gesture from earlier – “or celebrate Jaesuk finding new love.”

“Love?”

“Yeah.” Seokjin grimaces. “He let that one slip last week. I think… there may have been feelings between them for a while, even if they never acted on it.”

He doesn’t sound upset, but you can’t keep your own jaw from clenching. Even if Seokjin has moved on from Emilia (which, again, you doubt), their behavior is inexcusable. Seokjin can be as generous as he wants, but you don’t have to feel the same.

Teeth grinding, you wonder how civil you need to be on this trip.

“Can you stop plotting revenge, Y/N?” Seokjin says mildly. “You know that makes me uncomfortable.”

Reluctant, you unclench your jaw. “Who, me?”

“Please.” Seokjin sips his coffee. “You forget I know you, Y/N. Your face is very… expressive.”

“Okay, you’re one to talk!”

Besides, no matter how expressive you are, Seokjin has still never caught onto your biggest secret over the years. The one Jimin guessed right away – that for years, you’ve been madly in love with your supposed best friend.

The knowledge is sobering enough that you turn towards the window. Last December was simply the accumulation of many years of pining – admittedly, you didn’t realize the severity of your feelings until late last summer.

In your twenties, you would have wondered if this week meant something more than friendship. You would have read between the lines of what Seokjin was saying, and saw meaning in his small gestures. Now, you’ve known him for twenty years, and can say with complete certainty that Seokjin is just a good person. He values friendship highly, as much as romantic relationships, and he values you most of all.

And even though he values you, his feelings for you don’t go beyond platonic. It’s better not to go down that road again – no, the only way you’ll survive this week is to take everything at face value. You pulled away for a reason, and now you’re forced to remember. The only way to leave this intact is to continually remind yourself the two of you are just friends.

“I made a playlist,” you announce, unzipping your purse. “It’s everything that you love – study lo-fi beats, classical music, and whale sounds. You know, because of academia?”

Seokjin sighs deeply but obediently plugs in your phone. The first chords of your chill driving playlist come over the speakers, and you settle in. Seokjin responds by pulling out his phone, brow furrowed as he sends off a text. His job can be demanding at times, especially until he gets tenure.

While Jaesuk was groomed to take over the family company, Seokjin was left to pursue his own dreams. For as long as you’ve known him, Seokjin has been fascinated by the people around him. What makes them tick, why people do things, how we influence one another – his first anthropology course felt like coming home, he said back in college.

Even though his career is what Seokjin wants, it doesn’t come without stress. During your twenties, Seokjin entertained you with many tales of bitter rivals, faux plagiarism, and the insane emails his students send to him before class. Most Friday nights were spent at his place, with Seokjin grading papers while you lay on his couch and drank wine.

Swallowing, you stare out the window. The current situation is your fault, you remind yourself. Maybe if you had been braver earlier, more willing to blow up your sense of security for the unknown… then maybe you wouldn’t be in this same place with Seokjin.

The first time you felt more than friendship was in high school. Seokjin transformed overnight, returning from his fancy summer camp at least six inches taller and broader. Somone (probably his sister) bought him styling products, and even though gelled hair is out of touch now – back in high school? Devastating.

You convinced yourself the feelings meant nothing. Hormones. Puberty. Something temporary and fleeting, not the permanent realization Seokjin was your entire world. That came later.

For a few years, you did a good job at convincing yourself. You dated other people, even seriously – David, your first love. The two of you began dating when you were sixteen and lasted until your first semester of college. When you broke up, you called Seokjin and cried to him on the phone for hours. At some point, you fell asleep and woke up to realize he’d never hung up.

Something soft took root in your chest that day. You meant to confess when you came home for winter break, only to reach his family’s Christmas party and find Seokjin arm in arm with his new girlfriend, Lisa. Gorgeous, thin, rich and the same major as Seokjin – you slunk off that night after being introduced as his friend and found comfort with Seohyun in her parents’ wine cellar.

That was the moment you decided to move on. You couldn’t continue to make decisions around the hope Seokjin would one day see you as more. He was a good friend – the best friend – and you valued that, too. For years, you thought you’d succeeded. You dated casually, buried yourself in your work, and watched as Seokjin did the same.

There was a brief scare when you both moved to Chicago, and you found yourself becoming reacquainted. The Seokjin of your childhood had gone, leaving a man in his place. Eventually though, even that faded, and you convinced yourself friendship was enough. It had to be enough, because Seokjin never hinted at wanting more. If he sometimes sat too close or looked at you too long – well, that was just how Seokjin was.

Until Emilia.

Emilia was the first girlfriend Seokjin had who made sense. She fit in with his friends, was of the same upbringing, had the right social status and worst of all, she was nice. Emilia was cool, effortless, and about a million other things which made her a good match for Seokjin. In a horrible burst of karmic justice you realized that summer you didn’t want Seokjin to find a good match. You wanted him to find you.

The realization humiliated you. You were Seokjin’s best friend – you should have been happy for him. You had had years, decades, to confess your feelings and skipped past all of them. You spent so many years insisting you were fine, that these feelings meant nothing, and everything was a lie.

Seokjin was oblivious. Once you understood your own feelings, you realized you had been hiding this from him for years. It made you well-equipped to handle him with Emilia. Or at least, you thought it would. Seokjin continued inviting you to parties, asking you to hang out with him and Emilia, or join them on couple vacations.

At first, you said yes but brought buffers. Hinge dates, friends of friends, even co-workers – despite numerous distractions, none of them worked. By the end of the summer, you had made moves in your career to be happier. Soon after, you realized you needed to do the same in your personal life.

You began to pull away: taking longer to respond to Seokjin’s texts, making excuses when you were invited out, and cancelling plans at the last minute. All throughout the fall this continued, cumulating in December at Seokjin’s birthday party.

He stopped by your coffee shop in November, catching you in the middle of cleaning the espresso machine. “Promise me you’ll come,” Seokjin insisted, leaning over the counter.

Jimin wasn’t on shift that day, and you struggled to remember what piece to clean next. Frustration rose, trapped behind your teeth – at how to clean the machine, nothing more.

“I’ll try,” you said at last, but avoided his gaze.

Seokjin left soon after. Still, him going out of his way triggered your guilt complex enough that you chose to go. Seokjin barely said hello when you arrived. He had a few drinks. So did you. Emilia always stood near him, chatting in the corner with mutual friends.

At some point, you excused yourself to go to the bathroom. For the first time all night, you let your expression drop. Sinking onto the closed toilet seat, you buried your face in your hands and wondered why you had come. You stayed there several minutes, composing yourself enough to exit.

Seokjin waited outside.

Leaning against the wall, his posture seemed stiff. You rarely saw Seokjin angry, but when you did – well, it was hard to stay platonic with that look in his eyes.

“I haven’t seen you all night,” he said, unmoving.

You came to a stop. “It seemed like you were enjoying yourself. I didn’t want to intrude. Happy birthday, though.”

His frown deepened. “Is that all you have to say?”

“What do you want me to say?”

“I don’t know.” Seokjin paused, then refocused. “You look nice.”

Noticing the glassiness in his eyes, you sighed, “You’re drunk.”

“Traditionally, people buy the birthday boy drinks.”

“Gross,” you said, unable to keep from smiling. “Don’t ever call yourself the birthday boy again.”

He chuckled and then – silence. Each passing second thickened between you, until you could scarcely breathe.

“Why are you avoiding me?” Seokjin blurted at last.

You inhaled, not having expected him to be so blunt.

“I’m n–”

“Don’t say you’re not.” Swaying a little, he pushed himself from the wall. “I don’t… please don’t lie to me, Y/N. I can’t take it.”

Startled, you realized he had moved closer. There wasn’t much space between you in the hall. Seokjin seemed to realize this at the same moment you did. His gaze darted once, then twice to your mouth – and stayed.

Your throat dried.

At that very moment, Emilia walked around the corner. Seokjin leapt back as though burned, and you swept into motion, mumbling happy birthday again as you passed. You didn’t stop moving until you were past the bouncer and standing outside. Trembling, you pulled out your phone and ordered a rideshare.

Nothing happened that night. Nothing significant, and yet…

His face remains clear in your mind. Cheeks flushed from drink and anger, his button-down partly undone. You remember how the world stopped, continuing to spin on around you. You had felt that way plenty of times in his presence, but it was the first time you wondered if maybe… Seokjin felt it, too.

It didn’t matter though, because he was dating Emilia. You left the party that night and have barely talked to him since. Not until Seokjin called to invite you to his parents’ lake house.

Resting your forehead against the window, you close your eyes as the memory replays again. At some point, you drift off and the rest of the ride is in silence.

The next thing you know is someone touching your shoulder. Blearily, you crack open an eye and are affronted by Seokjin.

Affronted, since it’s unfair for someone to look this good – except. Frowning, you notice his jaw, tight with tension. Seokjin smooths this quickly, but you notice all the same. Examining him further, you find dark shadows beneath his eyes. Criminal for Seokjin Kim, who uses specially made dermatology products that can’t be bought in a store.

Again, you wonder if there’s something he’s not saying. Emilia being with Jaesuk must be weighing on him.

There’s no time to inquire though, since you look out the window and see you’ve arrived. The Kim family lake house sprawls ahead and to the left. Even after so many years, you find yourself struck by the sight.

A driveway winds through the forest, ending at bluffs overlooking Lake Michigan. The limestone mansion is covered in ivy, lending itself to a storybook appearance. Manicured gardens extend towards the lake, several gardeners at work on flower beds. You remember the first time you came; you refused to exit the car. It seemed impossible that so much beauty could be meant for you.

Pushing this away, you face Seokjin. He fidgets with the end of his seatbelt, causing your own frown to deepen.

“What’s wrong?” you demand.

“Nothing,” Seokjin blurts, only to wince. “Well. There is one thing, but I –”

The front door flies open, and you see Mrs. Kim emerge through the car window. Even through glass, you hear her calling your names.

Giving Seokjin a look, you push open your door. He blanches and unbuckles his seat belt. “Y/N, wait –”

Unfortunately, your door is already open. Mrs. Kim gasps when you step outside, hurrying towards you in what she calls ‘casual’ wear – slacks, a cardigan, and loafers worth more than your rent.

“Y/N,” she cries, throwing both arms around you. “Oh, it’s so good to have you here.”

Returning the hug, you can’t help but smile. Seokjin’s family has always felt like home to you. Your mom got pregnant with you at forty-six, which was a shock to everyone. Your sister is twelve years older, but it always felt like more. She was out of the house by the time you turned seven, leaving you alone with your parents.

Some would say that was the beginning of the end. Your parents got divorced when you were in high school and afterward, everything was different. Your dad is fine now but was a wreck for several years. Seokjin’s parents took you in on the holidays, inviting you along on vacations, and threw you birthday parties. It’s been too long since you saw them – probably last summer.

With a final squeeze, you release Mrs. Kim. “It’s so good to be here,” you say.

Being at the lake with Seokjin and his family brings the same sense of rightness as quitting your job. It feels like the moment at the end of a long day when you finish writing and finally crawl into bed.

Holding you at arm’s length, Mrs. Kim looks you up and down. “In fact, I’m so glad to see you,” she says with a chuckle, “I’ll forgive you for not calling the moment it happened.”

Your mind catches on this. “Oh?”

Seokjin appears at your side. He’s out of breath, and you wonder if he was busy lugging your suitcases inside. Usually, the Kim family has people to help with that. His expression is strange though, stuck between fear and resignation. You wonder if this has something to do with what he wanted to tell you in the car.

Stomach swooping, you wonder if there’s another surprise. Maybe Jaesuk and Emilia are engaged. Or pregnant. Maybe –

“You, too,” Mrs. Kim scolds, pulling Seokjin into a hug. He returns the gesture, looking slightly green. “You should have told us sooner! You know we would have been thrilled.”

Seokjin mumbles something you don’t hear as he takes a step backwards. Now, the wheels in your head are turning, and you begin to suspect you’re missing something important. Some key piece of information to explain why Mrs. Kim is beaming, hands clasped over her chest in near-supplication.

“Sorry,” you say, looking between them. “I feel kind of out of the loop… what should I have told you about earlier?”

Mrs. Kim blinks at you in confusion.

You aren’t looking at her, though. Instead, you find yourself watching Seokjin, who purposely avoids eye contact. After a moment, he seems to reach some internal decision. Taking a deep breath, Seokjin reaches out and takes your hand.

“Y/N,” he says, and then stops.

His mom laughs and claps her hands. “Oh! That was a joke – Y/N, you’re too funny. What am I talking about,” she chuckles, as though you’re all in this together. “Why, the fact that you’re dating, of course!”

Time screeches to a halt. Or it at least lethargizes, slowing to rate beyond human comprehension. You slowly turn to face Seokjin, expecting him to show shock or confusion but find only chagrin.

It takes ages for your gaze to travel to your hand in his. Before you can say or do anything, Seokjin moves closer. Stroking your palm with his thumb, he smiles.

“This is exactly why we didn’t tell anyone,” he says with a forced laugh. “We knew you and dad would freak out, and there’s been enough of that lately.”

Realizing your mouth has fallen open, you manage to shut it. Seokjin has pulled himself together, but you’re not that good an actor. He sounds like he believes what he’s saying, which is insane. Dimly, you think back to his serious texting in the car and his attempt to say something before you got out. All of it ends at the same conclusion.

Seokjin knew this was coming. And he didn’t tell you.

Anger surges, and you grasp it like a lifeline. The emotion distracts you from other, less stable feelings churning within you. Lifting your chin, you force your expression to neutral.

“Yes,” you agree, pinching Seokjin’s wrist and making him jump. “It all happened so fast. I mean, if you can call twenty years fast,” you say in an attempt at a joke.

Mrs. Kim laughs again. “Oh, please. You two are made for each other. We’ve always thought so,” she adds, turning towards the house. “Jaeho, come out here!”

Jaw tight, you lapse into silence. Until you know exactly what Seokjin has said and to whom, it’s best to say nothing. The last thing you want is to hurt Seokjin’s family. Right now, your best bet is to hold it together until you can make an excuse to leave. Maybe there could be an emergency at the coffee shop. A run on – uh, beans? Or milk?

The one thing you do know is you can’t stay. Now that you know the full story, there’s no way you can pretend to date your best friend you’re secretly in love with in front of his ex. Just thinking about it gives you a headache.

Before you can pull Seokjin into the house, the door opens again and two people emerge. All thoughts vanish at the sight of a cream blouse and slacks. Seokjin immediately tenses, and unthinking, you take a step closer.

Emilia Astor is the epitome of old Hollywood. Her hair is shorter than the last time you met, cut in an elegant bob with a slight curl at the ends. Immediately, you feel dowdy in your old jeans and sweater. The way she dresses in all white and doesn’t spill anything continues to be awe-inspiring.

Jaesuk walks at her side, shielding his face from the sun. When they stop before you, he smiles at you and Seokjin.

“Y/N!” Emilia holds out both arms for a hug.

After an awkward pause, you step into the embrace. Half of you expects her to whisper something cutting in your ear, but that wouldn’t be like her. You’d deserve it, though, you realize. Face heating, you break the hug, and you consider how this looks.

Yes, Emilia started dating Seokjin’s brother a few months after she and Seokjin broke up. At the same time though, he (seemingly) asked out his best friend. You. A friendship Emilia knew of and trusted to only be platonic. Shoving your discomfort aside, you glance at Jaesuk.

“Hey, Jaesuk,” you say. “Good to see you, too.”

“Hi, Y/N.” He waves, folding Emilia into his side. “It’s really nice to have you here again.”

A small, relieved knot unwinds in your stomach. Jaesuk, at least, doesn’t seem mad at you. Hopefully that means Emilia is also taking the high road. While Jaesuk and Seokjin weren’t close growing up, they did a lot to improve their relationship during their twenties. You would hate for anything you did (perceived or real) to come between them.

Anything Emilia and Jaesuk did, your brain argues. Even if you were dating Seokjin, that’s nothing compared to the betrayal of his brother in dating his ex.

Thinking this, you take a step closer and place your hand on Seokjin’s chest. He glances down at this, then at you. His expression softens.

“There they are!” Mr. Kim’s voice booms, exiting the hedge maze – yes, the hedge maze –with Seohyun. “Finally, the entire family’s arrived.”

Shoving her phone in her pocket, Seohyun skips past her dad. “Y/N!” she cries, looping both arms around you. “My favorite sibling, at last.”

Jaesuk sighs, and Seokjin complains, “You’re not even related.”

“Obviously.” Seohyun withdraws and gives you a conspiratorial smile. “If we were, your relationship would be disgusting – not to mention, illegal.”

Seokjin sputters, and you can’t help but laugh.

Seohyun is two years younger than Seokjin and has always felt like more of a sister to you than your own. One of the hardest parts of the past year was pulling away from Seokjin knowing it meant losing his family. Even with Seohyun halfway around the world in Seoul, your text thread has never been silent for long.

“I missed you, too,” you admit.

Over her shoulder, you notice Emilia looking slightly downcast. She hides it quickly, but not fast enough. Releasing Seohyun, you end up standing beside your – apparent – boyfriend.

“Should we head inside?” Still beaming, Mrs. Kim looks between you and Seokjin. Still, she allows her husband to guide her towards the door. “It’s much too cold for this time in May.”

Jaesuk nudges Emilia. “Agreed. I’ll make a fire in the living room.”

They both head inside, leaving you standing with Seokjin and Seohyun. When you turn towards your suitcase, you realize it’s already moved. Seokjin has your purse over one shoulder, and he gestures you towards the front door.

Brushing past, you head for the house as your anger rises. Seohyun falls into step alongside you, gleeful, and you realize this may have been the wrong choice.

“So,” she says, whistling loudly. “This was a surprise, huh?” She waggles her eyebrows at you and her brother.

Rolling his eyes, Seokjin walks alongside you. “Did you think I’d give you a call the next morning, or something?”

You nearly choke when you hear what this implies.

Seohyun gags. “Gross. I so did not need the image of you and my brother hooking up. No offense, Y/N. But you could have called before announcing you were dating in the family group chat.”

Seokjin blanches, and you at last take pity on him. “It was my fault,” you say, putting yourself in between the siblings. “I didn’t want Seokjin to say anything until we were sure what this was. Things have been weird enough with… well.” Aimless, you gesture to where Emilia and Jaesuk have disappeared.

“Oh, yeah.” Seohyun turns grim. “That.”

“Seo,” Seokjin grumbles. “I told you – I’m fine with it.”

“Sure, you’re fine with it. That doesn’t mean I am.”

You laugh, unable to help it. “That’s exactly what I said.”

“See?” Triumphant, Seohyun locks arms. “It’s weird, Seokjin.”

The three of you cross the threshold, and for a moment, the nostalgia overwhelms. The black and white checkered tile stretches before you, a double staircase leading to the second and third floors. Above you hangs an antique chandelier, glass and wrought iron reminiscent of lace.

Seohyun breaks towards the kitchen, saying something about a snack before dinner. This leaves Seokjin and you all alone, and the feelings you’ve suppressed come flooding back.

Seokjin lied to you. He planned this. He had so many times to warn you over the past week – in the car ride! – and chose not to.

“Your room,” you snap, refusing to look at him when you walk past. “Now.”

Stopping at the stairs, you remove your shoes and stomp upstairs barefoot. Meekly, Seokjin follows you to the second floor. Muscle memory leads to the north wing, where you and Seokjin used to stay while here with his family. You hover outside his old room, realizing with horror you might be expected to share.

Assuming you decide to stay, that is.

Pushing open the door, you march inside and drop your shoes near the closet. The moment the door shuts, you whirl around.

“Explain,” you demand.

Seokjin hovers over the threshold. “I’m so sorry,” he blurts. “You can leave if you want to.” He takes a deep breath. “I’ll figure something out. Make up some excuse – I promise.”

Dizzily, you shake your head. “That’s not an explanation, Seokjin. Why does your family think that we’re dating? This wasn’t what you asked me to do,” you add, lowering your voice in case someone walks past.

“It was an accident, I swear.” He shoves a hand through his hair. “I didn’t mean for this to happen.”

“You didn’t mean to… what? To tell your family we’re dating?”

“No!” Seokjin blurts, then shakes his head. “That’s not what I told them. It’s… okay.” He stops and exhales. “After we talked last week, I put off telling them for a few days. I’ve been pretty silent in the group chat ever since… well, ever since Emilia and Jaesuk announced they were dating. When I finally got up the nerve, I texted them I was bringing you and went into class.”

Your brows lift. “And?”

“And” – Seokjin groans, collapsing onto the chaise – “things had spiraled by the time I got out. Everyone assumed I was bringing you… as my girlfriend. My mom responded saying how happy this made her, then my dad congratulated us on our ‘budding relationship,’ and my mom added how perfect it was…” Seokjin swallows, looking nauseous. “I had a voicemail from Jaesuk, telling me how relieved he felt. He’d been worried about bringing Emilia around, but with me dating someone, he thought this could work…” Seokjin trails off, burying his face in his hands. “I’m so sorry, Y/N. I’ll fix this.”

It’s a struggle not to react. You tell yourself to stay strong, to hold your ground, but – well, you can’t help it when some of your anger unravels. As well-meaning as Seokjin’s family can be, you understand how it happened.

“Emilia,” Seokjin mumbles into his palms, “texted me saying how happy she was. That she was so glad I wasn’t hurt anymore. She acted like I was so pitiful. And I just… snapped, Y/N.”

“I get it.”

Slowly, he lowers both hands. “You… do?”

“Yeah.”

Seokjin watches you for a long moment. “So… where does this leave us?”

You consider the question, and everything that would follow. On the one hand – Seokjin should have told you. He should have called you the moment his family misunderstood. Or explained on the car ride up.

On the other hand, you’re here now. You saw for yourself how Seokjin isn’t over Emilia. Instead, she came here with Jaesuk and Seokjin is forced to watch them together. Alone.

At last, you exhale and shake your head.

“You should have told me.”

To his credit, Seokjin seems embarrassed. “I know. I should have.” The chaise squeaks when he stands, walking towards you. “Please, Y/N,” he declares, and to your surprise, drops to his knees. “Please, forgive me and fake date me. I’ll do whatever you want. I’ll – I’ll do your laundry for a month.”

Eyes wide, you stare down at him. “I have a laundry machine in my unit, Seokjin.”

“Oh.” He considers. “I’ll walk your dog.”

“I don’t have a dog. You know that.”

“You can…” Desperate, he looks around. “You can use this house as a writing retreat! Whenever you want. I promise! All expenses paid, just tell me the dates. I’ll make sure my family clears out.”

This makes you hesitate. While you’ve made steady progress on your novel, it’s been difficult to write in your shared apartment. Jimin doesn’t exactly understand the meaning of personal space, and many a writing session has devolved into a movie marathon.

“Go on,” you say slowly.

Sensing weakness, Seokjin scoots closer. He clasps both hands before him, creating a distracting visual.

“Time to work on your novel,” he intones, his voice low. “Just picture it. This entire place to yourself. The peace and quiet you’ve always wanted but never achieved! Writing paradise! An entire staff at your beck and call. Me, chauffeuring you to and fro, bringing you fresh fruit and –”

“Okay, okay.” Flapping a hand, you gesture for him to stand. “Fine, fine – I’ll do it.”

“Really?” Seokjin bounds to his feet. “Wow, that was easy.”

“To be clear, I would have done it without the lake house.”

His smile vanishes. “What?”

“No take backs,” you say, wagging a finger. “Whenever I want – that’s what you said. I assume that makes it a standing offer? Holidays included?”

“Now, hang on…”

“You’re so generous,” you gush, bending to unzip your suitcase. “Thanks, darling. You do spoil me.”

A beat passes, enough that you look up to find Seokjin staring. Possibly you overdid it with ‘darling.’

Coming to, Seokjin crosses his arms. “Should’ve known you’d take me for all I was worth. You’re merciless, Y/N.”

You blow smoke off an imaginary gun. “We should probably get our story straight, though – right?” you ask, rummaging under your pants. “Like, how did this happen? How long have we been dating? And” – arching a brow, you look upward – “am I really staying in your room this whole week?”

Seokjin frowns, as though this hadn’t crossed his mind. Expression tight, you sit back on your heels. It’s hard not to react to the fact that Seokjin doesn’t want you in his personal space. You would understand if he hadn’t brought this upon himself, but he told his family you were dating, so they’re going to expect you to do dating things.

Rubbing his neck, Seokjin nods. “Yeah. Good point.” He considers, then seems to reach a decision. “How about this: we were hanging out last month, and you confessed that you liked me.”

“I confessed? Hell, no.”

Seokjin blinks. “What? Why?”

“Because! That makes it sound like I was pining for you during your entire relationship and pounced the second you became available.”

Seokjin smirks. “And?”

Incensed, you throw a handful of bras at his head. Seokjin yelps, dodging most of them – except a lacy, black contraption that lands on his shoulder. “Real mature,” he says, delicately removing it. “Anyways. So, we were hanging out last month –”

“When last month?”

“I don’t know!” He throws up his hands. “Pick a weekend. Let’s say I brought you as my date to a faculty function, and… I confessed.” He pauses, then adds, “That makes it sound like I was harboring secret feelings for you the entire length of my relationship.”

“You mean… like your former girlfriend harbored for your brother?”

“Fair point.”

“I still don’t know how you’re okay with all that.”

Seokjin exhales and sits on the bed – avoiding the bra. “I don’t know that I am,” he admits. “Otherwise, I would’ve corrected my family in the group chat – right?”

“Right,” you echo, although something about his tone gives you pause.

He falls back on the mattress. “Right,” he says, speaking to the ceiling. “So, we have the whole ‘how did this happen’ question down. And how long – we’ve been dating for a month. What about the rest?”

“You mean, where am I staying this week?”

Propping himself up on an elbow, Seokjin peers at you down his torso. “I can figure something out if you want. We can move to the joined rooms down the hall. They have a terrible view,” he muses. “But I can say this room had a draft, or something. That way you can go to the other room at night, and –”

“Seokjin. I don’t mind staying here.”

He hesitates. “You don’t?”

“No. I mean, this isn’t the first time we’ve shared a room. Or have you forgotten the backpacking trip?”

A devious smile crosses his face. “How could I forget? Remember when you booked us a room in someone else’s house?”

“That wasn’t my fault!” you insist. “I swear, the listing changed after I booked. Anyways, Rodolfo was very nice.”

“He asked you out twice,” Seokjin says flatly.

“Can you blame him?”

He pauses, then tilts his head. “No.”

Finding yourself in unfamiliar territory, you blink. Then it occurs to you Seokjin is probably flirting with you for practice. That way, it seems genuine in front of his family. Satisfied, you resume pulling things from your suitcase.

“Um, right,” you say. “But that just proves my point. This isn’t the first time we’ve shared a room.”

“Yes, but…” Seokjin waves a hand at the mattress.

Oh. Right – that.

The room, despite its size, has only one bed. Granted, the bed is King-sized, so there’s enough room for you both, but still. While the two of you have shared a room several times over the years, never a bed.

“Okay.” You frown. “That’s fine – I can sleep on the floor. Or on the couch.”

Seokjin gives you a wry look. “Y/N. I got us into this situation. The least I can do is sleep on the couch.”

“Will you even fit? You’re not as young as you once were.”

“Ouch.” Seokjin huffs a laugh, massaging his chest with one hand. Annoyingly, your gaze follows the motion. “I didn’t realize this week would include personal roasting sessions. Are you trying to tear down my self-confidence, Y/N?”

“As though anything I said could make a dent in that.”

Something about this seems to amuse him, but Seokjin says nothing. Pushing himself to stand, he claps both hands together. “We can figure that out later. For now, we’ve established you’ll stay here. In my room,” he adds.

“Fine,” you say, standing with an armful of clothes. “You may need to grab some more hangers, though. These dresses can’t wrinkle.”

Bowing extravagantly, Seokjin backs away. “Your wish is my command,” he declares, continuing the bit as he enters the hall. “And Y/N?” he adds, straightening.

You look over your shoulder. “Yeah?”

Seokjin watches you seriously, his expression at odds with his usual humor. “Thanks,” he says, quiet.

A shiver goes through you. “You’re welcome.”

He nods and disappears. Left alone with your stuff, you stare at the suitcase, heart pounding. So much for self-preservation. No matter how badly you insist that you’re fine, that your feelings are over, look where you are.

At the Kim family lake house, surrounded by memories and the people who haunt them. A cold sense of foreboding steals over you. With so many secrets to hide, so many years of pushing feelings down, you can’t help the feeling that something will drop.

You can only hope you survive the aftermath.

One thing you did not miss about the Kim’s is their shared love of hiking. Even Seohyun, usually your partner in crime, has changed into athleisurewear so expensive, you don’t know the label. Soon after you and Seokjin unpack, Mrs. Kim suggests a walk to ‘work up an appetite’ before dinner.

Having been on many Kim family vacations, you know a ‘walk’ can mean anything from a paved path to bouldering. Accordingly, you shove your feet into sneakers and tie a sweatshirt around your waist. Your preparation pays off when the family town cars drop you off at a local trail head. Now, you find yourself huffing and puffing up a hill that on paper shouldn’t exist in the Midwest.

“Ugh,” huffs Seohyun, trekking alongside you. “I’ve been so busy with work I’ve barely hiked the past year. Which is dumb, because Seoul is literally in the mountains. I’m so out of shape.”

“Same,” you agree. “Although not because of work – it’s because I hate hiking.”

Seohyun laughs, ponytail bobbing. “I missed having you on these things. Emilia loves hiking,” she adds, lowering her voice. “And working out. She even goes running before breakfast – on purpose! Vile.”

“I mean, so does Seokjin,” you point out.

“Exactly!” Seohyun sounds triumphant. “Seokjin and Emilia are too similar. It’s why they were doomed. You can’t date yourself in a different font, Y/N. It’s boring.”

Curious, you glance over at Seokjin. He hikes beside his mom in the middle, discussing his research and her latest project. You had never considered him and Emilia in that light before. Instead, you thought their similarities were a sign of compatibility. Now that you think about it though, Seokjin never confided in you about their relationship.

While you watch, Seokjin runs a hand through his hair. His face is truly unfair – concrete proof that god has their favorites. No way should one person be that good-looking and able to carry a conversation.

Seohyun groans beside you. “Okay, I take it all back. This might be worse than having to race Emilia up a mountain. You and Seokjin are sickening.”

Gaze jerking forward, you feel your face feat. Ironically, you weren’t even thinking about the faux relationship just now. That was just your expression looking at Seokjin. If it helps to sell this nonsense, you suppose it’s a good thing. So long as Seokjin doesn’t suspect your feelings are true.

You can’t keep your thoughts from drifting towards once this week is over. After you leave the lake house and return to the city – what then? Seokjin will have to tell his family something. Will he tell them you broke up? Either way, it seems like your relationship is about to change, and you aren’t sure if that’s good.

Returning to Seohyun, you force a smile. “Hey, at least you’re not the worst hiker here anymore. Count your blessings.”

Someone beside you chuckles. “You’re definitely not the worst, Y/N,” says Emilia, pulling her backpack around to unzip.

Both you and Seohyun jump. Exchanging a swift glance, you wonder how long Emilia has been within hearing distance. Luckily, you didn’t say anything too bad… you think.

Emilia doesn’t let anything show on her face, taking a large sip of water. “The first time I went hiking with Jaesuk, I sprained my ankle and had to hop all the way to the car.”

Jaesuk catches up on her other side. “Excuse me,” he jokes. “If I remember correctly, I carried you most of the way. You only hopped in the parking lot.”

Emilia blinks at him innocently, and Jaesuk laughs. Seohyun ignores them both, taking a long sip of her water. Taking pity on them, you jump in.

“You still agreed to a hiking date,” you say. “In winter. That makes you automatically better than me, I think.”

Seokjin turns around and hikes backwards. “Y/N’s not wrong,” he calls back. “Remember the first time we went hiking in high school?”

“Oh, that’s right!” Mr. Kim cranes his head around at the front. “Y/N, didn’t I end up taking you to the emergency room?’

Seohyun hoots with laughter and your face burns. “I don’t think it was that–”

“You did! Seokjin insisted,” says Mrs. Kim, smiling at her son. “You said you were fine, Y/N, but Seokjin would have none of it. He pulled up WebMD and read you possible maladies until you gave in.”

Choosing not to respond, you glance at Seokjin. You remember that day very differently. Seokjin was concerned, yes, but he would have done the same for anyone. His reaction had nothing to do with feelings for you, which seems to be what his family is implying.

You aren’t the only one thinking that. Emilia’s gaze darts between Mrs. Kim and Seokjin, a small frown on her face.

“I was fine,” you say, steering the conversation away. “Seokjin overreacted.”

Seokjin slows to hike alongside you. “You had a hairline fracture! You were in that boot for months – remember? You got out of running the mile twice.”

“I was in the boot for a month.”

“They always bickered like this,” says his mom fondly. “We should have realized.”

Seohyun squints your way. “Mm. I always suspected they were more than platonic. Come on – a euro trip? As friends?”

“Seohyun,” Seokjin says, a warning clear in his voice. At the same time, you blurt out, “It was platonic.”

Several heads turn in your direction. Realizing you made a mistake, you backtrack. “I mean,” you hasten, “feelings came… later.”

There’s a long moment of silence until Seohyun nods.

“Anyways.” Jaesuk places his hand on Emilia’s back. “You’re a better hiker than you think, Y/N. You made it up sweat mountain, remember?”

“Don’t remind me,” you groan while Seokjin cackles.

Sweat mountain is an aptly named monstrosity Seokjin convinced you to hike while in college. You thought the name was merely a metaphor, but it was the mountain’s actual name. All you can assume is so many people collapsed from heat stroke mid-trail that they decided to leave the name as a warning.

“Today feels like sweat mountain,” Seohyun gripes. “How much further until the parking lot?”

“You’re being dramatic.” Mrs. Kim hikes past her. “This is only a three-mile walk! The parking lot is just around that curve.”

Like the traitor she is, Seohyun picks up her pace. Admittedly, today is the perfect day for hiking. The temperature is cool enough to avoid sweat, but warm enough your sweatshirt has stayed around your waist. It’s not their fault you abhor physical exercise that doesn’t end with a treat.

As though reading your mind, Seokjin pulls a protein bar from his pocket. “Hungry?”

“I’m fine,” you grumble, but – after a moment – take the bar. “Thanks.”

Seokjin watches you unwrap it and stuff half in your mouth. His lips twitch. “I’m sorry about this, by the way. I did try to offer an out at the house.”

Jaw dropping, you remember too late about the half-chewed protein bar. “Um, excuse me,” you cough, trying to swallow. “What you said was ‘Y/N might be too tired to come.’ What kind of excuse is that?” you demand, turning around to watch him as you hike. “It makes it sound like I hold you back.”

Seokjin’s eyes widen. “They never would have accepted that I was too tired. Mom would’ve said, ‘the fresh air will invigorate you,” he quotes in an uncanny imitation of Mrs. Kim. “As a guest, you have immunity. My mom would’ve allowed it.”

“Well…” You stuff the rest of the bar in your mouth. “Oo sh’o’d’ve said ‘at ‘efore we went ‘own’airs.”

“I didn’t know that we were– Y/N!”

Your sneaker hits a rock, ankle twisting as Seokjin darts forward. For a moment, you flail wildly before collapsing.

“Oof,” you grunt, your palms hitting the dirt. The jolt rattles enough that you wince, pride smarting as much as your hands.

“Y/N.” Seokjin drops to one knee. His hands pat your arms, gentle while checking you over. When you wince, his face darkens. “Are you hurt?”

You admit he plays the caring boyfriend card well. You see why Emilia fell for him in the first place.

“N-no,” you stutter, wishing the earth would swallow you whole.

Luckily, the rest of his family is too far ahead to see. It would have been doubly awful to have Seokjin’s perfect ex bear witness to your humiliation.

Turning your palms over in his, Seokjin slides both hands to your elbows. “Can you stand?” he asks, pulling you up. “Test your weight on your ankle.”

“My ankle is fine,” you grumble, but oblige.

Slowly, you place weight on your leg and although it feels fine, you notice your leggings are ripped. Your knee is bleeding, but otherwise you seem okay. Noticing the blood, Seokjin’s frown deepens.

Shifting to stand before you, he lowers himself again to his knee. “Hop on,” Seokjin says, glancing over his shoulder.

You stare down at him, open-mouthed. “Huh?”

“Hop on.” Seokjin pats his back. “How else are you going to get to the car?”

“With my… feet?”

He scowls. “You’re bleeding, Y/N. And your palms are all scratched up. There’s a first aid kit in the backseat – I can clean you up there.”

Ignoring how your stomach flutters, you gingerly bend and loop both arms around his neck. Seokjin pushes himself upward, gathering your legs and walking forward. Your nose ends up near his neck, breathing his clean, masculine scent.

Lift is unfair. It’s all too easy to imagine this day in different circumstances. To imagine Seokjin taking care of you, being there for you as your boyfriend. Shifting closer, you close your eyes and enjoy the warmth.

The daydream ends when you exit the forest.

Seeing you, Mrs. Kim drops her backpack. “Y/N!” she gasps, rushing forward. “What happened?”

Capping her water bottle, Seohyun seems caught between fear and amusement. “How… we were just talking about hiking accidents!”

“I’ll get the first aid kit,” Emilia declares. She disappears around the side of one car.

You stifle the urge to bury your face in Seokjin’s shoulder. “I’m fine,” you say as he comes to a stop. “Really.”

Marching to the trunk of one car, Seokjin turns around to set you on the edge. Kneeling before you, he removes your sneaker and peels your legging upward.

“Here you go.” Emilia appears, a first aid kit in hand.

Seokjin accepts this without comment. Over his shoulder you mouth, thank you, to her. Smiling fleetingly, Emilia retreats to stand beside Jaesuk. Mr. Kim shoos everyone away to give you some privacy.

Removing a water bottle from his backpack, Seokjin pours this over your knee. You hiss and jerk back.

“Sorry,” he murmurs, soothing your calf with his thumb. “This’ll sting.”

“A little late,” you complain, but the barb is half-hearted.

Gripping the edge of the trunk, you watch Seokjin clean your skin with a damp cotton ball. The pain soon dulls, replaced with soft pressure of his hand on your leg. Seokjin bends closer, his breath warm while blowing dirt away from the wound.

Looking upward, Seokjin pauses at whatever he sees on your face. A beat passes, then two, until he withdraws.

“That should be good enough until we get home.”

Dazed, you blink. “Oh. Right. Thanks.”

Seokjin stands, watching you roll down your legging and slip on your sneaker. When you wince, he offers an arm and helps you towards the car. George holds the door open, shutting it behind you to move to the driver’s seat.

Seohyun hooks up her phone, glancing over her shoulder from the passenger seat. “I’m so sorry, Y/N,” she says miserably. “I feel like I caused this.”

Confused, you buckle your seat belt. “Oh? Did you place a rock directly on the trail behind me?”

“No, but I was going on and on about accidents, and –”

“It wasn’t your fault,” says Seokjin, entering from the other side. He shuts the door. “But if you waste more time sitting here, it will be your fault if Y/N gets gangrene.”

“Okay, now you’re being ridiculous,” you complain. “I’m not even bleeding.”

George places the car into drive and Seohyun rolls her eyes. “Mom was right. Seokjin has always been way too protective for his feelings to be anything but romantic.”

Choosing to stay silent, you look out the window. In its reflection, you catch sight of Seokjin watching you from the next seat. Unbidden, your heart skips a beat.

For a moment, you consider what everyone has been saying. You remember the day you broke your foot in high school. You remember it clearly, because it was the first night you dreamed of Seokjin. Before that, he was just a friend.

After …

You couldn’t stop thinking about the way he touched you, the way he insisted on getting you help. It was the first step down a long path of falling in love with him.

And a small, tiny voice whispers that maybe – just maybe – his mom and sister have a point. Maybe they saw things that day that went over your head. As soon as you think this though, you dismiss it. Obviously, Mrs. Kim says now it was fate. It’s confirmation bias, since she thinks you and Seokjin are currently dating.

And yet, you continue to watch Seokjin in the window’s reflection. The sting of your knee has receded, but the prospect of him feeling nothing for you is somehow the worse wound.

By dinnertime, it’s a struggle to keep your eyes open. The morning latte was ages ago, and the glass of wine after hiking doesn’t help. Once the last course at dinner clears, you stifle another yawn and Seohyun catches your eye.

“Y/N, will you please go to bed?” she says, dropping her fork. “You’re making me tired.”

Immediately, you straighten. “I’m fine!”

“Mom.” Seokjin politely removes his napkin from his lap. “What are the plans for tonight?”

Mrs. Kim takes a sip of her port. “Nothing, really. I think your dad wanted to watch that new action movie.”

Mr. Kim grunts in agreement.

“The one we saw in theatres last fall?” asks Jaesuk. “That was a good one.”

“I’ve been wanting to watch,” Emilia adds.

Seohyun shrugs. “I guess I can join, too.”

“Great.” Pushing his chair back, Seokjin takes your hand. “Y/N and I are wiped. We’re going to bed.”

“Hey!” Seohyun gasps. “You tricked us.”

“Get some sleep,” calls Mrs. Kim.

Seokjin leads you from the dining room, dropping a kiss to his mom’s hair as he passes. His other hand remains in yours, pulling you through the foyer and up the staircase.

“Was I that obvious?” you ask, sheepish.

Seokjin does a double take at you. “Oh, you mean – was your yawning that obvious? Yes, Y/N. Pretty sure the space station will message any second about the morse code.”

“Message them back and tell them no one watches for free. Not even astronauts.”

“W-ow. You run a tight ship, Y/N.”

“It’s called knowing your self-worth,” you sniff, following him down the hall. “You should try it.”

“I do know my self-worth. If you’d like, we can Google it right now – hey-o!” Seokjin cries, holding up a hand for you to high five.

Ignoring him, you walk into the room. Seokjin chuckles and follows, shutting the door behind you. Holding the vanity, you bend and undo a shoe strap. You’ll never forget the first time you visited – Mrs. Kim asked you to leave your shoes in the hall overnight. You were confused before learning the staff clean their shoes every day so they can wear them to dinner.

Fumbling with the clasp, you kick helplessly and hope the shoe gives up before you do.

“Hang on,” Seokjin sighs. Again, he kneels before you – this is becoming a habit. “Put your foot on my knee.”

You stare as though he’s grown a second head. “What are you doing?”

“Helping you take off your shoes. I thought that was obvious.” He pats his thigh. “Put your foot here.”

Unable to summon the energy to fight, you lift your foot. If Seokjin is surprised by your obedience, he does a good job of hiding it. Bending, he delicately undoes the clasp of your shoe. Dark hair falls in his face while he works.

Seokjin hesitates, one hand on your ankle. He looks up. “I really am sorry about all of this, Y/N.”

Your heart thumps, and it takes a second longer for your brain to catch up.

His lips twist. “First, I lied to you. Then, I asked you to lie to my family. And now… you’re hurt because of me.” He looks down. “This was an awful idea, and I’m just… sorry, Y/N. Say the word and I’ll drive you home. I’ll explain everything to my family. No matter how awkward.”

“Hey,” you murmur. Reaching down, you pull Seokjin upward to stand.

Seokjin towers over you, looking slightly pathetic.

“It’s okay,” you say gently. “Really. Am I thrilled by some of your choices? No. Definitely not. But do I understand?” Slowly, you exhale. “Yeah. I unfortunately do.”

He seems to war with something internally but nods. “That’s because you’re a saint.”

“Flattery will get you everywhere.”

Seokjin chuckles, and you smile. “Besides,” you say, holding up both palms. “I’m fine. Barely a scratch from earlier – see?”

Taking your hand, he studies your palm longer than medically necessary. “So…” He looks at you. “What does this mean, Y/N? Are you saying you’ll stay the week, or…?”

“Will I stay here and pretend that we’re dating? Sure.”

Seokjin groans and tips his head back. “God. That sounds so sad.”

Laughing, you take a step closer. Reaching for him, you slide both hands into his hair and lower his face. His lashes flutter, staring down at you.

“Don’t worry,” you say quietly. “I could never think less of you, Seokjin Kim.”

His throat works as he swallows. “I bet you say that to all the guys.”

“No – I really don’t.”

Dropping your hands, you step backwards. Shakily, you inhale and try to forget the feeling of his skin beneath your palms.

“So,” you say. “We have a full week of couple activities ahead.”

Seokjin nods, and you fall into the rhythm of unpacking. Moving around the room, you ask what he’s been up to lately and let Seokjin chatter about work. The events of today crash over you without warning, leaving you emotionally and physically drained.

This is probably why you accept so fast when he offers to take the couch. Grabbing your pajamas, you lock yourself in the bathroom to wash your face. When you emerge, you all but leap into the giant bed.

Seokjin disappears into the bathroom soon after, and you struggle to stay awake. Sometime after the shower starts though, you drift off, falling asleep before he can return.

A cacophony greets you the next morning. People call the city noisy, but those sounds you’re used to. What you’re not used to is the sound of two birds having a full-blown tiff outside your window. In response, you roll over and stick your head beneath a pillow.

Easy to do since you have the bed to yourself. Realizing this, you slowly peer out from under the pillow at the couch.

Empty.

Unease pricks your stomach. Seokjin did sleep here last night – didn’t he? As soon as you think this, you notice the mussed blanket and pillow. Okay, so he slept here at some point, even if he’s gone now.

Rolling onto your back, you unplug your phone from the wall. 8:04 AM. After ten minutes of scrolling, you manage to push yourself into a seated position. Eventually, nature calls loud enough that you roll from bed. With face washed and teeth brushed, you feel marginally ready to start the day.

The couch is still empty. Frowning, you walk towards the window and pull back the curtain. Seokjin could have gone on a run – or maybe, chimes a little voice in your head, he realized how silly this is and went to tell everyone the truth. Maybe he went to confess his feelings to Emilia. Maybe Jaesuk and Seokjin went to go duel before dawn.

Releasing the curtain, you head for the shower. This is why you don’t talk to people before coffee. Stepping under the spray, you tilt your head and let hot water sluice down your back. Despite your best efforts, the shower unfortunately proves a great place to overthink.

Again and again, you rehash the events of yesterday. The look on Seokjin’s face when his mom said you were dating. Hise expression asking you to stay. The way he looked while dabbing your knee with a cotton ball. For so long, you’ve survived by shoving your feelings aside. It’s been a long time since you considered what Seokjin felt for you.

Twenty years of history point you towards nothing. But then, you’ve had feelings for him just as long and never told him. Sighing, you finish washing and step from the shower. The safest course of action is to do nothing and yet, the thought leaves an itch in your brain.

Again, you remind yourself, all you can do is take his words at face value. Seokjin asked you to be his fake girlfriend, not his real one. That’s all this is. Anything more leads to a slippery slope you might not return from.

Wiping steam from the mirror, you realize you left your clothes in the other room. Wrapping a towel around your torso, you crack open the door.

Holy fuck.

Seokjin has returned. Well, that much is obvious because he’s standing in the middle of the room dressed in navy sweats and… nothing else.

Mouth dry, you watch him bop along to a song on his ear pods. You try – and fail – not to gape at the way his shoulders narrow to the sharp v of his waist. The last guy you hooked up with was a definite gym rat, full of muscles made mainly for show. Seokjin is hot without trying. His biceps flex when he grabs a t-shirt, frowning into the mirror – and meeting your gaze.

“Ahh!” Seokjin yells, the t-shirt whipping away as he turns.

“Ahh!” you return, stumbling backwards. Clutching your towel, you nearly trip over a different t-shirt lying on the floor.

Seokjin braces himself on the wardrobe. “WHAT ARE – hang on, shit,” he swears, yanking out his air pods. “You’re, uh – Y/N. You’re here?”

“Yep,” you say, your voice way too high. “I was in the shower,” you add, jerking a thumb over your shoulder.

Seokjin follows the gesture, only to snag on your body. Too late you remember you’re in only a towel. Before now, this fact seems to have eluded him. Seokjin openly stares, not bothering to hide his appraisal. Heat trails each place his gaze lingers until the bird argument outside resumes – this time, at twice the volume.

The spell breaks. “Sorry,” you blurt, rushing to grab your clothes. “I didn’t know you were here.”

“I – I wasn’t. I was on a run.”

“Okay,” you squeak, edging around him. Slamming the door shut, you collapse against it. “Fuck,” you hiss.

On the other side, you hear Seokjin utter the same. Eyes wide, you turn your head to stare at the wood.

Coincidence. Or he was swearing because of how awkward that was, not because he was also struck dumb by the sight of you mostly naked. Right?

Your head hits the door with a thunk. You should have taken Seokjin up on his offer to drive you home yesterday. Not even one day has passed and you’re already overthinking this. Worse, you can’t stop rehashing the events of last year. Seokjin never answered your question about why he hasn’t reached out to you since December.

Suddenly, you still as realization dawns. Seokjin and Emilia broke up in December. You know they were still together on his birthday, which means they broke up after.

What if… Emilia saw you in that hallway? What if she broke up with Seokjin because she suspected something between you? That would make her the victim. Granted, she didn’t have to go and date Seokjin’s brother, but it would explain her discomfort around you. It would explain why she seems to flinch at every mention of your shared past with Seokjin.

If that’s true, then it means their breakup was partly your fault. Of course, you know this wouldn’t be your fault alone. If their relationship had been solid, it could have withstood a moment of jealousy. Still, the thought lingers as you get dressed, entering the bedroom to find Seokjin has gone.

You continue to think about this during breakfast, watching the way Emilia interacts with the rest. By the end of the meal, you’ve learned nothing certain. If anything, you find yourself reaching the conclusion that whatever the truth is, it doesn’t matter. Not when what’s done is done.

Seokjin and Emilia are no longer dating. Now, she’s with Jaesuk. And you’re here to provide Seokjin platonic support.

Nothing about this has changed, so you need to concentrate on the task at hand. Something you can do, even if the cost is one you pay in your own heartache.

Mrs. Kim passes out individual itineraries after breakfast, resulting in a swift wave of nostalgia. Your own family would fit in well with Jimin’s friends, planning everything the day of and flying by the seat of their pants. Kim family vacations were a dream come true for you growing up, since Mr. and Mrs. Kim always had things under control.

Mr. Kim may have been the one born into money, but Mrs. Kim is no shrinking violet. Her mother raised her by herself; Mrs. Kim finished law school while working odd jobs, eventually rising to the rank of Chief Legal Officer at the Kim Corporation. It was something of a scandal when she announced she and Mr. Kim had wed, and she would be transitioning to the non-profit sector. One time at dinner, she confided in you with a wink this had been her goal from the start.

The entire week is planned down to the minute, with ‘free time’ scheduled for several days. Seokjin stares in dismay at all the events he’s been signed up for until you gently take his paper and fold it in yours.

Today is simple enough: the local farmer’s market, then lunch. Dinner tonight is just family, but tomorrow you’ll be joined by dinner guests. Thursday is a cocktail party, and then Saturday evening is the main event. You notice the Astors listed only for Saturday, which eases some of your tension.

“I’ll drive Y/N and I,” Seokjin says once breakfast is over. Standing, he scoops a pair of keys from the bowl. “We’ll meet the rest of you there.”

Seohyun waves from the coffee pot, dressed in jeans and a t-shirt. When Emilia enters with Jaesuk, Seoyun pointedly turns around and brings her coffee to the porch.

Noticing, you can’t help your guilty conscience. “Seohyun seems mad,” you remark to Seokjin as you climb the stairs.

Seokjin glances at the back porch. His lips thin. “Yeah. I think… the situation feels more personal for her. One of her friends dated an ex back in college, and it led to a lot of drama. I don’t think they stayed friends, so she feels bad for me.”

“Oh,” you murmur. You, too, lost a friend during college when she slept with your boyfriend. “I get that. In some ways, losing a friend is harder.”

As you enter the room, Seokjin opens the closet. “I don’t need her pity, though,” he calls from inside. “I’m fine with the situation. And besides, it’s not the same.”

“Is it not?”

“No!”

Wisely choosing to stay silent on the matter, you sit on the sofa and wait for him to change. Seokjin appears a moment later in a cream shirt and slacks, a jean jacket in hand. Well, fuck you, too, then.

Seokjin pauses, squinting at himself in the mirror. “It’s not,” he continues. “Seohyun was still in love with her ex. I’m not.”

Your brows shoot upward. “Oh, no? This whooole situation” – you wave a hand – “would beg to differ.”

Seokjin meets your gaze in the mirror. “It’s not the same. I don’t… think Emilia and I were ever really in love.”

You take a moment to digest this. “Okay, now you’re being ridiculous.”

His expression tightens. “Do you really think someone in love with me could have fallen so fast for Jaesuk? Do you think I could have–” Abruptly, he cuts himself off.

Curious, you stare, but he doesn’t continue. Searching for a way to prod without being obvious, you inhale and a door slams downstairs.

“Y/N! Seokjin!” Jaesuk calls up. “We’re heading out!”

Jolted into motion, Seokjin pulls on his coat. “Coming!” he calls. To you, he murmurs, “Come on. We don’t want to be late.”

Mind reeling, you follow him down the stairs. You didn’t imagine it, did you – the way Seokjin seemed on the verge of saying something important?

And what about the other thing he just said – that he never loved Emilia? Frustration chokes the many emotions roiling within you. That was the only thing about this week which made sense. If Seokjin still was in love with Emilia, it would make sense why you’re here. It would make sense why he said nothing when his family assumed you were dating.

It would not make sense if he did all those things and is over his ex. If… Seokjin doesn’t love Emilia and never did.

By the time you reach the car, you’ve decided against calling Seokjin out. Instead, you’ve delusionally convinced yourself nothing between you has changed. You agreed to stay this week and pretend to be dating. The why doesn’t matter.

Except – what if it does?

Pushing away the thought, you buckle your seatbelt and realize Seokjin has taken this time to commandeer the stereo. A playlist called Reel Love blares, comprised of songs about love and fishing.

You shoot Seokjin a look, and he bites down on his lip to keep from laughing. For now, you tell yourself it’s enough to have your friend again. Concentrating on this fact, you lean your head to the window and watch the scenery pass.

Rumbling into town, you find yourself in desperate need of some fresh air. Seokjin has the type of presence which grows to fit whatever container he rests in. A gaseous human, if you will. Stepping from the car, you take several breaths to wash away the after-effects of proximity.

Closing the door, you survey the town. Bear’s Nook is sleepy during the edge seasons, dead in the winter, and vibrant in summer, like so many towns along the lakeshore. Right now, it’s starting to wake up, but crowds won’t show up in full force until June.

Only the locals and families like Seokjin’s arrive this time of year. People mosey in and out of the storefronts, although the main farmer’s market is in a warehouse on Main Street. George seems to be sticking around, dropping the rest of the family off in front of the market.

Seohyun shivers in short sleeves, woefully unprepared. “Race you,” she blurts, darting for the entrance.

Shaking her head, Mrs. Kim takes her husband’s arm. The entire group moves down the sidewalk, entering the market in a loose line. Stalls stretch the length of the warehouse full of fruits, vegetables, and all the craft goods you could want.

Seokjin and Mr. Kim drift towards a fishing table, and Seohyun calls her mom over to a produce stand. Despite most of the cooking being done by the staff, Mrs. Kim still enjoys preparing a few dishes each week. You drift past them both, unsure what you’re looking for as you start to wander.

At the end of the next row, your phone buzzes. Fishing it from your purse, you see Jimin’s name. Frowning, you swipe.

Jimin: how long did it take for Seokjin to ask if we were dating [10:20 AM]

Jimin: on a scale of one (first thing he asked) to ten (still hasn’t) [10:21 AM]

Coming to a stop at a candle stand, you text back.

Y/N: You little sneak [10:22 AM]

Y/N: …about a minute in [10:22 AM]

Jimin: HA [10:23 AM]

Jimin: knew it [10:23 AM]

Y/N: You knew what? [10:23 AM]

Jimin: Y/N, please. It’s obvious that man has feelings for you [10:23 AM]

Y/N: Jimin, noooo [10:24 AM]

Y/N: You saw him for ten seconds [10:24 AM]

Y/N: It’s not like that, I promise [10:24 AM]

Y/N: Believe me [10:24 AM]

Jimin: …. [10:25 AM]

Jimin: no [10:25 AM]

You’re frantically typing something to the effect of that’s not how friendship works when you notice someone hovering nearby. Glancing from your phone, you realize Emilia is watching from a coffee stand. Meeting your gaze, she smiles and waves you over.

After a moment’s hesitation, you return your phone to your pocket. Reluctantly joining the line, you pretend to study the coffee board.

“So.” Emilia exhales, glancing sideways. “This is awkward, right?”

Startled, you face her. While Emilia continues to smile, you can see the forced tightness around her eyes.

“Well…” You shrug. “I wasn’t going to call it out, but since you mention it…”

She laughs, the sound bright. When she and Seokjin started dating, you thought her laugh was fake, but no – that’s just how she sounds. You suppose if you had been brought up with a silver spoon in your mouth, you might also laugh like a Disney princess.

Immediately, you deflate. You shouldn’t be mean to her. But then again, the last time you checked, there were no guidelines about how to act with the girlfriend of your fake boyfriend’s brother, who used to date your fake boyfriend.

Seokjin is right. Saying it out loud is just sad.

“Did you… know I met Jaesuk before Seokjin?”

That captures your attention.

You blink. “No. I didn’t know that.”

She nods, lost in thought. “He was a counselor at my summer camp. I was seventeen and Jaesuk was in college, so of course, nothing happened.” A soft laugh. “He barely even noticed my existence.”

“Ah.”

The line moves forward, and you take a small step.

Emilia isn’t done. “We had this moment, though… at the end of the summer. My camp boyfriend broke up with me for Jennie Sarasota. Jaesuk found me crying behind the kayaks and told me I was too good for that idiot. It was the first time a man said that to me,” she says. “My dad is a traditional guy. He’s… well, he’s not very nice.”

Again, the line moves. Stopping closer to the kiosk, you face Emilia fully. “Why are you telling me this?” you ask. “Is this… some kind of explanation for why you cheated on Seokjin?”

Emilia’s eyes widen, and her gaze darts around. People from their world always worry about who might overhear. To be fair, you did just say the quiet part out loud.

“Y/N,” she whispers. “I didn’t cheat on Seokjin. And that’s not what I was trying to tell you.” Her face scrunches. “What I felt for Jaesuk at camp wasn’t real. It was a childish crush on a guy I didn’t know.”

“So…”

“So,” she huffs. “I’m trying to say that when I met Seokjin, I didn’t know he was related to Jaesuk. The last name Kim is pretty common.”

“Mm.” Another person pays, and the line moves again. “And then, once you realized who Jaesuk was…?”

Emilia is silent. Eventually, she exhales. “The first time I met Jaesuk was the night of Seokjin’s birthday party. Do you remember that?”

It feels like a trick question, so you simply nod.

“Yeah,” Emilia murmurs, also lost in thought. “Seokjin had mentioned him before, but Jaesuk was always working or too busy to meet. When he walked through the door, I was stunned. And then… well, I decided to put him from my mind.”

“Mhm.”

Her lips flatten. “It’s true.”

The final person orders and leaves, leaving the two of you. Stepping up to the register, you order your usual iced latte and move to the end. Emilia follows, hitching her Birkin bag up her arm.

“All I’m saying,” she continues, determined, and you fight back an eye roll. “Is that I can understand how it happened. Thinking you felt one way for someone, only to realize you felt another.”

Sharply, you look at her.

Emilia stares back at you, unflinching, and you have to hand it to her, she doesn’t back down. Again, you consider Seokjin’s confession. This is about more than just Emilia dating Jaesuk. Human beings are complicated, and feelings are never clean-cut. Just because Emilia is with Jaesuk and seems happy doesn’t mean she’s enjoying the idea of you dating Seokjin.

Still, any way you respond would be tinged with bitterness, so you merely shrug. “I guess.”

The barista finishes your coffee and places it on the counter. Accepting this, you turn, intending to leave but Emilia stops you again.

“You know,” she says lowly. “I always suspected Seokjin had feelings for you.”

Her words are like being doused in cold water. Protestations rise to your lips like no, he doesn’t and sounds like projection, but you say nothing. Because based on what Emilia knows, she’s correct.

“Even before his birthday,” she says, her grip tight on her coffee. “I knew it was more than just friendship.”

“If you say so.”

“People talk about their friends. But Seokjin never talked about you. Ever. He was so, so careful to keep you separate.”

This does surprise you, but you can’t afford to react.

“I’m not bitter,” she adds, and you know she thinks that's true. “If anything, I think this might be fate. Right?” To her credit, her voice softens. “Jaesuk and I met so long ago, and now we’ve reconnected. Meanwhile, Seokjin has wanted you for so long, and now he finally has you. Maybe… oh, I don’t know. Maybe things had to happen this way for us to be happy.”

By now, you’re practically vibrating with suppressed anger. You hate when people imply that bad things happen for a reason. Sometimes that’s true but oftentimes, it’s an excuse for the speaker to pass on accountability. Whirling around, you step closer and feel a perverse sense of satisfaction when Emilia’s eyes widen.

“No,” you spit out. “I don’t think things had to be this way. I don’t think the fact that Seokjin and I are dating cancels out the fact that you’re now dating his brother. I don’t think any of this absolves you of what – of guilt? Is that what you want?”

Emilia’s face flushes. “No!”

“It doesn’t matter if Seokjin felt something for me. He chose you. He wanted you. Everything you just said is pointless because Seokjin wanted you to be his girlfriend. And you left him for Jaesuk. It’s crappy that you’re blaming the breakup on something he never even said that he wanted!”

Her mouth opens, intending to respond, but you decide you don’t care. Everything you’ve repressed bubbles upward, and you no longer trust yourself to have this conversation without saying something hurtful. Taking a page out of Seohyun’s book, you turn on your heel and push into the crowd.

Either you walk fast enough to lose her, or Emilia doesn’t follow. The crowd breaks after a while and you stop at the last stall, sagging against the counter. It takes several moments for your pulse to steady.

Although you meant what you said, it probably wasn’t the best way to deal with Emilia. A sigh leaves you. While you understand where she’s coming from, her pretending everything is fine isn’t helpful. The events of the past year caused a lot of hurt – you witnessed this firsthand.

Oddly enough though, you feel lighter. Devastating, to realize your therapist is right, and ignoring your emotions doesn’t make them go away. Granted, you didn’t need to explode on Emilia the way that you did. You’ll have to apologize at some point. It was infuriating, though, listening to her go on about how great things are, when you know she’s the reason Seokjin is on edge.

Footsteps sound behind you.

Glancing over your shoulder, you see Seohyun approaching. “Happy my parents’ anniversary,” she sings, shoving a plastic bag into your arms. A colorful, crocheted hat spills out. “I saw this and thought of you. You and your beautiful soul.”

“Don’t you Jesse McCartney me before lunch,” you manage to laugh. Removing the hat, you shove it over your hair. “How does it look? Mesmerizing?”

Seohyun makes a face. “Only a man truly in love would find that appealing.”

As though on cue, Seokjin rounds the corner. The moment he spots you, he does a double take. Walking forward, his grin widens.

“What monstrosity is this?” Seokjin teases. Slipping a hand to either side of your face, he tips your face up to press a kiss to your forehead. “Only you would find something that clashes with literally everything.”

Somewhat stunned, you stare up at him. “I, uh…”

“I bought it for her, asshole,” sighs Seohyun. Watching the two of you, she grins and shakes her head. “What did I say, Y/N?”

Seokjin looks at her, puzzled but – thankfully – before Seohyun can explain, Mrs. Kim appears. “There’s a whole stand of oven mitts,” she says to Seohyun. “We should get a few pairs or–”

Seokjin tugs on your hand. “Come on,” he murmurs. “I want to show you something.”

Wordless, you follow him around the next corner. It hasn’t escaped your notice that his family is no longer around and yet, he still holds your hand. In fact, you’re so busy watching him, you don’t realize where you’re going until Seokjin stops.

“Ta-da!” He gestures at a wooden stall. “What do you think?”

Tearing your gaze away from him, you look at the scene.

“Oh. My. God.”

Seokjin cracks up, watching you take in the garish array of nationalism. Paintings of flags, national monuments, symbolic animals – the stand has it all, entombed in bold colors and patterns. The sight is absolutely horrific, and you’re about to say as much, when a man pops out from behind an easel.

“Are you enjoying that one?” he asks, seeing where you look. “A beauty, right? I tried to encapsulate what I felt while listening to the national anthem.”

“Right,” you croak. Seokjin seems to be holding back tears of laughter. “That’s… that’s what I thought when I saw it. The national anthem, absolutely.”

“I took inspiration from our forefathers.”

“Ah. Well… here’s hoping they don’t ask for it back.”

The artist pauses, then barks out a laugh. “Good one! I’ll have to remember that. Now, all the small paintings are three hundred, the medium ones are a thousand, and this piece” – he directs your attention to a tapestry-sized canvas – “is three thousand. My pride and joy.”

Realizing your mouth has fallen open, you shut it.

By this point, Seokjin has composed himself enough to speak. “I’ve been looking for a piece for my entryway for years,” he muses. “This speaks to me.”

You elbow him – hard – in the ribs, and Seokjin wheezes, but the man doesn’t notice.

“Good eye, sir,” he says eagerly.

When he turns around, you lean sideways. “What are you doing?” you hiss.

“Browsing,” Seokjin whispers back, his eyes alight.

“Are you really going to buy that?”

“Honestly? I’m considering it, just so it doesn’t hang in someone else’s home.”

“Stop,” you whisper-laugh, trying to school your expression. “I feel bad! This man clearly has passion for the arts –”

“And likely, the conservative party.”

“–and he put a lot of time into this!”

Seokjin shrugs. “Define a lot.”

Before you can protest further, the artist returns. Seokjin hems and haws a bit before vowing to come back tomorrow with more money.

“You’re ridiculous,” you groan when he leads you away.

Seokjin wiggles both eyebrows. “Who’s the one dating me?”

You almost correct him but look away at the last moment. “About that,” you say slowly. “Emilia… kind of cornered me earlier. She wanted to talk about us.”

Seokjin stops so abruptly you nearly walk past him. When you realize this and turn, he seems slightly nauseous.

“Did she…” He swallows. “What did she say?”

“She didn’t suspect this was… fake,” you whisper, glancing around – oh god, now you’re doing it. “If that’s what you’re thinking.”

Seokjin blinks, his expression inscrutable. “Oh – okay. Right. What did she want to talk about, then?”

The two of you begin walking through the stalls. Sipping your coffee, you take comfort in the familiar rush that it brings.

“She wanted to talk about how… she always thought you had feelings for me.”

“Ah.”

“I kind of went off on her.”

Seokjin looks at you, startled. “Oh?”

“Yeah.” You frown. “She was pissing me off. Going on and on about how it was all ‘meant to be.’ She said that you always liked me, and maybe that’s why things didn’t work out with you two. As though nothing was her fault. I mean, is it so hard to take some accountability? To admit that your actions have hurt people?”

Seokjin says nothing, continuing to walk alongside you. His brow is furrowed though, clearly deep in thought. You turn down an empty row of stalls – the farmer’s market is only half-full, given the season. It grants a semblance of privacy when he clears his throat.

“Y/N…” Seokjin hesitates and then stops. “What if… Emilia wasn’t wrong?”

“About what?”

“About… I don’t know. Did I ever tell you how we broke up?”

“Well, no. You just said that you did.”

Seokjin firmly meets your gaze. “I was the one who ended things.”

Time seems to slow again.

Slowly, the puzzle pieces slot themselves into place. Honestly, you aren’t sure why you didn’t realize sooner. Well, you know why. When Seokjin called you last week, he sounded upset. He sounded like he was in love with someone. You agreed to this mostly out of pity, assuming she had broken his heart. But if that’s not the case…

“Why?” you blurt.

Seokjin blinks. “Why, what?”

“Why did you break up with her?”

His gaze narrows. “Come on, Y/N,” he says, voice dropping when he takes a step closer. “Don’t you remember December?”

Your body goes still. Of course, you remember. You didn’t think that he did. Or if he did, you assumed it was something Seokjin wanted to ignore. The same way you haven’t talked about any other time you grew close.

Seeing your expression, his lips twist. “I almost kissed you that night in the bar. On my birthday.”

“I… know.”

“And you don’t think that was a red flag for my relationship?”

“We’d both been drinking,” you say, unconvinced. “It was a weird time for me. You were upset, and…”

His laugh is hollow. “That’s what I told myself at first, too. But then… I realized that even if all that was true, it wouldn’t have mattered if I loved her. So, I broke up with Emilia.”

You stare up at him, the events of the night rearranging themselves. You realize you’ve been thinking about that night all wrong. It wasn’t the night Seokjin almost kissed you, but the night he realized he didn’t love Emilia.

Before you can respond, Mr. Kim and Jaesuk walk around the corner. Emilia is right behind them, still sipping her coffee. She doesn’t meet your gaze, browsing the empty stalls instead.

“There you are,” says Jaesuk. “We’ve been looking for you everywhere. Mom wants to head to lunch. Are you ready to go?”

Seokjin watches you for another moment, then nods. Mrs. Kim and Seohyun meet you at the front doors, and Emilia joins them to show Mrs. Kim something. As soon as she does, Seohyun slows her pace to walk alongside you.

Noticing this, your stomach sours. Knowing what you know now, you can’t help but wonder if you’ve been unfair. From Emilia’s perspective, Seokjin broke up with her and immediately asked you out. Sure, the whole Jaesuk thing is still weird, but… possibly things are more complicated than you realized.

Glancing at Seohyun, you poke her in the arm. “Hey.”

She shoves the rest of a donut into her mouth. “If you’re hoping to trade the hat, I’m sorry. No takebacks.”

“No, it’s not that. Listen, you… should ease up on Emilia.”

Seohyun shoots you a look of betrayal. “Not you and Seokjin on my case!”

“This is just from me,” you sigh. “Nothing to do with Seokjin. I just… think this whole situation is awkward and multiple people are at fault. Not just her.”

Seohyun considers. Her gaze flicks to Emilia walking with Jaesuk.

“Well,” she grumbles. “It’s hard not to be mad. She hurt Seokjin. I’m mad at Jaesuk, too,” she adds with a scowl. “He should never have even considered asking her out.”

“Maybe. But then, you should probably also be mad at Seokjin. He’s the one who broke up with Emilia.”

She pauses. “Seokjin broke up with her?”

You nod, your suspicions confirmed. As much as it pains you to admit, Emilia has been classy in this regard. She could have aired Seokjin’s business to gain sympathy but chose to stay silent.

Seohyun thinks for a moment, her face shifting. “To tell you the truth, I never liked Emilia with Seokjin,” she admits.

“Why not?”

“They just didn’t… fit. Too similar, I think. What’s weird though, is that she totally fits with Jaesuk.”

“You should ease up on her,” you repeat.

She rolls her eyes. “Alright, fine, Miss Morality.”

“That’s a terrible superhero name.”

“Oh, yeah? What would you be, then?”

“I know what I’d be,” Seokjin announces while joining your duo. You start, wondering how much he overheard. “Probably something like World Wide Handsome. WWH. Swooping down to save the world with –”

“Hair gel and a mirror?” Seohyun cuts in. “Because that’s what that sounds like.”

The sound of their bickering follows you into the restaurant. Every time you visit Bear’s Nook you eat at the same, cozy restaurant in the middle of downtown. Seohyun chooses the seat beside Emilia to sit in, and you note Emilia’s look of surprise when Seohyun asks her a question.

It’s easy to forget how wealthy Seokjin’s family is. If it weren’t for the lavish lake house and personal driver, today is the type of day you’d have on your own. Today marks the last time you’ll be alone, though. Small dinner parties are planned for tomorrow and Wednesday, followed by the larger cocktail party on Thursday.

Everything has moved so fast, you haven’t even considered what the rest of this week will look like. For all Seokjin’s city life revolves around academia, he’s still a part of his family’s legacy here. Emilia fit into all that – she’s an Astor, after all. You’re a no one, especially without your fancy consulting job.

Before you can spiral any further, Seokjin places a menu before you. “I asked at the front, and they said they’ll still do the pecan pancakes if you want them.”

Your stomach flips. “You… asked about my order?”

“Of course,” Seokjin says, as if it’s the only answer. “I didn’t forget.”

Something about his tone makes you think he means more than your brunch order. You try to refocus on his family but again, a single thought rises to the surface.

Seokjin broke up with Emilia. He broke up with her after he almost kissed you. And now… well now, you wonder if your main rule has been broken. Maybe not everything Seokjin says should be taken at face value.

Maybe there are things you still don’t know about him, after all.

Author’s Note: thank you for reading so far! Continued in Part 2, here.

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