Coffee Stained Armani Suit
Fashion can be a killer of an industry and when a young personal assistant finds herself being promoted to the new Head Secretary position for the CEO of one of Korea’s premium and top selling fashion magazines, she finds out just how stressful fashion can really be.
pairing; Yoongi x female reader
genre: Fashion, modern era
Warnings: fluff, angst, I know nothing about working in an office except what I’ve seen in dramas lol, occasional coarse language, a lot of office grunt work
Chapter warnings: Heavy drinking, reader talks about her past, which is icky dark, implications of miscarriage, conversation about spousal abuse, implications of eating disorde,r though not directly spoken of, talk of malnutrition and over working (please let me know if there's more as I have no problems adding them and would appreciate the heads up~
Word count: 3395
A/n: Holy crimples it's been ages since I had this kind of word flow!! The last chapter I posted for this went live January of 2023...and even before that I'd been struggling to write more than a few hundred words at a time. And then suddenly it just hit me, 3.4k worth of words in a single evening. ya'll have no idea how very cathartic this feels. But also as soon as I finished I realized I had no clue how to do anything on tumblr anymore rofl. So yea! What better way to come back than to traumatize Yoongi! (Insert evil emoji because my laptop is trash and I have no clue how to add emojis here >.< Anyway enjoy! And please read the chapter warnings! It gets messy at the end there lol
<<Chapter 3
There’s an energy to Miami that all big cities seem to have in common.
You can feel it the moment you step out of the airport terminal and are thrust directly into the hustle and bustle that is everyone trying to shove their way to their next destination.
The smell…man that smell. Humanity and fear and excitement and depression, all mixed into one solid odor that prevails in the smog filled lanes of hours long traffic and the vinyl seats of the taxi cabs long overdue for a good solid mechanic’s visit. It’s overshadowed occasionally by tourist traps and sun screen, mimosas and urine and coconuts and soiled baby diapers and cuban food sold by loud street venders just trying to make a buck. Every now and then though there’s an ocean breeze. Just enough wind to shove all that humanity away and give you a taste of that cool salty sea, that warm sand just begging for you to dig your toes into as you stare out at the infinity that is sun kissed waters.
I can’t say I really noticed any of it though because the moment Yoongi and I stepped off his private jet and onto the tarmac we were being ushered into the gorgeously plush seats of his company owned limousine and off down private back roads and darkened streets to some 28 grand a night hotel that screamed ‘Out of range of my paycheck bro!’
“How the hell did I manage to even get here?” I grumbled to myself as I stared listlessly out at the dusky tangerine glow of the setting sun on the horizon of the gorgeous beach just outside my bungalow window.
That’s basically what this whole hotel was. A long series of beach bungalows trailing down the shore and interconnected by swaying bridges that lead to various destinations that catered to well….whatever it is that rich people do when they’re on vacation.
I did NOT belong here. Like at all. I could feel it the moment I stepped out of the limo and even the guy holding the door glared at my clearly poor suitcase and carry on bags. I’d brought most of the newer outfits Mr. Min had bought me along with me but well… luggage hadn’t really been on the menu that day so it’s whatever.
Turning solemnly from the beautiful sunset behind me I gazed out across the room that I’d be staying in for the next week. It was fully tiki themed. A massive four-poster bed took up most of the bedroom space, complete with mosquito netting to seal me in safely at night and matching bedside tables lined in a pretty cool but expensive looking bamboo material. The cream carpets screamed ‘Lay on me!’ with how plush they were and I’m not even gonna lie and say I didn’t slump down on them and giggle for a solid twenty minutes as I rolled around on them like somebody’s kid high on too much candy.
Adjacent to the bedroom was a massive bathroom tiled in vibrant copper and green and filled to the brim in that special rich people shit you see exclusively on TV and in movies. A gargantuan four person jacuzzi, a walk-in shower with sprayers from six different angles that upon first glance had made me feel like I would fully be expecting to come out of there looking like I’d spent time at a high dollar car wash. The little sectioned off toilet had its own little room…IN THE BATHROOM!! It was one of those bidet things with..you guessed it, more carwash jets built exclusively for your ass. It talked. The damn thing greeted me when I walked in there and I about pissed myself, which is ironic considering the location.
There was a sitting room as well, sticking to the tiki theme with one of those wicker chair swing things in the corner and a giant glass table in the center of the room that was built out of the same bamboo material the bedside tables were built from. The sofa and armchair honestly looked pretty standard white plush hotel fare until I sat down on the sofa and sunk in so deep I’m pretty sure I lost a couple childhood memories and a good portion of my dignity in there.
A knock came at my door, startling me out of my frump and I rushed to open it, tripping half way along on my discarded luggage and practically skidding to a stop at the door, breaths coming short as I struggled to straighten my top and make myself look at least half presentable.
I opened the door, eyes going wide at the sight of Yoongi standing before me about as dressed down as I’d ever seen him. He had on a faded white YG t-shirt. The collar of it was so worn and thin it hung off his shoulder, exposing more of his collarbone and throat than my already overwhelmed brain could even begin to handle. What made it worse was the black sweats he wore far too sinfully low on his hips and tied off in such a way that I knew if I let my eyes wander too long it'd get me into some pretty serious trouble.
He grinned at me, cheeks blooming with joy as he held up a fancy glass decanter of some shimmering amber liquor and two squared off crystal tumblers. “Afternoon delight?”
“You are an actual HR nightmare, you realize that right?” I grumbled despite holding the door open and moving to the side to let him in.
He smirked, wiggling his hips and shaking the glasses with a bent wrist as he walked by me and into the sitting area of my bungalow.
“Listen dollface. We’re off the clock and basically on vacation in one of the spiciest cities this side of the Mississippi river. Ya dang right I’m about to let my hair down. Let Soo Won in HR have a field day with the report you may or may not be sending his way come Monday."
I couldn’t help but snort at him, flopping into the far too plush armchair and crossing my ankles over one of the arms. “To be fair, Soo Won is the cause of 90% of the HR reports I’ve seen in the past however long since he started working for us.”
“Us, huh?” He arched an eyebrow at me, pausing in his pouring of our drinks to send me that oh so infuriating smirk AGAIN.
“Oh hush, you know what I mean.” I chuckled, accepting the glass and raising it in a toast in his direction.
He raised his as well, grinning so wide his cheeks blossomed into the cutest little apple shaped peaks complete with a bright red blush and a crinkle to his nose. “To Miami!” he cheered before tossing back half the glass and leaning back into his couch with a content sigh and eyes glazed in bliss.
“To fashion week.” I snickered, following his lead and practically inhaling half my own glass.
The whiskey went down smooth, a crisp clean honey flavor to it that mellowed out the fiery oak burn into a warm simmer that had my chest heating up right along with it. “Damn, that’s good.” I mumbled, staring down into the glass and allowing myself to get hypnotized for a moment by the swirling amber light.
“Mmm…” Yoongi hummed, calling my attention to him.
I’d never seen him more relaxed, feet kicked up on the coffee table as his arms stretched along the back of the couch. He’d let his head lean back, eyes closed with a faint smile on his lips as the hand holding his glass slowly swirled the whiskey around to keep it aerated.
“So,” His head slowly lowered, eyes opening half way as he took in my own relaxed state with a soft smile.
“So?” I whispered, letting one foot bounce in the air to an invisible beat as I took another languid sip.
“How’s about we play a game?” He brought his arm over, taking a slow sip from his drink as his eyes took in my every move.
“A game?” I asked, sitting up just enough to allow me to hug the glass to my chest.
“Yeah.” He nodded, letting his hand rest on the top of his thigh as those long ass piano fingers began tapping out a rhythm on his glass in time to the beat my foot was still carrying out.
“Well..I don’t think these rooms come with any like..board games or anything so…” I tilted my head at him, curiosity causing me to smile softly.
“Well, something like 20 questions. Give us a chance to get to know each other?”
I shook my head, eyes fluttering closed as I winced at the distant memory of hours spent at college nursing hangovers and worse from games just like that. “Nah, I don’t feel like getting that wasted on our first night here. I’d rather enjoy at least a few days with my memory intact thank you.”
He snickered, taking another sip and grinning at me. “Well fine, we’ll play it without penalties. You can choose not to answer any questions I ask, let me know if it gets too personal, and I’ll do the same, no penalties and no HR reports, how’s that sound?”
I gave it some thought and then nodded, lifting my glass in a toast again. “Sure, sounds good to me. You start though, I can’t think of anything right now.”
He gave it some thought, eyes lowering to stare at his glass before glancing back up to me.
“What’s the biggest lie you ever told your parents?”
I snorted into my glass, too tickled for words for a moment to even speak. “Well, back in high school I got to go to the Junior Senior prom as a Sophomore. I’d gotten invited by my then boyfriend who was a Junior. I was supposed to be home by midnight which, lame first off. But my boyfriend wanted me to stay over. So I told my mom I was going to spend the night at my friend’s house so I didn’t wake up my siblings. Truth was I stayed with my boyfriend. Got absolutely hammered on Incredible Hulk shots and passed out hugging his toilet.”
This set him off, practically howling with laughter as he leaned forward to prevent himself from spilling his whiskey all over the plush carpet. I snorted, warmth creeping to my cheeks as I remembered the feeling of waking up the next morning and having no clue where I was or why my pillow was so damn cold. As it turned out the pillow was the tile floor.
“Mom had no clue and to this day I still have a hard time with Hennessy considering the shots weren’t shots but whole solo cups full and I’d never had a drop of alcohol before that.” I smiled, watching him calm himself down to low giggles that were just too adorable not to giggle along with.
“Alright, alright, Mister big shot, my turn.” I snickered once he was finally able to breathe. He waved his glass at me, taking a sip and leaning back into the couch though the smile never left his face.
“What do you hate?”
“Excuse me?” He asked with a tilt of his head.
“What do you hate? You can spend an entire work day feeling like you don’t get along with the people you spend a majority of the year with, but the moment you find out you both hate the same thing that person can become family.” I nodded along to my own wisdom. “So, what do you hate?”
He thought about it for a bit, long enough to empty and refill his glass as I waited patiently for his answer.
“Hate…it’s such a strong word…”
I hummed in response, accepting my glass back as he’d refilled it for me.
“There’s so many things that I would consider pet peeves, like the sound of somebody chewing with their mouth open, now that’ll trigger some rage. But… something that I hate?” He stared down into his glass for a moment and then looked up at me.
“Creative block.” He said with a nod. “That feeling that…like… it’s ingrained in me to create. To have my hands be busy with some project or the next big whatever but… that block, writer’s block, creator’s block…it eats at me sometimes. I could go months and months non stop working on something and then suddenly hit this wall. It’s like an actual wall, and no matter how much I rage and scream at it nothing comes of it. No matter what I do to try and force my way past it it’s like I’m doomed to spiral into the worst type of depression imaginable.”
I inhaled sharply, knowing that ache. “It grips your chest.” I responded with a nod, “Fills you up with this pressure that you just can’t shake, and you get so restless, your fingers itch to just…do something, anything! But you’re just…”
“Empty.” he finished for me with a nod, collapsing back into the couch with a huff.
“Yeah,” I whispered, taking another sip and allowing myself to sink into the comfort of the slight buzz and warmth that was beginning to spread through me.
“What’s your biggest regret?” He whispered, seeming to hesitate on the question but getting the words out anyway.
I paused at his words, glass half way to my lips as my eyes glazed over and a million thoughts flooded my mind. The silence between us felt heavy, a pregnant paused as panic began to rise on Yoongi’s face that he might actually have gone too far.
“It’s less of a what and more of a who.” I could feel his eyes on me but I couldn’t bring myself to meet them.
“You don’t have to…”
“No no, it’s fine.” I huffed, finishing off my drink and waving the glass for a refill. Yoongi rushed to comply, pausing at my grunt when he stopped half way and filling it all the way to the top at my nod of thanks.
“His name was Jay. Jason but the pompous prick insisted everyone call him Jay.” I snorted into my drink,the tired smirk I shot Yoongi received with a snort and head shake of his own.
“I met him in high school, his senior year, my junior. When he graduated we broke up because he was going to college 2 hours away and I wasn’t sure I wanted to try to make that work. Especially considering how guys like to play around that first year away from mom and dad.”
“Mmm.” Yoongi hummed, seeming to lose himself for a moment in his own memories of his first year away from home. “It’s an easy trap to fall in to for young men.”
“Yeah, except I couldn’t get over him. So when I graduated I followed him.” I took another sip, holding the burning alcohol in my mouth for a moment to burn away the bitter taste on my tongue from the memories. “We moved in together, I was in love… but I was also very easy to manipulate.” I continued after I’d swallowed.
“I tried so hard to be the perfect partner that I began losing myself. My grades in college started slipping because I’d be too busy cleaning and cooking to turn in my papers. Walking to work became my only escape from the house besides going to class. Except my job was a solid 2 miles from where we lived. So I started losing weight.”
I sighed, finally turning to meet Yoongi’s gaze. “We couldn’t make ends meet because he started spending his own paychecks on drugs and alcohol while mine barely covered bills let alone the groceries and utilities. To keep our apartment I had to choose whether I wanted to eat that week or risk getting kicked out. I lost….so much weight.”
“Jesus y/n…” The look of almost horror Yoongi gave me would have been comical if not for the rest of the story.
I shrugged though, taking another sip and curling my legs underneath me. “After a while he got violent. Just words at first and then throwing things. Not at me but near me he would always say. It doesn’t count if it didn’t hit me. Eventually it did, and then he did.”
The horror turned to rage. A thundercloud of fury so intense on my behalf that I wondered if maybe I’d over shared.
“I’m sorry…” I whispered, eyes wide in panic as I shrunk in on myself.
“Sorry? For what?” He whispered, leaning forward and placing his glass on the coffee table as he leveled me with an intense stare. “Sorry for suffering? Or surviving?” He shook his head, standing abruptly to start pacing.
He threw his hands in the air. Moving them adamantly about as he vented. “The men who think they can just take advantage of someone like that deserve to be put down. You were so fucking young, barely an adult and having all that thrown at you? How fucking dare he!”
“It gets worse…” I whispered, gaze drifting down to watch the simmering liquid shifting in my glass.
“Worse?? How in the f…” He paused in his rant, frozen in fear as he watched the tears begin streaming down my cheeks. “Shit…”
He crossed the room in two strides, crouching down before me and gently taking the glass from my hands. “I’m sorry, please don’t cry.” He whispered softly, panic causing his hands to shake as he held mine while trying to comfort me.
“She would have been…14 now.” I stared at him, not seeing his face but a strack black and white image from the past.
I wasn’t sure he’d be able to connect the dots but it didn’t matter because at my words Yoongi’s phone rang.
He cursed, letting go of me and digging through his pockets to glare furiously at the dark screen. “Fucking…I gotta take this.” He grumbled, standing and turning away from me to answer the call. I took that time to wipe away my tears, sniffling as quietly as possible so I didn’t interrupt what he was doing.
There was a part of me that wondered if I’d regret telling him all that in the morning when the hangover hit. I could tell by the way the room seemed to blur at the edges of my vision that I was well past tipsy into the realm of full on drunk. But honestly offloading all of that on my boss didn’t seem to matter nearly as much when I realized this was the first time I’d ever even told someone that story. Not even Devon, the idiot who’d cheated on me and left me nearly homeless.
It was a lot to take in, and from the look on Yoongi’s face as he finished his phonecall the conversation about it was far from over.
“Is everything okay?” I whispered, fingers wrapped around my glass as I took in his tense stance and the tight grip he had around his phone.
“Just some drama about tomorrow morning.” He paused, frowning down in unison with me at my stomach when it growled loud enough to actually echo in the room.
“All that liquor and you haven’t eaten yet?” He demanded, frown tugging at his lips as I shook my head.
“Not since we left home.” I responded, cheeks warm from either the whiskey or embarrassment. Probably both at this point to be fair.
He grunted, swiping at his phone screen and typing at it while sitting on the floor beside me. After a moment he tossed the phone to the side, reaching out and taking the glass from me to place on the table.
“Let’s take a break from that and talk about something else.” He patted my knee, giving me a soft smile and an out to stop uncovering the hurt that I’d buried so deep inside me.
I stared down at his hand, lost in thought, before nodding in agreement. “Alright," I whispered and returned his smile.
“If you could bankrupt any person, company, country, or organization, who or what would it be?”
