#reader x jin

There were already six pairs of shoes scattered by the front door, music playing quietly from a speaker somewhere in the living room, and at least three different conversations happening before you’d even taken your jacket off. Someone waved at you from the kitchen, another person you vaguely recognized from college smiled in your direction before going back to whatever story they were telling, and the smell of garlic and takeout filled the apartment.

“She’s here!” Mina called the second she spotted you. She was balancing two bowls in her hands, somehow managing not to drop either of them as she crossed the room. “Finally. I was about to tell everyone you bailed.”

“I said I’d be late,” you laughed, slipping your shoes off. “Some people have actual jobs.”

“So do I.”

“Then act like it,” you joked harshly. “I have you at 10am on a Wednesday asking me to bring ice cream. Sounds very unemployed to me.”

“It was an emergency.” You raised an eyebrow. “The convenience store only had one tub left and you know I need to host perfect hangouts, okay?”

“Yeah, I know you’re a control freak.”

“See?” Mina pointed at you before turning to the rest of the room. “She gets me.”

Haeun looked up from where she was sitting on the floor beside the coffee table, her legs crossed underneath her. “No,” she said, completely unimpressed. “She enables you.”

You laughed as you walked over, dropping onto the empty spot beside her before kissing her cheek.

“That’s what real love means,” Mina said like it was obvious.

“It’s definitely not what it means.” Haeun rolled her yes. Mina disappeared back into the kitchen, already distracted by someone asking where the serving spoons were. “You came empty-handed?” Haeun asked.

“I brought dessert.”

“Where?”

You reached into your tote bag and pulled out two tubs of ice cream, probably already melted. Mina immediately reappeared. “I KNEW I invited the right people.”

“You invited everyone,” you looked around to your friends who all raised an eyebrow. “What? It’s true, I love you guys but really I can’t believe everyone agreed to hangout a Wednesday night. Do you guys need a job or a reference? I can help you with…”

“This is why we leave early when you come to the hangouts.”

“Hey!”

“Agreed.”

An hour later, dinner had turned int a bit of a mess. Half the food and dessert were empty and every plate on the table was being shared whether the person who ordered it liked it or not. You’d barely managed to keep more than three fries on your own plate before Mina reached over to steal another one. She had always being a pain in the ass, specially the days you met her in college together with Haeun— at least the one was more generous and didn’t steal your fries.

“I don’t know why I even bother ordering food for myself.”

“You don’t,” she answered easily, popping the fry into her mouth. “You order food for the community.”

“The community can buy its own.”

“It could.”

“It should.”

“It won’t.” Haeun smiled into her drink. “You promised once you’d became rich you were always going to invite dinner.”

“I’m not rich, even Mina makes more money than me.”

“Doubtful,” your friend smiled.

“You manage the biggest singer in Korea right now, I know you’re making bank.” You pointed at her accusatory.

“I’ve never said I wasn’t making bank,” she said immediately. “I’m just saying probably not as much as you. You had been making big deals later.”

“That’s true,” Jiho said— another close friends of yours— suddenly everyone was having interest in the same conversation. He leaned back in his chair, “how’s work? The glamorous fashion world.”

You laughed. “Doesn’t feel glamorous at all. I spend more time looking at calendars than clothes.”

“What were you working on this week?” Haeun asked.

“A campaign for a luxury brand. I’m working now with some actor I’m not legally allowed to tell yet.”

Mina immediately leaned forward with interest. “I love hearing about celebrity gossip.”

“You literally work for IU. That’s the biggest it can get.”

“She’s too nice, she never reveals anything,” she pouted.

“Maybe because there’s no actual gossip going around,” you tried again.

“You work with more celebrities than me you have to have some.” She insisted.

“I work with their managers,” you corrected. “Literally I’m mostly coordinating schedules between the brand, photographers, stylists, management… making sure everyone’s available on the same day.”

“That sounds significantly less fun.” One of your other friends said. “I thought you just picked pretty outfits.”

“I wish.”

“You don’t even get free clothes?”

“I get emails.”

“I’d rather have the clothes.”

“So would I,” you sighed dramatically and everyone laughed. “But it’s still fun,” you admitted after a moment. “I get to see campaigns come together from the beginning, and when everything actually works it’s really satisfying.”

“You always sound happier talking about work than dating,” Mina pointed at you.

“Maybe because work doesn’t suck as much as dating,” you stated.

“I don’t know what that says about you.”

“Probably something concerning,” Haeun nodded.

Before you could answer, Soomin let out the longest sigh you’d ever heard. “Speaking of dating…” Everyone turned toward her. “I finally went out with that guy from Hinge.”

“The accountant?”

“The accountant.”

“And?”

Soomin stared into the distance for a second. “I don’t think he asked me a single question.”

Haeun frowned. “What do you mean?”

“I mean he spent an hour talking about himself.”

“That’s annoying,” you commented.

“He showed me a spreadsheet.”

There was a beat of silence. “A what?”

“A spreadsheet.”

“For work?”

“No. He tracks every restaurant he’s ever been to.”

Mina blinked and you tried not to laughed with Haeun “Actually…”

“No,” Soomin interrupted before she could finish. “Don’t even start.”

“I was going to say that’s kind of organized.”

“There was a section for him to rate the lighting!” she exclaimed frustrated.

“…Never mind.”

“I spent forty minutes pretending I cared about overhead lighting.”

You couldn’t help laughing. “I’m sorry.”

“No, you’re not.”

“It’s a good story.”

The table dissolved into laughter, and once everyone had recovered, the stories started coming one after another. One date had ended with someone accidentally running into their ex halfway through dinner. Another had spent the entire evening talking about cryptocurrency. Someone else admitted they’d been ghosted after what they thought had been the most amazing date ever.

“It feels impossible lately,” Soomin complained, reaching for another slice of pizza. “Either they’re creepy, they just wanna fuck or they’re trying to use you to make their ex jealous.”

“Usually all at once,” Jiho added.

“What about you?” Mina looked over at you. “Any exciting romantic developments?”

You looked up from your plate. “Not really.”

“None?”

“I’ve been on exactly one date this year.”

“The guy from the bookstore?” You nodded. “What happened to him?”

“He was nice but… I don’t know,” you thought about it for a second before shrugging. “He didn’t made me nervous or excited. I guess… he just wasn’t my person.”

“How do you know after one date?” Jiho asked.

“I don’t know.” You smiled a little. “You can usually tell if you actually want to see someone again and I didn’t.”

“So you’re taking a break from dating?” Haeun asked.

“I think so.”

“For how long?” she asked curious.

“I don’t know,” you said simply.

Mina rested her chin in her hand. “I’ve been saying this for years.”

“What?”

“You expect too much for a first date.”

You laughed. “I really don’t.”

“You do.”

“I have standards.”

“You have requirements.”

“I have normal requirements.”

“You eliminated a guy because you thought he was checking his reflection in every window you walked past.”

“He was.”

“You eliminated another one because he called every woman ‘female.’”

“That one was justified.”

“Okay, fair.” She frowned. “But one time you left a date because he was too perfect.”

“He was. He could definitely do better,” you nodded thoughtful.

“You know what?” Haeun grinned. “I support you for that one.”

“But,” Mina continued, refusing to give up, “my point still stands.”

“What point?”

“You’ve built this perfect imaginary man in your head,” she pointed at you. “After your ex boyfriend you’ve just put excuses for every new guy.”

“Not true and I really haven’t.”

“You have.”

“I just don’t want to date someone for the sake of dating.” The room quieted a little, everyone listening now. “I’ve done that before,” you admitted. “You convince yourself maybe the attraction will grow or maybe you’ll eventually have more in common, and then three months later you’re wondering why you stayed. I’d rather be single than settle because everyone thinks I should have a boyfriend.”

Haeun nodded. “I actually agree.”

“You always agree with her.”

“Because she’s right.”

Mina rolled her eyes dramatically. “Fine. I support healthy standards.”

“Thank you.”

“But you need to be a little more open,” she accused you.

“Sure, I’ll try.” You said without making it a big deal.

“I can help if you want me to. I can put you out with some friends.” Her smile started getting bigger.

You already knew where this was going. “No, thank you.”

“I absolutely can. I’m great at matchmaking...”

“Mina.”

“I know a lot of people who would be perfect for you,” she insisted.

“You know people who you think would be perfect for me.” You corrected her.

She ignored you completely. “What about my coworker?”

“No.”

“My cousin’s friend?”

“No.”

“The photographer I met last month?”

“You’ve run out of people already?”

She frowned, pretending to think. “Hm…” Then her face lit up. “Oh.”

“No.”

“What about Jin?”

You looked at her blankly. “…Which Jin?”

“Kim Seokjin.”

You stared at her for a second before laughing. “The idol?”

“Yes, the idol.” She said obvious.

“Mina,” you looked at her incredulous.

“What?”

“I’ve said hello to him, like… three times.”

“So you’ve met,” Mina took it as a win.

“I’ve greeted him.”

“Close enough.”

“It’s really not.”

“You literally worked with Taehyung,” she reminded you.

“I work with brands that hire Taehyung,” you corrected. “Those are two very different things.”

“But you’ve met Jin.”

“I’ve been in the same room as Seokjin.”

“And?”

“And that’s it.”

Haeun smiled, shaking her head. “I don’t even think he’s spoken more than five words to her.”

“He made me show him where the coffee station was once,” you told her. “And I think one time I probably bumped into him accidentally.”

“There you go,” Mina replied triumphantly. “You’re basically family.”

You laughed so hard you nearly spilled your drink. “I don’t even think he’d recognize me if we crossed paths tomorrow.”

“He might.”

“He absolutely would not.”

Mina insisted. “He’s a really nice person. Very shy but I know he would be perfect for you!. Ugh, I need to find an excuse to invite him to some hangouts now…”

“I’ll pass. Thank you.”

Your friend sighed dramatically. Like she had lost the war. “Fine. I tried.”

“You really did,” you said sarcastically.

“I’ll keep looking.”

“Please don’t.”

“Too late.”

By the time someone suggested opening another bottle of wine, the conversation had already moved on to something completely different. Jin’s name disappeared from the room as quickly as it’d come up, buried beneath complaints about work, arguments over which movie they should watch after finishing the dinner and if the next hangout would be this same month or the next one, trying to match schedules.

You didn’t think about him again that night. There wasn’t any reason to. After all, he was just someone you’d crossed paths with a handful of times through work— a polite face attached to brief greetings backstage or at brand events before you both disappeared back into your own schedules. The joke was exactly that: a joke. One of dozens exchanged over dinner that evening, forgotten almost as quickly as it had been said.

At least, that’s what you thought then.

——————————

Your apartment was completely dead by the time you arrived there. You dropped your keys into the ceramic bowl by the front door out of habit, kicked your shoes off somewhere behind you, and stood there for a second, stretching and feeling the weight of the day finally catching up to your body. After spending the last five hours surrounded by people talking over one another, laughing across the dinner table and arguing about movies nobody was actually going to watch, your own apartment almost felt unnaturally still. But you weren’t tired yet. Comfortably full, maybe. Socially exhausted definitely.

You changed into an oversized T-shirt, took your makeup off, tied your hair into a messy bun and wandered into the kitchen for a glass of water, your phone tucked underneath one arm. There were already three new messages in the group chat but you were too lazy to check, maybe it was just Mina planning the next hangout already.

By the time you crawled into bed, the digital clock on your nightstand had already slipped past one in the morning. You should definitely needed to sleep, however, sleep didn’t seem nearly as interested in finding you. You rolled onto your back, staring at the ceiling, thinking about some words that didn’t left your mind the entirely night after the conversation. Mina wasn’t entirely wrong, probably that was the most annoying part.

You really hadn’t been trying. For a while, you’d blamed it on work. Luxury fashion PR wasn’t exactly a nine-to-five job, especially once campaign season picked up. Some weeks you barely had time to eat lunch before someone called to tell you a fitting had been moved, a photographer had cancelled, or a celebrity’s schedule had changed for the third time in two days. It was easier to tell people you were busy than admit dating had quietly slipped to the bottom of your priorities.

But work wasn’t the real reason… or at least not completely. If you were honest with yourself, it had started long before your calendar became impossible. Your last relationship had ended almost two years ago. It didn’t really end in a dramatic way, nobody cheated and nobody threw plates across the room or begged anyone to stay, it had simply stopped working. Between different priorities, missed conversations and the slow realization spending time with someone was actually a big part for it to work, the relationship had quietly unraveled until one day you both admitted what you’d been avoiding for months.

Of course it hurt but the worst part hadn’t even been the breakup itself, it was everything that came after. Friends insisting you “just needed to get back out there,” blind dates, dating apps, conversations that felt more like interviews than actual conversations. Men who spent the entire evening talking about themselves. Men who seemed offended that you actually liked your career. Men who confused confidence with arrogance… Eventually, somewhere along the way, you’d stopped opening the apps, stopped agreeing to dates, stopped looking altogether.

It wasn’t that you’d decided to stay single forever. You’d simply gotten… comfortable in your own world, comfortable with your own routines, comfortable with dinners by yourself, comfortable enough that dating started feeling like another task to squeeze into an already busy week…. But Mina had been right, maybe you had checked out.

You reached for your phone on the bedside table and almost without thinking, you opened Hinge. Your profile was still there with the same pictures of months ago, the same prompts and a handful of likes waiting from weeks ago. You stared at the screen for maybe ten seconds before quietly laughing to yourself.

“Fuck no.” You closed the app.

You turned your phone over in your hands before another thought floated back into your head.

What about Jin? You actually laughed out loud this time. Mina’s ridiculous, you thought.

Of all the people she could’ve named… It wasn’t even that the suggestion was impossible— although it obviously was— it was just… random. You’d met him before… technically. The same way you’d “met” dozens of celebrities through work. A greeting backstage before a fitting, a polite nod while waiting for a meeting room to open, someone introducing you in passing before both of you were immediately pulled in opposite directions.

If you passed each other on the street tomorrow, you doubted he’d recognize you. You weren’t even sure you’d recognize him immediately either. Celebrities always looked different once they were standing three feet away instead of behind professionally edited photos.

Still… Why Seokjin?

You frowned slightly, unlocking your phone again. Purely out of curiosity you typed his name into Instagram. His account appeared immediately. Millions of followers and likes. Well, you couldn’t exactly say Mina had terrible taste. He was ridiculously handsome, that much was obvious.

You spent a minute absentmindedly scrolling through his feed, expecting to lose interest almost immediately. Instead… there wasn’t actually that much to see. A few campaign photos, brand collaborations, professional shoots, some travel and some silly pictures on tour. He looked exactly how you’d expect someone like Kim Seokjin to look. Polished, expensive and almost intimidatingly good-looking.

You were just about to close the app when your thumb drifted to the side to see his tagged posts. There were dozens of pictures and videos he was tagged from fans… One clip couldn’t hurt. It was only twenty seconds. A compilation of him throwing flower petals over him in award shows. You chuckled at his confidence and attitude, he was pretty funny.

“Cute,” you mumbled before catching yourself.

No, not cure. Funny. Endearing. There was a difference.

You scrolled a bit and another reel played. One that looked like it came from some variety show. He was laughing so hard he had both hands over his face, shoulders shaking as someone off-camera kept teasing him about something you didn’t understand. But he was so red and he laughed so loud it was really annoying.

You smiled. Then watched another… and another. One where he was stubbornly refusing to lose a game. One edit where he was winning a game and looked really hot. Another where he somehow managed to make everyone around him laugh within thirty seconds. One where he was confidently explaining something before immediately proving himself wrong.

Your eyebrows lifted slightly. He was… really funny. Not in the polished, media-trained way celebrities sometimes were, just naturally funny, comfortable in his own skin, a little too dramatic. The kind of person who didn’t seem embarrassed about laughing at himself or do something cringe just for the fun of it.

Later you were lying in the exact same position, phone balanced against your knees, smiling at a man you’d exchanged maybe three greetings with over the course of your entire career. You hadn’t even noticed how much time had passed until Instagram reminded you you’d reached your three hours of the day. Your thumb hovered over the screen.

“Holy shit.” You’ve spent three hours watching videos of Kim Seokjin. You lowered the phone onto your chest and stared at the ceiling. “Ah, fuck.”

Now you understood why Mina had said it. Not because he was famous or because he was objectively attractive. From the little you’d seen… He actually seemed exactly like the kind of person you would’ve liked if he’d been anyone else.

Shit.

——————————

The next time you saw Seokjin was not really your doing. It was, for once, the universe deciding to be surprisingly generous. Well… generous was probably a strong word. Convenient, that sounded way better.

The invitation had landed in your inbox earlier that week, forwarded by one of the stylists your agency worked with every few months. It wasn’t a launch party or a brand event, nothing that required speeches, photographers or carefully prepared guest lists. Someone had wrapped up a successful campaign, someone else had just gotten back from a tour overseas, and somewhere along the way the excuse had turned into come over, bring whoever you want and let’s have a drink. Half the people attending knew each other from the entertainment industry, the other half from fashion, and after working in luxury fashion PR for long enough, you’d realized the two worlds overlapped far more than most people imagined. So you decided to attend for once since Mina was going too.

By the time you arrived, the apartment was already buzzing with conversation. Music drifted through the open balcony doors, low enough that people didn’t have to raise their voices over it, and every surface seemed to be covered in bottles, half-empty glasses and small plates of food that everyone kept picking at without remembering what was theirs. Someone from a magazine you occasionally coordinated shoots with greeted you on your way in, another stylist pulled you into a quick conversation about Paris Fashion Week before disappearing again, and not five minutes later you spotted Mina standing near the dining table with a wine glass in one hand, laughing at something a singer beside her had just said.

She noticed you almost immediately. “There you are,” she said, reaching over to squeeze your arm as you walked up. “I was starting to think you weren’t coming.”

“I almost didn’t,” you admitted with a smile. “I spent all afternoon fixing a schedule because one actor suddenly decided he’d rather shoot in Milan than Seoul.”

Mina winced sympathetically. “Please don’t remind me what was working with actors. I still have PTSD.”

“You’re lucky you got yourself a nice boss.”

“Still stressful sometimes,” she grimaced. “Today I’ve answered twenty-five phone calls since six o’clock.”

“You counted?” You raised your eyebrows, not really surprised.

“I was angry enough to.”

You laughed, taking the glass she silently offered you.“Everything okay?”

She nodded. “Fine now. Everyone was losing their minds because they thought she wasn’t making it in time to a big event after a rehearsal fit. Bitch, I did her schedule, she was going to make it on time.”

“Only took twenty calls.”

“Twenty-five,” she corrected, like it was something it needed to be remembered.

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” she sighed dramatically before taking a sip of her wine. “I’ve accepted that this is my life now.”

The two of you stayed where you were for a while, talking about work the way people only could when they understood each other’s jobs. Mina complained about artists changing their minds at the last minute, you complained about luxury brands insisting every campaign was somehow the most important project of the year, and somewhere between those conversations someone joined in to tell a story about a photographer who’d accidentally shown up to a shoot in the wrong country. You weren’t sure if he was joking. With this industry, it was genuinely difficult to tell.

At some point your conversation broke apart naturally as people wandered off into smaller groups, and you found yourself listening more than talking, occasionally adding a comment before someone else picked up the thread. It was comfortable, you liked those kinds of gatherings, nobody expected anything from anyone. People drifted between conversations, disappeared onto the balcony, returned twenty minutes later carrying dessert as if they’d never left. People knew each other.

You were halfway through listening to a stylist passionately explain why silver jewelry was making a comeback when the front door opened again. Someone greeted the newcomers loudly enough for half the apartment to glance over.

You looked up too. And there he was.

Kim Seokjin stepped inside with an easy smile, greeting the host before taking a moment to shake hands with someone near the entrance. He looked almost exactly the way you remembered him from the handful of events where your paths had crossed over the years, except this time your brain supplied far more information than it had any right to.

He really giggles like that. The thought appeared before you could stop it… But he really did.

The laugh you’d heard through your phone speakers more times that you would ever admit out loud, it was unmistakable, warm enough that it carried across the room for being too loud. It was strangely disorienting, recognizing something so familiar about someone you barely knew.

You looked away almost immediately. Not because you’d been caught staring— he hadn’t even looked in your direction yet— but because it suddenly felt ridiculous that your first instinct had been to compare him to internet clips.

Get a grip.

You took another sip of your drink and forced yourself back into the conversation happening beside you, although it lasted all of three minutes before your attention wandered again. It wasn’t intentional, not that you would admit anyway. You simply… noticed him more this time.

You noticed that he never interrupted people when they were speaking, even if they were telling a story that was clearly going nowhere. That when someone walked over to say hello, he turned his whole body toward them instead of trying to keep talking to someone else at the same time. Every now and then someone would laugh at something he’d said, but he never seemed interested in becoming the center of the room. If anything, he looked happiest standing slightly off to the side, listening.

It was odd. A month ago you probably wouldn’t have registered any of it. Now every little habit felt strangely familiar, as though you’d skipped several chapters of a book and were only now catching up.

You were still mentally scolding yourself for finding this amusing when someone asked if anybody wanted another drink. You looked down at your empty glass. “I’ll grab one,” you said.

The kitchen was thankfully quieter than the living room. Someone had left the balcony door open just enough for the cool evening air to drift inside, carrying the faint sound of conversation from outside. You set your empty glass beside the sink and reached for one of the bottles lined up along the counter, only realizing someone else was doing exactly the same thing from the opposite side. Your hands bumping into each other a little hard.

You looked up. “So, you finally found your way to the beverage station without any help?.”

The words slipped out before you thought about them. For a second Jin looked almost confused. Then recognition settled across his face and he laughed softly as he blushed slightly.

“I did it all alone.”

“So I’m not imagining it.”

“No,” he smiled, reaching for another glass. “The first time was over coffee, right?.”

“Oh.” You pointed at him. “You asked where it was and then your manager made me guide you to the station.”

“Yeah… that happened.” He chuckled nervously.

“Don’t worry, I know the importance of coffee in the morning.”

Jin nodded in complete agreement. “Thank you. Coffee is the most important thing to survive.”

“And now alcohol. We’re upgrading.” You joked and he smiled.

For a brief moment the conversation settled into a comfortable silence while the two of you poured your drinks. It wasn’t really awkward, just a bit weird.

He glanced toward the living room before looking back at you. “You still work at Étoile?”

The question caught you pleasantly off guard. He knew that?. Maybe he remembered you working with Taehyung a lot. “I do.”

“I wasn’t sure. I thought I recognized you at the Cartier event a few months ago. I wasn’t completely certain.”

“I spend most of those events trying not to look stressed so I probably had a completely different face.” You said truthfully and Jin chuckled.

“You hide it well.”

“I absolutely don’t.”

“You do.”

“I promise I don’t.”

“I’ve only ever seen you looking very calm.”

You laughed. “That’s because if I panic, everyone else starts panicking.”

“So you’re secretly panicking,” he hummed.

“Almost constantly.”

“That actually makes me feel better. I thought everyone in fashion had their lives together.”

You stared at him for a second before bursting into laughter. “I’m sorry… Who told you that?”

“A lot of people?” He obviously lied.

“They lied.”

“So none of you know what you’re doing?” He asked jokingly.

“Oh, we know what we’re doing.” You leaned against the counter with an amused smile. “We just happen to be doing it while answering twelve phone calls, rewriting schedules and praying nobody changes their outfit thirty minutes before a campaign. So we are always panicking while making everything work.”

“That sounds exhausting.”

“It is.”

“What keeps you there then?”

You thought about it for a moment. “I like watching everything come together.”

“The campaigns?”

You nodded. “People only ever see the finished product, but there are so many people behind them. Stylists, assistants, lighting teams, producers, makeup artists… I like being part of that.” He listened without interrupting, his attention resting entirely on you in a way that felt unexpectedly rare. “I don’t know,” you continued with a small shrug. “When something goes well, it’s satisfying.”

“I get that.”

“I would thought so,” you smiled slightly. “Fashion it’s a performance so you should know about that.”

He smiled at that. You liked his smile. “I do. And I know the feeling when people assume performing is only the two hours you’re on stage.”

“But it isn’t.”

He shook his head. “It’s months before that. Rehearsals, meetings, recordings, planning… by the time people finally see something, you’ve been living with it for a long time.”

“I never really thought about it like that,” you hummed.

“I guess we’re both in jobs where everyone only notices the finished product.”

You smiled. “I like that.”

“So do I.”

The conversation wandered from there almost effortlessly. Somehow it turned into travel after he mentioned how often work had him living out of a suitcase, which became a debate over whether airport coffee was actually drinkable, which then led to food recommendations in different cities and also about what was the best dessert to have after a big dinner, and before either of you realized it, the glasses you’d filled at the beginning of the conversation were nearly empty.

You found yourself laughing far more than you’d expected to. Not because he was trying particularly hard to be funny, but because talking to him felt very easy and comfortable.

He listened just as much as he spoke, asked questions that made it obvious he was genuinely interested in the answers, and had a habit of smiling halfway through your stories that somehow encouraged you to keep talking. Every now and then he’d tell one of his own, usually ending it with an expression that suggested he still couldn’t believe it had happened, and you understood almost immediately why people seemed so comfortable around him.

“Hey.” Both of you turned at the sound of Mina’s voice. She was standing in the doorway with an amused smile, looking between the two of you before raising an eyebrow. “I’ve been looking for you,” she said, directing the comment at you. “Apparently someone wants to talk to you about a campaign you did last year. Hey Jin,” she greeted him with a smile he returned.

You blinked a bit confused. “How long have I been in here?”

“I don’t know.” Mina glanced at Jin before looking back at you. “Long enough that I assumed you’d gone home already.”

You laughed, setting your empty glass on the counter. “I should probably go save my professional reputation.”

“Probably.”

You looked back at Jin. “It was really nice talking to you.”

“You too,” he said with an easy smile. “Hopefully next time it won’t be around coffee or water.”

“I can’t promise anything. I like drinks.”

“I guess we’ll find out then.”

You smiled once before following Mina back toward the living room, already letting yourself get pulled into another conversation before you’d made it halfway across the apartment.

The rest of the evening passed with too many conversations happening at once, people arriving and leaving whenever they pleased, someone ordering late-night food nobody needed but everyone ate anyway. You spoke to Seokjin once more before leaving, nothing more than a quick goodbye as people gathered near the front door, and by the time you stepped into the elevator you were convinced that was all the night would become.

It wasn’t until you were driving home with the windows cracked open and the music playing quietly in the background that you realized something had changed. It wasn’t that you’d spent the evening talking to someone super famous, that part genuinely didn’t matter. It was that, somewhere between discussing airport coffee, impossible work schedules and the strange satisfaction of seeing a project finally come together, you’d completely lost track of time.

You couldn’t remember the last conversation you’d had with someone new that had felt so effortless.

And, much to your own surprise, you caught yourself wondering what the two of you would’ve talked about if someone hadn’t interrupted. That thought stayed with you all the way home, quietly settling into the back of your mind.

For the first time in a long while, you found yourself hoping your paths crossed again. And, for the first time ever, you just knew it will happen again.

——————————

You could dress it up however you wanted, tell yourself you were simply becoming more social or that it had been nice meeting new people outside of work, but somewhere between leaving that apartment three weeks ago and accepting yet another invitation you normally would’ve declined, you’d become painfully aware of one very embarrassing fact.

You were trying to see him again. Not in a creepy way, of course… At least, that’s what you insisted every time the thought crossed your mind.

It just so happened that after that night you’d kept in touch with a few of the people you’d met. One of the photographers had sent you a meme after discovering you shared the same hatred for some kind of food, a stylist had invited you to lunch with a couple of mutual friends, and before long you found yourself in a group chat that seemed to organize dinners, birthdays and last-minute gatherings every other weekend.

You said yes to all of them.

Was it because you’d genuinely enjoyed everyone’s company? Absolutely. Was it also because every invitation carried the tiny possibility that Jin might be there? …That part didn’t need to be examined too closely.

By the third invitation you had accepted, even Mina had started looking at you suspiciously. “You’ve become weirdly available lately.”

You looked up from where you were digging through your wardrobe. “I’ve always been available.”

“You canceled dinner with me two weeks ago,” she reminded you.

“I had work.”

“You left work at six.”

“Then I was tired.”

Mina crossed her arms, watching as you held two nearly identical sweaters up against yourself before putting one back on the hanger. “And yet,” she continued slowly, “you’re apparently not too tired to drive forty-five minutes across the city for a casual hangout hosted by people you’ve known for…” She pretended to count on her fingers. “…Roughly three weeks?”

You didn’t even bother turning around. “I’ve known them more time, silly. We just started talking more since the hangout. We connected.”

“Right. I’m sure you did.” She said suspiciously.

“They’re fun.”

“Mhm.”

“And it’s good to make new friends.”

“Mhm.”

You sighed, finally looking at her. “Okay, what? What are you implying?”

“I’m not implying anything.”

“You’re humming like a bitch, just say it.”

Mina smiled into her coffee before taking a sip. “I just think it’s interesting.”

“What is?”

“That you suddenly have a thriving social life.”

“I’ve always had a social life.”

“You absolutely have not.”

“I did.”

“You’ve spent the last year declining every invitation that wasn’t work-related.”

You opened your mouth to argue before stopping halfway through. “…Okay, you’re right. But I’m just trying something different now.”

“I think that’s great.”

“I knew you’d understand,” you pointed at her with a cheeky smiled, turning around to keep looking for an outfit.

“I do.” She smiled sweetly. “I also think it has absolutely nothing to do with the fact that a certain someone might be there tonight.”

You froze for a second before reaching for the nearest cushion and threw it at her. “Shut up.”

She caught it without much effort. “I knew it”

“You don’t know shit.”

You rolled your eyes, but the smile tugging at the corner of your mouth ruined whatever annoyance you were trying to perform. “I cant believe I was right. Do you like Seokjin?”

“Of course not!” You laughed despite yourself, dropping onto the edge of your bed. “I barely know him.”

“But you wanna see him again,” she pointed out.

“… Yeah.” You couldn’t lie. “I don’t even know him enough to know if I like him but… I don’t know. He’s cute.”

“I haven’t see you interested in someone in so long!” She said excitedly. “I’m so happy. I’m sure he’s interested in you too.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I can feel a vibe.”

“I bet he barely remembers our conversation. He was probably being just polite.” You shook your head.

“Nah, people usually remember conversations. At least he had to remember a word or something.”

You groaned dramatically, burying your face in your hands. “You’re the worst person to ask for reassurance.”

“I don’t think he dislikes you.”

“That’s not reassuring at all!.”

“Okay, okay. I’m serious.” She set her coffee down before looking at you properly. “From what I saw that night, he looked comfortable talking to you.”

“He also looked comfortable talking to literally everyone.”

“Thats true but because he knew everyone. Usually with new people he’s very shy. So the fact that he was talking to you comfortably I think it says a lot.”

“So?”

“So go and find out. Talk to him more, see if you actually like him.”

You chuckled. “Okay, sure. Whatever I’ll just go. Worst-case scenario, I spend an evening with nice people.”

“And best-case scenario?” She raised an eyebrow.

“I’ll tell you about it if it happens,” you said with a smirk.

Mina groaned so loudly that she nearly spilled her coffee laughing.

——————————

The gathering was even smaller than the last one. Someone had volunteered their apartment, someone else had ordered enough food to feed twice the number of guests, and by the time you arrived most people were already spread around the living room, talking over one another while music played quietly from the speakers. You recognized almost everyone this time. Not well enough to call them close friends, but enough that conversations started easily

The photographer from the previous party greeted you with a hug before immediately pulling you into a discussion about an impossible decision he had to make for his career, an stylist insisted you try whatever dessert she’d brought, and before long you found yourself laughing at stories from a recent campaign shoot that had apparently gone catastrophically wrong. It felt surprisingly natural and comfortable being with these people you never really had the chance to get closer to.

You were halfway through telling someone about a model who’d accidentally boarded the wrong train during Milan Fashion Week when the apartment door opened. You didn’t look immediately because you obviously weren’t waiting for anyone.

Then someone near the entrance said, “Jin!”

Your head turned so fast you almost broke your beck… Very subtle.

He stepped inside carrying a paper bag from a bakery, apologizing for being late before greeting the host. There was something oddly familiar about watching him move through the room now. A month ago he would’ve blended into the evening like everyone else. Now you found yourself recognizing little things almost unconsciously— the way he smiled before saying hello, the habit of slightly bowing his head when someone older greeted him, how he always seemed to listen before speaking.

You hated that your brain had memorized all of it.

He spotted you a few moments later. There was the smallest pause before recognition crossed his face, followed by an easy smile. “Hey.”

“Hi.”

“You made it.”

The words were so ordinary that you almost laughed. “So did you.”

“I almost didn’t. Work really keeps you busy.”

“Were you actually working, or is that the excuse everyone in our industry uses?”

He smiled, rubbing the back of his neck. “…Both.”

“Fair enough.”

Someone called his name before either of you could continue. “I’ll talk to you later,” he said apologetically, nodding toward the group waiting for him.

“Yeah, of course.”

He disappeared almost immediately and you watched him walk away before frowning slightly. You weren’t entirely convinced if he was just being nice of if he also felt that weird vibe going between you two. Maybe you were just too delusional.

Over the next hour your paths kept crossing in the strangest ways. Every time you thought maybe you should walk over, someone else was already talking to him. When he finally looked free, another friend dragged you into a conversation on the balcony. Then, just as you managed to excuse yourself, Jin was helping someone carry drinks into the kitchen.

It was becoming almost comical.

You couldn’t help smiling when he finally made his way over, balancing two glasses in one hand after what felt like an entire evening of narrowly missing each other. It had almost become a running joke in your own head; every time one of you looked free, someone else inevitably appeared to steal the other’s attention. By now it was honestly impressive.

“I was starting to think this apartment was cursed,” you said as he stopped beside you, accepting the glass he held out. “Every single time I thought about coming over to talk to you, somebody got there first.”

“You wanted to talk to me?”

“Of course,” you didn’t shy away, trying not to make the situation uncomfortable. “We had a nice chat last time.”

A laugh escaped him, quieter than the ones you’d heard from across the room but just as genuine, and he shook his head before taking a sip of his drink. “Me too. And I thought that was only happening to me,” he admitted. “Twice I walked over because I figured everyone was finally done talking to you, and then someone else started another conversation before I made it halfway across the room.”

“Seriously?”

“Mhm.” He smiled, looking almost sheepish. “At one point I thought maybe you were avoiding me.”

You looked at him for a second before laughing “I thought you were avoiding me.”

For a moment he simply stared at you, almost as if he was trying to decide whether you were joking, before the corners of his mouth lifted again. “So we’ve both spent the last hour being wrong.”

“I guess we have.”

Whatever awkwardness had followed you around since he’d arrived seemed to disappear with that exchange. It wasn’t some magical shift where suddenly everything became effortless, but the uncertainty you’d both apparently been carrying dissolved enough that the conversation no longer felt like something either of you had to force. Instead of wondering whether you were interrupting him or whether he was only being polite, you found yourselves walking toward the quieter side of the balcony almost without thinking, making room for another group squeezing through the doorway while continuing exactly where you’d left off.

“So, what do you do for work?” You said almost jokingly.

He looked genuinely caught off guard by the question. “What do you mean? You already know.”

“I don’t know,” you laughed. “Everybody always asks what you do for work, but work is only part of your life. So I don’t know, maybe tell me something you like to do that is not working.”

He thought about it for a second, absentmindedly turning his glass in his hands. “I sleep.”

You looked at him. “That cannot be your final answer.”

“I’m serious.”

“I believe you. I just refuse to accept it.”

“It takes up a surprising amount of my free time.”

“I’m trying to discover your hobbies, Seokjin.”

Jin smiled to himself before giving in. “I play video-games.”

“You play video games?”

“I do,” he nodded confidently even when his neck started getting red. “And I’m really good at them. Computer games, play station. Everything.”

“That’s nice,” you nodded with a little chuckle trying to scape out of your lips. “I don’t know anything about that.”

“It’s pretty fun.”

“Yeah, I can tell by the way you talk about it.”

He laughed quietly, and there was something strangely endearing about how easily he laughed at himself. Most people, especially in your line of work, had a habit of polishing every story until they sounded impressive. Jin seemed to do the opposite. Every time he talked about something he’d done well, he somehow ended up mentioning the part that had gone wrong too, as though he didn’t really see the point in pretending otherwise.

“So what about you?” he asked. “What do you like to do?”

You smiled. “I like to read.”

“What kind of books?”

“Anything that makes me forget to check my phone.”

He nodded thoughtfully. “I like movies like that.”

“The ones where you forget you’re watching one?”

“Exactly.”

“Oh my god. I actually have a section in my Letterbox like that. ‘Movies that feel like movies.’” You said excited.

“I’m gonna need you to send me your account then,” he said seriously.

The two of you ended up lingering near the balcony more minutes, just talking. Around you, people drifted in and out of the apartment with the same relaxed rhythm the evening had carried from the beginning. Someone stepped outside to answer a phone call, another group squeezed past on their way to refill drinks, music floated faintly from the living room, but none of it seemed to interrupt the conversation anymore. It simply became part of the background.

“I know this is going to sounds ridiculous.” He looked almost embarrassed. “But I’m not great with new people,” he admitted. “So I’m glad you’re easy to talk to.”

“Really? You said, shaking your head as you leaned against the railing. “You seem so in ease.”

“Nah. Two years ago you probably would’ve had to carry the conversation by yourself.”

“I feel like I already do that sometimes.”

He looked at you, amused. “You?”

“I overshare when I’m nervous.”

“I would’ve never guessed.”

“Exactly. That’s the problem, I just talk to much.”

Jin smiled to himself before taking another sip of his drink. “I get quieter.”

“So we’re opposites.”

“Maybe.”

“I fill every silence.”

“I wait for the other person to.”

“So we are a match made in heaven.”

“Exactly.”

You both laughed, and for a second you simply watched the people inside the apartment. Someone had convinced half the room to play some card game that looked increasingly chaotic with every passing minute. A girl was already arguing about the rules despite the game having barely started.

“You know,” you said, “It’s kind of funny. I would’ve guessed the complete opposite.”

“About me?”

You nodded. “I don’t know… I think because you’re around people all the time, I just assumed talking to strangers came naturally.”

“It doesn’t, at all.” He shook his head. “I still overthink almost every conversation.”

You frowned. “Seriously?”

“Mhm.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“It’s true.”

“But you seem…” You searched for the right word. “…Comfortable.”

“I pretend.”

“So you’re acting?”

He laughed. “I don’t know if I’d call it acting.”

“What would you call it?”

“I just… remind myself that nobody else knows I’m nervous.”

You looked at him for a moment, surprised by how simple the answer was. “I’ve never thought about it like that.

“It helps.”

“I usually assume everyone can tell.”

“I think everyone assumes that.”

You smiled. “I’ve spent half my career convinced people can see me panicking.”

He looked genuinely confused. “I thought you were one of those people who had everything under control.”

You laughed so suddenly you nearly spilled your drink. “I don’t think anyone who’s worked with me would describe me that way.”

“They would.”

“They absolutely wouldn’t.”

“They would.”

“Seokjin.”

“I’m serious.”

You raised an eyebrow. “You’ve only talked to me like twice.”

“I would say more.”

“Mm, not really.”

He nodded. “There was a campaign dinner last winter where we talked a bit.”

You blinked a little taken aback. “You remember that?”

“You were trying to find someone’s assistant. I remember because in that event you were working with Taehyung too.”

“Ah, yes. I was trying to find a missing garment bag.” You couldn’t stop yourself from laughing. “I can’t believe you remember that.”

He shrugged almost apologetically. “I remember weird things.”

“Apparently.”

There was something about that answer that stayed with you. Not because he’d remembered the event itself— that wasn’t impossible— but because he’d remembered you in it. You hadn’t been the client, you hadn’t been the center of the evening. You’d simply been another person running around making sure everything worked. Most people never noticed those things.

“You know what’s strange?” you asked after a moment. “I’ve spent years assuming nobody notices the people behind events.”

Jin tilted his head. “Some do.”

“You do.”

“People behind the scene make everything happen. It’s impossible not to notice.”

You smiled, a little uncertainly. “Most people only remember the face wearing the clothes.”

“I think that’s normal.”

“I know.”

“But…” He paused for a second, as though trying to explain something he hadn’t really put into words before. “I think once you’ve worked around enough productions, you start noticing the people who keep everything moving. You can usually tell who’s solving problems. I guess that’s why I noticed you.”

You looked down at your glass for a second before smiling. “I don’t think anyone’s ever complimented me like that.”

He looked almost surprised. “It was a compliment?”

“Yeah. For me it is.”

“I was just telling the truth.”

The conversation wandered somewhere else after that, not because either of you tried to change the subject but because that seemed to be how talking to him worked. One thought naturally led to another. You ended up discussing the strange satisfaction of crossing things off handwritten to-do lists, the fact that both of you still preferred carrying notebooks despite having every reminder imaginable on your phones, how much you hated the smell of beer, how much he loved snowboarding and the ridiculous amount of time people spent pretending to enjoy networking events.

“So you don’t like them either?” you asked.

“I like leaving them.”

You laughed out loud. “That’s such an honest answer.”

“I always tell myself I’ll stay for an hour. Then I look at the time and it’s three hours later.” He shook his head. “Every time.”

“Why don’t you leave?”

Jin smiled. “Because then I meet someone interesting.”

You felt your heart give one annoyingly noticeable beat. “Does that happen often to you?.”

“It doesn’t.” Before you could think of a response, someone called his name from inside. He turned instinctively. “What?”

“Your food is getting cold! Are you eating?”

“I’ll be there!” He looked back at you almost immediately. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

“You were saying?”

The fact that he’d come back to the conversation instead of letting it die made something warm settle somewhere in your chest.

“I honestly don’t even remember.”

“You were probably making fun of me.”

“I probably was.”

“I think you were.”

“I’ll continue after you get food.”

He smiled. “Deal.”

And he did.

Five minutes later, after grabbing two slices of pizza and somehow convincing someone else to stop stealing olives off his plate, he walked right back over and picked up the conversation as though nobody had interrupted it in the first place. It happened again later. Someone asked him to settle an argument in the kitchen, another friend pulled him into a group photo. Every single time, he came back. Not tired or with some grand excuse, just quietly returning to where you’d been standing before asking, “Where were we?”

By the end of the night you realized you’d talked about almost everything and almost nothing. Childhood hobbies, the fact that both of you hated talking on the phone but would happily send ten-minute voice notes, how neither of you understood people who enjoyed going out every weekend to party, the weird satisfaction of grocery shopping late at night. You talked about the best convenience store snacks, whether pineapple belonged on pizza and more. The conversation never felt like it needed to impress the other person, it just kept going.

When people finally started putting on their jackets, you were genuinely surprised to see the apartment had emptied without you noticing. “I should head out too,” you said, slipping your phone into your bag.

Seokjin nodded. “Me too.” For a second neither of you moved. “I had a really good time,” he said, smiling in that same quiet way he always seemed to.

“Me too.” You stayed in your place, waiting for him to ask for your number.

“I’ll…” He hesitated just enough for you to notice it. “…I’m sure we’ll see each other again.”

“Right,” you said, almost disappointed. “Yeah, I hope so.”

He smiled once more before following his friends toward the door. You watched him leave, waiting until the apartment had almost emptied before saying your own goodbyes.

The drive home was spent replaying conversations you hadn’t meant to memorize. Not because anything extraordinary had happened. He hadn’t flirted with you, he hadn’t asked for your goddamn number. Seokjin hadn’t looked at you in some life-changing, movie-worthy way. If anything, the evening had been remarkably ordinary. And maybe that was exactly why you couldn’t stop thinking about it.

You liked talking to him, like a lot. There had been no awkward pauses to fill, no pressure to sound clever, no moments where you found yourself wondering what you should say next. Somehow the two of you had managed to spend hours discussing the most ridiculous, everyday things, and you’d still walked away feeling like there were another hundred conversations left to have. That should have been exciting. Instead, it left you hopelessly confused. Because Jin was nice. Painfully, consistently nice. He listened to everyone, he smiled at everyone, he remembered details about people that most would’ve forgotten. So how were you supposed to tell whether any of tonight had actually meant something?

Maybe he talked to everybody like that, maybe every person who left one of his conversations went home thinking they’d been understood, maybe this was just who he was. You couldn’t read him. Every time you thought he’d given you a sign, your brain immediately found another explanation for it, and by the time you pulled into your apartment building you were somehow even more confused than when the evening had started.

The only thing that wasn’t confusing anymore was yourself. There wasn’t any point pretending this was simple curiosity, that excuse had expired somewhere around the conversation about how much you loved strawberry cheesecake.

You liked him. Entirely, inconveniently and undeniably.

You smiled all the way upstairs because the realization was somehow equal parts embarrassing and exciting. And later, before you’d even finished getting ready for bed, you found yourself opening the group chat from the party. Your thumb hovered over the upcoming plans someone had mentioned earlier. A birthday dinner next week. A movie night the weekend after. A barbecue if the weather stayed nice. You stared at the messages for a moment before smiling to yourself. A month ago, you would’ve checked your calendar first or invent another excuse to not show up. Tonight, you were already trying to figure out how to make sure you didn’t have any plans at all so you could see him again.

——————————

Monday mornings at HYBE building looked exactly the way you imagined a music company would. Stylists hurried down the hall balancing garment bags over one shoulder while trying to answer phone calls at the same time, assistants walked briskly between meeting rooms carrying stacks of documents that somehow looked urgent regardless of what was inside them, and every few minutes someone you vaguely recognized from a campaign, a magazine shoot or an awards show passed by with a polite nod before disappearing around another corner. It was organized chaos, the kind that somehow managed to function despite looking as though everything was happening at once.

You’d been there often enough over the years that the receptionist greeted you by name before you’d even reached the desk. “Good morning.”

“Morning,” you smiled, accepting the visitor’s badge she handed over. “I’m here for the ten o’clock.”

“They’re already waiting for you.”

“Perfect. Thank you.”

Luxury fashion PR had a funny way of making every company building start to feel familiar. One month you were spending every afternoon at a magazine headquarters preparing a campaign, the next you were coordinating fittings at a fashion house, and then suddenly you were sitting in entertainment agencies discussing contracts between artists and brands. It meant learning hundreds of names, remembering dozens of schedules and somehow keeping track of who was available on which side of the world.

By the time you reached the conference room, three people from HYBE’s partnership team were already seated around the table, laptops open and coffees untouched.

The meeting itself was surprisingly straightforward. The agency had recently signed a new rookie group whose first luxury campaign was already attracting attention from several international brands, and your company had been hired to coordinate the negotiations and oversee the campaign schedule. Most of the creative decisions had already been approved weeks earlier, which meant your morning was spent going over travel dates, confirming fitting appointments, discussing possible magazine covers and making sure nobody had accidentally scheduled three different events in three different countries on the same day… It happened more often than people realized.

“I’ll send over the updated timeline this afternoon,” you said, closing your notebook once everyone seemed satisfied. “As long as the group’s comeback date doesn’t move again, everything should stay on schedule.”

One of the managers laughed. “Please don’t say that out loud.”

“I’m choosing optimism.”

“We’ve learned not to.”

You smiled. “Fair enough.”

Another hour disappeared into emails and final revisions before the meeting finally wrapped up. By the time you stepped back into the hallway, your shoulders already felt lighter. There were still a dozen things waiting for you back at the office, but the most complicated part of your week had gone considerably smoother than you’d expected.

You had just slipped your notebook and laptop into your bag when a familiar voice called your name from the other end of the corridor. You turned just in time to see Taehyung walking toward you, sunglasses hooked onto the collar of his T-shirt despite being indoors. For a second you simply stared.

“Well, that’s a face I haven’t seen in forever.”

He laughed. “I was about to say the same thing.” The two of you met halfway down the hallway, exchanging a quick hug before stepping back. “What are you doing here?” he asked. “I thought your office was like 3 hours away.”

“It is. We were meeting with the partnership team.”

“For the rookie group?” You nodded. “Please tell me they’re behaving.”

“So far.”

“So they haven’t started changing schedules every six hours yet?”

“It’s only Monday.”

“There’s still time to run.”

You laughed. “You sound like you’ve been traumatized.”

“I’ve worked in this building long enough. Rookie groups are starting to be a nightmare.”

“That’s fair. I’ve seen some news.”

The conversation slipped back into familiarity almost immediately. You hadn’t worked together in nearly two years, but spending months coordinating the promotional aesthetic campaign for his first solo album had a way of making people remember each other. After that there had been fashion events, magazine dinners, a handful of award shows and enough passing greetings over the years that seeing him now felt less like bumping into an old client and more like running into an old coworker.

“So,” he asked, leaning casually against the wall, “how’s life?”

“Busy.”

“I expected a more exciting answer.”

“I coordinate luxury campaigns.”

“So… busy.”

“Exactly.” You chuckled. “What about you?”

Taehyung sighed dramatically. “We start rehearsals again next week.”

“For the tour?” He hummed in agreement. “I saw the dates.” You mentioned. “They look impossible. You have, what…” You frowned, trying to remember. “Three countries in a week and then another one next week in another continent?”

“Yeah.. I’ve stopped looking.”

“I don’t blame you.”

“You learn not to pay attention,” he smiled cheekily.

Before either of you could continue, another voice joined the conversation.

“I had a feeling I’d find you here hiding.” You looked up instinctively. Jin had just stepped out of one of the rehearsal studios further down the hallway, a black hoodie thrown over his shoulders. He slowed as he reached the two of you, smiling in quiet surprise when he noticed you standing there. “Oh.” His smile widened just slightly. “Hi.”

“Hi,” you smiled slightly, heart starting to beat a little faster.

“What are you doing here?” he asked.

You lifted the visitor’s badge hanging around your neck. “Work.”

“That makes more sense.” He nodded knowingly.

“Lucky for her,” Taehyung interrupted, “she gets to leave.”

You smiled. “I do.”

“I’ve still got vocal rehearsal.”

Jin looked at him. “I thought you were eating first.”

“I was.” Taehyung glanced down at his phone before groaning. “…Actually, no, apparently I’m not. They just moved my reservation.”

“Again?”

He held up his screen dramatically. “I’ve officially given up questioning management.”

You laughed. “Some things never change.”

“They really don’t.”

He pushed himself away from the wall before pointing between the two of you. “I’m leaving you to catch up because if I’m late one more time they’ll start pretending I’m difficult.”

“You are difficult,” Jin said.

“But you love me anyway”

“Ew, don’t say that.”

“You do!” Taehyung looked back at you. “It was good seeing you again.”

“You too.”

“Don’t disappear for another two years.”

“I’ll do my best.” With one last wave, he disappeared around the corner, leaving the hallway noticeably quieter. For a moment you and Jin simply watched him go. “He hasn’t changed,” you said eventually.

“Not even a little.”

“I think that’s impressive.”

“I think it’s exhausting.”

You laughed. “I can imagine.”

The two of you started walking almost without discussing it, heading slowly toward the elevators at the end of the hallway. Neither of you seemed particularly rushed, and after the last few times you’d talked, it no longer felt strange to fall into conversation so easily.

“So,” he asked, glancing over at you, “how did the meeting go?”

“Better than I expected. I was preparing for at least one scheduling disaster but everything went well.”

“You sound disappointed.”

“Nah. I like being pleasantly surprised. You shrugged. “What about you?” you asked. “Taehyung mentioned rehearsals.”

He nodded. “We leave in a few weeks.”

“You excited?”

“I am.” He smiled to himself before looking ahead again. “I think the rehearsals are always the hardest part.”

“Really?”

“I like performing but I don’t like preparing to perform.”

You laughed softly. “I don’t know why that makes perfect sense.”

“I spend weeks wondering if we’re ready. And then the first show starts and I stop worrying for about two hours.” He told you, a little exhausted. “Then I start worrying about the next one.”

You smiled. “I feel like that’s every job.”

“It probably is.”

By the time you reached the elevators, the conversation had wandered somewhere entirely different. Somehow you’d ended up talking about travel again, comparing favorite cities from work trips, complaining about airports, laughing over the fact that neither of you had figured out how people managed to sleep comfortably on planes.

The elevator arrived with a quiet chime. You both stepped inside. “Oh, I forgot to ask,” he said as the doors closed. “What are you doing this weekend?”

You looked at him, a little excited. “This weekend? I don’t really have plans. Why?”

“You wanna have dinner?.” He hesitated for a second before clarifying. “Everyone’s getting together on Saturday. Some close friends, Taehyung is also included. We’re going to a nice restaurant. I thought maybe you would like to come.”

“Oh.” You smiled. An invitation, as friends. Great. “Yeah, of course. I’ll be there.”

“Great,” he said with a smile. “Nice.” There was a small pause, comfortable rather than awkward, before he looked at you again with the same thoughtful expression you’d started recognizing over the past few weeks. “Actually…” He rubbed the back of his neck almost absentmindedly. “I just realized I don’t have your number.”

You hummed. “Yeah… You don’t.”

“I probably should.”

“That would make things easier. You know, for the address of the restaurant and all.”

“It would. Yes.”

You unlocked your phone and handed it to him. “Here.”

Seokjin smiled as he typed his contact into it before giving it back. “I’ll text you,” he said simply. “To let you know it’s me and send you the address”

You nodded. “Right.” The elevator doors opened onto the lobby. You stepped out together before stopping near the entrance, where your paths naturally split in opposite directions. “I should let you get back to work,” you said before smiling. “I’ll see you Saturday.”

He nodded. “See you Saturday.”

You watched him disappear back toward the elevators before pushing through the glass doors into the afternoon sun. Halfway across the parking lot, your phone vibrated.

Unknown Number. You opened the message before you’d even reached your car.

Seokjin: Just proving it’s actually me.

A second message appeared almost immediately.

Seokjin: Don’t be late on Saturday. Taehyung will absolutely blame someone else if he is, and I’d rather it not be you.

Seokjin: [address]

You: Noted. I’ll arrive early just to preserve my reputation.

His reply came less than a minute later.

Seokjin: Smart girl

Okay, that was hot.

You know it wasn’t flirtatious, it wasn’t even particularly memorable. But as you slid your phone back into your bag, you couldn’t stop smiling. In all the times you had spent talking for hours at a friend’s apartment and now exchanging numbers in an elevator, things had quietly become very comfortable with him. You still had absolutely no idea whether Jin saw you as anything more than someone he enjoyed talking to. If anything, getting to know him had only made him harder to read. He was attentive with everyone, kind without making a performance of it, and thoughtful in a way that could easily be mistaken for interest if you weren’t careful.

Which was exactly the problem. You couldn’t tell whether he liked you like that. The uncertainty was still there, lingering in the back of your mind every time you replayed one of your conversations, but it didn’t bother you quite as much anymore. Because one thing, at least, had become impossible to deny. He liked spending time with you.

Saturday suddenly felt very, very far away.

——————————

The restaurant wasn’t particularly fancy, which somehow suited the group better than any upscale place ever could have. It was tucked away on a quiet street a little outside the city center, the kind of place people only seemed to know about through recommendations rather than advertisements. Warm lights hung above the terrace, the windows were thrown open to let the late summer air drift inside, and the steady murmur of conversations mixed with clinking glasses and the occasional burst of laughter from another table.

You spotted everyone almost immediately. There couldn’t have been more than ten people, already gathered around a long wooden table near the back of the restaurant. Someone waved the second you stepped through the door, and within moments three different voices were greeting you at once.

“There she is.”

“I told you she’d be late.”

“I am three minutes early,” you protested, laughing as you slipped your bag off your shoulder.

“You’re ten minutes late.”

“That’s early for her.”

You smiled, making your way around the table to greet everyone properly. A couple of faces were still relatively new, people you’d only met once or twice over the last month, while others already felt strangely familiar despite how recently they’d come into your life. It was funny how quickly comfort formed when everyone shared the same chaotic industry. Then your eyes found Jin. He was already seated halfway down the table, listening to something Taehyung was saying with that small smile you were becoming increasingly familiar with. When he noticed you looking over, he gave you an easy wave.

“Hey.” He smiled. “You finally found the place.”

“Barely,” you admitted. “Your directions were significantly better than my navigation.”

“I knew I should’ve sent more landmarks.”

“I still would’ve gotten lost.”

“I believe that.”

You caught yourself smiling at the quick exchange before you’d even reached your chair. When you looked around for somewhere to sit you noticed there was only one empty seat left. To the other corner of the table, directly across from him, not close at all. You stared at it for a second. “…Seriously?”

Someone looked up. “What?”

“Nothing.” You smiled, sliding into the chair. “I just thought I’d made it before everyone else.”

“Why?”

“No reason.”

You reached for the menu before anyone could ask another question. Across the table, Jin looked briefly amused, though he didn’t comment, instead returning to whatever story Taehyung had been telling before you’d arrived. You tried very hard not to let the tiny disappointment bother you. It was ridiculous, really ridiculous. You weren’t in middle school. You weren’t twelve years old trying to sit beside your crush in class. You were a grown woman who coordinated campaigns worth more money than most people made in a year. You could survive sitting far from this guy …Probably.

Dinner started slowly, with everyone ordering drinks while waiting for the last two people to arrive. Once they did, the conversation settled into that familiar rhythm you’d started associating with this group. Nobody stuck to one topic for very long. One person would mention work, someone else would remember a completely unrelated story, and twenty minutes later everyone would somehow be debating whether overnight flights were worse than six a.m. call times.

Laughter rippled around the table. You found yourself joining in easily, adding comments here and there whenever the conversation naturally drifted your way. It felt comfortable, and yet every now and then your attention wandered somewhere it probably shouldn’t. Across from you, Jin was talking to one of the producers about the upcoming tour. You couldn’t hear everything they were saying, but every so often he’d laugh quietly or shake his head at something someone else had said, and despite telling yourself not to, your eyes kept finding him. Once and then again. Then another time. It was becoming embarrassingly automatic. At one point he happened to glance up while reaching for his water. Your eyes met for barely a second and he gave you just a small smile. Then the conversation beside him continued, and he turned back toward it. You did the same.

See? He’s talking to everyone.

You forced yourself to pay attention to the conversation happening on your side of the table instead. For the next hour that became the pattern of the evening. Whenever everyone spoke together, it felt easy. You’d catch each other’s eye occasionally across the table, laugh at the same stories, tease Taehyung whenever he exaggerated something, but there wasn’t really an opportunity for the kind of conversation you’d secretly been hoping for.

The distance of a table suddenly felt much larger than it actually was. You hated yourself a little for caring. There were at least eight other people there and you liked all of them. You were having a genuinely good time. And yet some stubborn, irritating part of your brain kept thinking… I haven’t actually talked to him. Every now and then someone beside him would ask him something directly, another person would join in, and before long he’d be caught in another conversation while you were doing exactly the same thing at your end of the table.

Maybe this was normal, maybe you’d built up the last few weeks too much in your own head. Maybe they had felt significant because they’d happened one-on-one and your brain had made the situations feel extra intimate only becuase you liked him like that. Here, surrounded by everyone else, he seemed exactly the way he always had. Kind, relaxed and happy to talk to whoever happened to be nearby.

It occurred to you, not for the first time, that maybe this was simply who he was.

You were halfway through telling the photographer beside you about a campaign that had nearly fallen apart because a shipment had been sent to the wrong country when another burst of laughter echoed from Jin’s side of the table. Almost instinctively, you looked over. He was smiling at something a friend had just said. Nothing unusual, nothing you hadn’t already seen a hundred times. Still… A tiny, childish part of you felt oddly deflated.

You took another sip of your drink. Get over yourself. The evening wasn’t about you. You’d barely known him for a month. There was no reason to expect him to spend the entire dinner talking to you. Honestly, if someone else described this situation to you, you’d probably tell them they were overthinking it. Which, unfortunately, meant you were almost certainly overthinking it.

“You’ve gone quiet.”

You looked back toward the woman sitting beside you. “Hm?”

“I was asking if you’re coming to Milan next month.”

“Oh.” You laughed softly. “Sorry. I got distracted.”

“I noticed.”

“I probably am.”

“You probably?”

“My calendar changes every three days.”

“That’s the most PR answer I’ve ever heard.”

“It’s also the only honest one.”

The conversation picked back up, and eventually you stopped checking the other end of the table quite so often. Or at least, you convinced yourself you had.

Dinner stretched comfortably into the evening. Plates gradually disappeared, dessert menus appeared almost without anyone noticing, and one by one people started glancing at their phones, remembering early schedules or long drives home.

“I should probably go,” one of the producers sighed eventually, pushing his chair back. “I have a seven a.m. meeting tomorrow.”

“On a Sunday?”

“I know.”

“My condolences.”

Another person stood and some of them followed. Goodbyes started overlapping with fresh conversations, people lingering by the table while putting on jackets because nobody ever managed to leave immediately. You’d barely noticed how many people had already gone when the friend beside you launched into a story about their parents divorce.

By the time she’d finally reached the end of the story, probably regretting saying too much, the restaurant had become noticeably quieter. You looked around almost absentmindedly. The table that had been full less than fifteen minutes earlier was almost empty. Taehyung had already left, your photographer friend was gone, one stylist had disappeared after hugging everyone goodbye. Only one chair across from you was still occupied.

Jin looked up from the beer he’d been absentmindedly nursing for the better part of an hour and smiled. “I think everyone abandoned us.”

You blinked before looking around once more. “They actually did.”

He laughed quietly. “I didn’t even notice.” Neither had you. Jin glanced toward the front of the restaurant, where the last of your friends were saying their goodbyes near the entrance, then looked back at you with an expression that suggested he was just as surprised as you were. “I guess we were really invested in our conversations.”

You laughed, still looking around as if someone else might suddenly reappear. “I feel like there were ten people here five minutes ago.”

“There were. But I think they slowly escaped while we weren’t paying attention.”

“So we’re the last ones here.”

“I don’t think the staff minds.”

As if on cue, one of the waiters walked past carrying a stack of empty plates, offering the two of you a polite smile before disappearing into the kitchen. You glanced back toward the entrance. “I should probably head out too.”

Jin looked down at the beer still sitting in front of him before looking back up. “I mean…” He hesitated for a second, almost like he was debating whether to ask. “Would you mind staying for a bit? I haven’t finished this yet.”

You followed his gaze to the glass. It was still almost half full. “…Of course.”

“I don’t want to keep you if you have plans.”

“I don’t.”

“You sure?”

You smiled. “I’m sure.”

He smiled back, a little relieved. “Okay.”

Neither of you spoke for a moment, but unlike before, the silence wasn’t searching for a conversation. It simply existed while the restaurant slowly emptied around you. Someone in the kitchen dropped a tray, a waiter laughed at something another employee had said, and outside the windows the street had grown noticeably quieter than it had been when everyone first arrived.

Jin took another sip of his beer. You were almost certain it had to be warm by now. “So,” he said eventually, moving to seat next to you before resting his forearms against the table, “did you have a good time tonight?”

“I did.” You smiled. “I actually like this group a lot.” You thought about it for a second. “I feel like everyone already knows everyone else’s schedules are a mess.” He laughed. “So nobody gets offended when someone cancels.”

“They know what life is like this.”

“What about you?”

Seokjin shrugged. “I like that they remember you’re also a person.”

You looked at him curiously. “What do you mean?”

He smiled as he said it, but there was something thoughtful underneath the smile that made you think he wasn’t entirely joking. “I think when people see someone whose job is public, they forget that the rest of your life still exists.”

You nodded slowly. “That makes sense.”

“They just assume you’re always in your performing mood.”

You rested your chin lightly against your hand. “I prefer the honest side of people.”

“That’s even better then.”

The conversation drifted naturally from there, taking the same shape all of your conversations seemed to take. One topic quietly became another without either of you trying to steer it anywhere in particular. Somehow you ended up talking about childhood, about the strange jobs you’d imagined yourselves having when you were ten years old, laughing when he admitted he’d once been absolutely convinced he’d become a veterinarian despite fainting the first time he watched blood being drawn.

“You fainted?”

“I was twelve.”

“I don’t think age helps your case.” You laughed silently. “So what happened to becoming a veterinarian?”

“I realized animals deserved someone much braver.”

“I think that’s fair.”

“What about you?”

“I wanted to be a librarian or own a bookstore.”

His eyebrows lifted. “Really?” You hummed. “I can actually picture that. I feel like you’re the kind of person who probably organize everything alphabetically.”

You gasped dramatically. “I’m not. I’d organize them by genre!”

He snorted, blinking a little slow before biting his lower lip to not smile. You thought he was really handsome like that. “Of course you would.”

“Shut up, you don’t know me.” You said like a kid.

Seokjin looked down at his beer with the faintest hint of a smile before quietly saying, “I’m getting there.”

A waiter stopped beside the table before you could say anything. “Can I get you two anything else? Dessert, maybe?”

You instinctively shook your head. “I’m okay.” You glanced at Jin and he looked at you.

“You sure?”

“I don’t really have a sweet tooth.”

“I do.” He looked back at the waiter. “We’ll share one.”

You blinked. “You don’t have to—”

“I know.” He smiled. “But I want cheesecake. You said you like the strawberry one, right?”

“Yeah, but—”

“I think dessert is always better with company.”

You laughed, accepting defeat. “I can’t argue with that.”

“Good.”

The cheesecake arrived a few minutes later with two forks. Seokjin ended up stealing exactly two small bites while you finished the rest while he insisted that if he was ordering dessert anyway, someone should help him justify it.

And by the time the plates had been cleared away, neither of you had noticed that the music inside the restaurant had grown quieter. It wasn’t until a chair scraped across the floor nearby that you looked around. The staff had started stacking the empty tables near the windows. Someone was wiping down the counter, another waiter was rolling silverware into napkins. You checked your phone. 10:54 p.m.

“We’ve been here for a while.”

Seokjin followed your gaze before looking down at the beer still sitting in front of him. He laughed. “I don’t think I’ve touched this in twenty minutes.”

You looked at the glass. “Longer. It’s definitely warm.”

“It probably is.”

“You should finish it.”

“I probably should.” Instead, he took the smallest sip imaginable before setting it back down exactly where it’d been.

You smiled to yourself. He wasn’t trying very hard but you weren’t about to complain. You were hoping he never finished that beer. You wanted to stay longer with him either way. Even if the restaurant closed at 11pm…. But the fantasy broke because few minutes later one of the waiters approached with the bill tucked neatly inside a black folder.

Seokjin reached for it before you even realized it had been set on the table. “I’ve got it.”

You looked up. “I took most of the dessert so I definitely should—” You reached for your wallet.

He shook his head. “You can get the next one.” The words came out so naturally that neither of you reacted immediately. He paid quickly with his card before looking at you with a small smile. “Although I’ll fight you again next time.”

Something warm settled somewhere beneath your ribs. “I can live with that.”

As you walked toward the door together, he stopped briefly near the counter where a small glass bowl filled with individually wrapped mints sat beside the register. He picked one up, unwrapped it as the two of you stepped outside and laughed quietly when he caught you watching him. “What?”

“Nothing.”

He smiled, shaking his head as he popped it into his mouth. “I just don’t like leaving restaurants smelling like beer.”

You stared at him for a second. “That’s oddly considerate.”

Did he really remember all you said? You were definitely making him up. He couldn’t be real.

“I’ve always done it.” He slipped his hands into the pockets of his jacket as the two of you started walking down the quiet street. “Which way are you parked?”

“I’m not.”

“You took a taxi?”

“I walked. Its only about twenty minutes.”

Jin looked ahead for a second before nodding once. “Then I’ll walk you.”

“You don’t have to.”

“I know,” he shrugged. His answer was immediate, almost matter-of-fact. “I’d like to. I live close this neighborhood anyway.”

You smiled despite yourself. “Okay.”

The streets had quieted considerably by then, the warmth of the evening lingering even as the city settled into the slower rhythm that only seemed to exist after ten o’clock. You walked side by side without rushing, continuing the same conversation you’d been having inside as though leaving the restaurant hadn’t interrupted it at all. You realized, somewhere between laughing about the worst movies either of you had ever paid to see and debating whether breakfast food should be acceptable at any hour of the day, that talking to him never felt like work.

By the time your apartment building came into view, you almost wished it were another ten minutes away. “So…” you said, slowing to a stop outside the entrance. “Thanks for walking me home.”

“Of course.”

“And thanks for dinner.”

“Don’t even mention it.” For a brief second, neither of you moved. Then he smiled. “I’ll see you soon.”

“I hope so.”

“You will.”

He said it with such quiet certainty that it didn’t even occur to you to question it. You watched him disappear back down the street before finally heading upstairs. It wasn’t until you were brushing your teeth later that night that the entire evening replayed itself in your mind.

The conversation. The strawberry cheesecake, the warm beer he’d barely touched because he’d been too busy talking to you. The mint he took after. The way he’d said the next one as though another dinner between the two of you was already the most obvious thing in the world.

You still couldn’t tell if Jin liked you. Not in the way you wanted him to. He was still frustratingly impossible to read, still so effortlessly kind that every thoughtful gesture came with another explanation you could use to convince yourself not to overthink it. Maybe he walked everyone home, maybe he paid for everyone when he was feeling generous. Maybe he remembered everyone’s favorite dessert, maybe he was gentle enough to know what the other person dislike. Maybe this was simply who he was. But lying in bed that night, staring at the ceiling with a smile you couldn’t quite get rid of, you admitted something to yourself that you hadn’t been brave enough to say out loud before.

Whether he liked you or not had almost become secondary. Because somewhere along the way, without even noticing exactly when it had happened, you’d stopped looking forward to seeing him but you started missing him.

——————————

By the time May rolled around, seeing Jin had stopped feeling like an event. It had happened so gradually that neither of you could have pointed to the exact moment things changed. One dinner became another, then someone suggested drinks after work one Thursday, a birthday turned into brunch the following weekend, and before long your names simply started appearing together in plans without either of you having to ask. If someone created a group chat to organize something, you already knew there was a good chance the other person’s profile picture would be somewhere near the top.

Somewhere in between all of that, phone calls had quietly become part of your routine too. It had started innocently enough. One evening he’d called because he couldn’t remember the name of a restaurant you’d recommended a few weeks earlier. Another time you rang him while walking home because you’d spent twenty minutes trying to decide between two birthday gifts for a friend and wanted a second opinion. Then, somehow, those practical conversations turned into hour-long calls that had very little to do with why either of you had picked up the phone in the first place.

You’d tell yourself you only had five minutes. An hour later you were somehow debating whether cereal counted as dinner, arguing over which city had the worst airports in Europe or listening to Jin explain, in alarming detail, why he believed every household should own at least three different frying pans.

“You don’t need three,” you’d laughed one night, curled up on your sofa with your laptop forgotten beside you. “No normal person owns three.”

“You own twelve mugs,” he fought back.

“Mugs are different.”

“How?”

“Each one has a purpose. They hold memories.”

He’d been quiet for exactly two seconds before laughing so hard you could barely understand what he was trying to say. “They hold coffee.”

“And memories.”

“I’ll pray for whoever has to move house with you one day.”

“I’ll make them carry the mugs.”

“You’ll have to marry someone very patient.”

“I know.”

There had been a tiny pause after that, neither of you had acknowledged it. Then the conversation had simply moved on. Moments like that happened more often now, little sentences that accidentally wandered somewhere dangerously close to something bigger before one of you quietly steered them back toward safer ground.

It was strangely comfortable, enough that, when one of your friends suggested meeting for drinks after work on Friday, you didn’t even think twice before sending Jin the details.

You: we’re at Kaqwi bar around 8 if ur free

Jin: I’ll be there :)

The smiley face shouldn’t have made your heart react the way it did.

The bar wasn’t particularly busy when you arrived, but it filled quickly as the evening went on. Music hummed softly beneath conversations, the terrace outside was crowded with people escaping the lingering starting of summer heat, and inside your group had somehow managed to claim one of the larger booths before anyone else could steal it.

You were already halfway through telling a story about one of your clients showing up to a fitting wearing two completely different shoes when Jin finally appeared. He apologized to everyone for being late before sliding into the empty space beside you like it was second nature. “Traffic?”

You looked at him. He nodded dramatically. “And one very determined taxi driver.”

“Well, you survived.”

“Barely.”

“You look alright.”

“I’ve been through a lot.”

“Oh, please.” You rolled your eyes. “You texted me from the car saying you were buying chips because you were hungry.”

Jin looked genuinely offended. “I can have two problems at once.”

The people sitting across from you laughed. You glanced at Jin, unable to stop smiling. Three months ago you would’ve hesitated before teasing him. Now it came naturally. He teased you back just as easily too. He looked at everyone else. “Do you see what I deal with?”

One of your friends laughed. “You two sound married.”

You nearly choked on your drink, trying really miserably not to blush. Jin, somehow, stayed completely composed. “I think married people argue less.”

“Oh, definitely less,” you agreed.

“They eventually get tired.”

“We’re nowhere near that stage.”

“I wasn’t aware there were stages.”

“There are.” You nodded thoughtfully. Nobody took the conversation seriously and neither did you, moving to the next subject and pretending that you haven’t been daydreaming about him for the last couple weeks…. At least until you noticed that he’d stolen three fries from your plate while arguing. “You’ve been eating my fries this entire time?!”

“…Have I?” He said while grabbing another one.

“Yes. You’ve eaten half my fries. You didn’t even order anything!.”

“I genuinely didn’t notice,” he lied. “I thought they were ours.”

“There is no ‘ours. You owe me fries.”

“I’ll buy you fries.”

“I don’t want replacement fries.”

“Do you want me to throw up and give them to you then?”

“You’re disgusting.”

He smiled to himself. “I know.”

You stared at him for a second. It was becoming a problem. A genuine, actual problem. Because somewhere over the last few weeks you’d become frighteningly good at recognizing all the tiny expressions nobody else seemed to notice. The smile he did when he was trying not to laugh, the one where he ducked his head slightly whenever someone complimented him. The way he’d absentmindedly roll up the sleeves of his shirt whenever he got comfortable somewhere. How he listened with his entire attention, never looking over someone’s shoulder to see if another conversation was more interesting.

None of those things should’ve been attractive. And yet your brain had apparently decided they were the most charming habits any human being had ever possessed. It was honestly becoming ridiculous. You caught yourself watching him while someone else spoke, noticing the way he laughed with his whole face, the little crease that appeared beside one eye, the way he always pushed his empty glass a few centimeters away before leaning forward whenever he got interested in a conversation.

He wasn’t even doing anything, he was just existing. There were moments— small, completely insignificant moments— when you’d look at him and genuinely wonder if your body was capable of handling much more of this before simply giving up altogether. He was just so handsome and he got more prettier everytime you looked at him. He’d looked at you across a crowded table while stealing your fries and smiled like he already knew you’d forgive him. It was embarrassing, you’d never been this gone over anyone before.

The worst part was that nothing about it felt obsessive in the loud, dramatic way people usually described crushes. It was quieter than that. It lived in all the little things. You wanted to see him everyday, you wanted to spend time with him and talk to him almost every second. You liked seeing him even if your body went immediately into an intolerable nervous breakdown because he was so annoyingly handsome. It was frustrating.

As the evening stretched on, people naturally split into smaller conversations, the table growing louder without ever becoming chaotic. Someone suggested another round of drinks, someone else started planning a weekend trip that would almost certainly never happen, and at some point you found yourself sitting slightly turned toward Jin, the two of you talking while the rest of the table carried on around you.

“So…” you said, tracing absentminded circles through the condensation on your glass, “next month.”

He nodded slowly. “Next month.”

“The tour.”

“Yeah.”

“You finally sound excited.” You pushed him slightly with your shoulder. “How’s it going?”

He let out a quiet breath through his nose. “My legs hurt.”

You laughed. “That’s your review? I expected something more profound, Seokjin.”

“I’ll save the profound thoughts for next week.”

“You don’t have any.”

“I probably don’t.” For a moment, he watched the people around the table before looking back at you. “I am looking forward to it, though. I just…” He searched for the words. “It’s strange.”

“What is?”

“I’ve gotten used to being here.”

You tilted your head slightly. “Home?”

He nodded. “And…” He smiled. “…To seeing everyone.”

You knew he meant the group, even if he was only looking at you. So why did your stomach still flip? Well, you couldn’t control your reaction very easily. “Well,” you said lightly, “we’ll survive. You’ll be back before you know it.”

“I hope so.”

“You’ll call?”

“I will.”

“You better.”

“I was planning to.”

“You can tell me all about your glamorous airport meals.”

“They’re never glamorous.”

“I know.”

“And you can complain about work.”

“I always complain about work.”

“I know.”

You smiled. “See? Nothing changes.”

He smiled back, though there was something softer about it this time. “I guess not.”

Even surrounded by everyone else, the thought settled quietly between you. Next month would be different. And for the first time since meeting him, you realized there would soon be weeks where seeing Jin wouldn’t simply be a matter of waiting until the next weekend hangout. You’d actually have to miss him. The realization sat surprisingly heavy in your chest. You hid it behind another joke, another laugh, another stolen fry from his plate this time, but as you watched him throw his head back laughing because you’d finally managed to get revenge, one completely unhelpful thought echoed through your mind.

You’re in so much trouble. Because if you already felt like this now… You couldn’t imagine what a month apart was going to do to you.

——————————

The strange thing about missing someone wasn’t that one dramatic morning you woke up and suddenly realized two months had felt unbearably long. Instead, it settled quietly into your routine until one day you noticed you were reaching for your phone before anything interesting happened because you already knew who you’d want to tell first.

The first week after Jin left for tour had been easier than you’d expected. You’d both been busy enough that the time difference and impossible schedules almost worked in your favor. If he finished a show just as you were leaving the office, you’d call while walking home. If you happened to be awake when he landed somewhere new, he’d send you a blurry photo from the airport with a single complaint about the coffee. There were days when your conversations lasted forty minutes and others when they barely stretched past five, but somehow neither of you seemed bothered by it. The expectation wasn’t that you’d always have time; it was simply that, sooner or later, one of you would hear from the other.

Then Fashion Week arrived with its usual lack of mercy.

Your calendar became a wall of color-coded appointments, garment fittings, showroom visits and dinners with clients that somehow always ran longer than anyone intended. You spent more time inside black cars than in your own apartment, learned to survive on coffee and protein bars tucked into your handbag, and answered emails in elevators because they were sometimes the only quiet place you could find.

One evening, somewhere between a fitting that had overrun by an hour and a last-minute venue change for a presentation, your phone buzzed in the pocket of your blazer.

Jin: Are you alive?

You: Debatable.

His reply came almost immediately.

Jin: That’s not very reassuring.

You: Fashion Week.

Jin: Good point.

You laughed softly to yourself while stepping into the back of a waiting car.

You: What are you doing awake?

Jin: Airport

You: Again?

Jin: Again

The conversation drifted from there, as it always seemed to. He complained about delayed boarding, you complained about a designer deciding fifteen minutes before a campaign shoot that he no longer liked the original styling direction, and somehow twenty minutes disappeared before either of you realized you’d both reached your destinations.

That became the rhythm of the following weeks. He called from hotel rooms that all looked vaguely identical no matter which country he happened to be in. You answered from backstage corridors, quiet taxis or empty office kitchens long after everyone else had gone home. Sometimes you talked about work. More often you talked about absolutely nothing.

One night he spent almost fifteen minutes trying to convince you that cereal counted as a perfectly acceptable dinner after ten o’clock. “It absolutely doesn’t,” you insisted, balancing your phone between your shoulder and your ear while searching your apartment for clean pajamas.

“It does if you’re tired.”

“That’s not how nutrition works.”

“It does for me.”

There was something strangely comforting about those conversations. You’d never imagined that spending so much time talking to someone who wasn’t physically there could make them feel even more present in your everyday life. You started recognizing the sounds in the background before he mentioned where he was, could tell whether he was tired just from the way he said hello, and without consciously trying, both of you began remembering the smallest details about each other’s days.

By the middle of the second month, it felt unusual not to hear his voice. Which was precisely why your eyebrows lifted when his name appeared on your screen one Tuesday afternoon while you were standing outside a showroom in Paris. You answered almost immediately. “Hi.”

“Hi.” There was a pause. “Are you busy?.”

“I little.”

“So am I.”

You smiled. “Then why did you call?”

“Why did you answer?”

“Touché,” you giggled a little. “I’ve been working nonstop for this fashion week events. But I don’t know what’s worse the people or the heat in Paris—”

“Wait, wait…” His voice changed completely, a little hurried and surprised. “You’re where?”

“Paris.”

“Right now?”

You frowned. “…Yes?”

He stumbled into his words. “I’m in Paris.”

You stopped walking. “…No, you’re not.” You blinked at absolutely nothing. “I thought you were in Amsterdam.”

“That was yesterday.”

“I’ve completely lost track of your schedule.”

“I think I have too.”

You laughed. “So you’re actually here?”

“I’m literally looking at the Eiffel Tower.”

“No way.”

“What about you?”

“I’m near Place Vendôme.”

He laughed, he sounded happy. “I can’t believe we didn’t know. How long are you going to be here?”

“I leave the night after tomorrow.”

“So do I.” There was a small pause, one that somehow felt different. “Do you have any free time?”

You smiled before he had even finished asking. “I actually do.” You checked your calendar. “I’ve got one meeting tomorrow morning, then I’m free after lunch.”

“So am I.”

“…Seriously?” You laughed. “That’s almost suspicious.”

“I know.” He hesitated for just a second. “So… Do you want to hang out?”

Your answer came so quickly that it surprised even you. “Yeah.”

“I was thinking maybe Versailles?”

You looked down the street, smiling to yourself. “I haven’t been since I was seventeen.”

“Perfect. I’ll meet you there then

The rest of the afternoon disappeared in a blur of meetings you barely remembered.

The following day was one of those rare Paris afternoons where the sky seemed almost impossibly blue, the late summer sun soft enough that walking outside actually felt pleasant instead of exhausting. By the time your train pulled into Versailles, you had changed out of your work clothes and into something far more comfortable— a simple summer dress, comfortable enough for hours of walking but still presentable enough that your professional instincts didn’t entirely panic.

You arrived first, for the first time ever. You wandered toward the entrance, watching groups of tourists gather beneath colorful umbrellas held high by guides speaking half a dozen different languages. Families posed for photos in front of the gates, children complained about the heat, and somewhere nearby someone was playing violin badly enough that it somehow added to the charm rather than taking away from it. You checked your phone.

Jin: Two minutes.

You smiled. Exactly three minutes later, you spotted him. He was walking across the courtyard with one hand tucked into the pocket of a pair o white summer linen pants, an oversized white linen shirt shifting gently in the breeze as he looked around searching for you. A pair of sunglasses rested on top of his head, pushing his dark hair back from his forehead, and for one completely unfair moment you simply stood there watching him weave through the crowd. He was just so pretty you wanted to eat him whole.

It wasn’t until he caught sight of you that you started walking again. His face brightened immediately.

“There you are.” You both laughed at saying exactly the same thing.

For a second, neither of you seemed entirely sure what people who had spent two months talking almost every day but hadn’t actually seen each other in person were supposed to do. Then you stepped forward first and hug him, he held you back with easy, his hands wrapping around your shoulders and pushing you a little too hard to his chest. You giggle a little from the action, his broad shoulders and back feeling too good against your body and arms.

The hug lasted just a fraction longer than a polite greeting without either of you acknowledging it. “You look tired,” he said as you pulled away, taking his time to look at your face without fully taking his arms off of you.

“I was going to say the same thing.”

“I’ve been rehearsing.”

“I’ve been surviving Fashion Week.”

“So we’re both victims.”

“I think we are.”

You smiled. “I’ve missed you.”

The words were so simple that they slipped past you very easily. Your heart gave one completely unreasonable thud when he answered immediately. “I’ve missed you too.” For a second, all the noise around you seemed to fade into the background. Then someone brushed past with a stroller, breaking whatever strange little bubble you’d accidentally stepped into. Jin cleared his throat lightly. “So…” He held up two tickets. “I may have already bought the audio guides with translation.”

You laughed. “You came prepared”

“You said one time that you actually like listening to museum tours.”

“I do,” you smiled softly, your heart beating so loud you almost thought he would be able to hear it. “Thanks for remembering.”

“Of course.” He handed you one of the devices. “Although I figured we’d probably spend half the time talking anyway.”

“You know us surprisingly well.”

He rubbed the back of his neck, smiling sheepishly. “I would hope so.”

And somehow, within less than five minutes of seeing each other, it already felt like no time had passed at all.

The palace unfolded around you one room at a time, each grander than the last, but after the first few minutes you realized you were paying remarkably little attention to the gold ceilings or painted frescoes the audio guide seemed so determined to explain. Not because they weren’t beautiful, they absolutely were. It was simply difficult to concentrate on eighteenth-century French history when Jin was walking beside you after two months apart, occasionally stopping to look at a painting with the kind of genuine curiosity that always made him tilt his head ever so slightly, as though he was trying to understand not just what he was looking at, but why someone had chosen to create it in the first place. He looked like an angel every time your eyes wandered to his figure.

“Do you understand what they’re saying or I’m just that bad at the language?” he asked after removing one side of his headset.

You looked at him with amusement. “I’ve listened to several words… I heard ‘Louis.’”

He laughed. “I don’t think that narrows it down.”

“There were numbers too.”

“You’ve learned nothing.”

“I’ve learned the ceilings are expensive.”

You smiled to yourself. Talking to him still felt exactly the way it had over the phone, except somehow easier. There was no delay before one of you answered, no crackling signal, no wondering whether the other person had gotten distracted by work or simply lost reception. Every joke landed immediately, every smile came without having to imagine it on the other end of the line, and every now and then one of you would point at something entirely ridiculous just to hear what the other would say about it.

“I think I’d get lost in here,” you said as you stepped into another enormous gallery.

“You absolutely would.”

“You agreed with that a little too quickly.”

He laughed at you but didn’t say anything else, and the sound echoed faintly through the room before dissolving beneath the quiet voices of the other visitors. The more you walked, the more obvious it became that something had shifted between you over the last two months. The conversation no longer needed a beginning. There was no catching up in the traditional sense because neither of you had really disappeared from the other’s life. You already knew how rehearsals had been going, which city had unexpectedly become his favorite stop on tour, how exhausted you’d been during Milan Fashion Week and even what you ate last week. Instead, you filled in the little gaps. The expressions that texts couldn’t capture, the stories that were funnier in person, the tiny details that somehow never made it into phone calls. And at one time you laughed so hard you had to steady yourself against his arm for a second before realizing what you’d done. Your hand lingered for the briefest moment against the fabric of his sleeve. His bicep was surprisingly strong and warm. You pulled it back almost immediately.

“Sorry.”

“For what?”

“I practically used you as furniture.”

“I don’t mind.”

He said it so casually that it almost made it worse. You nodded once, pretending to be far more interested in the next doorway than in the fact your pulse had suddenly become embarrassingly noticeable.

The palace gradually gave way to the gardens, where the afternoon sun spread across endless stretches of perfectly trimmed hedges and fountains that glittered beneath the light. Compared to the crowded galleries inside, everything outside felt slower. There was more space between people, more room to wander without constantly stepping aside for another tour group. You fell into step beside him and somewhere along the gravel path your shoulders brushed. Neither of you moved away. You kept talking and he did too. It happened again a few minutes later when the path narrowed between two rows of hedges, your fingers moved a little trying weakly to catch his so he would take the hint. But again, nobody acknowledged it.

It was ridiculous how aware you had become of every tiny point of contact. You wondered if he noticed, and you also wondered if he didn’t. He had made time for you despite living on the opposite side of the world half the year. He called, he listened, he laughed at jokes that weren’t particularly funny simply because you were the one telling them. And yet… He’d never crossed that invisible line, not once. Which left you trapped in the world’s most exhausting guessing game. Maybe he was just wonderful and charming with all people... which, honestly, you didn’t like.

As you rounded another corner, he reached out without thinking and lightly touched the middle of your back, guiding you aside as a large tour group swept past in the opposite direction. “There you go.”His hand disappeared almost as quickly as it had arrived. You tried not to think about the fact you could still feel it. You thought how his fingers would feel around your waist or touching your bare skin.

“This place is busier than I remembered,” you managed.

“It’s because everyone had the same idea we did and decided to come on the nicest afternoon of the week.”

“This was poor planning.”

“It was.”

You smiled. “I’d still choose today.”

He looked at you. “Me too.”

You looked away before your face had the chance to betray you.

By late afternoon the palace had begun to empty, the crowds thinning just enough that you could finally stop lingering behind slower groups. You’d walked for hours without really noticing it, your conversations interrupted only occasionally by the audio guide insisting on explaining another room or another portrait neither of you had been paying enough attention to appreciate.

Your feet, however, had started protesting. “I need five minutes,” you admitted with a laugh as you sat down on a stone bench overlooking one of the fountains.

“Tired?”

“I’ve been standing in heels for all week.”

“You’re wearing sandals.”

“For the first time all week.” Jin smiled quietly before sitting beside you. For a few moments neither of you said anything. Not because there wasn’t anything left to say, quite the opposite, the silence had simply stopped needing to be filled. You watched families wander through the gardens, children racing one another across the paths while parents unsuccessfully attempted to keep up. “I forgot how nice this is,” you said. “I’m glad we came.”

He turned slightly toward you. “So am I.”

Something about the way he said it settled softly in your chest. He looked at you for a second longer in silence and you wondered if he was really thinking the same as you. Eventually you stood again, deciding to make your way back through the palace before heading toward the station. But halfway there you stopped abruptly.

“I need the bathroom.”

He nodded immediately. “I think there was one near the entrance.”

“There was.” You looked ahead. “Okay seemed like everyone else also wanted to use the bathroom.” The line stretched embarrassingly far down the corridor. You sighed. “Of course.”

“I’ll wait.”

You glanced at the queue again before groaning. “This is going to take forever.” Jin looked around thoughtfully, his eyes wandering down a quieter side hallway. “What?”

“I might know another one.”

“You do?”

“I saw a staff sign earlier.”

“You think you saw one?”

He smiled. “Come on.”

Before you had the chance to question him further, he reached for your hand almost absentmindedly, weaving your fingers together with his as he led you down the quieter corridor. Your entire brain stopped functioning. He was holding your hand. Just like that. As though it were the most natural thing in the world. As if you hadn’t been throwing hints all those hours so he would do it.

You stared at your joined hands for half a second before looking back up, praying he couldn’t somehow hear your heartbeat. “You realize,” you said, trying very hard to sound normal, “if we get caught wandering through staff corridors, we’ll be in big problems.”

“Isn’t that more fun?”

You both started giggling out of nowhere, trying —and failing— to keep your voices down as you wandered through the quiet hallway. He checked one door that was locked. Then another one that was a storage. “This is going well.”

“Just trust me.” He looked at you with a grin that made it impossible not smile. A few steps later he stopped in front of another door. “This has to be it.”

“You’ve said that twice.”

“I feel better about this one.”

“You’ve become overconfident.” He reached for the handle, still locked. You shook your head before laying back in the door. “I would be already in the front of the line.”

“I was close with this one.”

“You were nowhere near.”

You were still smiling when he looked back at you. His smile slowly fading as he saw you against that door. Suddenly you were seeing a face of him that you haven’t seen ever. Your smile slowly faded too as he took a step closer. The hallway around you had gone unexpectedly quiet, the distant sounds of the palace reduced to little more than an indistinct murmur somewhere beyond the walls. Neither of you spoke. “I’ve missed your face,” Seokjin admitted in a low voice.

The words were so quiet that, for a second, you almost wondered if you’d imagined them. You looked up at him, and for the first time since you’d met him, you weren’t trying to figure him out anymore. It was all there, written across his face so plainly that you almost laughed at yourself for every hour you’d spent wondering whether he liked you or whether he was simply the nicest man alive. He looked at you the way you’d been looking at him for months. Like you were the only person in the room, like he couldn’t quite believe you were standing there. His thumb absentmindedly brushed against the back of your hand, still intertwined with his, as he took another small step closer until there was barely any space left between you. “I’ve…” He smiled to himself, almost embarrassed by what he was about to admit. “I’ve been dreaming about doing something all day after months of not seeing you.”

You tilted your head. “What?”

His eyes dropped, just for a second, to your mouth. Then back to your eyes. Your entire body forgot how to function. “…This.” Your heart lurched so violently you were convinced he had to hear it. It wasn’t beating anymore, it was galloping. Somewhere in the back of your mind you thought, completely irrationally, this is it. This is actually how you’re gonna die. You’re gonna drop dead if he kissed you.

He hesitated for only a heartbeat, giving you every opportunity to move away. Instead, you found yourself closing the last inch between you. His lips met yours softly, almost carefully, as though he’d imagined this moment so many times that he was afraid reality wouldn’t live up to it. But it did, it definitely did. The second you kissed him, every thought that had been racing through your head for the last two months simply… disappeared. There was no overthinking, no wondering if he liked you anymore, not trying to read between the lines of every text message or every smile. There was only him, his warm hands sliding from your cheeks to every part of your body until they settled on your waist. The man you’d spent months convincing yourself not to fall too hard for was kissing you back with the same certainty, pressing you against a bathroom door that couldn’t be open. Like he wanted nothing else to do that for the rest of his life.

When you finally pulled away, it was only enough to catch your breath before he smiled— that same shy smile you’d loved from the very beginning. You didn’t say much, you giggled into each others mouth, the sound echoing softly through the empty corridor, before he kissed you again. This one was slower and less hesitant. As though the first kiss had answered every question either of you had been too afraid to ask.

Your fingers found the front of his linen shirt almost without thinking, bunching the fabric lightly as he smiled against your lips. His hand romearirng around your body like he couldn’t push you any closer to him. “I think,” you whispered while he kissed your jaw, “we should— we should probably leave before someone catches us.”

“Probably.” Neither of you moved. “…Definitely.” Still neither of you moved. Seokjin laughed quietly. “I don’t really want to.”

“Neither do I.”

He bit down your neck and your hands sinked into his hair to push him a little so you could see his pretty face. You gave him little pecks on his big lips as his eyes narrowed, dark pupils looking at you brightly. But he still looked at you with that same soft expression he’d been wearing all afternoon.

“You should come back to the hotel with me.” Your stomach immediately filled with butterflies. He continued before you had the chance to answer. “You don’t have to leave tonight if you don’t want to.” His smile widened just a little. “Honestly… you should spend the night there.” He paused, looking almost amused by his own train of thought. “And the next hotel if you want.” You raised an eyebrow. “And the one after that.”

You couldn’t help laughing. “Jin…”

“I’m serious.” He kissed your lips again. “I like having you around.” He shrugged as though that explained everything. “I think I’d like having you around in every city.”

For a moment, you simply stared at him. If he kept talking like that, you really were going to end up following him across Europe and staying with him… well, forever. You forced yourself to recover just enough to tease him. “Hm…” You pretended to think about it. “I don’t know.”

He frowned slightly. “No? Too fast?”

“I think…” You smiled innocently. “you’d have to ask me on a date first.”

He looked genuinely confused. “…A date?” You hummed and for the first time he took a little step back to looked better at your face, hands still over your sides. There was a beat of silence before he blinked, really unsure. “I thought we were dating.”

You stared at him confused. “What?”

“I mean…” He rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly looking adorably uncertain. “We call each other every day.”

“I call my friends all the time .”

“We’ve been having dinner together.”

“With friends.”

“I’vewalked you home thousand of times.”

“I thought you liked to walk.”

“I really don’t.” He looked at you as though the conclusion was obvious. “I thought we’d been dating for weeks… Or, at least, I don’t know, seeing each other.”

You looked at him so deadpan your face almost froze. “Are you stupid?”

His expression softened into a grin. He took your hand again, squeezing it gently. “Okay, okay. My bad. Let me start again… Would you like to go on a date with me?”

You looked at him, at the man who had somehow turned months of stolen conversations and phone calls into the easiest love you’d ever known, even when distance could have been an end. So you just smiled so widely your cheeks already hurt.

He was actually really stupid. “I thought we already were in one.”

♡ name: darling, under the sun by @jiminsafairy ♡ link: darling, under the sun ♡ paring: Kim Seokjin x Reader ♡ summary: Your husband takes you on a baby moon to the Maldives. a sequel to Darling, you are late! (also amazing, btwww). ♡ words counting: 1,1k ♡ warinings: pwp, reader is heavily pregnant, lactation kink, nipple sucking, breast play, creampie, mild public sex (they are on a private place but not that private so...?) oral (m!receiving) ♡ my comment: so filthy i can't. like... literally cant. amazing writting.

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♡ name: REUNION SEX by @jeonsbabygirlsworld ♡ link: REUNION SEX ♡ paring: Husband!Jin x Wife!Reader ♡ summary: Seokjin has been now out from his military service, but he has buried himself with work and you miss him, miss sex. ♡ words counting: 1.7k ♡ warinings: titty sucking over clothes, oral (m,f), fingering, riding, emotional sex at the end lmao, reader is called names (jagi, slut, whore), cum eating. ♡ my comment: omg, this is amazing. i might have read it more than once, or twice..........

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♡ name: 𝙆𝙞𝙣𝙠𝙩𝙤𝙗𝙚𝙧 2024: 𝘼𝙛𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙘𝙖𝙧𝙚 by @whatudowhennooneseesyou ♡ link: Aftercare ♡ paring: Dom!Kim Seokjin x Sub!Fem!Reader ♡ summary: Jin experiences dom drop after a session and you try and get him out, little do you know taking care of you is exactly what he needs to do so. ♡ words counting: 1.9k ♡ warinings: cuddlefucking, slight angst, bath tub sex, praise, clitoral play, unprotected sex (don’t do it but it’s a bath you know?), kissing, nipple play, reader is called “princess”, 18+. ♡ my comment: hot aftercare = perfection

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Many things led you to the point where you are paying someone to take your virginity. At some point, probably around 24 (nearly three years ago), you realized there was no one that you were interested in that way. No one lives up to your standards to the point where it’s been so long you just never thought it would happen. You didn’t want some scummy guy from Tinder to be the first person that sees you completely naked in an intimate setting.

In a drunken moment of desperation two weeks ago you searched the internet for someone to take your virginity. For what must've been at least two hours you searched through the listing trying to find something promising. A user who calls himself Namgyu had many positive comments that didn’t look like they were from spam accounts. When you woke up in the morning you had already paid the non-refundable deposit and decided you might as well go through with this. After all, this guy does this for a living. He must know what he’s doing on some level if he’s who he says he is.

Namgyu sent you an email last night with instructions on where to meet him. The hotel you are meeting him at is just a few blocks away from where you work. He told you to request a key card from the front desk and then let yourself in. Your heart is pounding in your chest as you speak to the well dressed man at the front desk. There are no issues and he just points you in the right direction.

The fabric of your skirt rides up as you walk and you tug it back down. You take a deep breath in front of the door and check your phone to make sure your best friend can see your location. Once you’ve confirmed that you swipe the keycard and your heart drops when it works. This is really happening. You are about to let a random man on the internet take your virginity.

The red light on the door turns green as you swipe the card. Your heart is sent pounding as you open the heavy door and step into the short hallway. A shuffling sound comes from further inside the room. You take a step forward, after removing your shoes, as his head peaks into view then halt while your heart drops to your stomach.

“Seokjin?” You question eyes widening as your jaw drops. “You told me you’re an accountant!”

Standing in front of you in just a pair of jeans slung low on his hips is your favorite regular. He is wearing a matching face of shock. You are trying not to stare at his pronounced abs but it’s so hard when you’ve fantasized about him far too many times on slow days. Have his shoulders always been so impossibly wide? Has his waist always been so delicately tiny? Usually he wears baggy sweaters when he’s getting his morning coffee.

“My eyes are up here, noona.” He steps closer, placing a gentle finger under your chin to guide it upwards. You swear your heart skips a beat. Everything in you wants to scream but you can’t do that. You have to remain cool and act like he isn’t driving you crazy already. “I could’ve been an accountant, but this is a lot more fun. Come on, let's talk for a minute.”

He removes his finger from your chin and walks into the room. The room is pretty spacious, there's even a couch. You can only imagine what someone on the couch has watched happen on the bed. Seokjin sits on the corner of the bed facing the couch. You take a seat on the couch crossing your ankles and sitting up straight. When you don’t say anything he speaks with a calm smile. He is reminding you of someone else but you can’t put your finger on it.

“If this is uncomfortable for you I’ll give you a full refund. I don’t normally do that but you are the only person that can make my coffee correctly and I really like the conversations we have.”

Seokjin has been coming to the coffee shop you work at for nearly two years. Your coworkers always encourage you to ask for his number but you’ve never worked up the courage. He seems so entirely out of your league. Everything about him is perfect even at seven in the morning before his morning coffee. His tousled hair and the cute pout that forms on his lips as he waits warms your heart.

“That wasn’t just in my head?” You mutter then slap your hand to your mouth when you realize you’ve said that out loud.

“You talk to me about genuinely interesting things instead of the weather or traffic.” he pauses and a smirk creeps onto his lips. “I suppose it doesn’t hurt that you’re incredibly beautiful.”

There is no way he just said that. You cover your face with your hands knowing it’s turning bright red from the flattery. Maybe your coworkers are right. A few of them struck out with him. You are the only person at your job he’s been even slightly receptive to. You can’t imagine why.

He takes people’s virginities for a living; his confidence must be through the roof. From the little you know of him you imagine he would be a sweet and caring lover. That’s probably really weird to be thinking of a customer, but right now you are his customer.

You keep your eyes off of his toned form while you try to form a coherent thought. On the bedside table you see a mask that reminds you of who else he is reminding you of. You gasp, eyes tearing back to study exposed chest. Your favorite regular is a porn star on magicshop.com. Seokjin has a series where he films himself taking people’s virginity while wearing masks to protect their anonymity. His content is exactly what you imagined he’d be like. You can’t believe you’ve been watching him for the last year without ever realizing who he was. There is something comforting yet hot about watching how gentle and caring this sexy man can be.

“Moonshine?!?” You blurt his screen name and follow it with something possibly desperate. But can anything truly be more desperate than paying him to take your virginity? “Okay, we are definitely doing this.”

Seokjin’s face splits into a grin and he can’t hold back his laughter. He falls back onto the bed continuing to chuckle for a moment before he sits up. Seokjin joins you on the couch sitting just a few inches away.

“You’re a fan of my work?” He reaches a hand out searching for yours. “Can I touch you?”

“Yes, to both.” You say softly wondering if he can hear the way your heart is hammering in your chest.

His long fingers thread between yours and he strokes your thumb with his own in a comforting gesture. He brushes your hair away from your neck with his other hand and considers something for a moment before he speaks.

“Part of me wants to ask my usual questions, but the other part of me wants to know what your favorite video is.”

The fact that you indeed have an answer to that question shows how deeply you are interested in his content. He makes a lot of videos but there is one person that you love seeing him with more than any of his other regulars.

“It feels embarrassing to say out loud.” You admit because no one else would ever speak to you about this. Well, maybe your secret twitter mutuals would.

“Noona, it’s okay.” He takes your face between his hands forcing you to look in his eyes. “There is nothing to be embarrassed about. I want to know what you think of my work. I want to know what excites you.”

He releases your face scooting closer to you until your thighs are flush. Seokjin resumes holding your hand playing with your fingers as he waits for you to respond.

“I like your videos with Cupid best.”

Cupid’s sunny and expressive personality shines, even through the screen of your laptop at two in morning. He doesn’t show his face on Seokjin’s channel but he does have his own channel. Sometimes he will speak before the video starts and the difference between his cheerful speaking and his sexy serious face never fails to shock you. It would be a horrible lie if you said you hadn’t thought of being eiffel towered by them.

“There’s a video with him coming out next week. We tried something different.” His smirks tells you he knows just how badly you are dying to know what it is. “Have you thought about being between us? All our attention, just for you.” he whispers in your ear and it sends a shiver of pleasure down your spine.

Only a mess of unintelligible words will come out if you speak so you nod your head. You can feel your pussy getting wet just from his words.

“Can I turn on the camera?” He squeezes your hand and trails the other one over the exposed skin of your thigh. “If you want to stop at any point that is okay. If you feel uncomfortable please let me know and we will stop and talk about it. We will only continue if you want.”

“Can I kiss you first?” You say softly not knowing where the sudden boldness came from.

“Of course. This is about you.”

Seokjin pulls you off the couch so you aren’t at an awkward angle. His plump lips are pulled into a small smile as he waits for you to make the first move. You take a deep breath and kiss silky lips. Kissing is something that you are quite familiar with thankfully.

He lightly grips your waist leaving a little room. You let your hands rest on his bare shoulders. Anxiety is buzzing in your stomach but you are trying to remind yourself that if he doesn’t like it he won’t do it.

You allow him to deepen the kiss with a mix of butterflies and nervousness churning in your stomach. His hand slides to your ass earning a small gasp from you. He pulls away making sure everything is okay. He waits a moment accessing your face. You don’t want to wait and pull him back to your lips by the back of his neck. He hums in surprise and squeezes your ass over your skirt.

Your hands trail lower tracing the dips of his toned stomach with your fingertips. From watching his content you know he loves delicate touches like this. He’s said it drives him crazy and leaves his skin feeling tingly.

Seokjin is by the far the most skilled person you’ve ever kissed. Your essence is soaking your panties from just his simple touches.

“You can turn the camera on.” You say looking into his deep brown eyes.

You take a seat on the bed watching as he pulls multiple tripods and cameras from the closet. He quickly sets them up and you feel a bit of pride when you notice a bulge in his pants. You grab the mask that covers the top half of your face and put it on. Seokjin also puts on his mask before hitting record. He doesn’t speak until he joins you on the bed.

“You’re a fan of my videos?” He asks again for the cameras sitting in front of you on the bed. He runs his hand up and down your bare thigh.

“Watching you helps me feel good.”

He smirks, pushing his hand under your shirt to touch the sensitive skin over your ribs. You take a deep breath trying to not show how much it’s affecting you. Of course, that’s pointless no one has ever touched you like this.

“Do you like hearing me say dirty girl? Do you imagine I’m saying it to you?” He moves his hand even further up touching the lacey bra you bought especially for this occasion.

A chill runs straight to your pussy at his words. You nod your head enthusiastically and help him remove your shirt. He stares at your cleavage with a thoughtful expression before leaning in to kiss your breasts. He sucks a mark onto your skin without asking like he knows you will say yes to whatever you want.

“You’re so hot.”

“Noona, I don’t think you realize the effect you have on people.” He kisses your shoulder while using his other hand to inch closer and closer to your cunt. He is centimeters from touching the matching lace panties you so carefully chose. “You radiate charm in a way that even captures the attention of strangers.”

You almost roll your eyes but are distracted when he grabs your hand and places it directly on his clothed cock. Instinctively you squeeze feeling the large girth of his cock in your hand. Your pussy tingles thinking of this being deep inside of you. If only he would move to touching you like that. But you suppose he knows how to not overwhelm you too quickly.

He gives you an encouraging hum before pulling you into his lap. He lifts you, putting himself into a better angle for the cameras. Seokjin positions you so his strong thigh is between your legs. You wonder if he can feel your wetness on his leg. Seokjin puts his hands on your hips gently guiding you to drag your cunt against his leg.

The friction gives you relief you’ve been desperately craving. His strong leg feels so different from the soft pillows you’ve grinded against before. It’s an entirely new sensation. Pleasure is blooming through your whole body. He takes one of your perky nipples into his mouth earning a gasp. His hot tongue flicks over the nub and a moan falls from your soft lips.

The feeling of Seokjin touching you is far more satisfying than anything you’ve done to yourself. He lets you grind on his leg for just a few minutes before he lifts you onto the bed. He removes your skirt and underwear leaving your underwear in frame but tossing the skirt away. You feel shy suddenly having Seokjin see you completely naked. He stands pulling off his pants and underwear in one fluid motion. Your favorite regular lies on his stomach between your legs and begins kissing the sensitive skin of your inner thigh. He barely gave you a chance to look at his cock, not that you haven’t seen it in his videos before. Seeing his girthy cock in person is completely different then seeing it on screen even if his cameras have insanely good quality.

“Do you want me to finger you like you do to yourself when you watch my videos?” His fingers trail towards your pussy but stop short, teasing. “I hope I can make you feel even better, Noona.”

A bolt of excitement shoots to your chest at his words. On more than one occasion you’ve fingered yourself while watching him take other people’s virginities. You never imagined you’d end up here minutes away from losing your own.

“Please, make me feel good.” You manage to whine and he drags his fingers over your slit.

You can’t hold in the gasp as he wets his finger in your juices. He traces around your hole with the tip of his finger while he kisses your thighs. You try to relax your tense muscles knowing everything will feel better if you are relaxed.

A low moan escapes your mouth when he gently pushes his index finger inside of you. He kisses your clit before sucking it into his mouth. That earns him an even louder moan and he uses the moment to slide his finger further inside. You like the sensation of his finger so much you wonder why you ever bothered doing it yourself. Could you have been experiencing this the whole time? Have you been missing out or is Seokjin an outlier?

Seokjin laps his tongue over your clit and you swear you see stars. You grab at the sheets beside you not knowing what to do with your hands. Your back arches off the bed when he decides to add a second finger and begins pushing them in and out of you at a leisurely pace.

“You’re so pretty.” He mumbles against your pussy. He drags his tongue through your slit with an s motion. A constant stream of moans is being recorded for all of your favorite regular’s fans to hear. “I love tasting you, noona.”

You look into the camera to your left before focusing on the man eating your pussy like it’s the only thing he ever wants to do. How lucky are you that the first tongue to ever touch you knows exactly how to make you tick? Your legs are shaking within minutes and you can feel Seokjin’s face pulling into a pleased smile.

“Moon, please fuck me.”

He locks eyes with you. His eyes are wide like he didn’t expect you to be so direct. Seokjin knows the effect he’s having on you but always wants to see how far he can push it before they start begging.

“Yes, Noona.” He says with a smile as he sits up and reaches for the top drawer of the nightstand. He quickly tears a condom off the row and unwraps it. You watch as he puts it on knowing he’ll cut this out of the video. Seokjin scoots closer to you as he finishes rolling the condom down his length. He slots himself between your legs and leans down to kiss your neck. “Are you ready?”

“I’m ready.” You whisper and he kisses you.

Seokjin’s soft lips kiss you as the tip of his cock pushes inside of your cunt. He is gentle knowing he can be a lot to take. Your hands grip his broad shoulders trying not to dig your nails into his skin. You aren’t sure that would be appreciated.

You pull away from the kiss cursing as he pushes slightly further in. He kisses your neck as you get used to the feeling of his cock inside of you. Your favorite regular inside of you fills you up better than any toy ever could. Heat pools in your stomach urging you to move yourself on his cock. Seokjin sits up watching the change in your expression.

As if he can read your mind he slowly pulls out nearly all the way and pushes himself back inside. You want more but he feels so good you lie there and let him do what he wants to you. His fingers are gripping your hips, guiding them onto his cock slowly. There are so many things you wish you could tell him to do but only a steady flow of moans leaves your mouth.

“You’re taking my cock so well, noona.” He grunts thrusting into you with more force this time. This time you are sure you see stars. How can one man make you feel like you are floating so easily? “So pretty letting me fuck into your tight pussy like its all mine.”

“More!” You plead, grabbing his face so he looks you in the eyes. “I can take it, Moon! Please.”

He takes your left hand off his face and kisses your knuckles. Seokjin leans down kissing your breasts as he pumps himself into you. He moves the kisses up your neck and thrusts faster hitting the perfect spot inside of you that has you digging your nails into his shoulders.

“Yes, noona!” He moans into your ear and you scratch down his back. His cock pulses inside you so you do it again. “Ahhh you feel so good.”

He thrusts deep into you pushing you closer and closer to your high with every movement. There is no room for insecurity when he is making you feel the most pleasure you’ve ever felt in your whole life. The sound of his cock sliding in and out of your wet cunt adds to experience. He made you the wettest you’ve ever been with just a few simple moves.

You aren’t able to warn him before you are cumming on his cock pussy squeezing him in. Your legs are shaking as Seokjin continues fucking into you searching for his own high. Seokjin watches you throw your head back against the pillows completely wrecked by his cock and it sends him over his own edge. He spills into the condom, riding it out inside of you before he pulls out.

He gets off the bed taking care of the condom and turning off the cameras before he lies beside you. Seokjin opens his arms inviting you to cuddle into his chest. Of course, you take the offer and listen to the rapid beat of his heart.

“How are you feeling?” He asks after a few minutes have passed. He’s stroking your hair as you draw patterns on his chest with your finger. “You are a natural. It seemed like you really enjoyed yourself.”

“You made me feel the best I’ve ever felt. I really did enjoy myself.”

You peek up at him and there’s a soft smile on his lips. Not a cocky smile, just a nice smile. A bead of sweat drips down his face. He really put in the work to make sure your first time was memorable.

“So I don’t have to find a new barista?”

This sends both of you into a fit of giggles. Seokjin hugs you closer to him and kisses the crown of your head. You end up lying there naked talking to your favorite regular for far longer than you thought you would. He tells you more about how he got into this business and why he stayed. At the end of the conversation you are thinking you might enjoy posting someone of your own spicy content.

It’s nearly two hours later by the time you get dressed and pay Seokjin. You are wondering if what you want to ask is appropriate given the circumstances, but you don’t think he treated you like a normal client.

“Can I have your number?” You decide to ask knowing you’ll regret it if you don’t ask now.

“Do you want to do this again?” He asks cheekily, handing you his cell phone from the bedside table.

How is he still sending flurries of butterflies to your chest? You enter your info into his phone before you answer. He is half dressed standing in front of you and you are proud when he turns around and you see the marks you left on his back.

“I didn’t get to suck your dick. I think you’d be a great teacher.” You flutter your lashes at him hoping that he’ll take the offer.

“I didn’t get to suck your dick. I think you’d be a great teacher.” You flutter your lashes at him hoping that he’ll take the offer.

“You’re going to be the end of me, noona.”

“I’ll be right back,” you say, pressing a kiss to his forehead. “I just need the bathroom. Promise.” You try to leave again, but another tug keeps you from going anywhere, this time pulling you flush against his bare chest. “Come on, Jinnie, let go of me. I really have to go.” You try moving his arms from your waist again, but they won’t budge. 

“No!” he says firmly, a smile making its way onto his half-awake face. It’s hard to argue with a face like that, as if it were sculpted by one of the Greats themselves. It’s even harder to argue with the call of nature, though. 

“Thirty seconds,” you plead. “All I need is thirty seconds.” 

“Okay. Fine.” He releases you. “But I’m holding you to that.” 

You hop up quickly, do your thing, and then scurry back to bed. Jin is fully awake now, leaning on one arm. “That was way longer than thirty seconds,” he says accusingly. “What are you going to do to make it up to me?” He’s attempting to look serious, but his still sleep-rumpled hair doesn’t do much for the effect. 

“It was not,” you insist, tucking yourself back under the covers. “But, well, if you’re really set on me making it up to you…” You pull him in for a kiss, locking your lips with his plush, full ones, surreptitiously tangling your tongue with his. “How about that? Am I forgiven?” 

“Hmm,” Jin says, smirking mischievously. “Not quite. It’s a good start, but I can think of something else you can do for me.” He slides a hand up the side of your thigh, and under the oversized t-shirt you’re wearing. “You know, that’s one of my favorite shirts,” he says, toying with the hemline. “It looks better on you than me, though.” 

“Really? I thought everything looked good on you,” you say teasingly. 

“Oh, yeah. Most everything does.” The tips of his fingers brush against your bare stomach, sending tingles up your spine. “I really think this shirt in particular would look much better on the floor. Don’t you agree?” 

You can’t help but let out a snort. “You know that’s corny as hell, don’t you? Did you really think that would work on me?” 

He chuckles. “Well, after last night I figured it was worth a shot.”

“You…” you say, tapping him on the chin, “are ridiculous. But I’ll allow it, because you’re cute. Just this once, though. Don’t make a habit of it.” 

“What a blessing.” He wraps you back in his arms again. “Good morning, by the way. Did you sleep well?” 

“As well as I could, which is to say, pretty well.” you say, snuggling closer to his chest, still facing toward him. “And you?” 

“Of course,” Jin says, leaning in for a kiss. “I always sleep well when I’m next to you.”

“Aw.” You smile, reaching over to touch his cheek. “I’m glad.” 

It feels nice to be here, warm and secure in his arms, nothing needing your attention, nowhere to immediately rush off to as soon as you wake up. You wish that you could stay here forever, that every morning could be like this: lazy kisses and quiet murmurs, lost in each other's eyes. You'd never really thought about contentment before, what it would look like for you - but this must be it. Happiness. 

"What are you thinking about, yeobo?" Jin's voice enters your thoughts, gentle breaths brushing your ear. "You’re all quiet now."

"Nothing." You tuck your chin. "I just…I'm glad to be here. With you, in this moment. You make me happy.” A warm blush crawls into your cheeks. “Oh, I’m just being sappy now. Forget I said anything.”

He tilts your face back up to look at him. “You make me happy too, y/n. All the time.” He plants a kiss on your nose. “What do you say we continue making each other happy, and pick up where we left off last night?” He grins conspiratorially and moves to dive-bomb the crook of your neck with fluttering kisses.

“Stop.” You giggle, nudging him away gently. “Don't you think about anything other than sex?"

"Occasionally," Jin muses. "It's not easy when I'm with you." He tucks a stray strand of hair behind your ear, allowing his hand to linger near your face. Your stomach picks that moment to grumble loudly. "Hungry?" he teases. 

"Some of us do have to eat actual food sometimes, you know." You put your hands under your chin, and muster up your cutest facial expression. "Please, Chef Jin. Will you make your beloved y/n breakfast?"

“Ah!” He groans. “You know I can’t say no when you make that face. So what am I making for my beloved y/n?”

“Mmm,” you hum, biting your lower lip. “French toast? With the strawberries I bought the other day. And coffee. That’d be nice.” 

"You have a five-star restaurant chef completely at your disposal, and all you want is French toast and coffee?" 

You shrug. “What can I say? I’m a simple girl.” 

Jin laughs. “Okay. Coming right up. Don't move an inch. I'll be right back.” He disentangles himself from the covers, pulls a shirt over his head, and disappears, followed shortly by the aroma of cinnamon and coffee wafting up the stairs. You inhale deeply, the pleasant smell and distant sound of Jin moving around in the kitchen slowly lulling you back into a hazy slumber. 

The smell of toast and coffee seems to get even closer, and you open your eyes to your handsome boyfriend, standing there like an angel with the fruits of his labor, arranged neatly on a tray. He cocks his head to one side, wearing an amused smile. “I think you might be the only person I know who can fall asleep when she’s supposedly starving.” 

“I’m an excellent multitasker. Plus the food comes faster if I’m not awake while it’s being prepared.” You smile, stretching as you sit up. “I hope that’s for me.”

“Well, I suppose I could share.” He sets the tray down on the bed and sits, handing you your favorite mug. “French toast with strawberry compote, and coffee, as requested.” 

“You're a prince,” you say. “An absolute prince.” You drape your arm around the back of his neck to pull him closer, letting your fingers tangle in his hair. His forehead bumps gently against yours.

“So I've been told,” he says, dropping a kiss on the corner of your mouth. 

“Oh? By who?” you demand, narrowing your eyes. 

“My mom? She used to call me her little moon prince when I was a kid." Jin smirks. "Y/n, don't tell me you're jealous of my mom.”

“I’m not jealous,” you pout.

"You are! Don't worry. I think it's cute." He pats your head. “Come on, go ahead and eat or it'll get cold.” Jin nudges the tray toward you. Still sulking, you pick up your fork to dig into the impeccably plated French toast. “Well?” He looks at you expectantly as you take the first bite. “What do we think? Best you’ve ever had, or what?” 

“Hmm,” you hesitate. “It’s…okay.” 

“Just okay? I’m hurt.” He throws a hand across his heart as if he’s deeply wounded. “See if I ever make you breakfast in bed again.”

“Only kidding. It’s perfect, as usual.” You fork up another bite and hold it out to him. “Here, try it for yourself.” 

“Hah!” he snorts. “You think I don’t know my own cooking tastes amazing?” He snares the bite off your fork. “Of course it’s perfect.” 

“Thought you might like a refresher.” You cut yourself another piece. 

“I could use another one.” Jin looks at you pointedly, so you hold out the fork again. He ignores the fork in your hand and plants a sloppy kiss on the side of your face. 

“Hey! What was that for?” you ask. 

“You had strawberry on your face.” He smirks. “And can I just say it tasted extra-sweet on you?” 

You laugh. “I suppose you can, you big goof.” 

“Aish! So rude!” he complains playfully. “I’m only ever good to you, and what do I get in return? Nothing but attitude.” 

“Aw, I know,” you say, patting both of his cheeks. “You’re so good to me, Jinnie. And I appreciate every bit of it.” You take turns feeding each other bites of toast, leaning comfortably against Jin’s broad chest. “So what are we going to do today?” you ask, sipping the final dregs of your coffee. 

“Well, it’s Saturday. I don’t have anywhere to be, and I’m assuming you don’t either,” he muses. “I’m happy to do whatever you want to do.” 

“I like the sound of that.” You glance up at him. “It’s a nice day. We could go for a walk, or a bike ride.” 

Jin groans. “You’ve been talking to Namjoon, haven’t you? Remind me to pay closer attention to who you’re spending time with.” 

“But it’s so pretty outside.” 

He shakes his head. “Nope. It’s the first Saturday I’ve had off in a while. I don’t even want to think about leaving the house. Even if it’s just for a walk.” 

“What happened to whatever I want to do, hm?” 

“I’ll do anything else you want, but as a matter of principle I refuse to do anything physical unless I have to.” He cocks one eyebrow mischievously. “Although I could be convinced if it means getting physical with you.” Jin wraps his arm tighter around your waist, his hand drifting toward the hem of your shirt again. “Are you planning on wearing this shirt all day?” 

“No, why do you ask?” You narrow your eyes in an attempt to look serious.

“Well, maybe I could help with its removal.” He smirks. “I’m always happy to assist, if you're finding it difficult."

You toss your head back with a chuckle. “Not this again.” 

“You didn’t say no,” he teases, and grabs at the hem of the shirt, purposely brushing past your most ticklish spot, which sends you into peals of laughter. 

“No fair!” you giggle, gasping for breath. “You know how ticklish I am!” Your arms flail around uncontrollably in an unsuccessful attempt to evade Jin’s attacks, as his nimble fingers seem to find only your most ticklish spots. Unfortunately, one of your hands comes into solid contact with his nose. 

“Yah!” he exclaims. “So we're playing dirty now?”

You turn to him, attempting to stifle your laughter. “Aw, I’m sorry, Jinnie. But that’s what you get for poking me in the side.” You rise up on your knees to peck the tip of his nose. “All better?”

“Okay,” he relents, his indignant expression dissipating. “You’re forgiven.” 

You snuggle back up to him, and he lets his arm wrap around your waist again. "Well, we've got a whole day in front of us, nothing to do and nowhere to be," you muse, clicking your tongue. "What do you think we should do with this rare occasion?"

"Can I make a suggestion?" Jin asks. You look up at him. "This might be crazy, but…what if we just don't do anything? What if we just stay here, in bed, all day? Clothing optional, of course." He pinches your bare thigh lightly and smirks. 

"Oh, of course," you say, trying to hide your smile. 

He continues: "We stay in bed all day, only leave for snacks, and you know,  other necessities. Then maybe we make something delicious for dinner, once again clothing optional. Or not, though if we order delivery at least one of us will have to put clothes on. What do you think?" 

"I don't know, that is kind of crazy," you say. "I've never spent a whole day in bed before. My mom would always yell at me if I slept past ten." Growing up the only time it was considered acceptable to stay in bed all day was if you were sick.

"There's a first time for everything."

"And what am I supposed to say when people at work ask me what I did this weekend, hm?" Your coworkers are usually nice, if not invariably nosy when it comes to everyone's supposed weekend adventures during your Monday morning coffee break.

"Absolutely nothing?" he says. "They don't need to know. Or you can just tell them you spent the weekend having loud, raucous sex with your boyfriend. Your choice." 

“You know if I did that no one would be able to look me in the eye ever again.” 

“So?” he says, his arm tightening around your waist. “That means I’ll be the only one who can look at you.” He presses a kiss to the side of your forehead.

“Oh my God." You chuckle. "Am I really about to spend a whole day in bed doing nothing?" 

"No one said we had to do nothing," he says, grinning devilishly. "There's plenty we can do without leaving this bed."

"Oh yeah?" you say, with a coy smile. "Why don't you come over here and show me?"

——— 

“Hey there, darlin,” came the sly laugh from behind me.

“Hey, Smurf,” I responded, sniggering down at the copy machine as I made the 50000th copy of the day. 

My coworker and partner-in-crime, Sarah, or “Smurf” as I affectionately named her, leaned against the Beast of a machine to my right, crossing her arms and feigning a nonchalant sigh of boredom.

It had been a long day. A ghastly week. In some ways, it mirrored the movie “Office Space” with the same monotonous routine, over and over and over again. The same managers droning on and on about better customer care and faster call times and working as a team, blah blah blah. Us worker bees of course just side-eyed each other with subtle rolling of the eyes, knowing we had to devote time to each individual customer to fix the problems, which meant longer call times. Which, of course, upper management just didn’t seem to get and completely ignored.

All in all, it was just another week, stuffed into another month, dragged into another year in this slightly stifling office job in the middle of the midwest, surrounded by cornfields and cringey political signs. Honestly, my only saving grace was the few tattoo gigs that popped up every now and again. Usually the loyal clientele that needed a touch up or new artwork done. I was a favorite at the only tat shop in the little town and was allowed to pick my hours. Nice, right?

Smurf huffed out another sigh, this one edging on annoyed, and I huffed one back at her. 

“Whatchu want, Smurfs? I’m trying to get His Majesty’s sheets done before closing time.” His Majesty was none other than the Big Boss’ son, slave driver and all around mysoginistic jackass. He really enjoyed giving out the lesser jobs to his more feminine employees. Seemed to get a kick out of lording his authority over them. I swear, he was born in the wrong decade.

“I knooooow,” Smurf grinned, studying her acrylic nails as she swayed her curvy hips in place. 

Taking my eyes from the Beast and rolling them in my bestie’s direction, I copied her stance and leaned against the wall behind me. “Smurfs, it's Friday,” I whined. “We’re almost outta here. Why you buggin’ me?”

Smurf finally let her inner demon glee shift her mouth into a huge grin and looked up at me. “So,” she spoke in a bored voice, betraying the utter joy evident all over her face, “You know The Concert That Shall Not Be Named?”

I stiffened. Of course. She HAD to mention the damned concert. Of all the gigs in all the world she had to bring me down with this shit. 

I was an ARMY, through and through. Lover of all things BTS, a solid fan, albeit for only half a year, I had been taken into the massive group of fans by a random tiktok that played a piece of their animated music video, “We Are Bulletproof: Eternal”. The vocals, the harmonies, the lyrics, the beautiful artistry, and their incredible dedication to their fans all smacked me right in the face. And I knew it. I was hooked.

Of course, living in the midwest meant I had to show my love from afar. I lived too far away from any concert venue and was way too poor to travel to any shows in the neighboring states. But it was ok, I didn’t allow that to dampen my adoration. The boys were hardworking, dedicated, talented people and I absolutely admired their commitment to their craft and their followers. Honestly, I had never witnessed such love for the fans in any other musicians, never seen the power the fans hold acknowledged in such a precious way. Their humble hearts and minds continued to surprise and endear me with every new song and episode of their shows discovered.

However, the Impossible had happened. On their newest world tour, the PR team announced several new locations to their travel venue. And my heart had nearly lept out of my chest when I realized the boys were coming to the Big City merely an hour away from my little town.

Smurf had called me, nearly in tears, wailing that the tickets were already sold out and the scalpers were selling the hacked tickets for 4 times the original price. It was a Dark Day for us midwestern poor ARMYs. There were many mourning candles lit. 

Hah, not really. But Smurf and I were happy for those who could attend, and continued to live our humdrum lives, secretly vibrating in excitement to have the boys in close proximity to us in just a few months. 

And now, my traitor of a best smurf, decided to remind me of this damned concert. Right as I was about to declare freedom and make a run for the exit. I already had my weekend planned. Bubble bath, pineapple rum, stuffed crust pizza, the new Dr. Strange movie…. 

I glared daggers at my friend-turned-traitor. “You dare to mention said concert? On this, the day of my cat’s quinceañera??”

Smurf burst out laughing at the mention of our favorite cat meme. After a moment, she quickly returned to her former stance and glared back at me. 

“Be prepared for your life to change, bitch.”

“What the fuck are you on about?” I laughed, clueless to her ramblings.

“I. Got. Tickets.”

My heart stopped.

“I’m sorry, I just hallucinated. What?”

Smurf huffed and dropped her hands, gripping my shoulders. “I. Got. Tickets. To see the babies. Our boys. The fine ass brigade. The glorious hip thrusters, the—”

“SMURF, YOU WHAT??”

My slightly unprofessional shriek in the middle of the large room filled with small cubicles and people readying for the weekend caused a sudden silence. 

Ducking low, avoiding eye contact with anyone in the vicinity, I grabbed Smurf by the elbow and dragged her into the nearest conference room. 

Tossing her dumb ass at the massive table, I slammed the door shut and stood staring at her, chest heaving. 

“You, what… how??” My brain refused to believe anything that was said in the last 5 minutes.

Smurf placed her hands together in prayer form and giggled maniacally. “I got tickets. To the BTS concert. The one close by,” she gasped out. 

My brain reeled, trying to imagine how this dirt poor office worker could manage to afford thousands of dollars worth of scalped tickets.

“Smurf, did you take your meds today?” I asked cautiously and slowly.

“Oh pfft,” she replied, waving her hand in the air as if to shove that very important inquiry aside. “You remember back in the day when they would give away tickets on the radio?”

“Oh. Yeah, sure. But… how the hell would they manage the phone lines for a BTS concert?” I pondered, imagining millions of phone calls bombarding a poor haggard DJ.

“See, that’s the thing. My uncle has connections, right? And it was a private giveaway. Apparently for certain… members of his club.”

I… did not even want to delve into that information. The infamous uncle of a supposedly… shifty background was also something we never really discussed. Even with some of the seedier clients that passed through my tattoo shop, we really tried to avoid dipping our toes in that area of the underworld. It was just acknowledged and then put aside. 

“So… you called in.”

“I called in.”

“And won tickets.”

“Won front row tickets.”

I blanked, jaw hitting the floor. Front row… the ones that cost tens of thousands….. Holy fuck.

After my brain came back online, cue the AOL start up noises, I blinked several times and closed my mouth.

“....How many tickets did you get?” I asked in a very tiny voice, my brain starting to vibrate with the smallest of hope. 

“Bitch, I got 2. Two mothafuckin tickets to see mothafuckin BTS!!!”

We both screamed and batted our hands at each other like absolute twelve year olds, shrieking and jumping around and losing our ever loving minds. 

Suddenly, reality came crashing down. In the form of His Majesty himself.

“Uh, girls?” he shouted, head peeking in through the open doorway.

We immediately froze and turned, smoothing down our skirts and hair (damn dress codes).

“I believe it's a bit early for a sexy pajama party,” he sneered, laughing at his joke like the arrogant ass he is.

Smurf and I laughed weakly and nodded, apologizing for making such a ruckus.

“Now, get your butts back to finishing up the week, we aren’t paying you overtime. I’ve got a table at Delgado’s with my name on it.” He winked disgustingly and slipped his oily self back out into the beehive/workroom.

Smurf grimaced and gagged. “Ugh, woe be the woman who got snagged into that date.”

“Mmhmm,” I mindlessly agreed, my hindbrain going over every single detail of every single thing that we need to do to get ready for this experience of a lifetime. 

Huffing and shaking off that creepy encounter, Smurf wrapped her arm around my shoulders and dragged me back out into the work room, shoving me at the copy machine. 

“Alright, babes, finish up, we got planning to do, this shit is going down next weekend!!”

My heart skipped a beat and I gripped the Beast in shock. One week. Holy hell, the concert is in one week. I need a drink. I need a Xanax. I need a fucking horse tranquilizer. 

All silly fangirling aside, my soul shivered in happiness, goosebumps spreading all down my skin. I would have the chance to watch these boys perform right in front of me. I will have the chance to witness their talent and voices and silly goofing and see the adoration in their eyes as they serenade their beloved ARMY. 

I will have the absolute honor of witnessing the most acclaimed group of musicians perform on stage. 

Jin slid a glass in front of you. “Mudslide.”

You regarded it with caution. “Which is…?”

“Just try it,” Jimin ordered, rolling his eyes.

You did, a little surprised. “Hmm. It’s good, but it also tastes like something I would sneak into the office on a rough day.”

“Pina colada?” Jungkook asked.

“Boring?” You answered snarkily.

He nodded agreement. “True. Alright. You do prefer sweet drinks, right?”

“I do.”

He gave you a dramatic thumb’s up.

“Ugh, how girly,” Jimin teased, smirking at you. “Your regular is a cosmo, so you actually tend toward tangy flavors. But I get the gist of what you’re saying. You’d rather be sweet than sour or burn-y.”

You nodded.

Hoseok had tasted the mudslide as well, passing it on to Yoongi, who appeared happy with it.

“Strawberry Daiquiri,” Jungkook said, sliding it over to you.

You took a sip. “Mmm, I do like that.”

“Aperol Spritz,” Jimin countered, a competitive look in his eyes.

You nodded. “I like the tones in this….”

“Hurricane,” Jin announced.

You glanced toward Taehyung. “Why do I feel like I’m going to die from mixing alcohol?”

Taehyung just shook his head a bit, sipping the Daiquiri.

“They’re really trying to get you drunk,” Hoseok murmured, making a curious face as he tasted the spritz.

You sipped the Hurricane and felt your eyes get huge. “Whoa.”

“Mai Tai!” Jungkook slid it to you with a flourish.

You sighed, shaking your head and tasting it.

Drink after drink set before you and you took small sips of most of them, your head already a little static, until finally you held up your hands.

“Enough, I surrender. I’ll tell you what drink I want as my new regular.”

All three bartenders turned, awaiting your final appraisal.

You took a breath. “My new regular drink...will be….”

A glance down told you exactly what was missing, and you were actually kind of happy that they hadn’t hit upon this drink.

“The classic French Martini,” You said, letting your hands drop.

They stared at you quietly for a long while.

“Classy,” Jimin finally whispered, awestruck.

Jin slid a glass down the counter to you, a look of quiet satisfaction on his face.

Jimin’s eyes practically bugged out of his head. “How….”

“I saw her drink it at a party once,” Jin answered, smiling smugly. “It took me a while to remember it.”

You took a sip and smiled. “Very nice. After I finish this, I’m done for the night, though. I shouldn’t be allowed to mix alcohol.”

Jungkook looked disappointed.

“Cheer up, Jungkookie, it’s just a drink. It’s not like I said anything before-hand.”

“She doesn’t get it,” Yoongi chuckled. “She’s too drunk.”

You looked down at him, then back at the sullen bartender boys.

“It’s not like Jin picked out my drink, he just happened to have the right answer after the test was over,” You said.

They looked even more upset by that.

Yeah, you were definitely missing something.

Jin started clearing drinks from in front of you, giving a few to each of the boys. “Forget them, y/n. Just enjoy your chosen drink. Forget about the past. Tomorrow is a new day and a new sort of hangover.”

You giggled a bit, definitely looser. “Alright. But I should really drink some water.”

“You have been,” Taehyung said lightly, laughing a bit and handing you the almost-empty water bottle. “And you’ve been eating.”

You stared at the empty bowl beside you. “Oh. Okay then.”

“She’s really drunk,” Namjoon muttered.

“Yeah. I’ll get her settled in the room upstairs. The rest of us should crash here. I’ll bring blankets and pillows down with me.” Jin stretched.

“Why can’t I stay down here?”

“Because Jimin is well on his way past tipsy, and drunk Jimin is a touchy-feely Jimin.”

“I like touchy-feely….”

“No, not his kind, you don’t.” Jin gently guided you to the back stairs, and up to the apartment above his bar. “Besides, you’ll get your own bathroom.”

“That’s nice.”

“Yes it is.”

You made a soft sound of regret. “Too many sweet drinks.”

“Yeah, sorry to put you through that.”

“Beach tomorrow?”

“Beach the day after tomorrow,” He corrected softly, helping you in the door and guiding you to the bedroom, making sure you drank more water and took some medicine before turning on the light in the bathroom. “Alright. If you need anything, just call my phone. Your phone is right here.”

You met his gaze, wondering how someone managed to glow. “I like summer.”

“I know,” He replied, smiling.

“It’s so bright and you guys all have more free-time and you close your bar early on the weekdays so we can spend time together….” You sighed and let your head fall forward onto his shoulder. “You’re so much fun.”

He laughed softly and then gently lay you back. “Try to sleep, y/n. It will help you feel better.”

You sighed softly and let yourself relax, licking your lips because there was still a hint of raspberry on your lips. “Don’t like being drunk.”

“I know. It’s okay. You’re safe here. I’m going downstairs now,” He whispered, kissing your forehead and then the warmth he radiated seemed to seep away as he left you.

You enjoyed college, you really did. Or at least that’s what you tried to tell yourself. 

Of course, it was better than high school — but high school had set pretty low standards, so anything was really better than high school.

Everyone constantly talked about how college was a great experience, no nagging professors, no idiotic students, everyone was mature. 

It was all a lie. College was hectic for you. Juggling a part time job and two courses was tiring to say the least. You were from a middle class family, meaning your family had enough money to get by, but you didn’t want to trouble your parents with your expensive tuition fees. So you had come to an agreement with them, they paid half of your fees and you found a job to try to make the other half. You had every idea of repaying them, just once you managed to earn enough money to pay for your tuition, food, rent, travel expenses, and textbooks.

Currently you were walking down the street, just having finished a class. Trying and failing to go through what your professor taught you in class, you simply put your headphones on, connect them to your phone and put on your playlist. 

Smiling when the song that appeared was your favourite, you were instantly put in a good mood. Taking a deep breath in, you pushed the door open into the cafe you worked at and were immediately greeted with the smell of fresh coffee beans. 

Pushing open the door that said, ‘Employee only’, you put your bag on the shelf reserved for you, grabbed an apron. Washing your hands, you went out, exchanging greetings with your coworker, whom you were familiar with. You often took the shift after her, and eventually you had become friends.

Today the crowd was pretty small, since most classes only let out in around an hour, that’s when you had to expect a large amount of sleepy, hungry young people deprived of coffee. 

You mostly stood around, cleaning, organising. That is until you heard the door open. Wiping your hands on your apron, you turned around and smiled at the customer, barely stopping your eyes from widening. 

The person in front of you was an extremely handsome man and he looked around your age, give or take a couple of years. He was handsome, to be precise he looked like a model. Needless to say, you were pretty sure you might have gawked at him for a couple of seconds before realising what you were doing. Embarrassed, you asked him his order, writing it down and getting the payment from him.

“Aren’t you going to ask my name?” you looked up, startled. Everything had been pretty silent, so you weren’t expecting much noise, so you were confused. “You know, to write it on the cup. 

At your further confusion, he smiled and answered. “So you don’t give my coffee to anyone else?”

You looked around, surprised. “There’s no one else here. I think I can remember that you’re the one who ordered the elaborate coffee.”

“So you have no interest in knowing my name?” 

Truthfully, if this were any other guy you’d want to know his name, but understanding that he was trying to flirt, you disagreed and told him you didn’t want to know his name. The thing was, you already knew his name. He was none other than Kim Seokjin, your college senior by two years. He was well known around the campus as the handsome rich guy, who was cocky about his looks. Seokjin, or Jin as his friends referred to him, was a nice person — or at least that was what you’d heard from around the campus. He was majoring in the same thing as you, and most of your professors spoke highly. He was also said to be a perfect gentleman, and to be great in bed. This piece of information you’d acquired through your friend, who’d found Seokjin to be cute. 

That wasn’t to say you didn’t have a crush on him. You didn’t —  you just found him cute. The two of you had barely spoken, apart from a few words exchanged during the occasional times you sat across each other in the library, or went to the same party.

While you made Seokjin’s order, he stood near the windows, looking outside. Nervous when he realised his friends were coming up the street. His friends were well aware of the little crush he had on you, and if they saw you two together, the teasing would never end.

You called out to him that his coffee was ready, and as his fingers grazed yours as he grabbed his coffee, a jolt of electricity passed. 

Seokjin looked up at you, looking straight into your eyes. Your heartbeat sped up as he smiled at you.

Friday night’s at Paradise were always jam-packed. People from various affluent backgrounds and occupations frequented the high end strip club, men and women, though no one could deny its appeal attracted a distinct male clientele. In the dressing room, you can feel the thrum of the music vibrating through you, the bass of the music pumping through your blood, giving you the extra boost of energy while getting ready before  going on stage. You look at yourself in the mirror and pick up a makeup brush, dusting shimmer along your cheekbones.

Getting ready to go on stage used to make you sick to your stomach. You needed to be in front of the mirror to ground yourself. Back then, It was easier for you to focus on your reflection instead of your bubbling nerves before performing.

You weren't that scared little girl anymore. You changed. Somewhere along the way you stopped being afraid or ashamed of dancing. Now you craved it. Now, you read the adrenaline pumping through your veins as excitement–not nervousness.

“You’re up, new girl.”

You roll your eyes at the nickname but smile anyway. You’ve been a regular at Paradise for a while now, but seeing how you were the last girl to come in, everyone still loved to tease you.

“It’s kinda a big crowd tonight,” says Hyuna. “If we’re lucky we might go home with a little more cash in our bags. I already got them warmed up for you.” She wiggles her eyebrows, grinning at you like the cheshire cat and you can’t help but smile back.

“I bet.” You give her a once over, taking in her fishnet stockings, leather shorts, and tied white T-shirt. “Looking like that, I know you probably started a riot.”

Hyuna flips her hair over her shoulder, all sass but her words play coy. “Ya know, I try my best.”

“I’m trying to be you when I grow up.” You laugh, before focusing on getting ready.

Hyuna was your best friend and one of the most talented dancers in the club. You’ve seen first hand how she could move a crowd. Captivate them, keep them on edge. There was a skill to her craft and you admired the way she kept an audience’s attention. Everything you know, you learned from her.

Your performance was next, and though Hyuna’s a tough act to follow, you're more than ready. You’ve been dying to get on stage and let loose. You turn back to the mirror and add the finishing touch to your makeup with a bold red lip.

A compliment to your otherwise all-black attire: a strappy bra and thong set with a diamond garter belt. Now that your look was completed you were ready to take on the stage.

You prepared yourself behind the curtain and waited for a familiar voice to call you on.

“Real special girl coming up for you next. Get that money out. Straight from heaven, and the answer to all your prayers tonight! Give it up for Angel!”

You smile at the introduction. Then the heavy beat of a hip hop track changes into something sultry. There’s a shift in the air. When the velvet lifts, the spotlight turns to you.

You can’t explain it, but every time you step foot on stage, something changes in you. You forget where you are and how many eyes are watching, you forget about your problems.

You don’t have to worry about school or bills or your relationship–it’s only you and the music. You close your eyes, hips swinging slowly as you move to the rhythm.

When you open them again it’s not you who’s in control but Angel. Angel who is sexy and confident. Powerful. Angel, who knows how to move her body and does what it takes to make the crowd hers and go wild.

You walk forward, hips swaying with seduction, only stopping to throw a look at the DJ’s booth. It was a ritual in your routine. You meet Yoongi’s dark gaze and send a wink in his direction. You loved to tease him, even just for a moment. Then turn your attention back to the crowd before you.

You strut towards the pole and slide your body down, all the while watching, searching. You're looking for your muse for the night. You see a few familiar faces, none of your usual takers. You're about ready to give up the hunt when you see him.

He’s sitting upfront, surrounded by a group of men in suits, looking totally disinterested. His long dark hair is in his face but you can read the disinterest in his eyes and in his body as he leans back on one of the VIP couches with one arm propped up and his legs spread out.

One look at him and you’ve already decided, it’s him. That’s the man you plan on seducing tonight.

. . .

Kim Seokjin was in a bad mood. After a long day of meetings and work, the only thing he wanted to do was to get home and relax—not spend the night out partying. He hadn’t planned for his friends to hijack his night and ambush him with a bachelorette party. That only made him feel worse.

The last thing he wanted was a reminder of the arranged marriage he didn’t want, the one his father set up for him. So here he was, in the middle of a strip club, brooding.

“Come on man, lighten up!” said Taehyung, throwing his arm around Seokjin’s shoulder. “You’re the only guy I know who could be in the hottest strip club in the city, surrounded by gorgeous, half naked women, and still be unhappy.”

Paradise was one of the most prominent gentleman’s clubs. only the elitists had access and even then there was a waiting list. He supposed his friends thought they were doing him a favor booking the most expensive VIP package. But growing up the son of a millionaire, the luxury was lost on him. It wasn’t anything he hadn’t seen before.

Jin shrugged him off. “I told you, I’m not in the mood tonight. You guys should’ve gone out without me.”

“The whole reason we came out is for you, Jin.”

Namjoon nodded. “You’ve been so stressed lately with the company, and your dad. We just wanna cheer you up.”

Seokjin managed to get out a weak smile. He appreciated his friends for trying, but ever since his father got sick, he’d been placing more and more pressure on Seokjin  to step up and take over.

As a result, he’d been taking on bigger projects and working later in the night.

Seokjin always knew he’d have to take over as CEO of his father's company eventually, he just never imagined it’d be so soon.

He always thought he’d have time. Time to grow up, to make his own way, to find love. . . Now it seemed all those decisions were being made for him.

“I know it’s been rough lately, but you gotta take some time off to have fun,” said Namjoon. “Who knows when you’ll get another chance?”

There were hardly any moments in his life left for him. “Maybe you're right, but do we have to do this?”

“By do this you mean, celebrate your last night as a free man before you have to marry Mei Ling?” Taehyung said, wiggling his eyebrows.

Seokjin scoffed and leaned back in his seat. “Please, this is hardly my last night. No one’s even picked a date for the wedding.”

“That’s exactly why we gotta get you out here now. Who knows when your freedom’s up? You could be married any day now.”

Taehyung reached for the bottle of champagne on the table, poured it into a glass and offered it to Jin. “Live a little, yeah? We went all out for you tonight, I even got you a lap dance. The least you can do is enjoy this.”

Reluctantly, Seokjin took the glass from Taehyung’s hands. Clearly drinking was the only way he’d get through this night. “Listen. I’m glad you're excited. But I’m tired, Taehyung. I just wanna lay low tonight. You guys enjoy yourselves.”

The lights dimmed and heated the room to a deep red while the music chan he’d it’s course. A new girl was taking the stage.

“Suit yourself,” said Taehyung. He took a sip of his drink and turned towards the spotlight on stage. “More gorgeous women for me.”

Seokjin finally relaxed into his seat, grateful to have the attention off him. He wondered how much longer he’d have to endure the night when Namjoon nudged him in his side. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d swear this girl was dancing for you.”

Seokjin looked over to the stage, and paused, taking in image. The woman was looking intently at him as she slid her hands down her body.

She was beautiful and sexy without a doubt. All the women at Paradise were. But there was something else that captured his attention.

The way you looked at him. It was so bold, so unabashed. Your eyes met for a brief moment, and then you smiled. Slow, seductive. That’s all it took. Seokjin was hooked.

His eyes followed you across the floor, fixed on every seat of your hips. The longer he watched you, the more attractive you became.

You bent down, running your hands down your thighs and bounced up and down a few times before coming up, and flipping your hair over your shoulder.

That little dance had him thinking about what it’d be like to have you bounce up and down on his cock. Seokjin bit his lip, emblazoned at the mere thought.

You seemed to forget him for a moment, going off into your own world. You took the poll and rolled your body against the metal. Then you wrapped your leg around it and went in for a spin, leaning rolling your head back.

Seokjin found himself leaning forward on his knees, desperate to get a better glance. You climbed up the pole then smoothly slid down, legs moving gracefully like you were walking on air. Just looking at you he could tell you had formal training. The beauty and guess that you held—dance was a passion for you—not just something you picked up for this job.

He couldn’t look away, couldn’t take his eyes off you as you completed your tricks. Your body, your face, he loved watching all of you, completely enamored by the way you moved.  But just when he was getting invested, the song came to an end, and you floated back down to the stage.

“Ladies and gentleman, give it up for Angel!”

He understood now why you went by the name. Something about you was otherworldly. And Seojin wasn’t the only fan. The club erupted into a chorus of praise, as men showed the stage with cash showing their appreciation for your dance. Clearly you were a crowd favorite.  

You collected the money, bills over flowing in your arms as you prepared to exit but Seokjin wasn’t ready to see you go just yet. He wanted to see your face once more, before you walked away. You must have felt the same because you turned to look over your shoulder as you reached the black velvet curtain. A shy smile graced your lips, so different from the bold look you gave him earlier in the night.

Beside him Taehyung hissed. “Damn, she’s fine. . .”

For once, Seokjin actually agreed with him. “Maybe I’ll take that lap dance after all. . .”

. . .

Hyuna is the first to compliment you back in the dressing room.

“Yo, you killed that!”

You smile at her, still catching your breath. “Thanks, girl.”

You're a little sweaty but completely satisfied with how you danced, even if you don’t really remember it all. Everything happened so fast. You always feel a little different on stage, a part of you comes alive. It’s all so exhilarating.

You always pick a muse for the night, a little game you play with yourself and your audience.  But tonight, the heat of his gaze had you acting brand new. You already sensed a thrill of power just moving, just letting loose.

But then, to steal and hold the attention of that man. . .  

One minute you were doing your usual routine and in the next heartbeat, you found yourself transforming into some kind of seductress. You worked up a sweat, chest heaving, but you couldn’t help but feel deliciously satisfied as you returned to your vanity.

Just as you threw on a robe and sat down, the door to the dressing room burst open, starting you in surprise. All the girls in the locker room looked back to find the source of the noise.

“Jessi are you serious?” said Hyuna. “Why are you slamming doors? You nearly scared me to death.”

The dark-haired girl stood at the entrance gripping the door frame with both hands, her eyes wide and bright with excitement. “Well you're really gonna die once I tell you the big news.” She threw her arms out at her sides smiling. “Ladies, we are making bank today!”

Hyuna shrugged. “And water is wet, Jessi, we make bank everyday.”

“No, no, no. You don’t understand. There’s a bachelorette party outside and you won’t believe who’s here.”

“Who?”

“Guess!”

“I don’t wanna guess, just tell us.”

Jessi’s smile deflated like letting the air out of her balloon. “Bitch. . . You’re no fun. Fine. It’s Kim Seokjin.”

Hyuna scrunched up her face. “Who?”

“Oh, my god. Kim Seokjin! He’s on Forbes list of Billionaires.” Chimed in Liza, another dancer. “His family owns some big jewelry business. This guy is rich, filthy rich. Like, diamond rich. How do you not know this?”

Hyuna scoffed. “Do I look like I own a diamond ring? If I did I wouldn’t be here, literally working my ass off!”

“Okay, but Jin’s not just rich, he’s famous. He’s practically a prince. People Magazine named him world's most handsome last year, you seriously telling me you don’t know who this guy is?” Jessi looked at you with pleading eyes. “(Y/n), tell her.”

“Sorry, I don’t know who he is either.” He did sound interesting though. Paradise was one of the biggest clubs in the city so they did see some celebrities dropping by, but from the sound of it never someone this big. You had to admit it did spark your interest.

You could tell by the look on her face that Jessi was so done with the both of you for being so oblivious. “Unbelievable. Don’t you read?”

“Yeah, books not magazines.” Hyuna muttered under her breath.

All the girls in the dressing room snickered. Including you.

“Whatever,” said Jessi. “You won’t be laughing when I bag this suga daddy and snatch all your money for the night!”

“Girl please, snatch what? You can’t even snatch up tips,” said Jessi.

“Excuse me?!”

Hyuna and Jessi were always getting into it backstage. Something about their big personalities naturally clashed. For the most part all the girls were pretty friendly, but sometimes there were petty disagreements.

Nothing ever really happened but you often ended up playing peacemaker. “Guys, please don’t start.”

“Ladies,” said Boa, her tone firm. “I know it’s exciting to have high ballers in the club but let's try to keep it civil.”

That was it. The girls stopped gossiping and returned to whatever it was they were doing before Jessi bust in with the news. Boa had that kind of effect. As house mom, it was technically her job to make sure everything went smoothly backstage, but she seemed to appreciate the effort you made.

You locked eyes with her in the mirror as you touched up your makeup. She mouthed the words ‘thank you’ and smiled back in response.

Boa came over to your side. “Great job out there tonight. You earned yourself an admirer,” she said, squeezing you. “There’s a gentleman looking for a dance. He’s waiting in the last room.”

Immediately your heart rate spiked.

It was just a lap dance. You’ve done this plenty of times before. So why were you so nervous?

What if it was him?

You banished the thought as soon as it came. Don’t be silly, what were the odds? Anyone in the club tonight could have wanted your attention.

Boa winked at you and walked away while you tried to calm your beating heart. You sat there for a minute longer, stealing yourself against the bundle of nerves squirming in the pit of your stomach before rising from your seat and walking towards the private rooms.

When you reached the last door you knocked twice before entering. Paradise private rooms are set up to be seductive. Small, but sexy and intimate, with fresh champagne on a bar cart, warm dim lights, and a velvet couch. There sat your mystery man.  

You sucked in a breath at the sight of him. He looked sophisticated and luxurious in an extremely expensive suit, clearly displaying a show of wealth you couldn’t even begin to imagine. His dark hair fell into his face but did not obscure the intensity in his smokey charcoal eyes. And his thick lips kept the hint of a smile. His features were chiseled perfection. You’ve given dances for patrons of Paradise before, but never for someone so handsome.

No, not handsome—beautiful.

He observed you as well, dark eyes growing even darker as they swept over your figure. And though you were still covered, you felt hot all over, like he was seeing you naked for the first time.

The chemistry was so thick in the air you could feel it.

A man that attractive had to be taken. So what on earth could he possibly want with you?

Doing your best to ignore the tension and your growing nerves, you turned your back to him while you picked a song from your playlist for the lap dance you were about to give him.

“I gotta say I'm a little surprised you wanted a dance,” you start, finally picking a smooth R&B track. You relaxed more once Summer Walker’s cool voice sounds from the speakers.  “You didn’t seem very happy to be here when I was on stage.”    

“I wasn't. Honestly, I wanted to be anywhere else tonight,” he said, voice sweet and low.

You stole a glance at him over your shoulder. He looked open, taking up space by relaxing his arms on the back of the couch, legs wide open while he stretched out. Despite his calm demeanor and his laid back attitude, you could tell by his body language he was slightly uncomfortable, his knee was bouncing.

“Is this your first time?” You asked, letting your robe fall to the floor.

“Y-Yes.” You appreciated his sharp inhale at your reveal.

You turned around slowly, allowing him to take in the view. Having rid yourself of your stage outfit you were only in your lingerie now. “Are you nervous?” You said as you slowly walked over to him, half-lidded gaze locked on him.

He chuckled. “A little bit.”

“Nothing to be nervous about. . .?” You said, speaking to yourself more than your guest. Though his honesty put you at ease and reminded you of your current situation. You’d be taking the lead. The gorgeous man in front of you might make your heart race, but it was you in control tonight.

“Seokjin,” he answered.

Why did that name sound so familiar? “Seokjin. . .” You hummed, liking the way his name rolled off of your tongue.

You swung your hips to the beat of the music and stepped in front of him, before taking advantage of the position he was in. You dropped low, resting your hands on his thighs and leaned forward to give him a little show. You didn’t miss the bob of his Adam's apple as he swallowed hard.

Seokjin was doing his best to keep it together. He was already hard for you. It was one thing to watch you move across the room. But seeing you up close, without an audience, giving him your undivided attention had him fighting against every instinct he had. He was dying to pull you down into his lap, to make you feel even half as much desire as he felt for your right now.

“Can I touch you?” he asked. He wanted to, but he didn’t know the rules and he didn’t want to disrespect you. If the two of you were alone in any other context, he’d already have you naked on the floor.

You appreciated the fact that he asked for permission. Most guys wouldn’t. But still, you shook your head no. “Two rules,” you said, winding your hips as you rose off the floor.

“No touching. No kissing.”

Seokjin was a little let down. He wanted so badly to touch you, but he nodded in understanding.

You could see the disappointment in his eyes. He obviously wanted to be closer and you didn’t mind indulging him. So did what you wanted to do the minute you saw him manspreading on the couch. You leaned forward and placed your knees on either side of him as you straddled him. You then sat down on his lap, a few inches away from his crotch.

“But I can touch you,” you say with a smile.

You watched Jin bite down on his plush lips as you swiveled your hips. You ran your hands down his chest, admiring the texture of his silk shirt, and the feel of him, thick and hot against you when he said: “What’s a pretty angel like you doing in a hellish place like this?”

You fought the urge to roll your eyes. “If I had a dollar for everytime someone made that joke—”

“You wouldn’t be a stripper?” He said, eyebrows raised.

If any other man had said that you probably would’ve been annoyed. Hell, a part of you was annoyed. But something about the teasing in his voice, or the glimmer his eyes held as he said it had you feeling some type of way. . .

You threw your head back and laughed.

Jin smiled then, pleased as punch. He started the conversation in an attempt to distract himself. If he focused solely on you, and the way your curves pressed against his body. . . He’d cum in his pants like a goddamn teenage boy. He hadn’t tried to make you laugh, but he loved the sound; it was deep and throaty. Genuine.

Seokjin looked into your eyes. “You're better than an angel,” he said. “You’re real.”

You laughed again. “You’re such a flirt! How do you know that? How do you know this isn’t all an act? I could be playing you right now.”

Okay, so maybe Seokjin was flirting. But he couldn't help himself; he liked you. Growing up in the world of business, he quickly learned to develop a good sense on reading people. He knew when someone was being disingenuous with him. But there was an air of honesty about you that intrigued him.

“But you're not, are you?”

You blinked. Normally you would be putting on a performance, creating a fantasy to please whatever man who favored you for the night. But he was right. You weren’t pretending. You couldn't deny you were attracted to him. Something about Seokjin had you eager to please. Just like earlier, you found yourself wanting to seduce him.

You bit down on your lip, trying your hardest to hide your reaction to him. You’ve never been turned on by a customer before. But then again, You’d never had a customer be this enticing.

“So,” You say, changing the subject. You wrapped your arms around his neck and rolled your hips deeper, enjoying his low grunt at the action. “What changed your mind? Why'd you stay?”

There's no hesitation. “You.”

“Me?” A coy smile tugs on your lips. Something like pride blooms in your chest. You had gotten to him earlier. . .You suspected as much but it was nice to hear it from the source.

“I-I’ve never seen anyone dance like that before.”

Emboldened, you continued, moving sultry. Everything you can do to tease him. It felt good, grinding against him like this. Too good. Apparently you weren't the only one feeling it. You're very much aware of the impressive hardness in his pants. “Oh? And how was I dancing?”

Seokjin pauses, trying his best to collect his thoughts. The sensation of you grinding down onto his lap, with only a thin layer of clothing separating your bodies—it was enough to drive him wild. He dug his nails into the couch as he fought off the urge to grip your waist, and pull you even closer. He can barely think straight.

“Fuck,” he breathes out. “Go easy on me, Love…”

His husky voice in your ear sends shivers down your spine. You slow down, rolling your hips and watch as his thick eyebrows knit together. You expected him to respond like the usual customers, saying how sexy or hot you were. But he took you by surprise.

He reached up, making eye contact as he cupped your cheek in his palm.

“You danced like no one else was in the room. Like you were free.”

You freeze. That was always how you felt when you danced. Free. And not just when you were up on stage. Before you ever got this job, dance had always been a big part of your life. It was your passion. When you danced, it was one of the few times you could let go and be yourself.

How did he see that? You were shocked and honestly, a bit flattered. You can’t remember the last time someone’s paid that much attention to you. On stage or off.

You don’t know how long you were held there, trapped in Seokjin’s gaze, his palm, hot against your face. But the moment seemed to build until it was all consuming.

Suddenly his touch was scalding. You scrambled off his lap and backed away from the couch.

What just happened? You thought.

Jin shook his head as if coming out of a daze, then focused his eyes on you. He hadn’t meant to touch you, didn’t even think about it. His hand seemed to reach you all on his own. Even though it wasn’t his intention he realized he crossed a line. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

“It’s fine,” you cut off. “Really. But you broke a rule. I’m gonna go now.” You picked your robe up from the ground and covered yourself, feeling naked in a different kind of way now.

Jin stood, holding up a wary hand. “I hope I didn’t offend you in any way.”

You shook your head. “You didn’t.”

Seokjin eyed you warily. Your words said one thing while your body said another. Your arms were wrapped around your frame, almost shielding yourself from him.

Damn, I made her uncomfortable.

Maybe he was imagining it, too caught up in the pleasure of it all, but for a second it seemed as if you were enjoying each other's company. Things felt easy. He didn’t want that to end.

“Can I see you again? Maybe outside of this place.” He knew it was crazy to even ask, but he still had to try.

You give him a half smile but shake your head no. “I’m sorry. I don’t mix business with pleasure. I only meet with clients inside Paradise.”

Seokjin frowned, “I understand.”

He didn’t want to push or make things more tense between you, but if there was any chance at all, he’d want to give you the option.

“If you ever change your mind. . .” Seokjin reached into the breast pocket of his suit and pulled out his business card. “You can contact me here.”

He handed it over to you, and you took the card from his hands tentatively, careful not to touch.

“Just think about it, okay?”

You nodded, then made your exit, closing the door behind you soundly.

You didn’t have to think about it. You wouldn't change your mind. Boundaries were important in your line of profession. You decided long ago not to mix up your personal life with your work life. You took the card out of politeness more than anything. So why did you get goosebumps at the sight of Seokin’s smile when you accepted the card?

. . .

You waited in the dressing room for a bit after your encounter with Seokjin, too shaken up to go into the club right away. It was strange. Nothing bad really happened between you two, but you felt all out of sorts.

Seokjin definitely wasn’t your worst client. He was easy on the eyes, and you didn’t sense him to be dangerous. Quite the opposite, actually. Seokjin seemed more nervous than you upfront and once you got him warmed up a bit he was perfectly friendly. He made you laugh. (Even though his joke was mad corny). He was likable, charming, and polite.

He even seemed to respect your boundaries—respect you— up until the last couple of minutes.

You’ve faced much worse. There were men who dealt out far more scandalous offenses. You were used to guys breaking the rules by grabbing your ass, or trying to touch your breasts. No one had ever broken a rule with such an innocent touch before.

So why did you leave, feeling so uncomfortable?

The rest of the night flew by in a blur. When you finally got up courage to make rounds in the club, Seokjin wasn’t there, and neither was his entourage. For some reason seeing his empty booth disappointed you. You chatted up a few customers afterwards. But you weren’t in the right headspace to be at work. You decided to call it a night, telling your boss Hoseok you were leaving early before going backstage to get your things.

“Hey, you okay?”

“Huh?” You looked up to see Hyuna standing by your vanity with a concerned look on her face. You waved her off.

“I’m fine. Just tired,” you lied. You continued putting things away in your dance bag.

“What’s that?” said Hyuna, gesturing to Seojin’s card on your vanity’s table.

“That? Oh, it’s nothing. Just a business card from my last client.”

Hyuna’s face lit up. “Oooh,” she sang.

“Stop, it’s not a big deal,” you said, but by then Hyuna already had the card in her hands and held it up to her face for closer inspection. “Kim Seokjin. . . Oh! Wasn’t he that rich guy we were talking about earlier? He was your lap dance?”

“So that’s why the name sounded so familiar.”

Hyuna smiled at you. “He must like you if he gave you his number. So, are you gonna go out with him? Bag yourself a suga daddy?” She wiggled her eyebrows, clearly still poking fun at Jessi’s earlier comment.

You shot her a look. “Of course not. You know I don’t go out with guys I work with.”

Hyuna snoted. “Uh huh, sure. What about Yoongi?”

“That’s different.”

“How is it different?”

You shrugged. “I don’t know, it just is. He’s never been a client and he knows me outside of  stripping.”

“Well, even if Yoongi’s in the picture you should still date your billionaire admirer.”

You took the card back from her. “Why would I do that? When I’m with Yoongi?”

This time it was Hyuna’s turn to give you a look. “Honey, define: with Yoongi, ” she said, making quotation marks with her hands.

“He’s my boyfriend.”

Hyuna raised an eyebrow. “Does he know that?”

You frowned. “Maybe not yet. . . but we are dating. He’s bound to make it official sometime.”

“Fucking and dating are not the same thing.”

“Hyuna!”

“I’m just saying! Yoongi’s not the girlfriend type. He cares more about his music than anyone else. You’re gonna mess around and get your heart broken if you put all your expectations on him.”

You threw your dance bag over your shoulder. “Thanks mom, but I’m a big girl. I think I can take care of myself.” You loved your friend, and all her honestly, but sometimes her opinions could be a bit overbearing.

Hyuna lifted her hands up in surrender. “Okay, I’ll shut up. I can tell when my advice is not wanted.”  Then she opened up her arms to you.

You walked into them, smiling slightly when she squeezed you in the hug.

“Are you coming in tomorrow?”

You pulled away. “Yup. I’ll see you.”

You made your way out of the dressing room and started walking out of the club, slowing down when you reached the Dj booth near the corner of the stage. You rest your arms on the counter and peer over at him, not announcing your presence at first, just watching him work. Yoongi’s sharp eyes focused on the soundboard before him. He’s dressed casual. Jeans, a t-shirt and his usual flannel hoodie, but you can’t take your eyes off of him.

He’s got his headphones on, ready to cue up another track into the mix. You love watching Yoongi when he’s in the zone. You wave you hand over the counter to get his attention.

Yoongi’s eyes divert to you and he slides his headphones off of his head, tussling his black hair in the process and turning it into a messy bed head.

“Hey,” he said.

The corners of his lips turned up into a half smile and you couldn't help but smile back at him.

“Hey.”

The exchange only lasted a few seconds. Then he’s right back in the mix, his back turned away from you and facing the sound system, focusing on the incoming track. You know he’s listening though, since the headphones rest on his shoulders.

“I’m going home early for the night. Will you stop by later?”

“I don’t know. I’m busy.”

Even for me?

“Yoongi,” you whine. It’s been awhile since you’ve been together one on one outside of work. And although you see each other everyday. It’s not enough. To be fair, Yoongi is busy. He’s good at what he does, has a lot of gigs lined up on the weekends outside of the club. And he’s always in the studio working on a new song.

He’s a hard worker. You don’t fault him for that.

“I miss you. . .”

You watch as he licks his lips, still heavily concentrated on the task at hand, and the swipe of his tongue sends up a memory. You remember him doing that same thing, carrying the same intense look before diving in between your thighs. . .

As if sensing your thoughts Yoongi looked up and raised a single eyebrow. The corner of his mouth twists up again, this time into a full blown smirk. That face. He doesn’t even have to say it, you already know where his mind is going.

“Not like that. I just wanna spend some time with you.”

“Are you sure?” He said, his deep voice practically purring.

Shit. Were you sure? Spending time with Yoongi almost always included sex. Not that you were complaining. The sex was good. . . Hyuna’s words from earlier come to you:  

‘Fucking and dating are not the same thing.’

“Yes, I’m sure.”

Yoongi shrugs. “Maybe.” Then just like that, his eyes fall back to his work.

“I’m not going to wait up for you.”

“So don’t wait up.”

You bite the inside of your cheek, fighting the urge to say something. But there’s really nothing left for you to say. So you turned heel and walked

. . .

At home, you tried your best to lift your mood by taking a nice hot shower and sliding into a silky nightgown. But the dark cloud in your mind wouldn’t fade away, and your thoughts only seemed to wander back to your earlier conversation with Hyuna.

Hyuna’s been working at Paradise for the longest. She knew everything about everyone there, and that included Yoongi. You trusted her more than anyone.

If she didn’t think Yoongi was relationship material, then there was some truth to that.

Not that the two of you were in a relationship. To be honest, you didn’t even know what you were. At best, you were friends with benefits. At worst?

You didn’t even want to think about what you really meant to him. . .  

Sometimes Yoongi could be so hard to read. The only thing you were sure of was that fact that you liked him. And you wanted more. More attention, more time.

You spend the rest of the night tossing and turning in the sheets, trying to get comfortable with your thoughts, and the knowledge you had. When your restlessness finally turned into fatigue, and the beginnings of sleep started to creep into your body, your phone buzzed on your nightstand.

Somehow, you already knew who it was before you checked the message.

[2:06am] Yoongi: You up?