For as long as you can remember, you’ve never been too fond of water.
The first time you stepped foot into a big body of water—also known as, the community pool a few blocks away from your childhood home—you cried. For some reason, a lot of water terrified you. You tried taking lessons once, but your instructor couldn’t even get you to step within five feet of the pool.
And your father never forced you to go back.
Over the years, you’ve tried to lessen the fear. And for the most part, you’re not scared of water anymore. You can sit in pools and be on the beach just fine. The only thing is, you still haven’t learned how to swim.
It’s like your body is just incapable of doing so.
There are only a select number of people who know you can’t swim—Namjoon and Haru, to name a few. Which is why they tried to talk you out of doing the canoe races. The weather is always unpredictable, as you never know what the gods are bickering about. And your friends were right: something bad was bound to happen, which is why you should’ve listened to them earlier.
But your stupid ego always seems to be in the way.
As you sink further down into the depth of the water, fear and anxiety begin to fill your veins. Is this really how you’re going to die? Being a demigod means life isn’t certain because danger always lurks in the smallest of places; however, drowning has never been on your list of possible causes.
What a way to out of this world, y/n.
You could already see Charon waiting for you on that boat of his, ready to take you across the river and into the Underworld. A part of you wondered if he’d laugh at you—laugh at the pitiful way you died. Then again, you’ve heard enough stories to know his expression always remained stoic.
Maybe you’ll even end up in Elysium, though you’re not sure you’ve done enough good in the world to deserve a place there. All you’ve been concerned with these last few years is how to get Jeongguk back.
Jeongguk.
Of course, in your final moments of life, only he would occupy your thoughts. How rude and inconsiderate of him. You should be thinking about your sweet friends or your father—but no, the only thing you can see is Jeon Jeongguk’s stupid face in your mind.
Still, you do find it a bit ironic now; you’re terrified of water—literally drowning at the moment—and he’s the son of the sea god.
Life sure does work in mysterious ways.
***
Jeongguk’s POV
All the screaming makes him turn around.
Jeongguk takes a glance behind him, where Athena’s canoe wades only a few feet away. Most demigods feared weather like this—the wild winds and restless waters only promised destruction. But it doesn’t bother him.
This is his father’s domain and Jeongguk feels at ease.
Until he counts the members of Athena’s canoe and realizes that one person is missing—more specifically, you. For the first time in a while, he actually feels his chest tighten in fear. Where did you go? There isn’t anywhere to go—not for miles. Except—
“Oh my god, she can’t swim!”
One of the younger campers on your canoe screams this, and Jeongguk feels something hot settle in his stomach. Without a second thought, he dives into the water.
It doesn’t take him long to spot you, and it seems your half-sibling was right—you really can’t swim. As odd as that sounds to his ears, he swims to you anyway. At the sight of your closed eyes and limp body, a weird sensation tugs at his heart. Why do you have to look so damn vulnerable right now?
Jeongguk realizes then that he’d rather take your fire—the way you’re always challenging him and the anger you possessed—over this frail girl any day.
He wraps his arms around your frame easily, pulling you back to the surface without much difficulty. Lifting you into the canoe, he watches as your half-siblings rush to you. After they take one look at your pale complexion, one bursts into tears while the others rush to perform CPR.
For once, Jeongguk feels useless as he moves back into his own canoe that has pulled up beside Athena’s.
“That was impressive.”
Turning, Jeongguk notices another canoe has pulled up—probably wondering what all the commotion was. His eyes settle on the voice, and he tries not to roll his eyes. But when it concerns the son of Hades, he often cannot help himself.
“Don’t start getting any ideas, Min,” he scowls.
Yoongi has the audacity to smirk. “You said it, not me.”
“I did what any person would do.” Jeongguk doesn’t know why he’s being so defensive. He’s never this defensive.
“Right,” Yoongi hums. “Because saving your sworn rival is totally normal.”
Jeongguk wants nothing more than to rub that stupid look on Yoongi’s face away. Just because he is amicable with the son of Hades—a fellow demigod of the Big Three, and therefore someone he could relate to—it doesn’t mean he isn’t opposed to inflicting a hint of damage. Though, before he can do such a thing, there’s a coughing fit coming from Athena’s cabin.
Relieffills him at the sight of you coughing up water. That’s a good sign. You’re going to be okay.
“Let’s get her to the infirmary,” someone says, and Jeongguk watches as your cabin rushes back to shore.
The rest of the canoes soon follow; even though the weather is starting to clear up, and the winds aren’t as brisk anymore, there’s no point in continuing the races now. Not after what everyone just witnessed.
Once they’re back on shore, Jeongguk jumps out of the canoe and his feet seem to move on their own accord—towards the Big House. Towards the infirmary. What? He shakes his head and decides to go in the opposite direction.
“I saw that slight hesitation, Jeon.”
Jeongguk looks behind him, where Yoongi casually gives him a look. He realizes that Yoongi really seems to be getting a kick out of tormenting him today.
“You saw nothing,” he says, turning back around and towards the cabins instead.
Yoongi moves to match his pace, and Jeongguk looks down at the boy donned in all-black. He has no clue why the dress code doesn’t apply to the son of Hades. “Keep telling yourself that. Denial is normal.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
Yoongi laughs. “I guess we’ll just have to see how this unfolds, don’t we?”
“Her hair is as dark as ebony and her eyes—her eyes reveal a storm, much like your own.”
[demigod!jeongguk x demigod!reader]
genre: percy jackson!au, mythology!au, demigod!au, enemies to lovers!au
word count:1.2k
rating:pg-13
warnings: vulnerability, some sweet moments, mommy issues?!
a/n: wow. i havent been active or written on tumblr in so long i cant even remember how to properly format shit omg. anyway, hello friends! this year has been absolutely crazy, and so much has changed in my life, but long story short: ya girl finally caught feelings. and ive been too busy entertaining my boyfriend to properly write. eeeekkk omg i have a whole ass mans wtf. so…yeah…here is the much belated next installment to this drabble series! hope you enjoy. i love this chapter so much. xoxo
One of the things you’ve always hated about being a demigod is that dreams are often a direct reflection of reality or an illusion caused by Phantasos, so it’s difficult to tell what’s the truth. Though in this case, you might already be dead.
“You are not dead.”
The voice is smooth like honey, yet stern and powerful all at once. Never have you heard this voice before, but you feel…comforted. Safe. Things you usually don’t ever feel as a demigod since monsters are always lurking. But at this moment, you feel yourself relaxing—letting go of your worries.
In the vacant space that was before you moments ago is now a beautiful woman. The finest silk is draped across her body, accentuating her feminine curves. Beads of gold and precious jewels adorn her wrists and fingers. Her hair is as dark as ebony and her eyes—her eyes reveal a storm, much like your own.
“Athena,” you breathe, recognizing her immediately.
Like any other demigod, you’ve always imagined what it would be like to meet your godly parent. Most of the kids at camp have never had any sort of direct interaction with the gods, besides being officially claimed. You’ve always heard that the gods are too busy, though maybe it’s just because they have too many children to keep up with.
You have only ever felt your mother—through signs—when in danger. So, finally seeing her and directly hearing her voice placates you.
The goddess of wisdom and battle strategy takes a step closer to you, and the act seems to knock the wind out of your lungs. Your senses are filled with the aroma of olives and nectar; it’s almost too much. Just when you think you’re going to succumb to these sensations, one sharp look from Athena pacifies you.
“Calm yourself, child,” she seems to chastise, like an actual mother would do. “I thought I created you better than this.”
You’re at a loss for words. “Did I do something wrong? I just—I’m shocked to see you…”
At the trail of your words, Athena can tell that you’re holding back. For just a moment, her eyes soften in the slightest. “I know I am not the most involved in your life”—an understatement of the century, you think— “but I am proud to be your mother.”
“Really?” You feel like a child seeking approval.
“Just because I do not always intervene in your life, it does not mean I am not watching over you,” she says. “I always have, my dear.”
Warmth pools in your stomach at her genuine disposition. “Thank you…mom.”
A soft grin lights Athena’s face, and you see the curve of your own smile in hers. You try to encase this moment in your mind; you don’t want to forget a single bit of it. Her smile, the way she smells, how her hair is pinned up—you want to remember it all.
“So, why are you here now?” you can’t help but wonder.
“Physically, I am not with you,” she admits, “because you are not awake.”
“You said I didn’t die…” in the water.
Athena nods. “Yes, you are very much alive. Just asleep. I came here to tell you to wake up.”
“And how do I do that?”
“That I cannot help you with,” she sighs. “It is something you must do on your own. However, I think, perhaps, finding something of motivation should do the trick.”
Motivation? Was waking up not motivating enough? Why did this have to be so difficult? As you think of a possible valid reason to wake up, you lock eyes with your mother. How strange that you have the same eyes as her.
“I believe you know what motivates you,” her eyes twinkle for a second, and you would’ve missed it if you weren’t paying attention. “Think a little deeper, dear. I am sure something will spring to mind.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” you deadpan.
“I think you do. In fact, I am almost positive it is wading through your mind at this very moment.”
“Mom.”
“Daughter.”
You blink. “Are you being serious right now?”
“I think that Jeon boy is rather interesting, would you agree?”
You release a breath. “The son of Poseidon? I thought you hated the sea god.”
Athena’s brows furrow. “I do—that rivalry has withstood ages. Poseidon is a pompous idiot, and I will stand by that statement until the end of my immortality. However, I do have to admit I sometimes do not hate his offspring.”
“I don’t like Jeon Jeongguk.”
“I never said you did,” the goddess nearly laughs, and you freeze.
You feel heat rise up your chest and spread across your face. “I didn’t mean it likethat.”
“Of course not, dear,” Athena muses, clearly struggling to keep a smile off her face.
“He annoys me, mother,” you sigh, attempting to move past your momentary lapse of character. “Like a literal thorn in my side.”
“All I am going to say is, I have been watching you these last few summers. And I have never seen anyone exude as much passion as you have when it comes to that boy,” she says. “Remember, love and hate are two sides of the same coin.”
You roll your eyes. “There is no such thing as love between Jeongguk and I. It is all hate.”
Athena gives you a knowing look, but she doesn’t tease you again. Instead, she takes another step closer to you—mere inches away now—and brings a hand up to brush your hair behind your ear. For a second, her stormy eyes become a kaleidoscope of colors; as if every emotion is passing across. Colors you’ve never seen make an appearance and you try to take them all in—swearing you’ll never forget a single one.
“Wake up, okay? I will see you soon.”
As the last word slips past her lips, the image of your mother begins to fade. Almost foolishly, you reach a hand out to stop the disintegration. But with a blink, she’s gone and you’re all alone again.
Only now, the emptiness of the space begins to suck you in. And you allow it; you allow the darkness to devour you. Maybe the fates have decided to pluck your string for real this time. Still, your mother’s words ring in the back of your mind.
Motivation.
You think hard about what motivates you. For one, your father—he motivates you; though, not necessarily anymore since you’re focused on camp. That’s another thing—your cabin; they motivate you to be a great leader, though you don’t necessarily do it for their approval. So, what really motivates you then?
Almost shamelessly, you know what your greatest motivation of all is—the person who has pushed you, indirectly and nearly accidentally, to do everything you’ve done for the last five summers. The person you have wanted to surpass. The person who irritates you to no end, yet you can’t seem to escape.
Your mother was right, but you don’t want to admit it—not even to yourself.
This is so silly, you can’t help but think. I can barely tolerate him…why is he always the root of all my problems? Though, I guess being a pain in the ass does result in a good source of motivation.
Suddenly, the darkness around you begins to crumble, and brightness fills your senses. The light is warm, and you feel yourself being transported.
“But it wasn’t that you necessarily regretted sleeping with Hoseok. No, you very much enjoyed it—maybetoomuch—which is why it was wrong. So fucking wrong.”
[rich boy!hoseok x reader]
genre: country club!au, smut, slightly angsty, some fluff
word count:12.8k
rating:mature
warnings: sex. lots and lots of unprotected sex lmao (please use protection), slight rough sex, some jealousy, rich prick asshole jung hoseok, mentions of alcohol, language, golf terminology (i’m sorry if it’s wrong idk anything about golf LMAO) oblivious mutual pining lol
a/n: omg this fic absolutely consumed me these last few weeks. i haven’t been able to think about anything else, which is why i haven’t been super active lol. so glad i finished this before the upcoming valentine’s holiday and hobi’s birthday <3 loved writing this so much! rich asshole hoseok has my heart. xoxo
You have never felt more flustered in your life.
It’s the summer after your first year of college, and you decided to come home—to spend a little time with your mother and her new husband. Well, more like she begged you to come home. You actually wanted to visit your roommate’s family on the coast, and spend your days at the beach, but your mother insisted that you come home instead.
Now that you are home, she doesn’t even have time to spend with you. She and her husband are too busy vacationing; that should’ve been you. You can’t even bear to look at your roommate’s Instagram account. And worse of all, your mother signed you up for a job you did not consent to.
“You did what?”
Your mother blinked back at you, feigning innocence. “I heard from Mrs. Lee—you know, our neighbor down the street that attends the local country club—and she said that they were hiring for the summer. You know how rich people love their golf and fancy dinners.”
“And you just decided to volunteer me?” You couldn’t believe her. “I don’t want to work at some prissy country club.”
“Weren’t you just complaining about being broke last week?” She really did not need to expose you like that. “This’ll be good for you, honey.”
Thus, you found yourself standing in front of the country club not even a week later. They hadn’t even asked you to do an interview; you just talked to a manager on the phone and she said for you to just come in. Honestly, too suspiciously easy but what could you do about it? Your mother had been right—you did need the money.
When you arrived, you were immediately whisked away into training. There, one of the girls, Soyoung, fitted you into the uniform—a plain white polo and khaki shorts—and told you what you’d be doing here.
“So, there are a lot of different areas here,” she began, “as you can see from how big this country club is. So, you might find yourself working in different areas occasionally…but for now, you’re going to be on the course with the drink cart.”
Soyoung explained that as the drink cart girl, you’d be driving a golf cart around while handing out beer and other drinks to the golfers on the course. It seemed easy enough, except you’d never driven a golf cart before…or tried to sell people something. However, Soyoung assured you it was easy.
But that was about an hour ago. Since then, a lot has happened. You managed to get the golf cart to work, but it is considerably different from an actual car. The forward/backwards switches were tripping you up. Because of that, you already knocked over a display…or two.
Which leads you to your most embarrassing moment.
For some reason, you forgot that being back in your hometown means the possibility of running into people you went to high school with. The thought just didn’t seem to come to mind. Being off at university has made you forget about all of those idiots you used to be around every day. Until now, when you bump into one of them. Literally.
You really hadn’t seen him behind you; then again, you weren’t looking, which was probably not the greatest idea. But you blindly backed up and hit him. Not that you were going fast or anything, but he did cause an outburst.
“Oh my—fuck! Watch where you’re going!”
Horrified, you press onto the breaks. Turning around, an apology begins to fall from your lips. “I am so sorry. It’s my first time—”
“Y/n?”
You freeze at the voice; it sounds awfully familiar. Blinking a few times, your eyes focus on the person in front of you. And your stomach sinks. Standing in front of you is none other than Jung Hoseok—the last person you ever expected to see again.
He must see the recognition fill your eyes because he instantly smirks. “Wow, it really is you. It’s been a while, huh? Haven’t seen you since graduation.”
An awkward laugh passes through your teeth. “Yeah…it really has.”
“Didn’t expect to see you here,” his smirk seems to widen, and his eyes travel down to your clothes. “You work here or something?”
“Yeah…just started today, actually.”
He nods appreciatively. “Nice. Well, I’m here almost every day, so, I’m sure we’ll be seeing a lot more of each other.”
I hope not. “Sure.”
Just as Hoseok opens his mouth to say something else, someone calls his name. He looks away from you, and that’s when you finally allow yourself a moment to look at him. For the first time, you realize how long a year is and how much change can happen in that time frame. Even though it irks you a bit to think about, he looks really good—even in his damn polo and khakis.
You take in the curved slope of his nose, the way his brows are perfectly arched to match his equally perfect eyes. And you’re almost blinded by his pearly white smile. Perhaps, Hoseok has always been attractive—dark, windswept hair and all. You’ve just never wanted to admit it; even after that one—
“Catch you around, y/n,” he suddenly says, and that’s when you realize he’s caught you. He smirks and shoots you a wink as he walks away, leaving you to mentally kick yourself alone.
***
In high school, you and Jung Hoseok were in different crowds. He was preppy and popular—kind of snooty, to be honest—and you were just normal. Not popular, but not a complete wallflower either. Despite not being in the same circles, you both had a few classes together; which meant that you knew each other decently well. At least, you knew enough about Hoseok that you wanted nothing to do with him.
Except for that one, momentarily lapse of judgment, your conscious suddenly reminds you. But you’d rather not think about that right now.
Another thing about Hoseok that you knew of was his background; he came from money—a lot of it, actually. You don’t know exactly what his family does, but they’re those old money types; the kind of rich people that have been rich forever. Which helped to explain his popularity in high school, and how he had a country club membership now.
You wished you knew that before you got the job here.
As you drive around the golf course, feeling more comfortable driving the cart now, you may or may not be on the lookout for Hoseok. Now that you know he’s here, your eyes seem to search for him everywhere. And it’s not because you want to see him; you want to avoid him, if possible.
It’s not until you’re halfway through the course that you see him with a group of other guys, which—to your displeasure—are also people you went to high school with. It’s fitting though, you presume, considering they were all close then as well.
You don’t know anything about golf, but you watch as Hoseok lines up his club to the ball. He swings only once, and the ball flies. You follow where it goes and watch as it hits the grass and rolls right into the hole. His friends cheer for him as he turns around with a smug look on his face. “And that, everyone, is how you fucking do it.”
“Nice, man,” one person—who you recognize as Jeon Jeongguk—says, moving to pat him on the back.
“The motherfucking GOAT,” another—Kim Namjoon—laughs.
“Maybe you should just go pro or something, dude,” the last guy says, and you recognize him as Kim Seokjin. “Because you’ve hit an ace, birdie or eagle at every hole.”
Hoseok laughs at that. “Maybe I’m just lucky today.”
“Dude probably just had good ass last night,” Namjoon smirks. “So, who was it?”
“A gentleman does not kiss and tell, my friend,” Hoseok winks, and you can’t help but roll your eyes at the banter between all of these men. Disgusting. “But if you really want to know…”
“Not you trying to get Hoseok’s sloppy seconds,” Seokjin speaks directly to Namjoon. “Because we all know how that went the first time with—”
“It wasn’t my fault Katie caught feelings,” Hoseok interrupts, walking back towards the rest of his friends. “I told her it was a one-time thing.”
Jeongguk struggles not to laugh as he moves up to line his club and ball. “And then you introduced her to Namjoon.”
“And she used him to get closer to…” Seokjin starts to say, but then he notices you. You’ve never seen someone straighten up so quickly. “How long have you been sitting there?”
“Long enough,” you say as three pairs of eyes turn to look in your direction as well. “Um, drinks?”
“Took you long enough to get here, y/n. I was starting to wonder when you’d arrive,” Hoseok takes a step in your direction, and you watch as the rest of the guys do a double take.
Namjoon is the first to speak, “Ah…y/n. Yes, I remember you…we had chemistry together, right?”
“Oh my gosh, you were in my calculus class!” Jeongguk exclaims, golf club still mid-air.
“I don’t think we had any classes together,” Seokjin says with a pout. “Because if we did, I would’ve remembered you for sure.”
For some reason, you feel your cheeks get hotter. “Um, thanks?”
You can tell they want to say more to you, but Hoseok shoots his friends a look you can’t see, and they close their mouths immediately. Turning back to you, he takes another step close to your golf cart. “A beer for each of us.”
“Aren’t you all underage—”
“No one cares here, y/n,” he cuts you off with a smirk. “Besides, Seokjin’s father owns this country club—we can do whatever the fuck we want.”
Shock passes through you at this news, mouth dropping at the realization that Hoseok and his friends might be more privileged than you originally thought.
“And we don’t usually have to pay for anything, but”—he fishes for something in his pocket— “here.”
You look down at his extended hand, where a crumpled 100-dollar bill sits, and practically gawk at it. Who carries such large bills around so casually? “What—?”
“Keep the change,” he stares you right in the eyes, and you have no other choice but to accept the money.
“Thanks,” you manage to say before reaching around to grab four beers from the cooler.
As each bottle is plucked from your hands, Hoseok is the last person to grab his; and the way his fingers accidentally touch your own seems like no accident at all. Although it was only for a few seconds at most, his touch leaves your skin burning. Burning for what? You don’t know; but it lingers the rest of your shift in a way that is so distracting, you nearly hit someone else with the golf cart.
***
“So let me get this story straight, you saw a guy you fucked for the first time in a year and now you don’t know what to do with yourself. Worst of all, his presence at your new job is going to be the death of you.”
You cringe at your roommates’ words. “God, why do you have to say it like that.”
“I mean, that’s who he is right?” her voice echoes through the screen.
She’s not wrong, but it still doesn’t sit right with you. “When you say it like that, it’s just weird.”
“Y/n, you act like you haven’t fucked other guys before.”
“Yes, but what happened with Jung Hoseok was a mistake,” you breathe. “It was never supposed to happen.”
Her pixilated expression softens upon seeing your clear distress. “I understand, babe. We all do things we regret.”
But it wasn’t that you necessarily regretted sleeping with Hoseok. No, you very much enjoyed it—maybe too much—which is why it was wrong. So fucking wrong. It wasn’t like he coerced you into that bedroom; you willingly followed him inside. And you can’t even blame it on the alcohol because you had been as sober as the day you were born.
It was graduation weekend, and everyone had come out to celebrate. You really didn’t want to go, but some of your friends forced you. Just enjoy the time we still have together, y/n, they had said. Ironic, because you no longer spoke to any of them.
Around the fire, behind the massive patio of someone’s house, drinks were poured and passed around. Even though you held a red solo cup in your hand, the murky liquid didn’t draw you in; you hated the way alcohol tasted back then. Still kind of do. But you simply pretended like you were enjoying yourself.
Every single part of you wanted to leave early that night, but you didn’t. You ended up staying because of Hoseok. It was something about the way he carried himself at that bonfire that night. Before, you never saw him as anything more than a spoiled brat; however, the flames of the fire seemed to soften him before your eyes. Because before you knew it, Hoseok pulled you away from the stares of everyone else.
You don’t even remember what happened—what you two talked about or didn’t talk about. But something happened before he kissed you. Unfortunately, it’s all a blur now.
After swelling your lips with, what seemed like, a thousand kisses, he told you he wanted more;and you told him yes. The memory of him rushing with you through the house and into a vacant room still burns hotly in your mind. You had been giddy with nerves and excitement as he pushed you against the closed door, sucking the air from your lungs.
Hoseok ripped your clothes off with practiced hands, clearly experienced with this, and made you come undone more times than you can recall. Throughout this whole exchange, not much was said; but no words were needed when he could read your body so well.
The both of you ended up falling asleep like that—tangled in each other’s arms. And when you woke up a few hours later to the rising sun, horror filled your veins like a shock of ice.
You left without saying anything. Not that you think he would’ve cared either way. Jung Hoseok seemed like he would be used to stuff like that.
You just never thought you’d see him again one year later.
But here he is.
***
During your next few weeks at the country club, you try your best to avoid Hoseok.
This, however, proves difficult to do since you can hear his laughter echoing everywhere. From the hallways to the range, you can’t seem to escape him at all. And it doesn’t help that his friends all seem to be around too.
Every time you catch even the smallest glimpse of him, you turn in the opposite direction. You aren’t sure if he can tell that you’re avoiding him or not, but you don’t care—you just want to get this summer over with already.
“Y/n!”
Turing in the direction your name is being called, you see Soyoung walking towards you. You offer her a tight smile, hoping she isn’t here to tell you that you’re in trouble or something. “Soyoung. What’s up?”
“Do you mind helping me clean up a little by the pool? I know you just got done on the range, but a girl called out and I could really use the help.” She gives you this sad puppy look, which means you can’t refuse her offer. So, begrudgingly, you follow her back outside.
In the hot summer sun, the large crystal blue pool looks like temptation. Soyoung notices your face and laughs. At her laughter, you realize you’ve never seen the pool this close. You pass by the canopy lined pool lounge every day, but you’re not a maid here or on lifeguard duty so you’ve never had a reason to linger very long.
“Looks inviting, huh?”
All you can do is hum in agreement as you begin helping Soyoung pick up disserted pool towels and throwing them into the hamper. As you’re bending down to retrieve a particularly wet towel on the concrete, the hot sun beating down your back is suddenly gone. You look up and notice there’s a shadow blocking the sun—a suspiciously familiar shadow.
Immediately, your back straightens, and you turn around to face a shirtless Hoseok. His hair is wet from the pool, which means beads of water are cascading down his chest. You try not to stare, but he’s literally so close; there’s nowhere else to look. Your eyes follow the towel in his hand as he begins to dry himself up, going from his abdomen before they travel down to the dark trail of hair that leads to—
You freeze and force your eyes back up, but the smile on his face tells you that you got caught—again.
“Like what you see?” His smile seems to grow wider at your expression.
You scowl. “In your dreams, Jung Hoseok.”
He leans down, face inches from yours, whispering, “If I remember correctly, that dream already came true…one year ago.”
Before you can say anything, he stands back up to his full height and brushes past you—his naked skin burning holes through your clothes. Once he’s a few steps away from you, you realize his friends were also there the whole time. Embarrassment burns your cheeks at what they might’ve thought, but their expressions remain too ambiguous for you to read as they follow their friend.
“I didn’t know you knew Hoseok.”
Your head whips towards Soyoung. “I don’t…I mean, not really. We just went to high school together.”
But your coworker doesn’t seem to buy it. “Really? I’ve been working here for a few summers and those guys have always been around, especially because Seokjin’s dad is the owner. I’ve tried to make small talk with them a few times, but they’re pretty intimidating.”
“They’re pricks,” you tell her. “Typical entitled rich boys.”
“I suppose so,” she hums, throwing the last towel into the bin. “Anyway, can I ask for another favor?”
All you can do is nod. “What?”
“I have another thing I have to do,” Soyoung starts, making you realize she works pretty hard here, “so, can you put these towels in the laundry room? You don’t have to start a load or anything; just leave them and one of the maids will wash them later.”
She slips the laundry room key into your pocket, telling you to give it back to her later, as she rushes off to her next task. Which leaves you to find the laundry room by yourself. After nearly ten minutes of searching, you find it tucked in a small hallway.
Opening the door, you push the dirty towel hamper into the room. You look around and see multiple washers, dryers, and a lot of storage shelves filled with miscellaneous items. You’re so caught up in looking around the room that you almost don’t hear the door close. At the sound of the lock clicking into place, you turn around; immediately, your heart starts beating faster.
“What are you doing in here?”
Hoseok leans against the door, no longer shirtless like before, and smirks at you. “I was following you.”
Like that’s not weird at all. “Stalker much?”
“Just wanted to know why you’ve been avoiding me, that’s all,” he pushes off the door, taking a step closer. You unconsciously take a step back, hitting the hamper.
“I haven’t been avoiding you,” you lie.
He just blinks at you. “You’re a bad liar, you know that?”
You’re shocked that he can read you so well. “Okay, so what if I am avoiding you? It’s not like you should care. Just leave me alone.”
For a brief moment, something passes over his eyes; but the emotion’s gone before you can think about it. “I don’t think I can do that.”
“What?” Now, it was your turn to blink rapidly.
Hoseok takes another step towards you, severing whatever distance there had been before. His arms move to cage you between himself and the dirty hamper. Slowly, he leans down, making sure not to move his eyes away from yours. “I can’t just leave you alone—not when you’re the only thing on my mind.”
“What are you trying to say—” his hand wrapping around your jaw shuts you up.
“To put it simply, I can’t stop thinking about you—about that night after graduation,” he says, eyes swirling with a darkness you know all too well.
“But that was a year ago,” you manage to say through clenched teeth, and he loosens his grip on you.
His signature smirk lights his lips. “So?”
“I was drunk,” you lie again. “I don’t even remember what happened.”
“So, you’re telling me you don’t remember this?” One hand curves around your hip. “Or this?” Another wraps around your waist. “Or this?” He plants his lips onto your jaw.
You release a harsh breath as the memories of that night come flooding back. Heat begins to pool in your stomach from his touch. As he peppers kisses along your jaw and down your neck, your hands move to fist his shirt. Just as a moan threatens to leave your throat, he pulls away.
Your lips part in indignation at the loss of touch, and Hoseok just smirks even wider. “I thought you said you don’t remember?”
“I’m going to kill you, Jung Hoseok,” your frustration is through the roof.
“Tell me you remember.”
Right now, there are two sides of you fighting. There’s one part of you that wants to tell Hoseok you don’t remember a single thing—that you really had been drinking graduation night. But there’s an even larger part of you that wants him so bad—to feel the same high you felt a year ago.
So, you settle with, “But I’m working right now.”
Hoseok’s eyes turn obsidian as his smirk drops. “I’ll be quick.”
He pulls you away from the hamper and pushes you, stomach first, against one of the washers. Suddenly, you realize what’s about to happen and you try to force the dopey smile off your face by biting your lip. In one swift motion, he unbuttons and pulls both your shorts and panties down to your ankles. By the sudden coolness below, you already know you’re soaking.
And Hoseok must realize this too because you feel him swipe a long finger over your folds. You instinctively jerk back, letting out a moan at the slight pressure. “Hoseok—”
“Fuck, y/n, you’re so wet for me already,” he groans, using a second finger against your wetness. He slowly rubs your clit and you can’t help but tighten your grip against the cool machine. “Wonder if you’ve been wet since we saw each other earlier.”
You roll your eyes. Typical, cocky Jung Hoseok. “Of course not, you douchebag.”
“I beg to differ,” he hums, inserting a single digit inside of you. “So tight—just like I remembered. Tell me, y/n, has anyone else had the pleasure to fuck your pretty pussy after me?”
His words cause you tense for a moment, before replying, “Yes, asshole. I went to college. What do you think?”
“I’m thinking that I’m about to fuck you so good,” he starts and finishes with a whisper, “that you won’t remember any of them.”
If you weren’t already turned on before, you were now. Hoseok continues to fuck with his finger, slowly adding a second one, edging you until you’re a panting mess before him. “S-Stop teasing—I thought you said you were going to be quick?”
“I will be,” he promises, and you can hear him pushing the waistband of his swim trunks down. You’re dying to see his cock again, so you turn and nearly drool at the sight of his angry red tip. For some reason, he looks bigger than you remember and that worries you a little. “What? Think it won’t fit?”
You raise your eyes to look at his, and he has the sexiest expression on his face you’ve ever seen. “No. It fit before, right?”
He licks his lips as he brings his cock close to your entrance, brushing his head back and forth against your clit. You turn back around, arching your back more in hopes that he’ll finally just stick it inside already. But before you can get too lost in the moment, you gasp.
“What’s wrong?” He actually sounds concerned.
“Do you have a condom?” you ask, facing him again. And by the pained expression on his face, he doesn’t. You let out a frustrated groan at getting all worked up for nothing. You’re about to reach down for your panties when he pushes you back into place. “What?”
“Are you on the pill?”
“Yes,” you answer, “but the pill is only—”
“I’ll pull out,” he says. “And I’m clean, I swear.”
You look into his eyes and seeing the desperation in them makes you want to indulge him. “I’m clean too.”
Hoseok breathes a sigh of relief. “Thank fucking god.”
“You better pull out, or I swear Jung—”
You fail to get the rest of your words out because he slams his cock into you. And you’re right—he is bigger than you remember. He bottoms out at your cervix and you feel like a mess already. You both moan at the feeling of being connected like this again, after so long, and Hoseok keeps his promise and wastes no time.
He thrusts into you hard and fast, leaving you to do nothing but take everything he has to give. “Fuck, Hoseok—oh my god.”
Earlier, he talked about fucking your past sexual exploits out of you, but there was no need to mention anything at all; no one compares to him. They never had a chance.
“Shit, you feel so good wrapped around me,” he groans, digging his fingers into your hips.
And soon enough, you feel your orgasm approaching. It’s slow building, but it’s there and you want it. You figure you’ll just chase it yourself. Reaching a hand down, you find your clit and begin rubbing it. But just as soon as you feel yourself get closer to the high you desire, your hand is ripped away.
There is a sudden weight on your back as Hoseok whispers in your ear, “That’s my job, sweetheart.”
His fingers find your sensitive nub and you come immediately, screaming a string of curses into your arms in hopes that no one hears you. As you ride your high, you feel him pull out. With a groan, his cum spills all over your ass.
As you try to catch your breath and calm your erratic heart, you feel Hoseok pull his shorts back up and take a step back. All of the sudden, a strange feeling builds up in your chest. Is this what loss feels like? But you don’t have much time to dwell on your own thoughts because you feel a towel wiping your body.
You turn and see Hoseok cleaning the mess he made; but instead of looking down, he’s looking right at you.
“What?” you ask, sounding defensive.
“Nothing,” he says, and you hate that you can’t read people well. You wish you could know what he’s thinking right now.
After he cleans between your thighs, you pull your clothes back up your body. You still have a few hours left of your shift, so you hope you don’t look too much like a mess right now. Pulling your hair into a low ponytail, you feel awkwardness hit you like a truck. What are you supposed to say now?
“Uh…I have to go,” you can’t even look at him. “We have a meeting this afternoon…”
You don’t have a meeting, but you don’t know what else to say. But unlike you, Hoseok can take a hint and nods. “I’ll leave first…see you around…and thanks.”
He stares at you for a moment longer before leaving the room. You look out to make sure he’s a considerable distance away before you follow, ducking into the bathroom to check your appearance. Once you look into the mirror, you barely recognize the person you’re seeing.
The girl in front of you has flushed cheeks and sweaty hair.
You spend the rest of your shift daydreaming about what happened. In all honesty, your body aches in the best possible way. And even after your shift, once you get home and lay in your bed, you’re still thinking about everything.
Did you really willingly have sex with Jung Hoseok a second time? Once is a mistake, twice clearly means there was choice involved. What would your roomie say if she knew? You don’t plan on telling her—at least, not until you get back to school. If she knew you had succumbed to his charms this early in the summer, she’d chew you out for sure. Besides, you won’t let it happen again.
There will be no more slip ups this summer.
***
“Oh, fuck—yes. Rightthere…!”
You cling to the shelf as Hoseok fucks you from behind. Your legs feel impossibly weak from being in such an uncomfortable position, but you couldn’t care less right now—you just want to come.
“Don’t be so loud, sweetheart,” he groans through clenched teeth. “Don’t want to get caught now, do we?”
“N-No…but if you d-don’t make me c-come quicker, Hoseok…” you moan, and he proceeds to thrust faster. You don’t want to scream, but it just feels so fucking good for you not to. “I’m going to—”
Hoseok clamps a hand over your mouth as you come undone. Your eyes shut on their own accord as you scream into his hand, body shaking from the impact of your orgasm. He curses, probably from how tight you’re gripping his cock, but continues to thrust a few more times before pulling out and painting you in strings of milky white.
Once your body shops shaking, he pulls you up and presses a kiss onto your exposed shoulder. “You’re amazing.”
You can’t help but smile a little. “Thanks.”
The two of you quickly clean up and readjust your clothes. You’re supposed to be organizing after all—at the place you are working at for the summer—not fucking an old high school classmate. Hoseok leaves with a promise of finding you later, and you’re left alone with your thoughts again.
What just happened?
You really did mean it when you said that you didn’t want to have sex with Hoseok again, but here you are anyway. It’s already been a month since the first incident, and you’ve been sneaking quickies around the entire country club with Hoseok.
Every time you think you’re alone, he manages to find you and that infuriating smirk makes you helpless. You’ve lost track of how many times he’s already managed to make your panties drop. But even though he seeks you out for sex, every now and then he sticks around to have a conversation with you.
You feel your resolve crumbling away every time you get a glimpse of the humanHoseok.
“So, what are you studying in school?” he asked one day, settling beside you on the floor of the laundry room.
“Is it bad that I’m undecided?” You tried to laugh it off, but the sober expression on his face stopped you.
He shook his head. “No, you have time.”
And just like, all felt okay in the world.
“What about you?” you managed to ask.
The scrunch of his nose had been nearly undetectable, but you noticed it. “Business. My father wants me to take over the company one day.”
“And you don’t?” the question slipped past your lips without a second thought. You’d been horrified.
“I don’t mind business, but I don’t want my father’s. I’d rather start my own.”
This truth had been rather insightful, and you couldn’t help but change the way you looked at Hoseok—only a little though. You still thought he was an asshole.
After another moment pondering your idiocy, you go back to whatever you were doing before. Just as you place the last shampoo bottle on the rack, a knock sounds on the door. You jump, wondering if it’s Hoseok again; but when it opens, it’s just Soyoung. “Hey—you’ve been in here for a while. Almost done?”
If only she knew.
“Uh, yeah. Actually, just finished,” you try to smile. “Got a little distracted in here, I guess.” A little more than distracted.
Soyoung offers an understanding expression. “Feel that. These storage rooms can be a bit overwhelming.”
“Did you need something?” you ask, changing the conversation.
“I actually bring word from our manager. You don’t work tomorrow night, right?” Tomorrow is Saturday and one of the few days you actually have off this week. You’re dreading what Soyoung is about to tell you. “She asked if you could come in for a few hours—just to help with dinner. They’re expecting a big crowd tomorrow night since there’s a fundraiser happening during the day. It’ll be like three hours max.”
You think about it for a moment, rolling your lips between your teeth. Honestly, you don’t want to come in on your day off—who wants to work when they don’t have to—but three hours doesn’t sound so bad.
“Just three hours?”
Soyoung nods. “Just three hours. I’ll be helping with the dinner too, so we’ll get to work together. And afterwards, we can go to a party, if you want.”
That piques your interest, even though you aren’t one to go out often. “What party?”
“There’s a few houses on this property—they’re rented out to people who want to stay at the country club for an extended amount of time. And I heard from some of the other employees that a party is being hosted at one of the houses. Anyone and everyone is invited—even us.”
For some reason, you actually want to go to this party. Why? Maybe you just want to forget about Jung Hoseok’s charismatic smirk. A party should be a good distraction. So, you tell Soyoung that you’ll come work tomorrow and attend the party with her.
And the girl gives you hug, promising that it’ll be loads of fun.
You hope she’s right.
***
The next night, you arrive to work in a different version of your uniform. Instead of the usual polo and shorts the country club has you normally donned in, you’re wearing a long sleeve button up and black slacks. In your bag, you brought a change of clothes for later. Thankfully, you remembered to grab it on your way out. Imagine having to wear your server uniform to a party.
That would’ve been a social suicide.
You meet up with Soyoung for a few minutes before the dinner staff collects you all together. They debrief about tonight’s expectations and everyone’s roles. Next, they list all the jobs and when they call your name, you find out you’re going to be taking orders.
“Do I also need to bring the food out?” you ask.
One of the leaders shakes their head. “No, we’ll have people specifically there for that.”
After all the roles are established, dinner officially begins and you try not to look dumbstruck when you walk into the formal dining hall. This is the first time you’ve been in this room and it’s absolutely magnificent. You continue staring around for a moment before walking towards your section of the room—a row of tables by the window overlooking the setting sun.
You proceed taking orders from the first table—a family of four—and then the next—a group of six—before walking to a table that only seats two people. Probably a date. You barely look at the couple as you push a strand of loose hair behind your ear and pull out the notepad.
“Can I take your orders?” you ask, click your pen.
“Yes,” says a nasally voice to your right. You follow it, meeting the profile of a gorgeous girl. Long, silky hair drapes down her back in waterfalls and she’s wearing a tight pink dress. You think that she’ll turn her attention to you, but she doesn’t; she keeps staring at her date. “I’ll have the ratatouille. What about you, Hobi?”
Hobi? “I told you not to call me that, Nina.”
She pouts. “But you let me call you that when we were kids.”
“Yeah, we were kids then.”
You spare a look at Nina’s date and nearly falter when you realize who this Hobi is. It’s none other than Jung Hoseok himself. He’s wearing a fitted charcoal suit, hair slicked back slightly. Even from this view, you can tell his suit is expensive; definitely imported and tailored fitted to his body. Still, you can feel yourself salivating. The man looks like absolute sin, and you feel a sudden flash of jealousy because he’s on a date with someone else—someone he seems to know pretty well.
But you realize you have no right to feel that emotion at all. He’s not yoursto have. You both just happen to be sexually compatible. That is all. You two never talked about being exclusive. He is allowed to see other girls, even though the thought makes you feel a little sick.
Hoseok brings his eyes to yours, flashing you a smirk that has your knees weak. “Y/n.”
“You two know each other?” Nina asks, but your eyes don’t move from his.
“A little,” he says. That’s an understatement.
“We just went to high school together,” you add, playing along with his little game. “We weren’t friends though, just happened to be in a few classes together.”
Hoseok feigns hurt, bringing a hand up to his chest. “Can’t believe you think so little of me.”
“Oh, Hobi,” Nina interjects, her hand finding his on top of the table. You zone in on the touch, blood pressure rising when you realize he hasn’t pushed her away.
You try not to roll your eyes. “Yes, poor Hobi.”
When you turn back to him, he’s already looking at you. You stiffen for a second, wondering if his eyes have been on you this whole time. And by the scathing sensation you feel on the side of your head—Nina’s eyes, no doubt—you realize he probably has. “Um. Anyway, what did you want?”
He smirks again. “I’ll have the same, y/n.”
You quickly jot it down and excuse yourself before you start thinking too much.
The rest of your short shift, you make sure not to walk by Hoseok’s table again. Whenever you’re around him, you can’t think properly. He always seems to cloud your best judgment, which is why you’ve already been fucking him this summer. You allow work to consume you, which makes the time fly by. Before you know it, the three hours is already up and you’re headed to the bathroom with Soyoung.
“See? Wasn’t that bad, huh?” she asks from the cubicle beside you.
It was terrible. “Could’ve been worse, I guess.”
“I’m so excited about the party,” Soyoung changes the conversation. “It’s been so long since I’ve had a night out.”
You can’t help the next words that bubble out of you. “Why do you overwork yourself?”
Honestly, you didn’t mean to ask. After all, it isn’t your business to ask such questions anyway. Sure, you were curious about Soyoung but it’s not your place. You’ve been really testing boundaries recently.
“It just kind of happens,” she answers, which shocks you. Not the answer itself, but the fact that she even answered you at all. “I’ve been working here for so long, I guess I just can’t help it.”
“Well,” you sigh, “don’t overwork yourself. Live a little, you know.”
Soyoung laughs. “I’ll try.”
You step out of the stall first, moving to stand in front of the full-length mirror. Tonight, you opted for a flowy crop top and tight skirt. Not something you’d usually wear, but tonight’s different than most nights—you want to enjoy yourself. You pull your hair out of its tight pony, humming in pleasure at the sensation of your hair being free.
“Okay, I see you with the sexy hair.”
You didn’t even hear Soyoung’s stall unlocking or opening. Turning in her direction, you see she’s wearing something similar to you. Only, both her top and skirt are flowy. “More like messy hair.”
She laughs. “It looks good still.”
After running a hand through your hair a few times, and fixing your makeup, the two of you throw your bags into your respective vehicles and walk across the country club’s property. Not even five minutes later, you can hear music playing. Across the distance, you can see a massive house—no, villa—lit up with lights and people all over the place.
“Woah,” you breathe.
“Right?” Soyoung chuckles. “I told you this party was going to be it.”
“I thought you said it was going to be a house party.”
“It is?” She seems confused.
You shake your head. “Are all the houses on the country club property this big?”
Even in the dim lighting, you can see her nod. “I think so. Maybe not this big, but they’re all large enough to house multiple people.”
Damn. You wonder who’s renting this place for the summer. It’s huge, so there must be more than one person; maybe a family? Though, that seems odd since a party filled with young people is happening right now. However, you can’t even begin to fathom how much it costs to rent. How can anyone actually afford that?
But all thoughts of money fade when you actually reach the villa. You assume there’s mainly college-aged people here, though it’s difficult to tell age these days. Soyoung leads the way as you two maneuver past groups of people and into the villa itself. Once inside, you have to force yourself not to gawk at everything.
Grand doesn’t even begin to describe the interior. There’s so much to look at and before you can even begin to look at everything, Soyoung pulls you away. She finds the kitchen and hands you a drink from the cooler. You remove the lid and begin sipping, tasting the slight bitterness of alcohol on your tongue.
“So what do we do now?” You’re acting like such a noob.
Soyoung slants a look at you. “We mingle, maybe dance a little. Do you like dancing?”
You bite the inside of your lip. “Umm, kind of?”
Of course, you’ve been to your fair share of college parties—where dancing and drinking do not mix well. But you don’t mind it; you just don’t think you’re very good. You voice this thought out loud and Soyoung rolls her eyes.
“You don’t have to be good at dancing. You just have to do it. Usually, it comes naturally.”
You aren’t too sure about that statement. But as Soyoung pulls you in a new direction, away from the kitchen, you realize that you have no choice. In another large room adjacent to the kitchen, someone has started a makeshift dancefloor. The bass is booming against the wall and strobe lights illuminate the room.
Even though you’re struggling, Soyoung pulls you both into the middle of the room and spins you around to the music. “I can’t.”
“Sure you can,” she shouts over the music, proceeding to move her body dramatically. You can’t help but laugh. Shaking your head, you realize dancing really isn’t a big deal and you allow Soyoung to move you to the beat. And eventually, you can do it by yourself.
You close your eyes as you sway to the music, occasionally bumping into Soyoung on purpose. It even gets to the point where you feel comfortable enough to lift your arms into the air, which is something you’d never thought you’d do.
It’s not until a few songs later that you finally open your eyes. And when you do, you immediately meet his gaze.
A jolt of electricity goes up your spine at the look Jung Hoseok is giving you right now. He’s leaning against the fireplace in the room across from you, changed out of that expensive suit he was wearing earlier. Now, he’s only wearing the white button up—sleeves rolled to his elbows—and a pair of navy-blue shorts. In his hand he nurses a beer, and that’s when you realize he’s still with that girl from earlier.
You try to keep your expression neutral as you stare at them; but by the way Hoseok’s hard gaze morphs into something smugger, you know you’re doing a bad job at concealing your feelings.
Dammit.
You quickly whisper something to Soyoung about needing some air as you look for the nearest exit. Unfortunately, you don’t know your way around the house. You meander around for a moment before you find a door that leads to the backyard. Breathing a sigh of relief, you open the door and walk into the cool summer night.
There’s a pathway of rocks that leads to the dock of a body of water—a body of water that you didn’t even know existed. You aren’t sure what to call it; a large pond? Whatever it is, you take the pathway until you reach the end of the dock. There, you settle on the edge and stare at the murky depths.
Bodies of water like this were unpredictable. You had no idea how deep it actually was. It could seem shallow, but in actuality be sixty feet deep. For a second, you consider dipping your toes in; however, you decide against it. Who knows what’s in there?
You allow the echoes of cicadas and other small insects to fill your senses. Eventually, you even lay down on the dock and close your eyes, trying not to think too much about—
“What are you doing?”
Your eyes flash open. And as they adjust to the night, you make out Hoseok’s infuriating perfect face. He’s leaning over you, and it pisses you off that he looks good even from this obscene angle. “Go away.”
“Well, aren’t you grumpy,” he hums. “It seemed like you were having a great time shaking you’re a—”
“Hoseok,” you breathe. “Leave me alone. I don’t want to play your stupid games right now.”
He cracks a rare half-smile. “Who said anything about playing games?”
When you don’t answer him, Hoseok’s smile falls and he frowns. You don’t care what else he has to say; you really meant it when you said you’re not in the mood for him right now. However, the boy doesn’t seem to take the hint like he usually does. Because he settles right beside you on the dock, laying down so he’s now eye-level with you.
“You’re insufferable,” you roll your eyes, shifting away from him.
“That’s what you like about me.”
“Who said I liked you?”
“I think your actions speak louder than you think,” he says, sounding awfully calm right now, which is very unlike him. You have no other choice but to look at him. And when you do, your breath gets caught in your throat. Even in the darkness, his eyes seem to sparkle as he looks at you—so fucking intently like he’s seeing you for the first time.
You don’t like it.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you force your eyes away, but his stare burns your skin anyway.
“You were jealous at dinner, weren’t you?”
The scoff that leaves your lips sounds beyond bitter. “No, of course not. Why would I be?”
“If you were jealous,” Hoseok begins, which makes your stomach churn, “don’t be.”
“Huh?” you ask, still not able to look at him.
“Don’t be,” he repeats. “Don’t be jealous of Nina.”
“I wasn’t jealous of—”
He cuts you off. “Don’t be jealous of her. She’s just a family friend.”
“But you two seem so close…”
Hoseok laughs. “I just entertain her because our parents have been friends forever. I’m pretty sure they want me to marry someone like her. I mean, she’s hot”—you suck in a breath— “but she’s notyou.”
Your eyes finally give him and meet his, and he’s still staring at you. “What’s that supposed to mean.”
As you both look at each other, you expect him to say something. But he never does. Instead, he scoots a few inches closer to you—so close your noses are almost touching—and runs his fingers through your hair. Weaving his digits through your still messy hair, he pulls your head towards his and your lips meet.
And underneath the moonlight, you allow Hoseok to kiss you until your head is dizzy and you have no choice but to let him consume you again.
***
The next morning, you find yourself wrapped in pristine white sheets that feel like silk beneath your fingers. But that’s not the only thing you’re wrapped in. A heavy arm is slumped over your waist and the body heat emanating from him sets yourself ablaze.
Last night, after Hoseok bruised your mouth and skin with his lips at the dock, you asked him why he was at the party.
“This is my house,” he said so casually, like it wasn’t a big deal at all. Your eyes bulged out of their sockets. “Well, my house for the summer at least.”
“You’ve been here this whole time?”
He nodded. “Our actual house is in the city, and I hate driving back and forth so much—especially since I’m here with the guys nearly every day. So, my parents decided to rent this.”
You didn’t know what to say. But you realized there was nothing that needed to be said because since this is where he was staying, it meant his bedroom was here too. You let him walk you back to the villa and up the stairs into his room, to which you had to text Soyoung and let her know you were headed home early. A lie. You told her you felt sick. Another lie. But she didn’t seem to mind. She had found a few other employees of the country club there and would walk back with them.
After losing track of how many orgasms he gave you, youth both shared a bottle of vodka he had stashed underneath his bed. And tipsy you had no inhibitions.
Every question Hoseok asked, you answered honestly.
“Favorite color?”
“Red.”
“Do you like working at the country club?”
“It’s a job.”
“If you could do anything in the world, what would it be?”
“Spend my life away on some island.”
He laughed. “Really?”
“Island life s-seems fun. It’s relaxing. You don’t have to worry about anything,” you slightly slurred your words. “You?”
“I think island life seems to be the move now.”
You both talked so much. About anything and everything. It reminded you so much of the first time you really spoke to him. Moments like this made Hoseok feel normal, which you don’t know how to feel about yet.
But one thing you realized you did enjoy was his laugh—his real laugh. Not the one he smirked with, but the one he gave when he thought no one else was watching.
You must’ve said something stupid—you honestly can’t recall it now—but when he doubled over in laughter, it was infectious.
The good thing is that you don’t have work today, which means you don’t have to rush anywhere. But you have a feeling that you’ve overstayed your welcome. You didn’t even mean to stay the night, but you’d been so comfortable in Hoseok’s bed that you fell asleep after all the conversations. It was probably the best sleep you’ve ever had.
You’re going to give the credit to Hoseok’s expensive mattress, and definitely nothim.
Though, you can’t deny how good it feels to have him spooning you. A part of you wants to stay in this bed forever, but that’s crazy talk—you shouldn’t have come into the bed with him at all. You keep telling yourself—over and over again—that you don’t want to fuck him again.
But you’ve been such a liar.
Now, you’ve accepted the fact that you can’t resist him. You know it’s just sex, but you didn’t want to get involved with him in the first place.
You take in a few breaths as you try to move his arm off of you. Hoseok shifts a little, and you risk a look over your shoulder. When your eyes take in his face, your heart stutters for a moment. With his mouth slightly parted and eyes still firmly closed, you realize that he looks so peaceful asleep. So vulnerable. You have to force yourself from touching him.
What the fuck, y/n?
Turning back around, you gently pry his arm off of you and pray that you don’t wake him. But all your careful maneuvering proves to be futile because his arm releases from your grip and moves back down to your waist. With a squeal, Hoseok pulls you back on his chest.
“Where do you think you’re going?” God, his morning voice is so hot.
“Um, leaving?” you sound like an idiot.
“Stay,” he breathes against the back of your head.
You want to. You really, really want to. “I can’t.”
“Why not?” he asks, snaking his arms underneath the covers to find you—skin still bare from last night’s activities. Your breath hitches as his fingers trail across your skin, each touch feeling like sparks.
“I-I have somewhere I have to be,” you stutter as his rough hand wraps around one of your breasts, squeezing tight. Your nipple hardens immediately.
Hoseok slips the covers off your body, exposing you to the cool air-conditioned room. And without warning, he moves on top of you and begins trailing his lips over your body. You notice that he makes sure to suck those bruises he left scattered across your skin extra hard, purpling them even more.
“Hoseok,” you try not to moan. “I really have t-to—”
His lips crashing onto yours shuts you up. You kiss him back forcefully, nipping his lips with your teeth and running your tongue across his. As you two battle it out, he settles in-between your thighs. Bringing a hand down your abdomen, it slides straight to your cunt—which is already drenched.
He hisses against your lips. “So fucking wet. Thought you had to go?”
“Shut up,” you moan as he runs a finger from your ass to your clit, swirling your juices everywhere. Involuntarily, your hips buck up when he slides a finger inside of you. He gently fucks you like that for a moment, leaving you writhing underneath him. “More, Hoseok—I need more.”
A wicked smile erupts on his face. “Are you going to beg for it?”
An incredulous expression lights your face. You’ve never begged in bed before, and you aren’t going to start now. However, the man on top of you is sure getting a kick out of this. Hoseok moves his finger slowly out of you, which agitates you to no end. If you weren’t so horny right now, you’d kill him.
“No,” you narrow your eyes, not willing to give in.
His finger stops moving. “A shame, really.”
You freeze. “What the fuck, Jung Hoseok?”
“I’m not doing anything until you say please,” he smirks, moving his upper body away from you.
Even though you’re pissed, you can’t help but drink in the Adonis in front of you. Like you, Hoseok is completely naked. Your eyes rake his defined muscles and his thick cock that’s already unbelievably hard. He’s hard for you. The fact that you turn him on makes you feel good—too good.
“Fine,” you shrug, and his smirk falls. “Just get blue balls then.”
As his body goes slack for a moment, you use the opportunity to slip from the bed. But you don’t manage to get very far at all. You probably only take three steps before his arm wraps around you and pulls you back to the bed.
You fall on your back, and Hoseok pins your arms on either side to keep you from moving. Still, you squirm—heart drumming in your chest at the look on his face. His eyes have turned black, and he looks like he wants to devour you. “I’m not begging.”
“We’ll see about that.”
With your arms still pinned, Hoseok lowers his body and your legs spread on their own accord. Fuck you, body. The movement makes him chuckle darkly and he begins peppering kisses along your thigh. Your breath hitches in your throat, which turns into a gasp when he suddenly bites down on your flesh. Not hard enough to draw blood, but it’s enough to be painful.
And as much as you hate to admit it, you like it very much.
Hoseok continues alternating between kissing and biting your thighs until you’re one-hundred-percent positive there is a pool of your wetness on the bed. You know what he’s trying to do and it’s working, but you don’t want to give in. And then he’s so close to your pussy, not even an inch away. You can feel his breath fanning you there. If you just move your hips a little…
“Don’t even think about it,” he moves his head away.
You release a groan of frustration. “Oh my god.”
“If you just say the magic word,” he taunts, lips now on your stomach. He moves low, but never low enough; never where you want him to go.
When he moves up your body, pressing chaste kisses on your nipples before latching his lips on your neck, you release a breathy moan. Hoseok lets out a groan from the back of his throat, hands tightening around your wrists. Fuck, why are the noises he makes even attractive? “Hoseok…”
“Y/n,” he’s still sucking on your neck.
This position, you realize, aligns him perfectly with your body. Again, if you were able to move just a little bit…but Hoseok’s weighing you down with his body, not allowing you to move at all.
“Hoseok,” you say his name again, but he doesn’t respond—he just moves his lips to your ear, nibbling on the sensitive flesh there. And that’s when you crumble. You can’t take it anymore. “Please…please just fuck me already.”
Simultaneously, he curses into your ear as he slides his cock into you. Too perfect—the way he fills you up is too perfect.
You expect Hoseok to fuck you hard, hips slamming into you, but he doesn’t. His thrusts are slow, but the way he hits your cervix has you nearly in tears. Fuck. He releases the hold on your wrists to grip onto either side of your face. With lips ghosting over yours, you tangle your hands into his dark hair.
Your breaths mesh together as he continues to fuck you with slow, measured thrusts. You’ve grown accustomed to the rough way Hoseok likes to fuck; but for some reason, you love this so much more. It’s intimate and makes your chest tighten in a strange way but feels so good you don’t want it to stop.
“Please,” you whisper against his lips again.
“Fuck, sweetheart,” he groans, rolling his hips in a way that has you arching off the bed. Yes.
“Just like t-that,” you say, slanting your mouth to mold against his again.
Your orgasm comes without warning; you moan into Hoseok’s mouth, gripping him closer to you and you ride your high. Through the haze of your earth-shattering orgasm, you hear Hoseok ask if he can come inside you. He’s always pulled out—even last night when he fucked you for hours. But right now you don’t care, and your answer comes in the form of your legs wrapping around his hips.
He kisses you hard and comes inside you a moment later. You’ve never let anyone else come raw inside of you; never trusted anyone else that much. And in that moment, a terrifying thought flashes across your mind.
I’m in love you.
The thought comes so suddenly, burns your brain so hotly, your body stills. Hoseok finally lifts off of you, eyes crinkling in concern. “You okay?”
You quickly try to shake the feeling away. “Um, yeah.”
“You sure? Should I not have come inside you?” he slips out of you, and for some reason you want to cry at the sudden emptiness you feel. “You’re looking pale right now.”
“No, it was fine,” you blink too fast, feeling tears begin to well in your eyes. Get a fucking grip on yourself. “I’m sorry, I really have to go.”
Hoseok doesn’t try to stop you this time when you move away from the bed. You find your clothes on the floor and slip everything back on without looking at him, even though you can feel his gaze on you the entire time. Not bothering to check your appearance, you grab your stuff and move towards his door.
“Y/n,” he calls your name, voice sounding strange, but you don’t want to look at him. If you look at him, you’re going to start crying. And that’s too embarrassing to explain.
You slip out of his bedroom and take the stairs two at a time. As you rush down, you run into someone. “Sorry—”
Looking up, you realize it’s Seokjin; he must’ve stayed the night. Even in your distress, you feel feverish wondering if you were too loud. However, he takes one look at you and stares like he has you all figured out. Your heart threatens to beat out of your chest.
“Did something happen…?” he asks, looking at the door you just left wide open upstairs.
“Don’t worry about it,” you quickly say, adverting your eyes and sidestepping him.
This morning, it’s much easier to find the front door. Just as you’re about to slip out, you hear your name being called again, heavy steps thundering down the stairs. Shit, shit, shit. You break into a run and don’t stop until you have no more air to spare in your lungs. Thankfully, you’re far enough from the villa and close to the country club.
Only then do you allow yourself to fall into the grass as the tears finally cascade down your cheeks.
You’re a fool, you realize. A fool to have fallen in love with someone like Jung Hoseok. Someone who will never feel the same way. Someone who just uses you for a good time. someone who you barely even know. Someone you never wanted to get involved with.
***
You call out of work the next week, claiming to have the stomach bug. But you don’t have the stomach bug; in fact, you’re not even physically ill at all. You just can’t bear the thought of running into Hoseok at the country club.
On the first day, you listen to your sad girl hours playlist on repeat.
During your second day of moping in bed, you half consider quitting your job. Would it be too cowardly? Maybe. Unfortunately, there’s only a few weeks left of summer and you doubt that you’ll be able to find another job.
When the third day arrives, you finally get out of bed and take a proper shower. You didn’t realize how much you needed it.
Your mom knocks on your door on the fourth day. You only know it’s her by the way she taps on your door rhythmically; she’s always done that ever since you were a child. When you don’t respond, she dares to crack the door open. Shit, you forgot to lock it last night.
“Are you feeling better, love?”
You don’t move on the bed, hoping your mother thinks you’re asleep or something. But despite you not moving, she still shuffles into your room and settles herself on the edge of the bed.
“Is this because I haven’t been spending time with you this summer?”
No, mom. It’s me. I fucked up. Although, I would appreciate it if you did spend time with me—like you dragged me here this summer to do.
“I’m really sorry, love,” she whispers, getting up after a moment.
Once you’re sure she’s by the door, you finally open your mouth. “It’s not because of you. It’s…something else.”
You hear her grab onto the door, but she doesn’t say another word before leaving you all alone again.
On the fifth day, the bruises that littered your skin finally start fading. Glancing into the mirror of your bathroom, you run your fingers along the—now greenish-yellow—hickies he left on your neck. Goodness, there were so ma
❦ word count. 17.7k ❦ genre. parent fic, fluff, angst, a bit of boob action ❦ warnings. illness, mention of hospitalisation, mention of minor character death, yoongi is kind of a dick sometimes, accidental(?) flashing ❦ summary. it’s not that you don’t like your job. on the contrary, reading bedtime stories to a certified little princess is something you still can’t believe you get paid to do. it’s just that between all the school runs, snow days and secret second hot chocolates before bed, you may fallen a little too hard for those dimpled cheeks and gummy smiles…. worse still, you’ve fallen for her father too. ❦a/n.merry christmas everyone!! this fic is a collaboration with the wonderful @underthejoon@kpopfanfictrash@suga-kookiemonster@junghelioseok@bendthekneetobangtan @lamourche and @hobidreams. it’s late, lame and cheesy (and probably under-edited) but I like it that way. I hope you’re all having a fantastic holiday, wherever you may be <3
❦ word count. 17.7k ❦ genre. parent fic, fluff, angst, a bit of boob action ❦ warnings. illness, mention of hospitalisation, mention of minor character death, yoongi is kind of a dick sometimes, accidental(?) flashing ❦ summary. it’s not that you don’t like your job. on the contrary, reading bedtime stories to a certified little princess is something you still can’t believe you get paid to do. it’s just that between all the school runs, snow days and secret second hot chocolates before bed, you may fallen a little too hard for those dimpled cheeks and gummy smiles…. worse still, you’ve fallen for her father too. ❦a/n.merry christmas everyone!! this fic is a collaboration with the wonderful @underthejoon@kpopfanfictrash@suga-kookiemonster@junghelioseok@bendthekneetobangtan @lamourche and @hobidreams. it’s late, lame and cheesy (and probably under-edited) but I like it that way. I hope you’re all having a fantastic holiday, wherever you may be <3
.
.
.
Now
“…Can we talk?”
For the first time since blustering in through the front door, Yoongi actually stops to spare you a glance.
You’re standing in the entryway in a pair of high waisted jeans and a peach coloured blouse, hands clasped behind your back and a nervous expression on your face. If he notices your outfit is new, he doesn’t pass comment on it. He doesn’t mention the fact that you’re wearing makeup today either, nor that you seem to have taken a little more time with your hair than usual. Not that you’d expected him to. Your employer isn’t well known for giving compliments, much less understanding when a woman is trying to impress him. Yoongi probably wouldn’t recognise flirting if it hit him in the face with a brick.
His face is impassive as ever when he drops his keys into the bowl with a shrug. “Sure. There’s actually something I wanted to discuss with you too.”
You nod, fiddling anxiously with his hands as he slips off the snow-smattered trench coat to reveal the suit jacket beneath. He looks tired this evening; more so than usual if the dark bags under his eyes are anything to go by. Even on his days off Yoongi works like a tank, often letting himself get so wrapped up in getting everything done he forgets to eat meals. It’s a coping strategy, of course - one that always tends to get a little out of hand when this time of year rolls around.
Yoongi turns back to you, loosening the knot of his tie with a ringed finger. He raises his eyebrows.
“Kitchen?”
You follow him through into the heart of the penthouse: a masterpiece of white granite and gold strip lights. The room is utterly spotless save for the mug of freshly-brewed tea that sits waiting on the island, steam spiralling upwards towards the vaulted ceiling.
“Here,” you say, nudging it towards him. It’s a comfortable ritual between you at this point. Yoongineedsa hit of caffeine if he’s going to make it to dinner without taking his work stress out on whoever’s unfortunate enough to be in the room with him, but following a series of chest pains a few months ago, his doctor put a strict ban on drinking coffee past 7pm. Replacing the habit with a cup of white tea in the evening was your compromise.
Yoongi takes it with a small nod of gratitude, lowering himself onto the bar stool. His eyes flutter closed for a moment when he takes a sip, and your chest feels warm inside when the tension visibly starts to drain from his shoulders. The man is always so tightly wound. It’s really no wonder he suffers from back pain, what with all the stress he carries around with him. You’ve been trying to convince him to see an osteopath, but Yoongi insists there’s only so much ‘voodoo medicine’ he can bring himself to splash out on per month, and the December quota was already filled by the VapoRub you made him buy for his blocked sinuses.
He places the mug down with a quiet sigh.
“How was she today?”
You snap out of your reverie, meeting his expectant gaze.
“She was wonderful,” you say honestly. “Coach said he’s really proud of how hard she’s been practicing. Her toe double toe loop has come on leaps and bounds these past few weeks.”
Yoongi raises his eyebrows questioningly.
“The jumpy spinny thing,” you clarify.
“Ahh. So that’s what it’s called.”
A fond smile tugs at your lips. Though Yoongi never misses an opportunity to support his daughter on the ice, the ins-and-outs of the sport are often lost on him. Surprisingly, he’s far more adept at the hair and costume side of things than he is at giving his little girl feedback on her actual performances. Ever since the day her first ever coach had pulled him aside to tell him Dee had ‘a god given gift’ that needed to be nurtured, he’s much preferred to leave such things to the professionals.
“So.” Yoongi laces his fingers atop the table. Though you remain standing, you can’t help but feel that you’ve entered in on one of his business meetings. He looks you up and down. “Do you want to go first or shall I?”
“Oh -” All at once the nerves return full-force, fluttering away in your stomach like a flock of migrating birds. You instinctively drop your gaze to the floor when you feel your neck heating up. “Y-you can start.”
Unsurprisingly, Yoongi doesn’t so much as bat an eyelid at your odd behaviour, and you wonder how on earth Mina thought you could do this. You wonder how you -believed- her. Holding a conversation with your employer without taking offense to his social tactlessness was hard enough, especially before you understood Yoongi’s deadpan honesty is something he genuinely doesn’t know how to reign in. But admitting you have feelings for him?
That was a whole other kettle of fish.
“I got a call from Dee’s grandmother today,” he says, drawing your attention back to him once again.
You raise your eyebrows. “Oh?”
“Her grandpa’s been taken into hospital with a shattered hip.”
Your eyes go wide. “Oh my god, is he alright?!”
Yoongi waves off your concern, cringing slightly at the shrillness of your tone. “He’s totally fine. He underwent surgery last night and he’s stable,” he eyes you across the island. “…It does mean they won’t be able to have Dee for the run-up to Christmas though.”
As your panic ebbs, you think you catch a glimpse of something softer beneath Yoongi’s default unmoved expression. He’s not only tired, you realise, but exhausted, worn thin by the constant pressure he keeps himself under. It takes everything in you not to close the space between you and wrap your arms around him. You know he’ll only burn himself out if he carries on like this, and the thought makes your heart ache.
“I know it’s a big ask,” he continues with a weary exhale, scrubbing a hand down his face, “but it’s too late to cancel on this work trip. Flights to Berlin are fully booked up until late January, and the company we’re doing business with has made it abundantly clear they plan to proceed with or without our input. I’d pay you overtime of course. Whatever works best for you. I just need someone to sit here for a few days and make sure my daughter doesn’t burn the apartment down while I’m gone.”
“Yoongi,” you say quietly, shushing him with a gentle hand atop his wrist. He stares down at the point of contact, and you hope to god he can’t hear the way your pulse is going crazy. “You know I’d be happy to do it.”
Tentatively, he meets your eyes. “Are you sure? Your family -”
“Can manage a few more days without me. Looking after Dee is never a burden. She’s…” you cut yourself off, unable to hold his gaze. “She’s the best thing in my life.”
It’s not a lie. But perhaps it’s only a half-truth. The other best thing is sitting right opposite you, after all.
Yoongi has never been the type to smile much. He’s stoic and blunt, and doesn’t know when to loosen up when the time calls for it - but he never says anything he doesn’t mean. That’s why it makes your heart feel so full when he says a soft, “Thank you, Y/N. You’re really helping me out here.”
You extract your fingers from his wrist, suddenly too shy to maintain the proximity between you.
“Don’t mention it,” you cough.
Completely oblivious, Yoongi picks up his mug again. “You wanted to talk to me about something too?”
“Oh, uh… well. I was just -” You scramble for the right words, your mind drawing a complete blank beneath the weight of his gaze.
It wasn’t like you’d come unprepared. You’d planned this whole thing out with Mina over the weekend, even going so far as to roleplay the possible outcomes of your confession (a necessity when it comes to Yoongi, because the man has absolutely zero concept of letting someone down gently). You’d practiced exactly what you wanted to say several times over in the car before heading over to pick up Dee, and all the whole way back to the penthouse you were convinced you had it down pat.
Right up until Yoongi walked through the door, that is.
With the air stolen from your lungs just looking at him, your confidence crumbles, and the fact that he’s clearly had a shit day doesn’t help any. The harder you will yourself to form a coherent sentence, the more your tongue refuses to do so.
“I-It’s not important,” you manage eventually.
Yoongi quirks a sceptical eyebrow at you. “Are you sure?”
You pause, then jerk your chin in a nod.
“I’m sure.”
Yoongi doesn’t push it.
“Okay then.” He finishes off the last dregs of his tea and rises to a stand. “I’ll walk you to your car.”
“Oh, you really don’t have to -”
“I know I don’t.” He crosses over to the clothing hooks and grabs your jacket, holding it out to you. “Put this on. I need to check in on Dee first.”
Dazedly, there’s little else you can do but follow his instructions. It’s not an uncommon occurrence for Yoongi to see you through the parking lot outside his place, especially during the winter months when it’s dark out, but the gesture still never fails to make you giddy.
Next time, you say to yourself firmly when he returns, holding open the front door for you to slip out first. Next time, I’ll tell him.
.
Last Year
You slide your feet into your heeled boots, wincing at the way your toes pinch together inside.
It’s a Saturday evening - one you’d normally spend watching curled up on the couch with a takeaway in your lap or running yourself a nice hot bath, had Mina not spent the better half of the week trying to convince you to go on a date with the IT guy from her office - and between running slightly late and the shot of Dutch courage you definitely shouldn’t have taken ten minutes ago, your stomach feels like it’s tying itself up in knots.
“You need to get out more,” your friend insists. “It’s been literal years since you last had fun.”
You open your mouth to correct her but she fixes you with a warning glare before you can say anything.
“Fun in the form of Hula Fit and pottery class don’t count, Y/N. And you should probably save the conversation about your weird hobbies until at least the third date. Preferably after sex too, or your chances of getting any will be slim to none.”
You sink down in your chair, scowling at her over the top of your ice cream cup.
“I still have fun,” you mutter. “I just have a lot on my plate right now. This new job is taking up a lot of my time, and I’m really not interested in getting fired before the trial period is up.”
“Y/N, you pick a rich couple’s kid up from skate club five times a week, make her pasta and watch cartoons until bedtime,” Mina snorts. “What the hell could go wrong?”
“First of all Mr Min is a single father,” you say, pointing your plastic spoon at her accusingly, “and second of all, you haven’t met the guy. If you had, you’d understand why I’m so on edge.”
“Why? What’s wrong with him?”
“He’s freaking terrifying, Mi!” You throw your hands up in the air to emphasise your point. “He barely spoke in my interview, just sat there giving me the dead eyes while his assistant asked all the questions! And he did exactly the same thing the first time I met his daughter. Just stood in the corner of the living room and watched, like he was assessing my ability to play with her or something.”
“Well he must have liked what he saw, right? You got the job.”
“Barely. Apparently when he called the agency to let them know I was hired, he made a point of saying it was only because the other girl he’d been speaking with came down with pneumonia and he needed someone ASAP.” You pout sullenly, stabbing at your ice cream. “And since then he’s taken every opportunity to point out when I’m doing something wrong.”
“Maybe you’re just taking it too personally? That’s his little girl after all. He probably just wants to make sure she’s in safe hands.”
“I guess… I just wish he wasn’t so blunt about it,” you sigh. “Mostly I just feel sorry for Dee. I don’t get the chance to see them interact often because he usually gets home after her bedtime, but he doesn’t strike me like the type of dad who’s particularly involved, you know? She must only see him a couple of days a week.” You take another spoonful of ice cream, your gaze turning contemplative. “She must have one hell of a mother, wherever she is. I can’t think of any other way she could’ve turned out to be such a good egg, given that her father’s so emotionally constipated.”
“Okay, that’s it.” Mina lifts a hand to stop you from going on. “You think way too much about other people’s problems, you know that? It’s depressing. You need to stop getting stressed about the things you can’t change, and start focussing on the stuff you can.”
“Such as?”
“Such as your non-existent dating life.” She pulls her phone out and starts typing. “I’m sending you Jungkook’s number, and you willtext him this week. Understood?”
Your phone vibrates in your back pocket.
“Mina -”
“Nope.” She holds up a finger. “I’m not backing down this time. Not until you agree to put yourself first for once.”
“…Fine,” you sigh eventually, pulling your phone from your back pocket. “I’ll text him. But I’m not promising anything more, okay?”
Though it physically pains you to admit it, Mina was right to an extent. You haven’t so much as given a guy your number in the past year, let alone one as hot as in the picture she’d showed you. Zipping up the tiny black skirt you’d borrowed from her closet, you realise with a sense of looming dread that the odds of making a fool of yourself tonight are decidedly not in your favour.
“Jungkook is a gentleman,” you recall her telling you, sipping daintily at her bubble tea. “He definitely doesn’t put out on the first date. Buuut -” she’d lifted a finger before you could chime in. “that does not mean you get the green light to wear your granny panties.”
“I don’t see why not. They’re comfortable and non-restrictive.”
“A girl should always wear her best lingerie when it counts, Y/N.”
“Says who?”
“Oscar de La Renta.”
“Ha, right. And what would he know about women’s underwear?”
She fixes you with a deadpan look. “Are you literally kidding me right now.”
“Mina, if Jungkook’s not going to see it then what’s even the point?” you mumble through a mouthful of ice cream, pointing the spoon at her to emphasise your point. “I’m not just gonna slice myself in half for nothing.”
If it were possible, you’re fairly certain Mina’s eyes roll all the way back into the back of her skull.
“It’s not for him, you loser, it’s foryou. Sexy underwear is a confidence booster!”
“It’s also expensive and a pain in the ass to move around in. Quite literally.” You tilt your plastic cup in an effort to dig out the last of the chocolate chips, but Mina reaches across to pluck the spoon from your fingers. “Wha-? Hey!”
“If you think I’m letting you pull a Bridget Jones on your first date in twelve months, you are sorely mistaken,” she says resolutely, ignoring your sullen expression. She raises a hand to flag down the server, muttering under her breath, “Clearly we have more work to do than I anticipated.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I’m taking you to Silky Fit, and we’re not leaving until you’ve picked something out,” she clarifies, pulling her purse out when the waiter came over with the bill.
After sparing you a second glance, her expression softens somewhat. She tilts her head and sighs fondly at you, the same way someone might sigh at a helpless child, or a puppy covered from head to toe in mud after playing in the garden.
“You have ice cream on your chin, babe,” she says, tossing a balled up napkin your way.
And thus, here you are a week later, teetering around your apartment in an outfit that’s two sizes smaller than anything you’d usually opt to wear, the string of your new thong pulling uncomfortably tight between your ass cheeks.
Admittedly, glancing at yourself in the mirror before slipping your blouse on had left you feeling pleasantly flushed. Even despite the minor physical discomfort, Mina hadn’t been lying about the confidence boost. Your body looked good. The colour of the set you’d picked out provided a pretty contrast against your skin, and the bra had just the right amount of upward push to make your breasts look full and perky in their cups. Though ‘sexy’ was never typically a word you’d thought to associate with yourself, turning from side to side in the mirror almost had you reconsidering.
Makeup done and hair styled into a loose updo, you snap a quick picture of yourself in the bathroom mirror, feeling surprisingly content with the end result.
Y/N:[image.png]
Y/N:all good ???
Despite being at a formal dinner with her boss and some company associates, it takes less than a minute for your friend to respond. You snort when an image of her disgruntled face comes through, clearly shot from beneath the restaurant table.
Mina:stop trying to sext me ?? I don’t have time for this right now
Y/N:desperate times. need validation :(
Mina:you look so good I could eat you
Mina:…are you wearing them?
You smile at your phone. Feeling emboldened by her praise, you pull up your camera again, this time shooting a quick video in which you turn slowly so she could see the full effect of your outfit. At the very end you tug your blouse to the side a little, flashing just the top of your lace bra with a comically over-exaggerated wink.
Y/N:video.mp4
Y/N: enjoy your night baby x
Your taxi calls shortly afterwards to let you know they’re downstairs.
.
Despite how busy the restaurant is tonight, it isn’t hard to spot your date.
Jungkook isbig. Far bigger than you’d imagined the stereotypical nerdy tech guy to be. He practically dwarfs you when he stands up to shake your hand, and you feel positively giddy when he rounds the table to pull your chair out for you. He even has the presence of mind to catch you when you inevitably stumbled over your heels on the way down, a gentle hand on your elbow stopping you from face planting in front of the entire establishment.
“Careful there,” he murmurs, the amused smile on his face causing your neck to prickle with welcome heat. “You almost fell for me.”
When you let out a loud snort in response, clapping a hand over your mouth as a second too late to catch the unattractive sound, Jungkook doesn’t even bat an eyelid - just proceeds to tuck your chair in behind you and call the waiter over to take your drinks orders. You can’t help but wonder if Mina warned him about you beforehand.
All in all, the date gets off to a good start. You’re relieved to learn that Jungkook is smooth enough for the both of you, seamlessly filling any lulls in the conversation before things have a chance to turn awkward. What’s more, he seems genuinely interested in learning more about you, listening attentively when you explain how you’re currently studying part time for your masters in education whilst nannying on the side. You flush with warmth when he praises your ambition.
“It must be hard, juggling work with your studies,” he remarks. “It’s awesome that you’re so committed.”
“It’s not that impressive really,” you say, though your whole body is practically aglow from all the compliments. “Truth be known, the agency I work with deals primarily with parents from wealthy areas of the city, so most of us get paid a bit more than your average sitter would. It almost feels like cheating, really.”
“Oh?” Jungkook quirks an eyebrow, raising his wine glass to his lips. “Any celebrities on your contact list so far?”
“Sadly not. I’m only two weeks into my first job so far, and my current employer flies a little lower under the radar than most rich people.”
“A businessman then,” Jungkook nods.
“Precisely. He used to run a tech company, which I think is how he made the majority of his wealth. Nowadays he just does marketing stuff though.”
“A tech company, huh?” Jungkook presses. “Would I have heard of him?”
To your alarm, he almost spits out his wine when the name Min Yoongi comes out your mouth.
“Min? As in Min Enterprises?!” he sputters.
You’re quick to fill him a glass of water, which he accepts gratefully. “That’s the one. You know him?”
“Sure I do,” he says between gulps. “We use literally allof his anti-virus software at work. The guy’s a genius.”
You raise your eyebrows curiously. “Really? The woman from my agency told me his tech company closed years ago. I don’t know much about this stuff, but I would have thought any software they produced would be a little outdated by now…”
Jungkook snorts in amusement. “Closed down is one way of putting it.”
“What do you mean?”
“His programme was good. So good that none of the other tech giants compete with it,” Jungkook explains once his eyes have stopped watering. “Come 2010, Microsoft bit the bullet and bought him out for around fifteen million. They’ve been developing and expanding on his work ever since.”
“Fifteenmillion?” Your eyebrows shot up towards your hairline. “Christ! No wonder his apartment looks like the Louvre.”
“I bet it does,” Jungkook laughs. “I’d kill to see what your Christmas bonus looks like.”
It certainly explains a lot, you think to yourself. Particularly Yoongi’s attitude. You’ve seen The Social Network, after all, as painstakingly boring as it may have been. Those matrix-minded, Zuckerberg type kids always grow up to be emotionally stunted. It’s like a trade-off they make with God for getting to be smarter than ninety-nine per cent of the human population.
When the waiter comes back to whisk away your starter plates, you momentarily excuse yourself to go to the bathroom to check your teeth for wayward broccoli. After giving yourself the all clear, you fix your lipstick and pull your phone out to let Mina know everything’s going well.
You’re surprised to discover you already have three new messages from her.
Mina: helloooooo ??
Mina: man. she goes on ONE date and already I’ve been dropped
Mina:after all I’ve done for you
You furrow your brows in confusion, scrolling up in the chat. Your bewilderment only increases when you discover Mina’s previous texts have, indeed, gone unanswered. Your video clip is nowhere to be found, and you wonder absently if the Wi-Fi back at your apartment is screwing you over again.
No sooner have you exited the chat that another text comes through, this time from a different number.
We need to talk.
Your heart abruptly flatlines.
Several things click at once after that, the first being that clearly, it was not Mina’sname you had clicked on to send that video to.
With shaking hands you open up the chat with your employer, utterly horrified when all your worst nightmares are confirmed at once.
There, staring back up at you from beneath a message asking if Dee is allergic to band aids, is your cleavage.
Enjoy your night baby, is what you’d said to Mr Min afterwards.
Mr Min, who could slice a grown man’s confidence to ribbons with little more than a look.
Mr Min, your boss of merely two weeks.
“Fuck!” you hiss, pressing the call button and bringing the phone to your ear. “Oh fucking, fucking fuck…”
Your employer picks up on the second ring. You suck in a shaky breath before speaking.
“Sir, I -”
“Miss L/N.”
His voice is ice cold. So cold that the sound alone sound has your apology catching in your throat.
Not for the first time since you met him, you’re reminded of exactly why Yoongi is so revered and respected among those in the business world. You can’t imagine what it would be like to have him speak your name like that in a boardroom full of men in suits, but you’re pretty sure any shred of self-confidence you had would be all but crushed beneath the toe of his designer oxfords if he so desired. In all honesty, you’d probably prefer it if he were yelling at you. At least if he raised his voice, you wouldn’t be gripping the faucet right now for fear your knees might buckle beneath you.
Somewhere on the other end of the line, a door slams shut like Yoongi is just getting in after a long day. Or perhaps he’s taking this conversation somewhere more private. Either possibility has your stomach churning with anxiety.
“What is wrong with you?” he hisses under his breath.
You swear you’ve never wanted the floor to swallow you up so badly as you do in this moment.
Screwing your eyes shut, you force yourself to respond.
“Sir, I can’t tell you how completely sorry I am… th-the video was meant for someone else. I would never be so bold as to -”
“You do realise I’m entrusting my childto you?”
Immediately, your mouth snaps shut. The sensation that you’ve just been slapped across the face takes you by complete surprise.
It takes a few seconds for your brain to play catch up with what Yoongi just said, but when the words finally compute, you feel -hurt-. The suggestion that your personal life might impact on your ability to take care of Yoongi’s daughter stings like hell, and for all his lacking interpersonal skills, your employer didn’t strike you as the type to draw such conclusions until now. The notion doesn’t sit well with you at all.
Swallowing tightly, you place a hand over your abdomen to ground yourself.
“I really am sorry, Mr Min,” you repeat quietly. “It was an accident. I never intended to put you in an uncomfortable position, and I promise it won’t happen again.”
On the other end of the line, Yoongi is quiet for a moment.
You wonder if he could hear the slight tremble in your voice. If he can sense the fact that he just squashed your self-confidence beneath his thumb like it was nothing.
“Make sure it doesn’t,” he mutters eventually. Then, after another short pause, “I’ll see you on Monday.”
Before you can so much as thank him for not threatening to report you to the agency, you’re met with the tell-tale click of your employer placing the phone down on you, leaving you with an embarrassed lump in your throat and bottom lip wobbling with the threat of tears.
As could probably be predicted, your date with Jungkook goes rapidly downhill from there. Apparently unable to enjoy a good thing without utterly humiliating yourself along the way, you feel sick to your stomach with anxiety for the remainder of the evening. You barely even touch your dessert, and when Jungkook walks you to your cab half an hour later, you brush him off with a forced smile and a handshake, already having accepted the fact that he wouldn’t want to see you again.
Only when you’re in the back of the cab and heading home do you allow the first quiet tears to fall.
.
Showing up to work the following Monday is one of the toughest things you’ve ever done.
Even Dee seems to notice something is off when you pick her up from practice. Shrewd as she is, she eventually settles for humming along to the radio when she realises you’re in no mood to talk. Try as you might, you can’t stop replaying her father’s words to you on the phone, and despite Mina’s insistence that he’s an unforgiving prick, a small part of you still wonders if he’s right… Are you even fit to look after a kid? Are you fit to do -anything- besides making a fool of yourself?
To make things worse, Yoongi arrives home early that evening.
As nervous as you are to see him again, you can’t help but be momentarily distracted by the way he hoists Dee up onto his hip to greet her. It’s not that he’s smiling or anything - such an expression would probably look wrong on him, anyway - but the way he cradles the back of her head seems strangely affectionate for a man like him.
“You’re getting heavy,” he murmurs, pausing to sniff her damp curls. His eyebrows furrow slightly. “And you smell different.”
“Y/N put lime jelly in my bath,” his daughter responds in a sleepy voice, her voice muffled against his lapel. “The water turned green like a skeptic tank.”
“Septic tank,” Yoongi corrects quietly. Though his face remains as expressionless as ever, you don’t miss the way his aura grows soft around her - a detail he himself probably doesn’t even recognise. “Sounds like you two had fun.”
His eyes lock with yours across the living room and you drop your gaze immediately, your body flushing with heat like you’ve been caught out doing something you shouldn’t.
“S-sorry,” you blurt reflexively, already moving to grab your satchel. “I didn’t realise you were coming home early. Let me just pack up my stuff -”
“Y/N.” Yoongi’s voice stops you in your tracks. “Can I speak with you for a second?”
Standing stock still like a deer in the headlights, a sense of impending doom floods through you. This is it. Clearly Yoongi’s thought it over and decided to fire you after all. And the worst thing is you couldn’t even blame him! How could he possibly see you as a professional again after witnessing you running your tongue over your top teeth like a hungry carnivore? You haven’t even had the chance to explain it was -ironic.-
“Sure,” you squeak, torn between accepting your fate and grovelling on your knees for forgiveness. Who the hell was going to hire the babysitter who got fired from her first job during the trial period? For sending -provocative images- no less!
Carefully, Yoongi sets Dee down on the floor again, nodding in the direction of her room.
“Why don’t you go pick out a bedtime story?” he says.
His daughter peers up at him like he’s just sprouted a second head.
“You’re going to read to me?”
“No, I’m going to hit you over the head with it.” Yoongi rolls his eyes. “Obviously I’m going to read to you.”
Dee doesn’t look convinced. She folds her arms over her chest.
“Alice in Wonderland?”
“That book is long as hell, Dee. I’ll read two chapters.”
“Five.”
“Three.”
“With the voices?”
“What am I, a performing monkey? Get out of here before I change my mind, kid.”
Dee huffs, clearly dissatisfied. Nonetheless, she trudges off to her room, her ringlets bouncing as she goes.
The living room falls uncomfortably quiet again once it’s just you and Yoongi.
You fiddle idly with your hands, unsure of where to look. The embarrassment of the situation hits you all over again when you accidentally replay the video in your mind, and despite the fact that you’re wearing two layers already, you can’t help but cross your arms protectively over your chest.
As if sensing your discomfort, Yoongi clears his throat.
“May I offer you a drink?”
You pause. It’s not quite what you’d expected, but then again, rich people are weird. Maybe it’s customary to send your incompetent employees on their way with a glass of Chateau Petrus. Having skipped out on the whole making-millions-of-dollars-in-your-early-twenties thing, you probably wouldn’t know.
“I’m fine,” you manage weakly, shaking your head. “Thank you, sir.”
Yoongi gestures towards the couches. “Shall we sit then?”
You gnaw at your lip anxiously. “… I think that depends.”
“On?”
“Whether you’re going to fire me.” You force yourself to look up. “With all due respect, Mr Min, I’d rather just shake hands and go. I’m finding it hard enough to look you in the eye right now as it is.”
Yoongi blinks. Your words hang heavy in the air between you.
“Miss L/N,” he says slowly, clearly taken aback by your forwardness. “If I wanted to fire you, I would have done so already.”
You open your mouth, then abruptly close it again. Your eyebrows tug together in confusion.
“So you… aren’t?”
“Of course I’m not.” Yoongi shakes his head as if the notion alone is utterly ridiculous to him. “I only held you back tonight because I wanted to -”
He cuts himself off suddenly, like there’s a physical barrier stopping the words from coming out. Then with a tired sigh, he leans back against the sideboard, carding his ringed fingers back through his hair.
“Because I wanted to apologise,” he finishes.
If possible, your eyes grow even wider than before.
“…Huh?” is all you can manage.
“I shouldn’t have been so hard on you,” Yoongi clarifies simply. “I was out of line. I had no business speaking to you how I did.”
“Oh, n-no Mr Min,” you scramble for words, already raising your hands to stop him from going on. “Please don’t say that. What happened on Saturday was totally my fault. That message was -”
“A harmless accident,” he cuts in gently, and you pause at the unfamiliarity in his tone. “Please rest assured thatI was the asshole in that situation, Y/N, not you.”
Lips parted softly, you gape at him from across the dimly lit living room. It’s beyond strange hearing such a formidable man issue such a humble apology, and you had absolutely no idea how to respond.
Seeming to mistake your silence as a prompt for further explanation, Yoongi exhales heavily through his nose, his gaze momentarily dropping to his feet.
“I tend to get a little… short-fused around this time of year,” he says. “I lost Dee’s mother in early December. Yesterday was the four-year anniversary of her death.”
Your heart stutters in your chest.
Of course, you knew there was a woman involved at some point. And in more than just an oven-for-the-bun kind of way, if the drawings on the fridge were anything to go by. But up until now, you’d assumed the two of them had simply parted ways - that she lived a few neighbourhoods away, and Dee visited her every other weekend. To learn that her absence is something far more permanent than that - to witness that purple stick-woman transform into a real, vibrant image in your mind’s eye - is something else entirely, and a thousand possibilities flash through your imagination at shutter speed. You see someone who took care of Dee when she was sick. Someone who encouraged her husband to pursue his goals and start up his own company. A mother and a wife, with hobbies and dreams and a presence that probably bled itself into every cranny of the apartment before Yoongi had stripped it bare in her wake.
Someone who probably would have been utterly furious at you for all the bold assumptions you’ve made about him so far.
You wonder who the man standing before you might have been, had he not had the person he loved most in the world torn from him just as they were starting a life together. All at once, your gut burns with shame.
“Mr Min…” you say, your voice barely loud enough to make the distance between you. “I’m so sorry.”
Yoongi is quick to shake his head. “Don’t be,” he says, his tone kind but firm. “I’m a grown man. My grief is no excuse to treat people poorly. If I could take back what I said that night I would, but when your message came through it -” He abruptly stops talking.
If you didn’t know better, you’d think there was a hint of a blush on his cheeks.
“It caught me off guard,” he finishes eventually, inclining his head in a small bow. “Please accept my apologies.”
Feeling a little winded by the whole ordeal, there’s little else you can do but return his gesture, stooping low with your hands on your thighs. “Of course,” you manage. “Please, consider it forgotten, sir.”
Yoongi straightens up with a nod. His dark eyes skim over you with an unreadable expression.
“Just for the record,” he adds tentatively, “I never would have fired you for something like that. I’m afraid my daughter is already far too attached to you.”
You flushed at the sentiment, embarrassed for reasons you couldn’t quite place. “I highly doubt that’s true,” you mumble, glancing downward. “I’ve only been here two weeks.”
“On the contrary, there’s a bag of Christmas peppermint creams in the fridge that she made you at after school club,” says Yoongi. “I asked where mine were and she pulled my wallet out of my pocket, handed it back to me and told me to stop sponging off other people’s hard work.”
For the first time during a conversation with your employer, you let out a genuine laugh.
Yoongi doesn’t laugh along, of course. He doesn’t even smile. You’re starting to figure at this point that his blank expression might actually be his happy one.
“Hey - will Dee be okay?” you ask a few moments later, when the room lapses back into a comfortable quiet. “I wasn’t aware that she might be going through a tough time…”
“I think she’s normalised it now,” Yoongi explains, sliding his hands into the pockets of his slacks. “She was too young back then. Her memories of her mother are abstract at best. The drawings she brings home from school, they’re just copies of photographs really. The stuff she knows from home videos or stories I’ve told her.” He pauses. “I think she can sense it though. How I get a bit funny around Christmastime. I think it upsets her.”
“You can’t help it,” you insist gently, the guilt of judging Yoongi too harshly causing your stomach to clench up once again. “Dee’s a smart girl. I’m sure she’ll come to understand it one day.”
Yoongi watches you from across the room, his head slightly tilted like he was trying to figure something out.
“Thank you,” he says eventually. “For taking care of Dee. Things before… they were hard on her. I wish I could be there for her more.” He glances away momentarily. “I think you being here has made things easier.”
Something warm and fuzzy unfurls in your chest at his words.
“I’m happy I could help,” you say honestly. “She really is a great kid.”
“She is.” Yoongi nods.
“And she thinks the world of you,” you can’t help but add, because despite your previous assumptions about Yoongi’s parenting, it hadn’t taken long to cotton on to the fact that Dee never shuts up about him.
“Right,” Yoongi snorts. He pushes away from the sideboard. “Tell me that again when the teenage years roll around.”
You grin, and he hesitates a moment for gesturing towards your raincoat.
“It’s dark out, and the light in the parking lot keeps flickering out,” he says. “I’ll walk you to your car.”
The offer takes you by surprise. You’re not used to seeing the kind side of your employer. Hell, you’re not used to much more than thinly-veiled criticism and blunt remarks.
Nonetheless, after saying a final goodnight to Dee, you let Min Yoongi walk you downstairs that day.
(You let him do it every day after that, too).
.
Now.
You’re sweating buckets by the time you reach the front door, your hair a wild mess from the unexpected bout of snow that had caught you on the way over. Panting like an animal, you raise your elbow to press the doorbell, taking about three tries before you actually manage to accomplish such a feat.
It’s barely even finished ringing before Yoongi is standing before you, a disgruntled look on his face and cheeks pink from exertion.
He’s dressed down - or as dressed down as one can be in a Ralph Lauren sweatshirt and comfy slacks, which in reality is about as close to loungewear as he’s likely to get. Up until now you were convinced the man slept in a full suit.
Standing in the doorway with one hand on the frame, he gives you an unimpressed once over.
“You’re late.”
You roll your eyes. “Hello to you too.”
“What’s with the bags?”
“Just a few things to get us through the week. Can I come in, or…?”
Begrudgingly, Yoongi moves out the way, though he’s still eyeing you warily.
“Exactly how much sugar are you planning to stuff my kid with while I’m gone?”
You place your shopping bags down in the entryway with a sigh. “It’s Christmas, for heaven’s sake, what else are we supposed to do if not overeat until we pass out in front of the TV?”
Yoongi hums, his lips pursed. “Right. Just remember no sweet treats after eight. And no milk either for that matter, we’re trying her on -”
“A lactose free diet to see if it helps with the stomach cramps,” you drone. “I’ve been here every weekday for a whole year, Yoongi. There’s no need to reiterate the rules every time I walk in.”
“You might know the rules, but I know my daughter. She despises oat milk with a passion, and she’ll try every which way to get you to cave when it comes to hot chocolate.” He pulls out his wallet with a sigh, and your expression morphs into one of confusion. “How much do I owe you?”
“O-oh! You don’t have to pay me back,” You hold your hands out in front of you, shaking your head. “These are a gift, and they barely cost anything anyway. It’s just gingerbread men and.. and colouring books and stuff.”
Yoongi quirks an eyebrow.
“Really,” he drawls. “So you’re telling me I won’t find the new Super Smash Bros game buried underneath all that junk food if I take a look?”
“Shh!” You clap a hand over his mouth, eyes darting towards the living room. “Don’t spoilit!”
Yoongi sighs, taking your wrist gently so he can speak again. “Snacks are fine, but that game is at least forty dollars. I can’t have you spending that much money on us.”
“But I want to,” you insist, giving him the puppy-dog eyes. “Dee’s wanted it for months, and she’s been working so hard recently. I want to show her I’m proud of her.” You stick your bottom lip out. “Please let me.”
Yoongi narrows his eyes at you. “Don’t look at me like that.”
“Like what?”
“You know what.”
You grin wickedly. You already know you’ve won.
With a reluctant grumble, Yoongi slides his wallet back into his pocket. “I’m only letting this slide because I’m running late,” he says, even though you’re both aware he’s not. He nods towards your grocery bags. “You need help getting those to the kitchen?”
“I’ll be fine,” you wave him off. “You finish packing, boss. I’ll go say hi to the little monster.”
Unsurprisingly, Dee is still in her pyjamas when you find her. She’s curled up on her side at the foot of the Christmas tree, Home Alone playing on the TV for the umpteenth time. You know it’s her favourite. She and Kevin have a lot in common when left to their own devices.
“Hey, bug,” you say in passing. “You getting into the Christmas spirit?”
Dee barely even lifts her head to look at you. “How can I?” she mumbles into the carpet. “I’m being abandoned. Again.”
You tut, opening the fridge so you can unload the goods into it. “Hey now, it’s not all bad. You have me, remember. AndI have gingerbread men.”
You hold up the box and shake it, but Dee merely blinks at your efforts to raise her spirits.
She sighs forlornly, her gaze sliding back to the TV.
Your eyes soften as you watch her. She looks so small like this, rolled over on one side with her knees tucked up against her chest. It’s hard to believe this is the same little girl whose performances explode like dynamite when she hits the ice, the energy she exudes reaching every corner of the rink.
In these smaller, quieter moments, you see more of her father in her than ever.
“Dee,” you say, your voice gentle but firm. “Look at me, bug.”
Reluctantly, she peels her eyes away from the TV screen to meet yours.
“You know your dad doesn’t want to go any more than you want him to, right?” you say. “If it were up to him, he’d be staying right here.”
“I know…” Dee mumbles, playing with her fingers. “I just don’t like it when he’s gone.”
“I know you don’t, bug.” You smile sadly. “And that’s totally okay. But we need to make sure we don’t make this any harder on him than it needs to be, right? That means no tears this time.”
Dee rolls her eyes, her cheeks flushing.
Yoongi had been called away on a weekend business trip in Paris a few months ago, and for whatever reason, the kid had had a meltdown like nothing you’d ever seen before when it came time for him to leave. It had taken all your strength to pry her arms from around his leg, and at the time it had been heart-breaking to witness.
Her separation anxiety always tends to show its face at some point when Yoongi goes overseas, but never before to that extent. You don’t think you’ve ever seen a man look quite so torn as Yoongi had in that moment. If you hadn’t been there, you’re convinced he would have cancelled the trip altogether.
Thankfully, the farewell goes a lot smoother this time. When Yoongi returns from his bedroom with suitcase in tow, Dee stands up and hugs him with little fanfare, burying her face in his stomach. He lifts a hand to smooth over her hair.
“Be good, okay?” he says. “I’ll be back before you know it.”
“Love you,” Dee mumbles when she pulls back, and you send her an encouraging nod Yoongi’s shoulder.
“Love you too, kid.” Yoongi bends to kiss the crown of her head, and you observe the exchange with the familiar ache of longing in your bones.
You see him to the door afterwards, the two of you loitering in the threshold as you go through the usual routine of checking he has everything.
“Boarding pass?” you say.
“In my bag.”
“Phone? Wallet?”
He pulls both out to show you. You smile fondly, leaning up against the doorframe with your arms crossed.
“Text us when you land, okay?” you say softly.
“Yeah.” Yoongi nods. “If you have an emergency while I’m gone -”
“Call Namjoon, his number’s on the fridge under the banana magnet.” You roll your eyes, absentmindedly reaching out to fix his collar. “Again, been here a whole year, Yoongi. I know the drill.”
Your brain catches up a few seconds too late, and by the time you’ve realised your error Yoongi is already blinking down at your fingers, frozen in the process of smoothing down the hem of his sweater.
Your eyes go wide in panic.
“Um-!” You retract your hands as if you’ve been burned. “H-have a safe flight, okay? I’ll see you soon!”
Yoongi merely hums, staring at you from beneath hooded lids with an unreadable expression.
You all but slam the door in his face, leaning your back up against it and pinching the bridge of your nose in frustration.
“...fuck!” Yoongi hears you curse on the other side.
.
Last year
The first time you realised you’re in love with your employer, it’s the evening of Dee’s first regional skate competition.
At the request of the little princess herself, you wander into the changing rooms fifteen minutes before the show to give her a good luck hug, finding her perched on a bench in a sparkly blue costume. Her skates are already done up, feet swinging back and forth and her entire body seeming to buzz with energy. Smiling, you begin to make your way over.
Then you spot him.
Perched on one knee, his hair swept back off his forehead and the sleeves of his work shirt rolled up to his elbows, Yoongi wields a makeup palette in his left hand and a brush in his right. When he murmurs something soft under his breath, Dee responds by closing her eyes. You watch on in quiet awe as Yoongi leans up to brush the glittery powder over her right lid with feather-light strokes.
When he’s satisfied with the blending, he swaps out the eyeshadow palette for a pack of rhinestones, even going so far as to use a pair of tweezers to apply them seamlessly to her lash line one by one. You can’t help but wonder how many times he’s done this before. He must be the only father in the room right now, and something about the way he owns that fact makes your chest swell with something warm and unidentifiable. You wonder if the braids on her head are his handiwork too. If it was his idea that she wear her mother’s necklace over her costume tonight.
In this moment, you know with certainty there was no one in the world Min Yoongi cared about more than his little girl.
When he just so happens to glance your way a moment later, Yoongi’s expression barely shifts from his default glower.
“Oh, good,” he remarks drily, tossing you a can of hairspray. You barely managed to catch it without fumbling. “She’s got some flyaways round the back. There’s a comb in the front pocket of her gym bag.”
He goes straight back to work without sparing you a second glance after that, firmly instructing Dee to stop wriggling lest he poke her eye out by accident.
You swore your heart has never felt so full.
Biting back a smile, you wordlessly locate the comb and start smoothing out her hair.
.
Now
“Hold it… hooold it…”
“Dee, babe. I really don’t think -”
“Hold it, Y/N!”
You exhale heavily through your nose, arms trembling as you struggle to maintain the downward dog position you’ve been forced into. Dee isn’t having nearly so much trouble, her forehead lightly touching her yoga mat when she arches her spine. She wiggles her bottom playfully in the air.
“That’s, guys. You look great!” chirps the annoyingly perky young woman on your iPad screen. “Now we take our right leg and extend upwards, pushing down hard into our heel so we can really feel that stretch in our hamstrings.”
“Trust me, I’m feeling it,” you grunt, barely managing to raise your right leg thirty centimetres off the ground.
Dee giggles, her leg already extended to its full height as if her body were made of elastic.
Your core contracts with the effort of keeping you upright, knees threatening to buckle beneath you.
“How is this fair? You’ve been skating since before you could walk and I haven’t moved this much since high school.”
“Tina says each new day is an opportunity to improve yourself.”
You roll your eyes. “Tina sounds like a hoot.”
“That’s the spirit, ladies! Other leg, let’s go!”
You groan, switching sides. It’s the third day in a row that Dee’s had you do stretches with her, and you’re starting to feel more like you’ve signed up for a week of boot camp than a week of babysitting.
Dee squints at you from beneath her armpit.
“Y/N,” she sighs.
“Mm?”
“You’re dropping your hips.”
“My apologies, Drill Sergeant Min. Won’t happen again.”
She returns to her position, shaking her head like a disappointed school teacher. “You’re worse than dad, you know.”
You do a double take. “I’m sorry -Yoongidoes this with you?”
“Sometimes.” Dee moves gracefully into a side plank, facing away from you. “When he doesn’t have work.”
“And you’re telling me I’m worse?”
“Consideradly.”
“It’s considera-bly,” you correct her with a huff, more out of indignation than anything else.
“Po-tay-to, po-tah-to,” Dee shrugs.
You let out an amused snort, though your mind is still reeling at the thought of Yoongi willingly assuming the lotus position and breathing out for eight counts. Scratch that, your mind is reeling at the thought of Yoongi wearing anything other than slacks. What kind of power does this kid wield that she can get the human robot himself to break a sweat?
You continue on with the routine until you can’t any longer, at which point you collapse onto your back with little ceremony.
“That’s it,” you pant, waving the metaphorical white flag in the air. “I’m done. No more.”
“But we haven’t even got to the headstand part yet!”
“Go on without me, bug. I’ll only hold you back at this point.” You manage to sit up despite the dull ache in your abs, glancing over at the wall clock. “Man, it’s getting late. I should get started on dinner.”
No sooner have you spoken it that Tina’s bouncing breasts disappear from your screen, replaced by Yoongi’s caller ID.
“Dad!” Dee gasps, already lunging forward to press accept before you can think to stop her.
When Yoongi’s expressionless face appears, he is confronted with the image of you kneeling on your yoga mat in a ratty pink sports bra and leggings, frozen like a deer in the headlights with your brow glistening with sweat and an eight-year-old’s halloween headband holding your hair back from your face.
You freeze. Yoongi blinks at the velvet cat ears sticking up from atop your head.
“Good morning,” he says in a low rumble.
In the next second you’re diving off-screen with a muttered curse, grappling for your T-shirt where it sits bundled up on the floor.
None the wiser to your panic, Dee scrunches her nose up.
“Morning?” she says, settling on her stomach with her chin in her hands. “It’s like five p.m.”
“Different time zones, kid. It’s almost lunchtime here.” Yoongi reclines in his fancy armchair, which is presumably in his hotel suite. “You two have been working hard I see.”
“No pain, no gain,” Dee tells him matter-of-factly, even going so far as to flex her bicep for the camera.
Yoongi hums. “Just don’t go pushing yourself too hard, hm? One of these days you’re going to twist yourself up into a pretzel position you can’t get yourself out of, and when that happens -I’m- the one who’s going to end up carrying you around.”
“Tell that to Y/N,” Dee snorts. “She looked like a drowning octopus when we got to the backbends.”
“I was not that bad,” you hiss, your face heating up with embarrassment despite being off-camera. Then, as an afterthought, “And how the hell does an octopus drown?”
Nobody is listening to you. It might just be a trick of the light, but you’re convinced you spot the corner of Yoongi’s mouth give a slight twitch of amusement.
“Be nice, Dee,” he says, though he doesn’t sound particularly worried for you. “The only bad workout is the one that didn’t happen, right?”
You pause, giving Dee the side-eye. “…Did he just quote Tina?”
She fixes you with a serious gaze. “Careful. Dad is abigTina fan.”
“Ugh, I bet he is,” you mutter under your breath, pulling a face as you recall the way Tina’s cute little glute muscles had contracted during the standing pigeon.
“Feel free to let me know when you’re done talking about me like I’m not here,” Yoongi drawls dispassionately, taking a sip of his coffee. “I need to speak with Y/N.”
You can’t help the way your stomach flutters at that. Hesitantly (and having disposed of Dee’s cat ears), you lean back into frame.
“What’s up?” you say with an awkward wave, already cringing at yourself internally.
Yoongi blinks languidly, passing no comment on your previous state of undress.
“I’m expecting a delivery to arrive at some point this week,” he says. “I need you to sign for me and put it somewhere safe. Preferably out of reach for anyone below four-foot-two, if you catch my drift.”
“Ohh,” you nod slowly, giving him the thumbs up. Clearly this delivery was Christmas-oriented. “Gotcha. Don’t worry, boss, I’ll make sure no prying eyes see anything they shouldn’t.”
You shoot him an exaggerated wink behind Dee’s head.
The smallest of smiles works its way onto Yoongi’s lips, and the sight is nothing short of stunning. Just like clockwork, the sight has your chest aching for him to be home. You open your mouth to speak again - perhaps to ask how Berlin is treating him, or some equally lame attempt to keep him on call for a little longer - but before the words can form there’s a sharp knock on the door of Yoongi’s hotel suite.
“Come in,” he calls gruffly.
Fortunately (or perhaps not so fortunately) the angle of the camera is just right that you can see the reflection of the door in the mirror behind, swinging open to reveal his guest.
“Aha! There he is,” a sultry female voice sounds through the screen. “I’ve been looking all over for you, mister.”
Your heart sinks right to the pit of your stomach. Lower, if it were possible.
There’s no doubt in your mind that the woman standing in Yoongi’s doorway is anything short of a goddess in a pinstriped skirt. You’d have to be blind not to see how gorgeous she is, all long limbs and softly curled red hair that falls in waves about her shoulders. She leans up against the doorframe with her hip cocked, a playful smirk on her face as she looks at your employer.
“Sofie,” Yoongi acknowledges with a polite nod. True to form, his expression betrays precisely nothing of what’s going on in his head. “Did you need something?”
“I just wanted to ask if you’re coming to lunch. We’ve made reservations at the restaurant downstairs if you’d like to join us.”
Your eyes skirt away, seeking out something better to look at. Anything really, so long as it’s not the obscenely beautiful woman who’s hitting on the man you love in a swanky hotel eight thousand kilometres away.
“That’s very kind of you,” says Yoongi, and you wish for oncethat his voice was anything other than a monotone drawl. There’s absolutely no way of deciphering whether he’s into this woman when he talks to her the same way he talks to you, and Dee, and noodles on the damn stove when he wants them to hurry up and boil. “I just need to finish up this call. I’ll be down in a minute.”
“Perfect.” Sofie pushes away from the door with a coy smile. “I’ll see you there.”
She turns on her heel, hips swaying like a pendulum as she slinks out of the room. When the door closes behind her, Yoongi returns his focus to the camera, totally nonchalant.
“Looks like I’m out of time,” he says.
Dee props her chin on her hand, pouting sullenly. “Are you gonna be home soon?”
“Four days, kid, then I’m all yours.” His gaze flickers over to you. “You two take care, okay?”
“You too,” you nod quickly, determined not to let the internal battle you’re having right now show up on your face.
“I’ll see you later.”
“Bye, Dad.” Dee waves.
“Enjoy your-”
The call ends abruptly, cutting you off.
“… Night,” you finish lamely.
The lovely Miss Tina returns to your screen, and Dee blows a gust of hair from between her lips. The sound startles you somewhat.
“Man,” she says, flopping down onto her stomach. “I hate that B-word.”
“Dee!” you shriek, your eyes almost bugging right out of your head.
She blinks up you innocently. “What? I didn’t curse.”
“I - God, who eventaughtyou that?”
“Family Guy,” she shrugs.
“Right, that’s it. I’m revoking your TV privileges for the rest of the week.” You stand up, waving your finger at her so she knows you’re serious. “Just because it’s a cartoon doesnot mean it’s suitable for kids.”
“Fine. I’m sorry,” she mutters. “But Sofie really -is- annoying. She’s a froo-trarian, so we had to eat this really weird meal with papaya and stuff when she came over. And she said figure skating is basically just a style of dance!”
You freeze halfway to the kitchen.
“…What?”
“A froo-trarian,” Dee repeated, with extra emphasis on the ‘froo’. “It’s this religion where you don’t eat anything with a face, or anything that came out of something with a face, or anything green unless it’s a kiwi.”
“No,” you shake your head jerkily. “No, I mean - Sofie camehere? To the apartment?”
“Yuh-huh.” Dee’s already distracted, rewinding the workout video to where you left off. “She was doing some work thing with Dad. They were in his office for hours.”
Immediately, your stomach tightens with anxiety. Something about that doesn’t sit right with you at all. Yoongi hardly ever has people from work around, much less for a meal. The man can barely even feed himself when the recipe calls for more than a microwave.
A selfish part of you wants to press the matter with Dee. To ask her more questions about Sofie, and what was said over this illusive dinner they had together. How Yoongi had acted with her. But you know it’s not your place to
