[bluecamino]

to bluecamino © a fanfic space dedicated to your favorite morally grey men. bts, p1harmony, hp, breaking bad, acotar, twilight, game of thrones/hotd, and thg. ‎ ‎‎→ run by jules (she/her) aka @pxwnshopblues

lover of min yoongi, jesse plemons, and draco malfoy ⋆˙⟡

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[bluecamino]

under the eye; yoongi (pt. 2/4)

a bluecamino © fanfic

when you're hired to design and style bts' anticipated comeback, you discover the members' powers goes far beyond their lives as influential idols...

ft. demon!min yoongi x f!reader: saja boys!au, stylist!reader, demonic elements, angst/dark romance, more warnings to come w/c: 1.4k a/n: hope you all enjoy this next part! special shoutout to my sister T for editing my work -- ilysm and sdiybt!!

---

You wipe a bead of sweat from your brow as you finish hanging the last of the garments on the rack in BTS’ fitting room.

It’s the day of their promotional photo shoot, and the air is abuzz with a blend of anxiety and excitement. You’ve been hard at work with the wardrobe department to prepare the space for their imminent arrival. The boys have no other schedules today -- they’re expected to be well-rested for the shoot.

Everything is finally coming together. The countless days and nights spent sourcing clothing, overseeing fittings, and styling their unique looks are about to pay off. 

You breathe a sigh of relief as you scan the freshly steamed garments, the mix of fabrics pressed to perfection. Off to the right, their accessories sit on a crushed velour tray, polished and arranged for the big day.

After grabbing a water bottle -- knowing you won’t have a chance to break for the next few hours -- you return to the dressing room. In the few moments of your absence, the space has descended into an eerie silence. A cold stillness has halted the usual movement and chatter of the staff. The wardrobe assistants, makeup artists, and hair stylists now stand lined along the walls, hands clasped behind their backs. Heads bowed. Perfectly still.

Peeking into the next room, you see the idols have arrived.

The members saunter through, their footsteps barely audible. 

You spot Yoongi at the clothing rack, silently flipping through the garments, examining each piece before moving to the next. Your curious, almost unconscious, staring is interrupted by your lungs begging for air, and you realize you’ve been holding your breath. When you inhale -- a bit too loudly -- every head turns sharply in your direction.

“I see you’ve decided to join us.” RM smirks, walking toward you.

The others trail behind him, moving to the custom chairs positioned in front of the vanities. Each one has the idol’s stage name printed in white script across the back.

“Sorry. I didn’t know you had arrived,” you quickly apologize, bowing your head. You notice the rest of the staff haven’t moved an inch.

“Let’s get this over with,” Jungkook mutters as he slumps into his chair, visibly annoyed. His words barely hang in the air before two stylists appear beside him, already preparing their hot tools and cosmetics.

“Alright.” RM claps his hands loudly, as if snapping the staff out of a trance. “Let’s do this.”

The idols take their seats, and the staff immediately swarm around them, prepping their skin and hair for the long day ahead.

---

Two cups of coffee later, the boys are ready -- freshly dressed in their custom garments and imported accessories.

Jimin’s hair is a gleaming platinum, so fresh you can still smell the bleach. Jungkook sports an eyebrow slit and a newly trimmed mullet, per his request. Yoongi has charcoal eyeshadow smoked around his lashes, sharpening the slant of his crescent-shaped eyes. They’re all striking, perfectly fitting the vision you’ve been tirelessly crafting. Like a dream come true.

You circle the group one last time, making sure every detail is in place. Yoongi is at the end of the line, with a chill rolling off of him, like a breeze from somewhere cold. It makes you hesitant to reach forward and fix the crease on his pants, your hand pulling back sharply, unsure. He isn’t made of electricity, you scold yourself, forcing your shaking fingers to steady. You smooth the crease. Every second you touch the fabric stretches like an eternity. 

“One last thing,” you say casually, motioning to the side of his face. “I was thinking we ditch the signature jewelry for this shoot.”

He’s wearing a single drop earring in the shape of an eye.

Each of the members has a piece featuring that same symbol: RM, a slim bangle; Jimin, a ring; Jungkook, a helix earring; Jin, a necklace; J-Hope, an anklet; and V, an upper arm cuff. You’ve seen them wear these pieces as long as you can remember. It must have been part of their debut concept -- which now seems painfully out of date. It’s been nagging you through the entire design process, and you’re relieved to rid yourself of it.

“No,” Yoongi flatly replies, his body stiffening beneath your gaze as you finish straightening the leg of his pants.

You rise and glance around. The staff is, again, eerily still. Not a breath. Not a blink.

“I just thought it might make sense, considering this is your reinvention. Your evolution--”

You don’t get to finish.

“We said no.” Yoongi’s voice cuts through the room, deep and commanding, the edges sharp. It seems to reverberate in your chest.

The temperature in the room spikes. The air suddenly feels thick and suffocating. A hot flash of embarrassment crawls up your skin. Everything up to this point had gone off without a hitch, and you feel flustered at the idea that you’d overestimated their belief in you thus far. Had they just been entertaining your whims?

So, you quickly nod and mumble a rushed apology, quickly scanning the room for an ally -- for anyone. But the staff remain perfectly still, heads bowed in unison as if locked in silent submission.

You’re all alone.

---

It’s nearly the end of the day when you slip into the large, airy photo studio for a break. Photographers are packing up their gear, likely just as relieved as you are that the shoot’s over. The idols have already returned to wardrobe, preparing to change and head out. All that’s left for you is to organize and catalog the garments, readying them for the archive.

You decide to stay put for now, knowing it’s probably not best to cross paths with Yoongi again so soon after his earlier outburst. While you wait, you unwrap some gimbap you snagged from the cafeteria and eat it like it’s the first real meal you’ve had in days, because it kind of is. Lately, you’ve been surviving on espresso and protein shakes alone.

You pass a row of open laptops and monitors as you walk, the screens displaying photo previews of the idols in a series of angles and poses. Despite everything that’s gone on today, you feel a glimmer of pride in your work. The concept has come together beautifully. They look breathtaking in every frame. Their luxury garments elevate the sleek set. The whole thing feels otherworldly, exactly as you’d intended.

Your heart skips a beat when you spot a frame of Yoongi.

His black hair falls in loose strands across his forehead, his neck exposed to the camera. His eyes pierce the screen, as if looking through it. He’s wearing a sheer, asymmetrical top that clings to one shoulder and reveals the sharp line of his clavicle. You can’t help but trace the line with your stare, your throat tightening.

A familiar chill rushes up your spine. And then the screen… glitches.

The color in the image inverts, as if flipped inside out. Yoongi’s skin turns a vivid shade of indigo, darker purple lines crawling over his exposed muscles. His eyes are golden, glowing. The pupils are slitted. Demonic. Inhuman.

You stumble back, heart pounding. One hand finds the back of a nearby chair as you try to steady your breath. Something evil suffocates the room, making your head spin and your skin blanch. Every instinct urges you to run, but your knees buckle under your weight, forcing you to crouch.

You turn away in fear, eyes squeezed shut.

When you finally open them, the photo is normal again. Milky skin. Dark brown eyes. The same Yoongi.

You sputter at nothing, legs still trembling as you try to stand. Goosebumps prickle your skin while the hairs on your nape rise, warning you of danger. But there’s none. Everything is exactly as it was just a moment ago.

So you do the only thing you can -- chalk it up to sheer exhaustion. It wouldn’t be the first time you’d heard of sleep deprivation leading to wild, imaginative hallucinations. Despite the front you put on at work, you were just as human as the rest of the staff. Just as fragile when it came to basic needs like rest and regeneration. 

You keep telling yourself that as you pack up, beginning to feel sick as the adrenaline wanes and settles into your gut.

[bluecamino]

under the eye; yoongi (pt. 1/4)

a bluecamino © fanfic

when you're hired to design and style bts' anticipated comeback, you discover the members' powers goes far beyond their lives as influential idols...

ft. demon!min yoongi x f!reader: saja boys!au, stylist!reader, demonic elements, angst/dark romance, more warnings to come w/c: 1.4k

---

Your heart skips a beat as the elevator dings, bringing you to your destination: floor seven of the most successful music company in South Korea and home to the renowned boy band BTS. It’s all glass walls, vaulted ceilings, and shiny marble floors. The building reeks of fame.

Time is money, you remind yourself, hurrying your pace down the hall to find the meeting room. Today is your first -- and potentially last -- day on the job, so you intend to make the most of it. The management sought you out on their own, impressed by your previous work with Selene, an indie singer-songwriter who rose to stardom after a hit song. You’d been her stylist, the collaboration built on an acquaintance made in art school years ago. It was your visual concept behind her MV that put you on the map. Brands, magazines, and celebrities were desperate for access to your cutting-edge ideas, something that was just as much of a curse as it was a blessing. 

Still, turning down BTS would’ve been out of the question.

You’re just about to reach the meeting room when you hear an echoing melody of voices to your right. It stops you dead in your tracks, your heart skipping a beat once more. Approaching the door, you peek through the small window pane that gives you a glimpse inside. BTS are seated casually on high stools with sheet music propped in front of them. Their vocal teacher is watching, head lulling side to side with the tune, entranced by the same melody that seems to be drawing you closer -- demanding you closer. Before you can stop yourself, you reach for the doorknob and take a step. The air is heavy as you enter, their capellas whispering sweet words like those of a lullaby.

Your eyes drag across each member as they take turns singing, until your gaze stops on him. Yoongi inhales sharply before he begins the rap verse. It’s a song you’ve never heard -- probably unreleased -- but there’s a sense of familiarity in it, like he’s reciting something from a dream you forgot. It’s harsh and cold, sending a shiver up your spine. 

What am I doing here? you think, cheeks warming with embarrassment. This is a complete invasion of privacy.

When you glance around at the staff, you’re relieved to see none of them have noticed your presence. They’re all consumed by watching the idols sing, as if they couldn’t bear to look away. You take advantage of the distraction to slowly step backward, hoping to make it to the door before the last verse. You reach blindly for the knob, finally turning to twist and shove it open. Even in your haste, you spare one last look and regret it instantly when that same cold shiver rolls through you. Yoongi’s eyes are dead set on yours. His smirk makes it clear he’s caught you.

You don’t waste another second, practically stumbling over your own feet as you rush out.

How could that be my first impression? You sigh in disbelief over your stupidity as you reroute back to the meeting room, glancing down at your watch as you do. There are only a few minutes left to sit down and organize your presentation. Silent curses echo in your head as you find a seat at the large table, setting down your tablet and organizing the files in front of you.

Groups are entering now, tailed by executives, choreographers, directors, music producers, and all of the rest. And then you see them. BTS enters one by one, and the entire room falls silent. Everyone’s heads instinctively bow, as if in a show of reverence. That thick tension from the rehearsal room returns.

RM nods at one of the managers across the table. “Begin,” he states, simply.

The man jumps to his feet, as if prodded by an electric current. He consults the producers and choreographers for updates on the comeback preparations and they go down the line, giving concise summaries of their accomplishments and the final tasks that need finishing. Each stops and stares at the idols, awaiting their validation. All they get are basic responses from RM: “good,” “continue,” or “that’s enough.”

Your pulse flutters when you realize you’re next. With sweaty hands, you swipe through your tablet, preparing to broadcast your visual aids onto the large screen at the front of the room. The stylist to your left finishes their presentation -- a slideshow of boyish, pastel garments from a recent spring collection. The idols grimace through it. You can tell RM especially is displeased when he replies with a mere “okay,” and moves his gaze to you. 

Now. This is it. 

You take a deep breath and stand, straightening yourself and projecting your images onto the screen.

After a brief introduction, you begin swiping through the slides: couture pieces and collages of aesthetics that you’ve tirelessly sourced for your original concept. The pitch could heavily sway the direction of their wardrobe for the entire comeback -- music video, promotional photoshoots, even the M! Countdown and Inkigayo stage costumes. Everything is riding on this moment.

When you reach the last slide, your eyes scan the faces of the creative directors and executives, checking for any sign of displeasure or engagement. Before they can express their thoughts, you’re interrupted by a deep voice.

“This is it. This is the one,” Yoongi decides, his tone finite.

You turn to look at him, finding him nodding at the screen. Almost instantly, the management mimics the motion, and the creative directors quickly follow suit.

An executive confirms his decision, telling you, “You will be the lead stylist for this comeback.”

You bow to each idol with a humble thanks, your eyes landing on Yoongi last. Goosebumps rise on your arms. He’s completely unreadable. His dark hair falls just around his eyes, a sharp contrast to his pale skin. You’re grateful for the opportunity to descend back into your seat. It seems your poor first impression hadn’t had too much of an effect on him.

The meeting ends when RM stands, gives a short “thank you,” and heads to the door. The rest of the group follows neatly behind him. No one makes a sound until the door shuts, and then everyone rises at once, gathering their things to leave. You can’t help but sit there, stunned, as you watch them leave. In all of your time in the industry, you had never seen a company hierarchy like this. Were the idols really superior to their executives? And the way their every word was the final say… Something about it was so strange.

You decide to chalk it up to the group’s financial success and global fame. They did put the company on the map, after all.

You’re the last to collect your things and head out the door, only to find a surprising figure standing right outside, almost as if he’d been waiting for you to appear.

“Y/N,” Yoongi says, standing in the middle of the hall to block your path. 

His hands are in his pocket, his eyes reflecting their nonchalance as they scan you upward, finally landing on your face. You feel like you’re being examined, like he sees right through you. You instinctively clutch your bag closer to your body as you wait for him to say something. Maybe he’ll scold you for walking in on their rehearsal unannounced -- or make a comment about his preferences for the wardrobe. But a moment passes and he’s still just staring, quiet.

“Thank you for choosing me,” you blurt out, bowing again and hoping to break the silence.

“Do we know each other?” he suddenly asks.

A flash of confusion crosses your face as you straighten, hesitating for a moment.

“Uh- no. It’s my first day,” you awkwardly reply, glancing around the hall to make sure he’s not addressing someone else. “Maybe you saw me in that interview with Vogue: Korea? When I dressed Selene?”

Another bout of silence hangs in the air, his expression still unreadable as you wait for any indication of his acknowledgement. His eyes finally flicker away from your face as he glances toward the empty wall on your left. His nostrils flare in a deep inhale before he nods. You try to speak again, to thank him, but he turns suddenly on his feet and walks down the hall. He’s already in the elevator by the time you blink and exhale.

[bluecamino]

personal faves ✧ mdni with 18+ posts!

BTS →

| seokjin | yoongi | hoseok | namjoon | jimin | taehyung | jungkook

P1HARMONY →

| taeyang | keeho | jiung | intak | shota | jongseob

HARRY POTTER →

| draco malfoy | cedric diggory | tom riddle

JESSE PLEMONS →

| todd alquist | robert daly | plutarch heavensbee

HOUSE OF THE DRAGON →

| daemon targaryen

THE HUNGER GAMES →

| peeta mellark

[bluecamino]

to view already written fics, check my masterlist

writing for: bts, p1harmony, draco malfoy, cedric diggory, tom riddle, todd alquist, robert daly, daemon targaryen, plutarch heavensbee, & peeta mellark

fave tropes: dark romance, forbidden/secret love, enemies to lovers, mafia, reincarnation, love triangles, yandere/tsundere

+ my default is fem!reader, so please specify if you want gender-neutral

please don't request: scat/piss, age play, step/incest, underage. → dub/noncon is allowed but will be handled by request