the entertainer ✧ 2
✧ reader x seokjin, ft. yoongi
✧ summary: In need of some real cash, you take a job as a dancer in your city's most notorious strip club. You’re making your own hours, raking in a good amount of money, and feeling sexy while you do it. Everything was fine as long as you kept your work life and your personal life separated.But when a handsome stranger shows up one night you find it difficult to maintain the balance.Jin is a gorgeous, rich, and–taken man. But one look from you on that stage has him spellbound. He knows he’s got no business coming back to the club, but there’s something about you that makes him want more than just a private dance. . .
✧ genre: strangers to lovers; angst; smut; fluff; 18+
✧ content/warnings: 18+, rich/ceo!jin, fuckboy!yoongi, stripper!reader, college!au, songfic, pov shifts, based on summer walker’s last days of summer album, loosely inspired by pretty woman, slow burn, smut, pining, mutual pining, love triangle, romantic suspense, cursing, dirty talk, explicit sex, oral sex, fingering, aftercare
✧ a/n: this is an old fic I wrote under my prev pseudo @jeonsweetheart that I put on hiatus as noted in this lovely banner by @kookdiaries. however recently I’ve found some love for my old pieces so I decided to try writing it again. If by some miracle your someone who’s read this story in the past lol I’ve edited some details to fit the narrative better but other than that, I’m continuing with the story as is! this isn’t beta’d and since I haven’t done a series in a while I’m actually pretty nervous reposting this so if u like it pls stop by my inbox or drop a comment I’d really appreciate it :)
✧ soundtrack: girls need love—summer walker
✧ word count: 9k
♪ So what’s a girl to do when she needs loving too... ♪
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[2:06am] Yoongi: You up?
You squinted at your phone, reading the message in the dark as the blue light shined on your face. You liked Yoongi; you really did. But more and more, you noticed he’d formed a habit of messaging you late at night. Only at night.
He’d brush you off when you attempted to hang out with him outside of work in the daytime, then later hit you up when it was convenient for him. You were starting to hate him for that and yourself because you let him get away with it.
Well, not tonight, you told yourself. I’m not gonna play that game. You put your phone on DO NOT DISTURB, returned it to your nightstand, and buried yourself in your sheets. You lay in bed feeling empty inside; you liked Yoongi, but you didn’t like this. Feeling so desperate for him all the time it was stupid and embarrassing.
Is that what love is?
You didn’t know. You’d never been in love before. Not really. Sure, you had crushes, mild infatuations, and situationships galore, but nothing like this—not this dull ache in your chest. If what you felt for Yoongi was love, then as much as you hated to admit it, maybe it was unrequited, and Hyuna was right.
Love had to be better than going to bed alone, feeling so cold and numb even though you were covered by a blanket.
You hoped she was wrong.
You wanted to be more to him than a few stolen kisses in the night and a body to hold. But as much as you wanted him to take your relationship seriously—to take you seriously—you could never risk asking him for more. To ask would be to give him all the power, and Yoongi already had enough control over you.
It wasn’t always like this. There used to be a time when you had all Yoongi’s attention.
You were so nervous coming into the club the first time. Back then, you still weren’t fully comfortable with stripping. But you had just started school, and though you already had a job bussing tables, you were still so very broke, and those bills wouldn’t pay themselves.
So you sucked up all your inhibitions and made yourself audition. You don’t know how Yoongi saw you in that crowded room. There were so many girls, certainly some more eye-catching than you, but he managed to catch you in the corner having a minor panic attack.
“You need to breathe.”
“Huh? Sorry, did you say something?” You blinked, taking in the appearance of the handsome stranger before you. On any other day, his intense eyes would have made you swoon. But that day, you were too caught up in your thoughts, worried about the worst possible outcomes of your getting up on stage. It’d been a long time since you danced for anyone besides yourself, and somehow, you were convinced you would mess up. Trip over your heels or forget a part of your routine.
“I said, you need to breathe. You look like you’re holding your breath. Are you that nervous?”
Yes, yes, you were.
You smiled weakly at him, clutching the water bottle in your hands. “I don’t even know what I’m doing here. I don’t think I can do this.” Your eyes flitted towards the exit.
“You’re here now, so you might as well go through with the audition. Don’t stop halfway.”
God, you thought, were you that obvious?
“What if I fuck it up?”
“Then you fuck it up. But that’d still be better than not trying at all.”
You remember being shocked at his response. But the more you thought about it, the more it made sense. Yeah, so what if you fucked it up? You didn’t know these people. Worse scenario, you wouldn’t get in and leave a little embarrassed, but no one would know about your private failure except for this handsome stranger.
You must have taken too long to respond because shortly after his blunt advice, Yoongi apologized.
“Sorry. . . I’m not that good at pep talks.”
“No, it’s okay. I don’t know why, but that actually helped.”
Yoongi’s eyes widened. Just a bit. Just enough for you to know your response surprised him. “Uh, good. You’ll be fine.”
“Thanks,” you said. Then thoughtfully, you wondered out loud, “Why are you being so nice to me??”
You couldn’t believe some guy was talking you down from your anxiety attack in a strip club. What was his agenda? Did he expect something from you?
“Why not?”
You opened your mouth to question that logic when you heard your name called. Your stage name. It was your turn to audition next. You glanced up at the stage before you, the black velvet curtain in the background, soft pink and white lights setting the mood, guiding your eyes to the catwalk in the middle. And on that center stage, those same lights highlight the silver pole in the middle.
Just looking at it made you gulp. Even though you were no stranger to the spotlight, having been a dancer, this new venture was awfully intimidating.
Strange enough, you found yourself looking towards the kind stranger—for what? Words of encouragement?—but he offered you none. Just a lazy smile as he nodded towards the stage for you to dance.
Truly, you don’t remember how the audition went. You were too nervous, too full of adrenaline to recall if you did well and if your movements were graceful and sexy rather than stiff and awkward. What you remembered was the conversation that followed, what you could make out of the hushed voices huddled together to decide your fate.
You strained to hear them over the thump of your racing heartbeat.
The first man to speak still seemed to be in thought as he stated his opinion. “I’m undecided. She doesn’t really seem like the type. . . I can’t imagine her sticking around for long.” He turned to the other judges in the room, “What do you think?”
“I agree with Namjoon,” said a man so pretty you could have mistaken him for a girl. “Technically, she’s a great dancer, but she’s lacking major confidence.”
Finally, the woman spoke. “Well, I like her. I think she’s got a lot of potential. Everyone grows into it anyway; give her a chance.”
Even with that vote of confidence, the group leader still seemed unsure. He turned to look over his shoulder to the man in the audience you spoke to earlier, the one you gave your whole performance to as you swayed on stage under sultry lights. “What do you think, Yoongi?”
At last, you had a name to put to the face of the handsome stranger. His dark eyes held no hint or indication that he favored you, and if his body language was anything to go off of, you were sure it wouldn’t be a good thing based on the way he slouched in his seat, arms crossed over his chest.
But then he spoke, a slow grin pulling over his face that put all your nerves at ease.
“I couldn’t keep my eyes off her.”
That was how it started. At the time, Namjoon, Jimin, and Hyuna were strangers to you. You had no idea the club owner and their two most favored dancers were in the room with you deciding your fate. Yoongi gave them his vote of confidence and sealed your fate. You started work later that week.
After you were hired, you were always aware of his presence at the club. You could feel his gaze follow you on stage, at the bar, always that cool, calm smolder. And the attraction was mutual. You constantly watched him in the booth, amused by his natural gift for music. There are so many shows you put on just for him. It was a crush, simple as that. You wanted him, but you were much too shy to say it. Thankfully, Yoongi was brave enough for both of you, asking you out after your first week.
The date was a pleasant surprise. Despite Yoongi’s introverted nature, he actually took you to dinner and made conversation at first, none of that Netflix and chill bullshit. His calm, quiet demeanor was infinitely attractive to you, and you found yourself mooning over him the whole night.
You hadn’t planned on fucking him, honestly.
But it’d been a while since anyone had touched you like that. So when Yoongi’s gravelly voice whispered in your ear, asking you to tell him how you wanted it, how you needed it, as his fingers rubbed sweet circles on your clit, all you could do was whine and tell him how badly your body wanted him with a desperation that couldn’t wait. You needed him right then and there.
The next morning, you woke up and swore it wouldn’t happen again.
But, of course, it did.
Again, and again, and again.
So here you were, stuck inside a situationship you didn’t want but one you always succumbed to. And tonight seemed no different.
Closing your eyes, you will yourself to go back to sleep, and you do for a little while. Until a pounding sound woke you up. You barely registered it as a knock the first time, but after two or three times, you dragged yourself out of bed and to your front door.
You had half a mind to reach for the bat you keep in the hall closet, just in case. It was an ungodly hour, and you lived alone (times like these made you regret not getting a roommate). You checked the peephole first, then sighed. Irritation rose in your blood.
You unlocked the door and snatched it open. “What are you doing here?”
“Don’t act so surprised. You were giving me puppy dog eyes all night. You really think I wouldn’t show up?”
You can’t tell if the anger surfacing is from your lack of sleep, the scare, or the fact that Yoongi is standing on your doorstep. It’s probably a combination of all three. “It’s two in the morning,” you said pointedly.
Yoongi isn’t phased by your grumbly voice or sharp tone. He shrugs and moves to step inside, but you block his path.
“Absolutely not. I’m going back to bed.”
“You’re mad.”
He didn’t say it like a question, but you could tell by the lilt in his voice he seemed surprised.
You scowled into the dark. “You can’t do this, Yoongi. Pick and choose when to show up.” Pick and choose when he could be in your life, when you mattered to him.
You motioned to close the door, but Yoongi stopped you, sticking his hand in the frame. And then he did something that made you pause. He reached for you, placed his hands on your waist, and pulled you close.
Shit.
Yoongi pulled you in like the tide. It was always eb and flow with him. When he did things like that. . . You couldn’t help but give in. You were weak for this, for his touch, for the moments when he wanted you. So when Yoongi swept in close, body heat coming off him in waves as his hand reached up to cup the back of your neck, you leaned into the embrace.
“I know I’m late,” he said, kissing the corner of your mouth. He nuzzled into your neck, sneaking kisses on your collarbones.
“Let me make it up to you.”
“Yoongi. . .” You started, coming to your senses for just a minute. But before you could protest, he interrupted you with a kiss. Any resolve you might have had left your body once his lips found yours. It was so easy to lose yourself in Yoongi. His kisses were fire, all-consuming, wild. You could never get enough. Yoongi licked into your mouth, and you moaned, stumbling back into your apartment.
And just like that, you crumbled.
You let him lead you to the bedroom, shrugging off his clothes, his mouth never leaving yours. You felt your knees hit the back of something soft and sat down on your bed while Yoongi kissed you stupid. You let him touch and, tease and pull you apart. Till the pleasure overtakes the pain in your chest. And it’s good, so good. Good enough to make you forget why you were even upset in the first place.
He inches you forward with kisses and bites—marks you know will leave a hickey—till your back hits the headboard, momentarily breaking you from his spell.
“Wait,” you said, eyelids fluttering open.
But Yoongi’s hands are already sliding up your nightgown, leaving wet kisses down your thighs.
And then there was the solid feel of his hands spreading your legs apart, lips dangerously close to where you needed him most.
He hooked a finger under the waistband of your lace underwear, pulling the material off.
“You were saying?” said Yoongi, and you shivered as his breath fanned over you.
Honestly, you couldn’t remember. You lost every coherent thought your brain was trying to form. All you could think about was his touch, his thumb on your clit, the feel of him stroking you gently. You were so, so wet.
And he knew it. You could feel Yoongi smile against you as he rested his cheek on your thigh, long slender fingers working over you until all you could do was tilt your head back and sigh.
“I love playing with your pussy.” He whispered, voice just above a purr.
His words made you throb. “Yoongi,” you moaned, his name a desperate plea on your tongue.
“What?” He answered, voice smug, “What do you need?”
Too embarrassed to say the words out loud, to admit just how badly you need him, you reached down, sliding a hand into his hair, tugging at his locks to pull him right where you wanted him.
Yoongi chuckled. “So impatient.” But he didn’t move his head from between your thighs. Instead, he leaned forward, licking a stripe up your center before rolling his tongue around your clit.
You couldn’t help but lean into the action, hips tilting up to catch the sensation. But Yoongi was having none of that. He brought up a hand, pushing one palm against your belly to press you down into the mattress, while the other caressed your thigh.
“Behave,” he said, the dominance radiating through his voice. It’s the only warning you get before he nips at your clit, drawing out a sharp cry from you, the pain mixing with pleasure. Before you could even respond, Yoongi lapped at your folds, tongue making a mess out of you.
You let yourself get lost in the sensation as Yoongi buried his head between your thighs, devouring your whole. You’re too far gone to stop the whimper that spilled from your mouth. All you felt were stars as his tongue curled around your clit, languid licks driving you closer and closer to the edge.
Yoongi knew your body like it was his. He memorized every shiver and shudder, every move that turned you on. He could hear your heavy breath, feel the tremble in your thigh, and know exactly how to push you over the edge.
So he does it, sliding two fingers deep inside you to press against the spot that made your body taunt with pleasure. The pressure of his palm against your belly, his hot tongue flicking against you, his fingers curling deep—it’s overwhelming.
Chest heaving, you called out his name, a plea and a warning all at once. You were so, so close.
Cum for me,” Yoongi rasped, voice vibrating against you, and that’s all it takes for you to fall.
You climax, pleasure rushing all through your body, blanking your mind, curling your toes. Your hands fist in Yoongi’s hair, once again tugging at his locks. Only this time, Yoongi didn’t stop your pleasure but doubled it, replacing his fingers with his tongue to delve inside and taste every drop of your release, stopping only when your thighs shake, the sensation becomes too much.
When you finally came back down and caught your breath, Yoongi lifted his head and met your gaze with a smirk. “Did I make it up to you yet? Or should I apologize again?”
Though you’d been satisfied, Yoongi ‘apologized’ twice more for good measure before laying you on your side and pulling you against his chest. Cold as he appeared, Yoongi defied all fuckboy logic and was quite fond of aftercare and cuddles. Thirty minutes later, he still laid beside you in bed, naked body flush against your skin.
These were the moments you treasured the most. Pos-coital bliss, where you could pretend, if only for one second, that you were something more than strangers who sometimes shared beds.
But they also made you the most confused. Because, here in his arms, it felt like more than friends, more than sex. But did he think that, too?
So many nights you spent just like this, trying to convince yourself that this was good enough, that you were comfortable living in this in-between state. But that was then, and this is now, and it’s not enough.
And now you know it never was.
“Yoongi?” you said, turning in his arms so you’re face to face.
“What,” he grumbled back, voice thick with sleep. It’s a sound you’re all too familiar with, one you’ve let lull you into a stupor time and time again. He leaned down to kiss you, but you placed a hand on his chest, keeping him away.
“What are we doing?”
It’s a question you’d always been too afraid to ask, but now that it was the only thing on your mind, you couldn’t stop yourself from blurting it out.
Yoongi scoffed. “Sleeping?” He nipped at the sweet spot on your neck, “Unless you’re up for another round.”
“Yoongi, I need—”
He licked a stripe up your neck, scrambling your thoughts. “What? What do you need?” He said, voice husky. It’s enough to make you moan but not enough to distract you from your racing thoughts.
I need to know what this is. I need to know where I stand with you. I need—
“More than this.”
“I’m serious. What are we doing? What. . . what are we?”
You said it. The thing you’re not supposed to say, and it made you feel sick to your stomach.
You shouldn’t—it’s not as if it’s some forbidden phrase, but the words weighed heavy in the air. You’re going places you’ve never gone with Yoongi, putting all your cards on the table. It’s risky. No one wants to be the one who cares most, but you do. And you know you’re not supposed to. You know you can’t say that you want more. That you want love. That somehow, this unspoken arrangement isn’t what you needed any more. You needed to know if he felt anything for you in return, and you needed to know now.
It was quiet for a minute before you finally said, unable to stop yourself from masking the vulnerability in your voice: “I like you.”
“I like you too,” said Yoongi. There was no weight to his words. He said it so quickly, so easily, that it stunned you.
Maybe a little too easy.
“So what does that mean for us?” you said, sitting up in bed, more awake now than ever.
Yoongi froze. “Us?”
“Yeah, is there an us?” You can’t seem to say what you really mean; the words hover around the truth of your real desires, that you want a relationship. It’s obvious, isn’t it? “Because if it’s not, if you can’t see this being real, then I don’t think I can do this anymore. I might take a break.”
He has to know what you mean. . .Do you really have to spell it out?
But apparently, you do because Yoongi glosses over the true meaning of your words entirely. “Can we talk about this in the morning? I’m tired. I don’t want to fight right now.”
He reached for you, his hand slipping up your thigh and rubbing small circles with his thumb. The touch is soothing, but your mind is still whirling. Still trying to connect the dots from what he said, what it meant, and what you heard.
“I don’t want to fight right now.”
Why does the question of choosing me have to be a fight?
It’s this thought that makes it all clear. It’s not a fight. Yoongi knows the question you’re asking. He just doesn’t want to answer.
You opened your mouth to say as much, but you’re tired, too. Tired of this bullshit. The ease with which Yoongi dismissed your needs time and time again. You don’t have the strength to plead your case, and you shouldn’t have to, really.
You laid back down with you back towards him, nodding your head in agreement even as you shoved your disappointment down deep.
As if sensing your frustration, Yoongi wordlessly consoled you. He trailed kisses down your body. Each kiss, a tiny apology. At the top of your head. Sorry. By your jaw, sorry. The dip between your neck and shoulder. Sorry.
Sorry, sorry, sorry.
Despite yourself, you lean into the embrace. Yoongi didn’t always have the right words to say, but he always had the right touch. Still, a part of you starved for a deeper affection, a part that even Yoongi’s touch couldn’t reach.
. . .
In the morning, you woke up to the shining sun, aching limbs, and an empty bed.
Yoongi wasn’t beside you, and the loss of his touch stirred you from your sleep as the loneliness crept back in. You know there’s no note for you to or an explanation to where he’s gone, so you don’t bother checking. Instead, you roll over to your side, clumsily fumbling around for your phone on the nightstand.
You open your eyes with a sigh, blurred vision trying to make sense of the digits on the screen reading 9:02am when everything clicks into space with startling clarity. Your entrepreneurship class started at nine.
Shit.
“Late! I’m late!” You shouted, hopping out of bed and throwing on a T-shirt and jeans. No doubt, you look a mess, but you didn’t have time to worry about appearance. You could not be late; this course was one of the hardest in your major. You couldn’t afford to miss any class and pass, and if you flunked out, you’d have to wait another two semesters before it’d be offered again. That was time you simply didn’t have. It’d put you way behind your schedule to graduate on time with your degree, and you couldn’t afford to waste more time in school.
It’s the desperation that has you rushing down the hall to your classroom, tired and out of breath after sprinting from the parking garage into the building. You’re flustered, sweaty, and way too embarrassed to make eye contact with your professor as you enter the room, only bowing your head in apologies as your eyes scan the room for a seat.
Mia flagged you down in the corner of the room, and you slid into the desk next toher. “I saved you a spot,” she whispered, careful not to raise her voice above the steady drone of your professor’s lecture about starting a new business.
“Thanks,” you said, eternally grateful to have made a friend in this class. Mia was a school friend who, through late-night study sessions and lunch breaks, was slowly becoming a real friend, too. If only you didn’t have more time on campus, you’d probably be best friends by now, but between working for two jobs and school, your schedule was always full.
“We’ll dive deeper into identifying your target customer base next week.”
When the lecture ended thirty minutes later, you pulled Mia outside the classroom. “Hey, thanks again for saving me a seat. Can I borrow your notes from earlier?”
“Of course.” You thanked her as she pulled out her notebook and handed it over.
“No problem. Where were you this morning? I thought we were supposed to catch up before class.”
You forgot about that. “Uh, sorry. I overslept. Rain check?”
“Sure. I have a class until 3, but after that I’m free. You wanna grab dinner tonight?”
You wince, knowing you’ll have to turn her down once again. “I’d love that. I really would, but I’ve gotta—“
“Work, right. Of course.”
“Sorry, Mia.”
“Look. I get it you’re busy. But I feel like I never see you these days.”
You can’t help but feel guilty knowing she’s right. You have been all over the place this semester. Your social life was definitely suffering for it.
“And when I do, you see, you’re basically running around campus looking like a total mess.”
Ouch. When she puts it like that. . .
Mia must have read the hurt look on your face cuz she quickly backtracked. “I don’t mean to sound harsh. I’m just worried about you, ya know?”
You know she’s right, but it still made you feel like crap to hear your friend chide you like this. You know you’ve been distant, but were you really that bad?
“And I miss my friend,” she added, squeezing your hand.
At this admission, you relax, understanding where she’s coming from. “I know. Today’s not great, but I promise I’ll make it up to you, okay?” You looked down at your phone, checking the time. Now you were going to be late for your next class, too. “I gotta run, but we’ll talk later?”
Mia nodded. You hugged her before hauling ass across campus to your next class.
. . .
“Do you know what an embarrassment you are to this family?”
Seokjin sighed, slumping in his seat. His father slapped the newspaper onto his desk so hard it’s a wonder the glass didn’t crack under his palm. It took all of his strength not to wince at the title:
Billionaire Playboy Caught At An Infamous Strip Club.
“I didn’t choose to go there. Taehyung and Namjoon took me out—“
“I don’t care what Taehyung and Namjoon do. They can destroy their families’ reputations if they want to. But you are my son. I won’t have you tarnishing my reputation. You think you deserve to run this company after a stunt like that?”
At this, Seokjin rolled his eyes. “I don’t think I deserve anything. I’ve never wanted this company,” he said.
“You ungrateful piece of shit.”
Seokjin meant what he said, but he wasn’t ungrateful. Inheriting his father’s million-dollar diamond corporation was never part of his interest. “You should hand over your company to the child who wants to run it. Sohee would—“
“Sohee doesn’t have what it takes to run my company.”
Translation: Sohee wasn’t a man. And Seokjin’s sexist father would never give her the chance she deserved to take over the family business. Even though she was the progeny most naturally suited for the job.
His father waved away the idea. “Enough of this talk of Sohee. You will inherit the family business. It’s time you stopped acting like a child. Have you forgotten your responsibilities? After your wedding to Mei, our company will expand. You’ll have no time for these foolish endeavors.
How could he possibly forget? Between the tabloids and the endless, frivolous meetings crammed into his schedule to decide what color goes best with the tablecloths or what dish should be served for the twelfth-course meal, he hasn’t been able to escape any thoughts of the wedding as much as he’d wanted to.
Seokjin met Mei under duress six months ago with the intention of their union expanding the company into the Chinese market. And though their families held a long-standing relationship with each other—they were practically strangers. He had no feelings for her, and their relationship was strictly business, to his chagrin.
Seokjin didn’t want to get married—let alone to someone he barely knew. But the decision wasn’t up to him. As with everything else in his life, his father made all the decisions. Every school, every job, and every opportunity was already picked out for him before Seokjin could even utter the word ‘no. Nothing was ever a choice.
He hated his father. For his cruelty and selfish ways, his blatant disregard for others, his children’s wishes, and the control he had over Seokjin’s life.
“As a matter of fact, I have an important business dinner with her father this evening—you will attend.”
“Of course, not like I had any plans.” Said Seokjin, smiling sweetly, but his eyes held malice.
His father cut him a look and opened his mouth for what Seokjin was sure would be a good cussing out, only for his father to explode into a coughing fit. The bastard was sick, but unfortunately for Seokjin, not ill enough to die. Just enough for his father to retire early and order him to take over, crushing any dream he had of escaping his legacy.
His father cleared his throat. “I expect you to be on your best behavior and impress him, boy. But don’t be a fucking kiss ass. Remember, you represent the Kim name. Show me you are not a complete disappointment as my heir. You can do at least that, can’t you?”
Seokjin grit his teeth, swallowing down his anger. He hated his father for his relentless demands, but he also hated himself.
Because despite resenting it all, Seokjin always did as he was told.
. . .
[4:34pm] Sunshine Boss: I have something for you :)
[4:34pm] Sunshine Boss: I know you’re off tonight, but you should stop by and pick it up. I think you’ll be satisfied with the gift.
You look up from your phone, stopping midway in your tracks. It’d be risky, but you could squeeze in some time to stop by the club before heading to your other job.
Jeongguk winked at you as you walked up to Paradise. You smile at him as he holds the door open for you, shaking your head at his endless flirting. It always amused you that he was the club bouncer when the kid was a little younger than you. But you always felt safer having Jeongguk at the door. You’ve seen firsthand how that sweet bunny smile could fade into a deadly expression. Jeongguk could be very intimidating when he wanted to be, and his muscles weren’t just for show. You felt sorry for anyone who crossed a line at the club and ended up facing off with him.
It doesn’t take you long to find your boss. He’s tucked away in his sleek gray office as usual, typing away on his laptop. He looked polished as ever in a new suit and a crisp white button-down. When you knocked on the door, Hoseok looked up and waved you inside. “Come in.”
“You said you had something for me?” You asked. You were still curious as to why he requested you stop by. Work was work, but Hoseok took your personal lives seriously. He never crossed the line between the two, so you found it odd he reached out.
“I do,” said Hoseok, reaching inside his desk drawer. “Your private session left you a big tip last night. I thought it’d be best if you received it directly.” You watched as he pulled out a fat white envelope and slid it across the desk.
Just looking at it made you raise an eyebrow. Hoseok’s bright eyes gave nothing away as he waved a hand towards the envelope, beckoning you towards it.
Without thinking, you opened the envelope and let out a little gasp of shock at the thick wad of bills inside. Hundred-dollar bills.
“All this is for me?”
“All of it.”
You shifted out a few bills, ready to hand over your expected dues, but Hoseok stopped you with a hand. “You misunderstand. I already have my cut. Everything within that envelope is yours.”
“Are you serious?” You said, unable to hide the shock in your voice. You had enough money in your hands to pay your whole rent for the month and then some. All from one dance.
The sharp angles of Hoseok’s face softened, and he smiled at your disbelief, a dimple showing out. “Clearly, you left a good impression, but I expect nothing less—you’re one of the best.”
You wave away his words, too embarrassed to accept the compliment, thinking about exactly how you won Seokjin’s favor. Just the thought made your heart race. As much as you hated to admit it, your patron wasn’t the only one affected by that last dance.
“I um—I’ve got to go. But thank you for making sure I got this personally.”
“Of course. Before you leave, your gift came with a letter,” said Hoseok, pointing back to his desk.
You don’t know how you missed it at first, but sure enough, another smaller envelope was on the glass with your name handwritten on the front.
“Oh.”
“I think you might have a new regular. Seokjin seems to be very fond of you.”
. . .
Later that afternoon, you pulled up to work, grateful you remembered to stash a bag with clothes in your car. You quickly run to the back, hoping to change into your uniform. But your boss caught you before you could sneak off to the back.
“You’re late,” she hissed.
Yes, that was becoming quite a habit of yours. You ducked your head apologetically, hoping the woman would scold you quickly. “I’m sorry, I was—”
“—I don’t have time for excuses. A high-ranking guest is coming in tonight, so just do your job.”
You don’t miss the pointedness in her tone—no fuck ups tonight.
“Got it,” you said, holding back your grimace as she berated some more before sending you off to change. All you could do was grin and bear it. Even if you didn’t feel like you had it in you to pull on a fake smile and tend to your special guests.
But that was your job as a hostess. It paid well, though sometimes it almost didn’t feel worth it with the snooty customer base you had to face, but between rent and your school tuition, you literally couldn’t afford to be picky.
Even if you didn’t have the energy to put up with these rich assholes, at least you didn’t have to pull a shift at Paradise after this. You just had to pull yourself together for a few hours, and then you could go home.
You change into a little black dress and switch out your sneakers for a pair of tall heels. It wasn’t exactly a ‘uniform’ uniform, but your second job still has a certain look and aesthetic to maintain. The dress hugged your curves in all the right places, and you can’t help but feel eyes on you as you make your way back to the hostess table up front, heels clicking.
Dionysus was in full swing, each white-clothed table crowded and buzzing, and you watched as people clinked glasses under the chandeliers. But at your post, you kept your eye on the empty room in the back.
Whoever your guests were tonight, if they were truly a big deal, you’d escort them to have their meal in that private room.
Once the opening crowd thins out, the evening goes by slowly for you, and before you know it, you’re sneaking a peek at your phone, trying not to keep your boredom at bay.
There were a couple texts from Hyuna and a picture she sent of herself and the girls at Paradise.
[6:15pm] Babygirl: I’m so BORED when you’re not here🥺
[ 6:16pm]You: Sameeee. Don’t have fun without me!
[6:18pm] Babygirl: You know it’s boring when you’re not here! Miss you tonight 💕
You heart the message, missing her too.
Still no messages from Yoongi.
All his silence does is confirm the feeling in your gut and fuel the quiet resolve to make a decision.
You’re so busy ruminating that you don’t even realize you have guests in front of you until someone clears their throat in front of you.
“Act like you have some sense. The reservation for the Kim Corporation is here.”
You shove down your disdain for your boss and put on your best smile, ready to greet your new guests. Only when you look up do you realize it’s not a new guest after all.
Kim Seokjin stood in front of you, handsome as ever. His fringe frames his face, drawing your attention to his dark eyes and immaculate suit. You could tell from the quality of his clothes that it was expensive, but the white button-down left open on his chest said that looking flawless was effortless on his part. His brows furrowed at the sight of you, but then the confusion cleared, and in its place, Seokjin fixed you with a dazzling white smile and said: “It’s you.”
You barely have time to recover from the blow before you fix your smile in place (the one you use strictly for work; polite and friendly) and greet his party.
“Welcome to Dionysus, Mr.Kim. It’s a pleasure to have you dine with us tonight.”
Seokjin blinked at your formal demeanor, not expecting your casual dismissal of his recognition. But you don’t react—you can’t. No one here knew of your other life, and you planned on keeping things this way.
“Please follow me; I’ll direct you towards our private dining experience.” You quickly turned on your heel, walking forward without sparing so much as a second glance towards him. But you can sense his eyes on you, that hot, molten feeling rising in your body as you lead the party toward the back.
When you stopped before the table, Seokjin pulled out the chair closest to your position, trying to address you once more. “It’s nice to see you again.”
You maintain your plastic smile. “You must be mistaken, Sir; we haven’t met. I’ve heard this is your first time visiting Dionysus.”
“You mean to tell me we haven’t met before?”
“I’m afraid not, sir.”
Seokjin raised an eyebrow, but your facade didn’t waver. If anything, your eyes seemed to embolden, daring him to question your professionalism. You’re so calm and cool that if it were anybody else, Seokjin might have believed himself to be mistaken. But he knows he’s not. As if he could forget your face after last night.
So that’s how you wanted to play this? Fine. Two could play that game. He’d get your attention one way or another.
“Excuse me, I have a special request,” asked Seokjin, successfully grabbing your supervisor’s attention. “Your hostess is so lovely. Is there any way that she could tend to our table tonight?.”
Your eyes widen in shock for a split second, not anticipating this outcome. “I’m sorry, I’m not a part of the waitstaff—”
“—Absolutely,” Your boss cut in. “I’m sure (Y/n) would like nothing more than to take care of your party personally.”
At the mention of your name, Jin’s eyes widened. He simply wanted you near, but his request seemed to come with a little gift now that he knew your name.
The realization must have dawned on you simultaneously since the look on your face is a mix of shock and rage. Jin finds the combination amusing, and he can’t keep the satisfied smirk on his lips, knowing he sneakily earned another night with you.
Serves you right for trying to ignore him. Seokjin gave you a look, cocky and full of ego, relaying this very thought.
You wanted to wipe his smug smirk off. Asshole. You haven’t waited tables since your first year in college, and now, because this guy batted his pretty eyes, you’re right back where you started?
Who does this guy think he is?
You’re beyond annoyed, but all you can do is plaster on another fake smile and join the servers at the table. Thankfully, you’d served with everyone working the table before, so getting back into the flow of things was easy.
You fell into step from memory; everything returned to you from years of practice waitressing. You reached past Seokjin to fill his wine glass, and the asshole had the nerve to look up and smile at you.
You smile back, of course, even though you’re silently fuming, but your eyes tell a different story. You let Seokjin see it, all the anger buried underneath the polite mask as you pour.
But Seokjin’s smile didn’t flinch, didn’t falter. You swear his smile only brightened, the grin spreading across his handsome face.
You didn’t realize you had overfilled his glass until you heard the scrap of his chair across the floor when he jumped back from the table.
You were so distracted you poured the wine right into his lap. But he didn’t have to know that. Even though it wasn’t your intention, you’re more than happy to claim the credit for his displeasure.
“My apologies, Sir,” you said with a smirk.
Seokjin glared at you in response. Now that the shock was gone, you had to stifle a laugh behind your hand seeing his pouty face.
Your boss hissed your name, eyeing you with a tilted head at the mess you were in no rush to clean up.
“Let me help you with that,” you sighed. You bent down, picking up a spare napkin off the table. You dipped it in water and mindlessly dabbed at the spill on his suit.
You were already so close before you realized your mistake. You could smell the heated spice of Seokjin’s cologne, and you were just a breath away from that dazzling face. Just as close as you were the first night you met. The memory of it flashes through your mind—the warmth of his palm cupping your cheek like you were his lover. It’s enough to make your breath hitch.
You met his eyes, and the depth of his dark pools told you you weren’t the only one thinking of your first night together. Seokjin’s gaze dipped, looking at your lips as he wet his own.
It’s that small action that brings you back. What were you doing? Surely you weren’t about to kiss the stranger in the middle of a job? Quickly, you removed your hand from his lap, clearing your throat as you backed away.
Your mind felt hazy, and you knew who was to blame. But what you wouldn’t understand was the fact that Seokjin had any effect on you at all.
You knew it wasn’t his status; you often came across rich men in your work. His looks were unparalleled, but you rarely found attraction towards a pretty face last if you hadn’t liked their personality.
And you didn’t like him, right? No. He wasn’t your type at all. Still, you couldn’t deny the pull felt whenever he was in your presence.
For the rest of the night, you completed service for the party away from Kim Seokjin. Dinner went on in a daze. And before you knew it was closing time. The Kim Party stayed the whole night, which was tiring, but the generous tip they left did lighten your spirits as you exited the building.
You’re halfway out the door, eagerly awaiting a night alone in your apartment, when you hear someone call out your name.
“(Y/n).”
It’s Seokjin. You looked up to find him leaning back against a luxury SUV. “Or should I call you Angel? Both names suit you quite well.”
Dammit. In the heat of the moment, you forgot all about your boss giving away your name. If your two lives weren’t crossed over before, they certainly were now.
You’ve half a mind to ignore him and pretend you didn’t hear him in the first place, but ultimately, you decided to deal with it before things get more out of hand.
You walked up towards him. “Look, I’d appreciate it if you kept that name to yourself.”
“Which name?” He teased, eyes glinting at you in the dark. “They’re both very pretty.”
“I mean it. People don’t know about my other job here.”
“So you live a double life? That’s sexy.”
“It’s not as sexy as you think,” you said, crossing your arms over your chest. “It’s actually really hard, so don’t make it any harder for me.”
Seokjin tilted his head to the side, studying you. You put up a good front, coming up to him acting all demanding. But he could see the vulnerability underneath it all; a part of you was worried.
“I wouldn’t dream of making anything more difficult for you,” he said, earnestly hoping to put your mind at ease. “Your secret’s safe with me.”
“Oh…” You weren’t expecting him to acquiesce so quickly. You honestly thought he’d be the type of jerk to tease you and hold it over your head like earlier. But Seokjin immediately respected your boundary; you didn’t even have to put your foot down.
“Thank you,” you said awkwardly.
“Of course.”
His behavior took you off guard, but you couldn’t lose focus. Your name wasn’t the only reason you approached him.
“Um, also, while you’re here, I’d like to give you this back,” you said, reaching into your bag for the envelope. You help it out for him to take. “Thank you for the tip, but I can’t accept this.”
Seokjin stared at your hand. “That was a gift.”
“It’s too much,” you added as if that held any weight.
“I haven’t to politely disagree. I enjoyed myself, and I value your time. I think the amount reflects that.”
“I can’t accept it.”
“Can’t? Or won’t.”
“Okay, I won’t accept it. Take it back.”
“No.”
“Seokjin.”
“(Y/n).”
“Why are you making this so difficult?”
“Love, you’re the one making this difficult.”
“Look,” you said, frustrated at the conversation. “I’m not in the mood for games. I don’t know what your expectations are. But I’m not that kind of girl.”
Seokjin shook his head. “I’m not following…”
“Well then, let me make it clear to you. I said. I’m not that kind of girl.”
You were all up in his face, eyes full of fire, and Seokjin couldn’t help but like it. For a man in his position, very few people had the confidence to speak to him like that. He at once found it incredibly attractive and entertaining, watching you sass him with your neck craned as he looked down at you.
Clearly, you meant to be intimidating, but all Seokjin could think about was how sexy you looked when you were assertive.
“You didn’t read my letter, did you?”
“The letter is irrelevant; I don’t care how rich you are—you can’t buy me.”
“I think you are mistaken. I’m not trying to buy you, (y/n).”
You didn’t buy it. If there was anything you learned in life, it was that nothing ever came free. There was always a price. And this man came from a world where money ruled supreme.
“Then what do you want?”
You. It was the first thing that entered Seokjin’s mind. The thought took him by surprise. It’d been a while since he felt this attracted to anyone. And he certainly didn’t know what he was doing waiting after dinner to talk to you. Something was there, but he knew better than to voice this new feeling aloud.
Instead, he told a partial truth. “I don’t know,” he said, shrugging. “That night…. I’ve never seen someone move like that. The way you dance...You captivated me. You were like a goddess.”
You wanted to be mad at him. You really did. But you couldn’t help but feel yourself flush at the compliment and the sincerity in his voice. Men flirted with you often. It was a hazard of the job, but not like this. You’ve heard men highlight your body before, but no one ever mentioned the way you dance with awe in their voice, not just lust.
“It’s only natural to give an offering as your patron,” said Seokjin, winking at you.
Your body betrayed you then, a flush that heated you up. Get a grip! You thought. You weren’t some lovesick teen. You were grown. You would not be swayed by some rich asshole’s stupid flirting.
“Well, I don’t need your money. Here,” you said, thrusting it out in front of you. “You can have it back. I don’t want to owe you anything.”
“You don’t owe me. I wanted to give it to you,” said Seokjin, stepping closer to you. “I think you deserve a lot more, to be honest.”
Seokjin placed his hand over yours, firmly keeping the envelope in your grip. “It was a gift. Nothing more, nothing less. Keep it.”
You’re so close Jin could smell you; your skin is warm and sweet, and your perfume was sultry and floral. Seokjin could drown in it. The scent clouded his senses and, clearly, his judgment because he closed what little distance sat between him and you. Here, he had a front row to your beautiful eyes, and those plush lips, and the only thing running through his head was what it would be like to kiss you.
Seokjin looked at you, really looked at you, and this time, he noticed you were not startled. Your pupils are blown, your chest rising quickly—he’d bet anything that whatever it is going on with him, you felt it too.
But again, you pulled away.
You took a step back to give yourself space and clear your head. Any longer, and you might have kissed him for real. And even though you and Yoongi were barely a thing and planned on ending things, you hadn’t ended them yet. Even though Seokjin had you wanting to cross all kinds of boundaries—you weren’t about to cross that line.
“I um,” You stuttered, “I really can’t convince you to take it back?”
Jin considered your question. “I’ll tell you what,” he said. “I’ll take the money back in exchange for a date.”
You couldn’t help but laugh. Was he really asking you on a date? “How is that appealing to me? That’s just swapping one problem for another.”
“It would be the best day of your life.”
“Now you’re just being ridiculous.”
“I’m not hearing a no.”
You sighed. “I don’t want to give you the wrong impression. I’m seeing someone. And even if I wasn’t—”
“Are you exclusive?”
“Well, no—”
“—Then I have a chance?” Said Seokjin, taking a step closer to you. He smiled again, and this time, his eyes crinkled at the corners, and you felt the warmth of his gaze flush all over you.
“I, um—”
Seeing you stutter, Seokjin’s smile brightened. “I do have a chance.”
Stupid, damn feelings.
“You have no chances,” you said, barely recovering from the brilliant attack on your heart. “Because I don’t date clients, remember?” You let words settle between you, their weight grounding you back to reality.
“And now you’ve also popped up at my day job?”
“A charming coincidence, I promise,” said Seokjin, placing a hand over his heart.
“Hmm. Well, I guess I’ll keep your money after all.” Even if he was the most handsome man you’d ever met, you were an adult. Your better judgment kept you from crossing that line.
Seokjin smirked. “Good.”
Good? You narrowed your eyes at him. He looked a little too pleased with your decision. “Did you only propose that because you knew, I’d say no and keep the money?”
“No,” he said, leaning toward entrancing you again with a close-up view of his superior good looks. “I hoped you’d say yes. But I’ll take the consolation prize.”
“Besides, I’m rich,” laughed Seokjin. “It’s not like I need more money.”
And just like that, the moment of infatuation passed. Seokjin was back to being a rich asshole. Perfect. You could work with that.
You backed away from him, heading for your car. “Goodnight, Seokjin.”
“Goodnight, (Y/n)”
It’s not until you’re sitting in your car, catching your reflection in the rearview mirror, that you realize you’ve got a stupid grin on your face.
Immediately, you stopped, catching yourself. It felt nice to be admired and flirted with, but what was your problem? Why were you smiling about some random stranger when you had a—
The bright ping of your phone went, and you reached inside your purse to check your texts.
[9:06pm] Yoongi: Missed you at Paradise tonight? Can I stop by later?
Speak of the devil…Of course, Yoongi would contact you now.
You didn’t owe him any loyalty, but that didn’t mean you felt comfortable talking to other guys. But still, why?
Yoongi wasn’t your boyfriend. So why were you giving him the boyfriend treatment?
“Are you exclusive?”
“Well, no—”
“—Then I have a chance?”
You shook your head, clearing your thoughts. Why were you thinking about Seokjin’s words earlier? He wasn’t even a dating option, but he did have a point.
For all intents and purposes, you were practically single, so why were you acting coupled up again?
You look at the three little dots bubbling up from your lack of response. How long were you going to keep doing this? Repeating the same cycle over again?
No. No more.
You fired off a text back: I can’t, busy, then threw your phone on the seat and started up your engine before you could change your mind
The cycle ends right now. You wouldn’t spend the rest of your twenties going back and forth with some guy who only ever wanted to sleep with you.
You’re young. You’re hot. You didn’t have to sit around and wait for some guy to want you. You could get a date with anyone you wanted, hell, even a millionaire!
For a minute, even though tonight was an inconvenience, you’re grateful you ran into Seokjin just for that reminder.
The next time you see Yoongi, you know what you need to do.
You’re ending things up with him. For good.
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