OFFICIALLY PASSED MY BOARD EXAMS FOR THIS SEMESTER WOOO only 2 more semesters ‘til I graduate😼
Anyways this means I’m officially back in business, so chapter 3 for Ulterior Motives is in the works. Y’all are not ready for this next chapter, I have plans I cannot share with you right now but let’s just say it’s gonna be good😉
✎ ˎˊ˗ Pairing: Min Yoongi x female Reader
✎ ˎˊ˗ Genre: Situationship, idol!au, angst, smut, coworkers, love triangle maybe
✎ ˎˊ˗ Summary: Across sleepless cities on tour, you and Yoongi cling to each other in an unspoken arrangement neither of you knows how to end until someone new makes you wonder if you should.
✎ ˎˊ˗ Chapter Warnings: BTS fucks a lot!, except one (he’s kinda depressed), implied smut, angst, heavy make-out, mention of death :c, mention of mental health struggles, second-hand embarrassment, MC handles rejection not super well, drinking, Mean Yoongi, canon moments I manipulated for my own sick pleasure, the ending, that fucking Hannam scene, holding hands (it deserves a warning in this fic), angst i guess, and again Mean Yoongi, redemption arc when?, he’s an idiot but he has heart I promise, probably wrong ways to play LOL chess/teamfight tactics, foyer quote was inspired by something i randomly saw in my feed, watch out for the time skips (one flashback and a tiny flash forward)
✎ ˎˊ˗ Word count: 10.3k whuuuut
✎ ˎˊ˗ Betaread by: Aqua (this is for you!), Tea, and Catie; credits to Aqua for inspiring one of MC’s quotes (marked **)
✎ ˎˊ˗ Playlist by @angellekookie (my very first fic with an OST i'm sobbing, ty sweets)
✎ ˎˊ˗ Notes: A whole ass year in the making and it took a trip to South Korea and experiencing Arirang in all its glory for me to finally bring this fic to life the way I envisioned it. After dropping two teasers I guess y’all really fw this plot, so I do hope you guys like it. Don’t forget to comment or reblog. I’d really appreciate it. I might take time to tag everyone that requested, so bear with me. Other than that, enjoy~ 💜
Series Masterlist | Masterlist
You’re part of BTS’ BTS.
Bangtan Tour Sluts.
It’s a term one of the make-up unnies coined half-jokingly, after realizing the truth: you’re a group of women who’ve practically dedicated your lives to seven men who are not even your family.
You’re a sorority of girls who go on tour with the group, taking on multiple hats, making sure every tour stop goes as best as possible.
You willingly do every beck and call of theirs because you actually like them. They are nice and you want to see them succeed. And even if they’re not being nice (oh the stories you could tell!), you still do everything for them. Like good girls. Like sluts.
Maybe that’s just what devotion looks like in this business.
Yours started with Hoseok.
Back before you had a name that anyone could recognize, you were just another girl on YouTube flexing dance moves in her tiny apartment. Somehow, he saw one of your clips, a clean cover of Dope, and sent your link to their performance director.
You got the email weeks later, went in for an audition, and the rest is history.
Then came the rehearsals. The late nights. The endless counts of eight. You were still so broke in those early days that you couldn’t even afford a cab after a late night practice, so you’d wait at the bus stop outside the studio, hoodie soaked through, sneakers squishing from the rain.
One night, Jin pulled up beside the curb and offered you a ride. You remember Yoongi was in the passenger seat. Wordless for the most part, but he blasted the heater so you wouldn't get cold. You thanked Jin profusely as he dropped you off.
He shrugged and said, “Good thing Yoongi saw you.”
You still remember the heat sinking back into your bones.
It added up over time.
Jimin once wrapped your ankle when you landed wrong after some crazy choreo you were trying to hit. Even crazier, Namjoon paid for your eomma’s emergency medical bills, because you were still struggling then.
You tried to pay him back. He just looked at you, shrugged, and said, “If you really want to, just stay with us. Stay in the team.”
So you do.
The boys noticed you beyond your work. Not all at once, but steadily, gradually, eventually. And maybe that’s all it takes. You’d follow them anywhere after that. From MOTS to PTD Live On Stage to Arirang.
The thing is, some of the Bangtan Tour Sluts do become that over time.
You once overheard a manager say: stupid idols date fans; smart idols date other idols. Or each other.
The boys are fine as fuck. But after living together for years, the latter feels… borderline incestuous. Except for two of them, who you suspected had something non-platonic going on, but you don’t want to speculate further.
You’ve seen some of them try dating other idols too, but it’s chaos. Too many schedules to align, too many eyes watching, security doubling the second they want to meet up even in a different city for a simple fuck.
It’s easier this way. Closer. Quieter.
You don’t even blame them for it. This arrangement. The girls are hot as hell.
There’s Angel from Wardrobe who’s become Taehyung’s emotional support buddy. She’s on-call to dress him and undress him, whenever the situation calls for it.
Jungkook’s got a couple in his roster. Bina from glam and Tiff, also from glam. It could be problematic, sure, but so far they’re having fun.
Somehow, even if you highly considered becoming Seokjin’s…
You ended up becoming Yoongi’s.
…and it all begins with a very mature game of Spin the Bottle.
You and the rest of the crew had stayed back in the rehearsal studio to celebrate the birthday of Rei, assistant performance director, resident tyrant, and class president of your little dysfunctional sorority.
There’s food, balloons, and too many empty soju bottles. One of which is currently spinning… and lands on you.
“Shit,” you mutter, already reaching for your beer. “Truth.”
A chorus of groans.
“Boring!”
“Ask her something good!”
The birthday girl leans forward, eyes glassy, tipsy as hell. “Aight, gun to your head—which member you gonna fuck?”
You choke on your drink. “No way I’m answering that. Next question.”
“Nah,” Tiff tosses a handful of popcorn at you. “You know the rules.”
You groan, tilting your head back dramatically before swatting the kernels off your lap. “You guys…”
“Wuss!” Bina teases.
“C’mon, you’ve thought about it. Don’t even play,” Rei smirks.
All eyes are on you. The pressure is mounting so high that you almost want to hurl. You take another swig. Rei is right though, as she almost annoyingly always is. You’ve definitely checked the boys out. It’s not even a question of who (singular), because if you’re gonna be honest, you have biblical levels of greed and there’s two in particular you’d let rearrange your guts.
But ugh. You’ll play along.
Just one name to satiate these hoes.
“Fine,” you huff, wiping your lip with the back of your palm, readying to reveal your answer:
“Kim Seokjin.”
The room erupts.
“OHHHH—”
“I knew it!”
And even if you know you could stop at that, the alcohol kicks your courage into overdrive.
“I’d let him fuck me raw until the inside of my coochie moulds to the shape of his dick...”**
The rest spills out of you in a half-slurred, disgustingly specific ramble that has the girls screaming and Angel spilling her shot.
You’re laughing, face hot, still high off everyone’s reactions when you feel the heat of someone’s stare.
You glance up and holy shit. It’s the name you withheld.
Feline eyes piercing and lips curling at the corners, oh Yoongi looks hella amused. He’s right there and he heard it all.
Fucking hell. Your life is literally over.
It’s later, much later, when you run into him again.
The hallway outside the bathrooms is quieter, the bass from the dance studio muffled into a distant thrum. Your head is a little light, steps a little uneven, but you’re mostly sober now. Okay, not really.
You push the door open and there he is, almost like he’s been waiting.
Yoongi’s leaning against the wall, one foot propped up, head tilted just enough that his hair falls into his eyes. He looks… loose. Drunk, then. Obviously. Just like everyone else in the party.
His gaze slides over you and that same almost-smile returns. “Seokjinnie-hyung, huh?”
You groan immediately, covering your face. “Oh my god, don’t.”
He huffs out a scratchy laugh and your fist collides against his arm.
He rubs the spot with his palm. “Didn’t know you had that much to say about him.”
“I didn’t know you were listening,” you shoot back.
“Right place at the right time,” he shrugs.
You narrow your eyes. “You’re enjoying my demise way too much.”
“Am I?” he says, pushing off the wall.
He steps closer. “I mean…” his gaze flicks down, then back up. “You were pretty detailed.”
This close, he smells like warm musk and whisky. It hits you all at once, heat creeping up your neck before you can stop it. You swallow it down, deflecting. “You’re drunk.”
“So are you.” He smiles sweetly, pretty teeth and pink gums on show. Then he circles back smoothly to the topic because he is a piece of shit. “Didn’t know you had that in you.”
You scoff, folding your arms like that’ll save you. “Oh, there’s a lot of things you don’t know ‘bout me.”
His gaze dips, trailing down the exposed skin where your cardigan has conveniently fallen off your shoulder, towards your breasts hugged by your camisole. His eyes linger just a second too long before dragging back up to your face.
And there it is. He did the thing for you. That thing he does where his tongue presses into his cheek. Fucker.
“Yeah?” he murmurs.
Alarm bells are ringing in your head because is Min fuckin’ Yoongi lowkey hitting on you right now?
“Well…” his head tilts, voice dropping just enough to feel it. “Was that just talk?”
He is! Fuck. Why? No, shut up. It doesn’t matter right now. Say something.
You swallow, then tilt your chin up, meeting him head-on as liquid courage pushes you to say the next words. “What?” You shrug, forcing a smirk. “You wanna stand-in for your hyung?”
His lips curve, slow and amused. “Maybe.”
“I… could be open,” you say almost lazily.
And then he moves.
Rough hands find your wrist, tugging you down the hall before you can think too hard about it. You let him and the next thing you know you’re pressed behind his studio door.
Just the two of you.
Too close that you feel the heat emanating from his body.
“Jin’s got a girl,” he murmurs, close enough that you feel his hot breath grazing your cheek.
That makes you pause, because you didn’t know Jin was steady with someone. Else you wouldn’t have said what you said.
“And y’all won’t fuck nasty like that.”
Your breath catches, but you don’t pull away. Instead, you lean in, just enough that your lips brush his when you speak.
“No?” You lick between his parted mouth, pulling back with a smirk. “And… we would?”
“Like animals.”
And then he cups the back of your neck and crashes his lips into yours.
Monday comes faster than you’d like.
You don’t know what you were expecting from Yoongi exactly. A text, maybe? Something more than the thumbs up he sent after you told him you got home safe. Friday night feels like it happened in a vacuum, sealed off like crime scene evidence the second he booked you that Uber.
You’ve spent the weekend turning it over in your head, wondering if things are supposed to be different now that you’ve had sex. Are you supposed to be different? Is it going to be awkward?
You’re about to find out.
You don’t usually hang around after hours unless there’s a reason.
Tonight, the reason is Jimin, who’d dragged you in with the promise of early access to the new tracks you’d be helping to choreograph. You felt a little strange when you entered the studio and found just two members of Bangtan and one of their producers, who nodded at you casually as you entered.
So here you are, curled up on the couch in the corner of the studio, laptop open but mostly forgotten, as the last bits of a track play through the speakers. You’re too deep in thought to notice the delivery guy come in, but you do notice when Yoongi picks up the coffee tray, wordlessly plucking a cup free and walking it over to you.
He holds it out, no expression, no explanation.
“Hyung,” Jimin calls lazily from where he’s sprawled out on the floor. “Where’s my coffee?”
Yoongi doesn’t even glance up. “Just grab a Coke from the fridge.”
You stifle a laugh as Jimin groans dramatically, dragging himself up to rummage through the mini fridge.
A few minutes later, Yoongi slips out of the room, muttering something about finding Namjoon because he should have joined you all 30 minutes ago.
As soon as the door clicks shut, Jimin flops back down beside you, grinning like he’s got a secret he can’t wait to spill. “That’s him flirting, by the way.”
You blink at him. “What?”
Jimin points at the cup still in your hand. “Hyung doesn’t even order me coffee.”
“Why would he? You’re an annoying lil bitch.”
Jimin playfully slaps the visor of your baseball cap down so that it covers your eyes.
Which works out just fine because as you glance down at the cup again, you’re suddenly hyper-aware of the warmth seeping into your palms. You shake your head, trying to play it off, but the corners of your mouth betray you, tugging up into a smile you can’t quite hide.
You take a sip of your warm drink and pretend it doesn’t taste sweeter somehow.
Namjoon finally walks in ten minutes later, forehead sweaty, hoodie hanging off his shoulder. Yoongi follows behind him.
“Sorry, sorry,” Namjoon says, already reaching for the aux like he owns the place. He knocks over a cup of pens as he does so.
Then, his eyes land on you. “You ate?”
You nod, lifting your coffee, lipstick-stained spout and all.
“That’s not food,” Namjoon shakes his head, dimples deepening, as he reaches for something in his pocket. “This one’s better.”
A tiny Quaker Oats bar, a bit warm from pocket heat, lands on your lap.
“Thank you.”
The crinkle of the granola bar mixes with Jimin’s whines. “Why doesn’t anyone give me food?”
In the weeks that follow, when tour prep shifts into high gear, nothing else really happens—not in the way you thought it might, at least. Yoongi doesn’t seek you out. Doesn’t text. Doesn’t bring up that night, ever. You’re not really suprised, considering…
But you do notice he lingers in small ways. A bottle of water left by your things before you even realize you’re thirsty. A quiet “eat” when the catering after a shoot finally finishes setting up. The occasional glance. Maybe even a tiny smile here and there. You fall into an easy rhythm with him, familiar but not quite the same, and you catch yourself thinking, maybe something did shift.
Maybe this is just how it starts.
Rehearsals just wrapped up and your heart is reckless with exhaustion.
You’ve never asked anyone out before. Let alone a fuckin’ idol. But you’re young and dumb. Heavy on the dumb, actually. Anyway, you’ve already slept together. And you’re convinced the chemistry is off the charts. So, why not? And it’s just hanging out anyway. It’s not that deep.
You approach Yoongi as he’s wiping off his neck with a white terry cloth, still breathing heavily. It’s probably serendipity, how everyone else has already slipped out of the room, leaving just the two of you.
He lifts his eyes towards you, mouth slightly agape as he gulps oxygen back in.
Ugh.
Your earlier bravado is slowly evaporating.
This is stupid. So stupid. But wasn’t it him who said if you know you’re going to crash, accelerate harder?
“So there’s this café in Yeonnam,” you say, stopping in front of him as he ties his shoelaces.
“Apparently, the building it’s in has been standing since the Joseon dynasty. Crazy. Used to be an apothecary or a medical clinic and they restored it so well it looks so legit...”
You’re blabbing. His face is unreadable, but you press on, fumbling toward hope.
“You’re into historical shit… Daechwita vibes, right? Anyway, the place looks pretty cool. If you’re free sometime, we could—”
There’s an audible inhale as Yoongi stands, dusting off his jeans, slow and careful, before he lifts his head towards you.
“Look,” he says, and you already know how this ends just from the weight of that word. You wish the floor would just open up and swallow you whole.
“I’m not really…” he tilts his head, like you should know. Like you shouldn’t even be having this conversation. “You get it, right?”
You force your face into something neutral, something that won’t betray you. Shrug like embarrassment is not a fire razing you from the inside.
“‘S all good.” You smile albeit tightly. You even pat his shoulder as you pass, casual, almost laughing. But inside you’re ash.
“Oh, get that shoulder pop on 2.0 sharper,” you toss on the way out. “I’ll tell Junho to run it with you again tomorrow.”
Behind you, his eyes slant with what you can only tell is pity.
You make it to the hallway before the first tear slips free, quick and traitorous and pathetic, falling soundless onto the worn carpet.
You’re already a few beats away when you hear it, “Hey Y/N!“ and then frantic steps.
You don’t stop walking. No. No fuckin’ way. You speed up.
He can’t see you like this.
You round the corner and run straight to the fire exit to extinguish the heat of shame before you’re burned to a crisp.
It’s sort of easy to get back into the normal swing of things, despite everything. You’re not friends. You probably never will be. And that’s okay.
You have your dignity.
You have the girls.
You have Rei.
…who proceeded to scream at you when you explained to her why your eyes were bloodshot the day after you made that reckless decision to ask a world-famous idol out.
She had to re-orient you how this goes. The boys are not off-limits per se, but they do have limits. Fuck, it’s not like you forgot, you just thought… it was different. You were different. Or you could be, given your history. You’ve been in the team for years now and you’d like to consider yourself not just a colleague, but maybe even a friend.
Because there was that one time in Hannam when he… fuck. It’s probably irrelevant. Unimportant. You’re just making it a thing.
And you know what, honestly, you’re fine with rejection. You’ve had practice.
Jongho, back in fifth grade, returned the paper heart you gave him because Bora sent him one first. Bigger, more glittery.
Baekhyun, in college, dumped you for that French exchange student with ginormous tits.
Even recently, word got to Seokjin about your little drunken speech, and he wasted no time reminding you exactly where you’ve always stood—firmly in the friend zone. He has a girl after all.
It was during the Swim choreo shoot. Jin flicked your forehead when he caught you staring too long during break. He was sweaty and his lips were really plump and pink, and…
“Focus,” he said. “I know I’m handsome, but you can’t do that. Next time, I’ll have to charge you.”
You flipped him off. And thank God he laughed like a windshield wiper, otherwise it would just be really unfair.
As always, you survive. You move on. You always do.
But the real problem? Life is dangling you the man of your dreams like a keychain and you can’t seem to catch it.
Yoongi’s haircut. Right before tour.
It’s almost cruel, because Yoongi’s long hair is most revered by society, widely beloved. Tiktoks and shrines were dedicated to that lionesque mane. ARMY yearned for it. Scissors were manifested to disappear within a 5-mile radius from him.
But you? You personally liked cleaner cuts on guys. When you joined the team circa-MOTS, he had that sharp, neat cut that you were very much into.
To add insult to injury, you’ve always liked Nerds. You consider yourself one, too.
And now Yoongi’s walking around with this new pair of specs—rimless frames, whenever he feels like wrecking your equilibrium. It sits low on his nose when he’s tired or playing League of Legends Chess during breaks or sipping on his coffee in between takes, and it’s…
Torture. Pure, unadulterated torture.
Comeback season officially starts and everything else falls away. Days blur into soundchecks and rehearsals, quick meals eaten standing, ears popping from cabin pressure.
There’s no time to think about anything else when you’re moving from the Netflix show in Gwanghwamun to New York for that Spotify event and then back home again. You’re running on three hours of sleep and caffeine, counting formations in your head even when you’re off-work. You don’t have time to breathe, but somehow it’s easier like this.
Once in a while during rehearsals, Yoongi still asks for your input on how to execute a move better. Of course you give it; it’s your job. Doesn’t mean it doesn’t sting when he, famously allergic to eye contact, suddenly makes an effort to meet your gaze.
Honestly, you don’t know why he bothers. He doesn’t owe you anything. No line was crossed without your consent. And whatever that was, it’s not happening again. You almost wish you could just hate him, because that would be easier than this neutral middle ground you’re stranded in.
But you can’t.
Because you see the quiet way he takes care of people, especially Jimin. He shows up, every time, steady and professional and so annoyingly good at what he does. There’s something about that you can’t ignore.
You respect it, because you respect him.
Maybe that’s the worst part. Because he didn’t string you along and didn’t blur the lines more than you let him. You gotta hand it to him, he shut it down clean.
So… you just gotta move on.
Right?
And you… You’ve built this life carefully, piece by piece. You didn’t fight this hard just to get distracted now. So you buckle up. You lock in.
It’s days before the World Tour kicks off and you’re knee-deep in rehearsals. Day in, day out, you’re in the dance studio, double-hatting as a dancer and an assistant choreographer. You’re exhausted–bone-deep, muscle-aching tired, but you’re focused on the grind, on making this show the best fucking tour in history. The boys deserve it. The whole team deserves it. So do you.
You used to rewind dance practice videos frame by frame, pausing just to study the angle of an arm, the timing of a step. Back then, it was just you, your reflection, and the stubborn belief that if you worked hard enough, you could belong in rooms like this. And now you do.
“Let’s start?” Seung Eun calls and everybody hops back into formation. You drop your strawberry lip balm back in your bag.
There’s this sequence in Hooligan.
You and the other dancers crowd Yoongi during his verse, closing in until there’s barely any space left between bodies. It’s choreographed, calculated chaos. You’re meant to get in his face, invade his space just enough to look dangerous, just enough to feel menacing for him. And he’s supposed to hold eye contact, like he’s unbothered.
For this run, you’re standing in for Kian, who pulled his calf muscle and needed to get iced real quick. Injuries are part of the game, but there’s always a medic on standby to ensure any impact is minimized.
The music starts and your bodies move to the choreography. You slide into position on the last count, stepping into Yoongi’s space. He recites his line.
“Hooligan, like hooligan, ttaeryeo buswo like hooligan…”
You tilt your chin up slightly, eyes on his—ready, steady, professional. But that’s when it shifts.
His gaze doesn’t land where it usually does with the others. It drops to your mouth.
Anyone else might miss it, but you don’t.
And suddenly you’re hyper-aware of the way you’re breathing, the way your lips part just slightly, the way your body feels a fraction too close to his.
“Sigan dwaesseuni jom bikyeo jom…”
His next line stumbles.
“Ah, fuck—”
The music cuts.
Yoongi lifts a hand, already half-turning away. “My bad.”
There’s a ripple of movement around you as everyone resets, but you’re still standing there as blood rushes up your neck, your cheeks warming before you can stop it.
You glance at him. He glances back.
And then, quieter—almost under his breath—he mumbles to you without meeting your eyes. “That‘s… distracting.”
You gulp.
When the next sequence starts, there’s a faint smudge of red staining the back of your sleeve. You don’t remember doing it. But you do remember how Yoongi doesn’t miss a single beat when Kian steps back in to take your place.
⊙⊝⊜ Goyang, SK, April 2026 ⊙⊝⊜
“Stay safe out there!” Namjoon calls just before the curtains are drawn and the opening beat of Hooligan detonates through the speakers.
The crowd goes wild as the bassline rattles your ribs, syncs with your pulse, turns your body into music before you even think. On cue, you surge forward with the rest of the dancers, breaking through the curtain like a wave, energy ripping out of you in sharp bursts, boots slamming against the stage in perfect unison.
You’re gripping a red smoke stick, heat blooming in your palm as it spits thick plumes into the air, bleeding color into the stage until everything is drenched in crimson. It curls around your bodies, around the lights slicing down from above like blades, burning the stage with fire without flames.
Man. Goyang hits different.
Maybe it’s because it’s home. Maybe it’s because this is the first real show where everything finally clicks into place—not just in your head, not just in rehearsals, but out here, in front of thousands of people screaming like the world is ending.
The 360 stage feels massive under your feet, lights slicing through the dark in perfect sync, pyro exploding at just the right beat. Every cue lands. Every formation locks. Every transition you’ve drilled into muscle memory finally breathes.
It’s insane and you feel even more insane because you’re in it. On stage, moving with everyone, keeping up, matching energy, feeding off it. The crowd roars and it vibrates through your bones, through your chest, through everything.
As rain pours down from the sky like blessings from above, you feel genuinely alive. Even though you’re damp and drenched and soaked to your very core, there really is no place else you’d rather be.
When you hit backstage after the encore, everyone’s wet, loud, breathless, half-laughing, half-shouting over each other, still riding the high of the first show. You don’t even think; you’re just moving, adrenaline buzzing under your skin as you high five whoever’s in reach, grinning like an idiot.
“Good job!” someone yells.
“You killed it!” another voice.
You barely register who’s who.
Hoseok finds you in the middle of it all and just pulls you into the biggest hug, squeezing tight like he’s just as proud of you as you are of yourself.
“You did so good,” he says, bright and warm and Hobi, and you laugh into his shoulder, still catching your breath. He praises you like you’re the global superstar, not him.
When you pull back, everything’s still squishing about, still loud and electric.
Namjoon messes up your hair. Jungkook gives you a high five. Yoongi’s across the room, exchanging quick fist bumps with some of the dancers, head dipped, saying something you can’t quite catch. Then he looks up and sees you.
There’s a split-second of indecision. But, you smile. He nods. A tiny one. He looks a little tired. He’s never been one to hide when he’s exhausted, but just like you he’s glowing. Tired, but certainly happy.
And then someone grabs him from the side, pulling him into a quick hug, and the moment’s gone just as easily as it came, replaced by high-pitched screams, and too-tight hugs from your girls.
⊙⊝⊜ Tokyo, JP, April 2026 ⊙⊝⊜
You find Hobi slumped against the wall of the green room, half-hidden behind a rack of wardrobe like he’s trying to make himself smaller than he is.
You’d heard. Everyone had, in that quiet, careful way news like that travels—soft voices, lowered eyes, staff moving around a little more gently than usual.
You hesitate for a second, unsure if it’s your place. When you think about it, Hoseok isn’t just one of them to you. He’s your mentor. The reason you’re even here. The first person who saw something in you and decided it was worth something. And more than that, he’s someone you really care about.
Before you can think yourself out of it, you move closer. He looks up and red-rimmed eyes meet yours. Then, something in his expression breaks the distance you were trying to keep. You’re kneeling in front of him the next second, and he’s leaning into you, folding into your arms like he’s been holding himself together for too long.
His sobs are quiet, restrained, but they shake through him all the same.
You wrap your arms around him, one hand coming up to cradle the back of his head, the other rubbing slow, steady circles into his back.
“I’m sorry, Hobi,” you murmur softly. “I know she meant everything to you.”
He lets out a shaky breath against your shoulder, voice breaking. “I hate this. I should be home. I should be there, but I…” his grip tightens slightly. “I fuckin’ can’t.”
Your chest caves at that.
“She knows,” you say gently, pulling back just enough to look at him. “She understands. She’s looking down on you right now, smiling, so proud of you. I promise.”
Hobi looks up at you then and for a second, beneath the stage makeup and styled hair and everything that makes him him to the world, he just looks like a little boy.
Small. Hurt. Lost.
As your heart breaks a little, a soft cough breaks the moment.
You glance over your shoulder. Yoongi stands a few steps away, hands tucked into his pockets like he doesn’t quite know what to do with them, like he walked in on something he wasn’t meant to interrupt.
“I—um…” he shifts slightly. “They told me to come get you.” He means Hoseok, but for some reason, his eyes are fixed on you.
“Shit,” Hobi exhales, scrubbing at his face as he pulls away. “Yeah. Yeah, give me a second.”
Hobi stands, walking over to the makeup station, picking up a tissue and carefully blotting at his cheeks, trying to undo what he can.
It feels like your cue to leave. Rei’s probably already looking for you anyway because there’s a hole in the formation.
Hobi disappears into one of the changing rooms, pulling the curtain shut behind him as he gets ready.
You turn to go, but a hand catches your arm.
“Y/N,” Yoongi says quietly, before his fingers lose their grip.
There’s something in Yoongi’s expression that stops you for half a second. You don’t know what it is. But mostly you think, it’s gratitude sitting heavy in his gaze like he doesn’t know all the words for it.
You shrug lightly, because it doesn’t feel like something you should be thanked for. It’s the least you can do for someone who changed the trajectory of your life without ever asking for anything in return.
He just nods, still looking at you. You see his fingers reaching then drawing back.
It’s… a lot. More than you’re used to with him.
So you look away first, swallowing the tightness in your throat before the sting in your eyes turns into something else.
⊙⊝⊜ Tampa, FL, April 2026 ⊙⊝⊜
Being in America is always exciting. Something about stepping onto U.S. soil flips a switch in the boys, like there’s something in the water, or maybe it’s just the distance from home loosening something in their bones.
Tae, for one, fully commits to the bit—gray sweats, tank tops, lewd little ad libs to the choreo. No one questions it. Angel is definitely going through it. Lucky bitch.
Jungkook is on his phone 24/7, liking everything in sight to send any and all users in a frenzy to fuel them until their next life. He also films these borderline menacing TikToks alone in his hotel room at ungodly hours, looking fucked out because well, he probably has done just that.
Jimin wakes up one day and decides he wants to have an even longer ponytail. And suddenly the internet is in shambles, ARMY collectively just losing their shit.
And that’s just the maknaes.
It’s fascinating to watch all of them, seeing different versions surface depending on where they are, like they’re all just slightly more themselves here. Or maybe just slightly less guarded.
After the last show in Tampa, the members decide to treat the crew to KBBQ at some nearby strip mall. You squeeze into a long table with some of the dancers and a couple of the boys, smoke from the grill curling into your hair, soju flowing a little too easily.
For one reason or another, as people made room for others, and chairs were moved left then right, you somehow end up in front of Yoongi like you just played musical chairs.
“How’s it going?” you say.
“Not bad. You?”
You shrug, “I’m okay.”
“Okay.”
The awkwardness is like a knot that loosens as drinks flow. Then, the easy back-and-forth comes like you do this on a daily basis instead of pretending you don’t think about him at all.
“You’re in a good mood,” you say, watching as he pours you another shot.
“Am I?” he asks.
“Yeah,” you shrug. “You talk more when you are.”
He huffs softly, like he doesn’t agree but won’t argue it either. He looks pretty like this, barefaced and sleepy. Then you remember something and you decide to be a menace. “Give me a reason to not tattle.”
His brows meet in the middle. Confused. “What do you mean?”
“Oh you know full well.” You mimic a head turn and flail your arms.
Yoongi’s cheeks turn pink. He fumbled the Run choreo. AGAIN.
“I recovered faster this time.”
“Not the point,” you reply pointedly.
“I ate in Day 1.”
“You did,” you nod. “Not the point though.”
He gives a wary glance over at Hoseok who has half a rib inside his mouth at the moment, when he looks back at you and challenges. “Name your price.”
“RP gift card. Could use some new arena skins.” You smile sweetly, knowing he’s been obsessed with LoL Teamfight Tactics, too. You’ve seen it on his phone.
“Fine.” Yoongi laughs, actually laughs, because he didn’t expect the response. “We should play sometime.”
And it was your turn to not expect that response.
“Oh, alright. Sure.” You nod, a little flustered even as you recall the nugget you’ve seen from one of his interviews. “Congratulations, by the way.”
Yoongi smiles, so gummy and wide, like he has a praise kink that you just discovered. “Thank you. Diamond is very hard to achieve.” So you let him brag a bit, before you decide to knock him down a peg.
“Trust me, I get it.” You bring the spout of your beer to your mouth and before you take a swig, you quip. “I’m a grandmaster.”
His jaw hits the floor and you almost spit your beer out. “You are not.”
You tilt your head as if to say, try me. He is still waiting. And the smirk disappears from his mouth when swipes of your screen later you show him your profile and your level is as you disclosed.
“Wow.”
“I know. Wow.” You say, smug. “Anyway, do you think you’re gonna get away with it, or is there a fan cam already circulating?”
“You tell me. I don’t watch those things.”
“My phone probably heard us and is about to add it to my algorithm. I’ll let you know.”
“Taehyung-ie threw me off, honestly.” He leans back and exhales deeply.
A giggle slips out of you because you know exactly what he means. “Yeah, no, everyone was just feeling it. Kookie did the dougie to Life Goes On. Namjoon was fucking the air to Butter of all songs. Insane behavior from all of you, actually.”
“I’m innocent.”
Oho. “You’re not off the hook.” You wag your finger.
“Wae?”
“Baepsae.” You lean your chin on your palm, referring to the Army time surprise song.
“What?”
“You got real close to a camera and let ‘er rip.”
“Did no such thing,” His lips stretch into that infuriating bracket-like grin. He’s obviously lying.
“Don’t even play. I saw the smile you tried to hide when you turned around, you dog.”
“So you were really watching me, huh?”
“I was monitoring the performances from backstage. As it is my job.”
“Mhm,” he hums, biting his lip to hide a smile as he shakes his head.
“Shut up.”
“I’m not saying anything,” he chuckles, voice a little higher than usual.
“Silence is admission.” You point your chopsticks at him and smirk. “It’s fine. You were just feeling yourself.”
You thought you were gonna have the last laugh. But as always, Yoongi knows how to render you speechless.
“And if I am,” he tilts his head slightly, eyes straight to yours. “What you gon’ do ‘bout it?”
You have a comeback. You definitely do. It’s just stuck in your brain traffic, unable to come out.
He pushes his glasses up higher on his nose bridge and the single action almost makes you fall to your knees.
God, you hope he doesn’t notice.
But he does.
That’s the only explanation for the text that you get while you’re settling in your hotel room that night.
Rei is on her bed already semi-snoring, her phone still lit up as a TikTok live seller continues to peddle a hyaluronic acid sheet mask bundle. 3+1 event—you’d check it out if you didn’t have a booty call staring back at you.
You check it again. Still not sure if you’re reading the text correctly.
Yoongi: 2004
Yoongi: come over if ur feelin it
So you find yourself on his floor thirty minutes later, the faint scent of your perfume still clinging to your blouse as you walk down the hallway.
Room 2002 has a very loud and dramatic show playing inside. For sure it’s one of the members as they’re typically roomed in the same floor. You just don’t know who.
A few steps over is your destination. Room 2004.
Fuck. You’re doing this. (Again.)
Except… There’s a sound.
No. A moan.
Your knuckles are frozen, inches from the door.
Someone is definitely having a great time in there.
You check the text again, because maybe you got the room wrong.
The numbers match. And yet, the math is not mathing. If he invited you, then why—
Oh.
Oh shit.
You look at your messages again and realize, all at once, what happened.
Your reply sits there with a red exclamation point. Which only means one thing. It was Unsent.
You: yeah, i’ll come ❗
Well.
Now?
No, you won’t.
“Fucking shit,” your phone flies out of your hand when you trip on the carpet floor like a complete klutz. You can’t believe you’re risking injury and getting benched for the rest of the tour for this stupid cat man.
“Y/N?”
Noooooooooo
You straighten up immediately, thankful it wasn’t Yoongi’s door that flew open. “Namjoon, hi.”
“Is this yours?” he bends to pick up your phone, which is resting by his doorway.
“Yeah, umm. That’s mine.”
He studies you as you take the device from his hand. Your screen is still bright and open and your Kakao app is just there. Ain’t no way he didn’t see who’s on your thread.
“Are you okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
“I’m totally fine.” You pocket your device, forcing a light smile. But before you can say anything else, Namjoon is pulling his door wider.
You stay rooted in place, even as your eyes dart inside the plush suite. You realize he is wearing a black tank top and matching pajamas.
“I got food and a drama. Could use some company,” Namjoon says simply. No malice, no undertone. You’re sure Namjoon has no way of knowing you had a lacy thong underneath, so this is really just a simple invitation to hang out.
You consider it. At the same time, you think, huh, his dimples are really, really deep. Your reply came easy after that. “I–sure, yeah. I’m down.”
“Cool.” he tilts his head, gesturing you in.
The night settles into something softer in Room 2002, the noise in your brain fading into nothing thanks to room service, wine samplers from the mini bar, and Namjoon’s running commentary over a drama. He’s literally such a yapper. You lean back into the couch, listening to him more than watching the show, letting his voice fill the space instead of your thoughts.
It’s easy hanging with Namjoon. No guessing. No second-guessing. And you don’t realize until now how much you needed Namjoon’s friendship until now, but you’re glad he is offering it.
And maybe more than that, you’re glad he didn’t ask any questions you couldn't answer even if you tried.
The next day, rumors fly that Gwayoung from Digital was bragging about being on the receiving end of that tongue technology.
The same day, you also receive a 50,000 won gift card credited in your mobile game.
You know it’s from the same person. And you know which one you would’ve wanted more.
The tour goes on. It starts off like a high you can’t come down from. New cities, new crowds. You collect moments like souvenirs—late-night convenience store runs, inside jokes backstage, someone filming content here and there, drinking sessions inside someone’s hotel room. There’s always something happening, always someone around. You don’t have to think too much because everything moves too fast. It feels like living ten lives at once, and for a while, it’s enough.
But somewhere along the way, the novelty starts to thin out. The cities blur into one long stretch of airports, hotel hallways, empty highways, and backstage corridors that all feel vaguely the same. You wake up and sometimes it takes a second to remember where you are. Your suitcase never really gets unpacked—just opened, lived out of, closed again. Everyone’s tired in that bone-deep way that makes even laughter feel like effort. You’re surrounded by people all the time, and somehow, it still feels lonely.
You and the girls have a kind of unspoken understanding between all of you now, forged in cramped dressing rooms and shared mirrors, in the quiet rituals of getting ready before a show. Someone’s always borrowing someone else’s lip tint, someone’s fixing a crooked lash, someone’s complaining about a bruise they didn’t notice until they caught it under the harsh vanity lights.
“Why are we like this?” Angel groans one night, poking at a purple mark on her thigh.
“Occupational hazard,” Bina shrugs, already halfway through redoing her eyeliner for the third time.
“Is that the one that you banged on the clothing rack, or, ahem…”
Angel’s face heats. It was Tae. Rough Tae, as per usual.
Rei rolls her eyes. “Alright, we know you’re getting it good. No need to shove it in our faces.”
“You know who I wouldn’t mind shoving something in my face?” Lisa pipes in. She’s one of the newer dancers that joined the US leg.
“Who?” You ask, curious.
“Yoongi. Fuck. He looks so daddy these days. Literally need that.”
Rei shoves a protein bar into your hand, with a stern look to match. “Eat.”
You do, because if you don’t you might say something you’ll regret.
Since that late night hallway encounter several stops ago, you and Namjoon have somehow made hanging out into a thing. It just happens seamlessly. Over meals, passing conversations end up lasting longer than expected.
Off-handedly, he confides in you that he struggles to sleep. You piece together the rest on your own. Military life has altered his mental state in ways he is still struggling to undo and it’s been tough, but at least he’s a work in progress.
As far as you know, he’s the only member who doesn’t really… distract himself the way the others do on tour. Nobody waiting for a quick one backstage, no regular to help release all that adrenaline after long shows.
So instead, he watches dramas. It’s funny, really. But you guess, it works for him. He really likes those cheesy lovey dovey ones or those about heartache. Tells you it’s the closest he can feel something real and he lets them play until he passes out.
He invites you to join him sometimes.
At first, you’re suspicious. You wouldn’t have blamed him (or minded, to be honest) if there were other intentions. Everyone has needs, after all. And honestly, you would have been flattered to be considered by a catch like him. But after the third or fourth time of bingeing on drama and food, it becomes clear that he doesn’t want you like that. And you have to admit—he’s a fun time. So it’s cool.
When you hang out, he tells you about the books he’s reading, summarizing them in a way that makes you want to pick them up yourself. You tell him about choreography ideas, about how certain movements sit in your body, about how you think music should look when it’s danced.
“You think in shapes,” he says once, mimicking the way your hands move as you explain.
“You think in paragraphs,” you shoot back.
He laughs at that, dimples deep, eyes soft. “True.”
“Long-ass paragraphs, actually. Mr. Yapper.”
Sometimes, when the days feel too long and the nights stretch a little too quiet, you find yourself standing outside his door without really remembering how you got there.
No matter, Namjoon always lets you in.
⊙⊝⊜ Las Vegas, NV, May 2026 ⊙⊝⊜
One night, you get a message from Hobi inviting you for drinks. You haven’t hung out with him in a while, so it was a no-brainer when you said yes. You don’t go out every night at every tour stop, but you made an exception this time.
You put on something cute. Not to impress Hobi particularly, but because you know he always dresses well, and you will not be caught dead looking shabby beside him. Lips a little glossy and cheeks a little rosy, you make your way to the hotel bar, heels clicking against the marble.
But instead of Hobi, you find someone else instead.
“Hey.”
“You stalkin’ me?” Yoongi smirks at his lowball.
“Yup, this is exactly what this is. Call Mr. Lee,” You deadpan, sitting on the bar stool beside him. “Where’s Hob-ah?”
He shrugs. “Not his keeper.”
“Is there another hotel bar?” You ask the bartender who was polishing off a wine glass.
“Yes, miss. There's another on the 31st.”
Realizing you might’ve gotten the venue wrong, you grab your clutch and start to slide off the stool. “I guess I’ll—”
“Stay.”
He says it so quietly, almost like he was hoping you don’t hear it.
You pause.
When you look at him, he’s not even looking at you—just staring into his drink like there’s something at the bottom of it worth pondering. You know you should leave, but you don’t.
“You look… a little worse for wear,” you say as you settle back into your seat.
“You can say I look like shit.”
You glance at him, then nod once. “Okay. You look like shit.”
“Thanks.”
A beat.
“Everything okay?”
He shrugs. Noncommittal. Dismissive. Yoongi core.
You signal the bartender for a drink, letting the noise of the bar fill the space between you for a while as you wait for your cocktail.
It’s him who breaks first.
He slides a bowl of roasted edamame toward you, like a peace offering he doesn’t want to acknowledge.
“I dunno,” he mutters, more to the glass than to you.
You wait.
He exhales, long and slow, the amber liquid in his glass rippling with the movement.
“I keep listening to the album and it all just…” He trails off, jaw tightening. “Trash.”
You blink, shock evident in your face. “What do you mean?”
“Like I should’ve done it differently.” He lets out a short, humorless laugh. “Every track. Every arrangement. Feels like I missed out on changing something obvious.”
“That’s just—”
“I know,” he cuts in, already shaking his head. “I know it’s not real. I know it’s just…” He gestures vaguely, searching for the word. “Fatigue. Whatever.”
But it doesn’t sound like he believes that.
“I can’t turn it off,” he adds, quieter now. “Even when I see how fans enjoy the songs, the doubt just eats at me.”
There’s something raw in that. Something he doesn’t usually let slip. You watch him for a second, really look at him. And it pulls something up from the back of your mind:
Hannam-dong.
A random weeknight. You’d gone out alone, too proud to call anyone after your ex ended things over something stupid that somehow still shattered you. You were busy ugly-crying over your gin until someone slid into the seat beside you.
Him. Yoongi.
“What are you doing here, Yoongi?”
He shrugs, like it’s obvious. “You looked like you needed someone.”
“You heard me crying from across the room?”
“It was a bit loud, yeah.”
Your face crumples again and you let out a broken sound, covering your eyes. “Oh my god, that’s so embarrassing…”
“It’s fine,” he says, voice low, even. “No one’s looking.”
You sniff again. “I look disgusting.”
“You look like you’re crying.”
“Same thing.”
“It’s not.” He takes a handkerchief from his pocket and hands it to you.
You let out a weak huff, somewhere between a laugh and another sob, before taking it.
He didn’t ask questions or make it a big thing. Just sat there with his black face mask, providing you with the comfort of company. He let you talk when you wanted. Let you cry when you couldn’t stop.
At some point, you’d leaned into him without thinking, and he’d just let you. Steady. Warm. He rubbed your back as you wrapped your arms around in his slight torso, sobbing slightly against his tee.
“Yoongi. Why are men pigs?” you sniff.
“I dunno. I’m a cat.” He shrugs. “...apparently.”
That makes you laugh, all wet and snotty. But it makes all the difference to lighten your mood.
“Look. I don’t know who the guy is. But I know he’s an idiot.”
“He is,” You nod immediately. “… but I am, too.”
A pause, before he chides. “Don’t do that to yourself.”
“I just…” You trail off lifting your head from his shoulder and looking up at the track lights hanging from the bar. “I just really love love, you know?”
He doesn’t interrupt.
“I like the idea of it,” you continue, words coming slower now, more honest. “Falling for someone. Growing with them. Having… I dunno, fuck…” you laugh weakly, shaking your head. “Someone to hold your hand ‘til it’s all sweaty and gross, like… I love that shit.”
It sounds stupid out loud.
“So even if I knew he wasn’t it, I tried to hold on. Because I’m scared of being alone. And I’m scared I won’t find someone who’d want me again.”
Jeez, that was a lot to unpack. You expect him to say something dry. He’s good at that.
No words come.
Instead, his fingers brush against yours where your hand rests on the bartop.
You glance down.
He’s not looking at you. Just placing his palm on the back of yours, before turning it over. And slowly, his hand closes around yours, fingers interlacing between each digit.
You’re staring at your conjoined hands and then his stoic face. He doesn’t look back, but he squeezes your hand tighter as if to say: I’m here. Not forever. But at least you’re not alone for now.
And that was enough. That night, you had someone to hold your hand til it was all sweaty and gross. You swallow, something tight in your chest easing just a little.
He walks you out after, hands still clasped. Makes sure you get into a cab. Waits until the door shuts before stepping back. Your hand feels cold without the feel of his when the car drives off.
But after that… nothing. He never brought it up again. Neither did you. Life got complicated. You don’t know what happened during his enlistment. So now you both just act like it didn’t happen.
If you will be honest, you still think about Hannam-dong sometimes. More than you will ever admit.
You’re reminded of it every time you see that random quote hanging on your foyer.
“The most romantic thing in the world is being understood. It’s even deeper than love.”
Things with Yoongi never really took off. But you will always have Hannam-dong.
Yoongi looks at you now, the same way you looked at him then, a little lost, a little broken, trying to stay strong. So you don’t make it a big thing either. You just reach for an edamame, pop it into your mouth, pull the peel, and shrug lightly as you mash the beans with your teeth.
“Sounds like your brain needs to shut the fuck up for a bit.”
He huffs, something almost like a laugh slipping out. “Yeah,” he mutters. “If only.”
“For what it’s worth, Album of the year, in my opinion.”
Yoongi can’t stop his lips from curling.
Satisfied, you call for the server. “Let’s eat something first. Then we solve your existential crisis.”
He glances at you, something unreadable flickering in his eyes.
“Yeah?” he says.
“Yeah,” you shrug. “I’m the best, right?”
He gives you a thumbs up. “Kkaepjjang.”
Ass.
You order food, which comes out quicker than expected, but what you really wanted to do to distract him comes in the form of a mobile game.
“You still play?” you ask, showing the app now loading in your phone.
Face instantly lighting up, he unlocks his phone and presses the same app sitting on the home screen. “One game.”
You grin. “Double Up?”
A small nod.
“Don’t drag me down,” he mutters as the queue pops.
“Tsss,” you shoot back. “I’ll carry.”
He huffs, but there’s no bite to it.
You fall into rhythm without needing to talk much—checking in here and there, nudging each other when it matters, covering where the other slips. Just quiet coordination, the kind that only happens when both people know what they’re doing.
At some point, you lose a round you shouldn’t have. You fumble a turn.
“I got you,” he says, and he does.
By the time the game ends—with a win you barely scrape—you’re both facing each other, knees touching, smiles plastered on your faces.
“Not bad,” you murmur, setting your phone down. “You did well.”
“But I always do well?” he replies.
You push him lightly. “Take a humble W for once.”
“No, cause I can’t remember ever doing poorly…”
“Oh my gooood, I’m tired of you.” You roll your eyes, attempting to swivel away from him, but his knees stop you.
He glances at you, something softer flickering through his expression. You look away first, because what’s with the face? You reach for your drink, swirling what’s left and sip.
“Thanks,” he says, and why are his fingers drumming on your knee? It’s kind of distracting, actually.
“Are you feeling a little better now?” You reply, forcing a neutral expression.
He pauses, exhales. “Yeah,” he says. “I guess I just got tired of my own head.”
And maybe it’s the fact that you’re sipping the final dredges of your margarita that the next words carelessly tumble out. “Maybe you just need good head.”
The dining area is still loud around you, but somehow, between you and him, it has become z-z-z. His fingers cease tapping against your skin.
Panicking, you blab. “Just text Gwayoung. Or Haein… I’m sure they’re available. You don’t have to look too far, you know.”
His eyes bear a weight you didn’t anticipate.
“I’m not,” he says quietly.
And the way he’s looking at you makes it very clear he’s not looking far at all. He doesn’t need to.
You don’t remember deciding to leave or how he even paid. Just the deja vu of how his hand found your wrist and the way you let it. Of how a door opens and then your back is firmly against it.
The next thing you feel is Yoongi’s soft lips sliding against your own.
His hand drifts up the side of your neck, fingers settling at the base like he’s keeping you right where he wants you, and it does something weird to your breathing—shortens it, stutters it—without needing to press.
The strap of your dress sags against your shoulder, but you make no move to fix it.
Your fingers find his hair instead, threading through the longer strands at the nape. It’s softer than you remember, just enough length to catch between your fingers, and when you tug, he groans against your mouth, the sound going straight to your center.
Total brain fog.
Your heartbeat, faint but present, is somehow the one that warns you about the risks. Because you’ve been in this situation before with Yoongi. You’ve been vulnerable in Hannam, and in his studio, and in the rehearsal space, and in room 2004. There’s a host of reasons why you should run away.
But it’s only taking one slow, smooth swipe of his tongue against the roof of your mouth for you to run in.
Your mouths part at the same time, an accidental knock of teeth, before he catches your lower lip between his and sucks softly, almost sweetly.
God. Yoongi makes your head swim.
And all this kissing is making you feel like there’s something more, when there is none. You’d do well to remind yourself of that.
By some miracle you find the strength to pull away.
“Yoongi, if we’re doing this, just…” you place your palm gently against his chest, pushing him back. “Don’t confuse me.”
Yoongi frowns. “What do you mean?”
“I know what this is,” you say, still a little breathless. “And I’m down, but I just… let’s not…”
The words stall out, slipping through your fingers no matter how hard you try to hold onto them. You inhale sharply, trying to piece together something that makes sense, something that doesn’t sound as messy as it feels in your head.
Because if you’re being honest—really honest—you’re already in deeper than you should be.
You never quite bounced back from his rejections. It lingers, quieter now, but still there, still tender in places you don’t like to acknowledge. And that’s not something you can tell him. Not now. Maybe not ever.
Not when he’s this close. Not when his lips are a soft, distracting pink. Not when he’s looking at you like this—like, for once, all of his attention is yours.
So you decide on something, albeit hastily. You shift your weight, looking him dead in the eye. “You can’t kiss me.”
He studies you curiously, too amused for your liking. His eyes are transfixed on your mouth, observing how they’re still shiny from his own spit. “Too late for that, don’t you think?”
“No, you can’t do it again. Not anymore.”
If he is confused, he doesn’t let it show. He scratches his nape. “Just your mouth, right? Anywhere else is fair game?”
His eyes dip, trailing your body like he’s already mentally undressing you. You feel heat building beneath your skin.
“Yes.”
“Sweet.” His thumb brushes the corner of your mouth, dragging lightly across your lower lip to wipe away the trail he left behind. Then he turns, moving further into his hotel room, dropping the keycard into an empty fruit bowl. “Anything else?”
You follow him in, dragging your feet on the plush carpet, still deep in thought.
You exhale through your nose, trying to keep your tone even. “Don’t make me sign an NDA.”
“No need, your current NDA’s already airtight.”
That—
You blink, thrown for half a second. The reminder lands colder than you expected, like a bucket of reality dumped over something that was just starting to feel… not real.
“Right.” You nod slowly, arms tightening across your chest. “Way to make a girl feel special, Yoongi.”
“Legal contracts don’t turn you on?” Yoongi drops to the couch.
“Not particularly. My dad’s a lawyer.”
He makes a face.
You snort. “What? Talking about my old hairy lawyer dad doesn’t turn you on?”
“Pass.”
That gets a real laugh out of you, the tension cracking just enough to breathe again.
He watches you when you do, like he’s taking note of something. Almost like he’s fascinated with you.
Then his head tilts slightly, a small gesture, almost nothing. “C’mere.”
You hesitate for half a second, but step forward anyway, closing the distance until you’re right in front of him, standing between his parted legs as he looks up at you.
His hand finds your wrist first, then your waist, guiding you down like it’s nothing. You end up on his lap, breath catching just a little as his hand slides under your dress, resting on your upper thigh.
“Tell me,” he murmurs, eyes dragging over your face, slower this time. “What does?”
The question sinks somewhere low, coiling tight, as he squeezes your soft flesh, so close to where you need him.
You open your mouth to respond, but he’s already leaning in.
His lips brush your collarbone first, not really doing anything but press his mouth against your skin. It’s almost absent-minded, the way he does it, like he can ask a question and distract you at the same time.
You inhale sharply.
His mouth drifts lower, grazing the hollow between your chest, and your thoughts start slipping, unraveling faster than you can catch them.
“Yoongi…”
He hums against your skin, like he heard you, but doesn’t want to stop. Frankly you don’t want him to when you feel his lips latch on the top of your breast and your brain goes foggy, words dissolving before they can form.
And that’s exactly why you…
“Wait.” You feel the solidness of him under your palms, the steady rise and fall of his breathing, as you lean back.
He stills, mouth swollen.
“Mm?” he hums, lifting his head but not moving far, like he’s willing to wait—but only just.
“Don’t you have your own rules?”
There’s a brief flicker of something, before his expression smooths back out.
He blinks once and huffs. “Don’t leave me on read.”
You almost react. Almost say something about that night, about the message that never sent, about the door you stood in front of, and the sounds that destroyed you before his friend picked up the pieces of you that shattered in front of room 2004.
But you swallow it down. He doesn’t need to know.
“That’s it?”
“Yeah.”
You study him for a second longer, like you’re trying to find something deeper and coming up short.
“Okay.”
A beat.
It’s decided.
“So,” he says, voice lower, like it’s already done. “Are we gonna do this, or—”
“Fuck me, Yoongi.”
His mouth curves, just slightly one corner. “Gladly.”
Part 2
A/N: .....hi? :)
Please let me know what you think. Leave me a note, or a reblog with your review. It's the best way you can show your support.
Thank you for reading you lovely, beautiful human xo
Ulterior Motives. // Chapter 2: 6 Days Before the Party
✎ ˎˊ˗ Pairing: Min Yoongi x Reader
✎ ˎˊ˗ Summary: POV you're the head stylist for BTS and you have had the biggest crush on Yoongi since forever. It doesn't help that your childhood best friend Jungkook knows about it and is literally dying for you to tell him. Unbeknownst to you, Jungkook comes up with a secret scheme to get the two of you together seven days before his birthday party.
✎ ˎˊ˗ Alternately: Hoseok is Yoongi's wingman.
✎ ˎˊ˗ Genre: Fluff, a tiny bit of Angst, and a whole lot of cliché silliness.
✎ ˎˊ˗ Chapter Warnings: an unexpected visitor, jungkook is a little shit, yoongi is bad at feelings, mario kart battle, new nickname acquired
✎ ˎˊ˗ Word count: 2.6k
✎ ˎˊ˗ Notes: thank you for reading!! <3 pls enjoy & don't forget to reblog, comment, or leave a like if you enjoyed! This fic is also posted to AO3 under my same username :)
Masterlist
─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───
"Ughhh..." you groaned as you rolled over in bed, the light from the window blinding you. Your head was bursting with pain, and you still felt sluggish from the night before. "Hangovers suck..." you murmur to yourself, grasping at thin air to grab your phone from the nightstand. After moments of wallowing around, you finally manage to actually grab your phone, seeing multiple texts from Jungkook.
You squint dryly to try and see what time it was. It was nearly 10 in the morning and the last message Jungkook had sent had a timestamp of 9:15.
Which meant you'd be getting a visitor soon.
You were broken from your thoughts by a knock at the door. Oh shit.
Stiff as you were, the knock at the door was enough to get you up and at 'em....momentarily. "Hello?" you called out as you groggily stumbled to the entrance to your little apartment. "Who's there..." you murmur after there's no initial response. Jungkook mentioned that he was sending someone to check on you, but that could be anyone. You swore his house was the closest to you, but then again you could always be wrong.
You look through your peephole to see who Jungkook could have possibly sent. You jolt back in surprise when you see a sleepy, messy-haired Yoongi.
"Jeon Jungkook, I'm going to kill you," you think to yourself, knowing this would be the end of you. Yoongi has never been over to your place, and to keep things professional you had intended to keep it that way.
"Yoongi-ssi, I didn't expect to see you here!" you say, trying your best to keep your energy fairly high. You did have an unexpected guest, after all.
"I wanted to check on you, I know you got pretty drunk last night." he commented bluntly, proceeding to hold up a grocery bag. "I brought this for you."
Well how were you supposed to say no to that?
You invited Yoongi in, handing him an extra pair of slippers you kept handy for visitors. He took off the pair of black and white Jordans he was wearing and donned the comfy slippers instead. You ignored the busting headache that had begun to torture you and gave Yoongi a little tour of your tiny apartment.
"Shouldn't you be sitting down and resting?" he asked, quirking a brow at you and crossing his arms. You were currently rummaging through your fridge, trying to find something you could offer him.
"I'm trying to be a good host," you reply, sheepishly turning around after you don't find anything in your near-empty fridge. You had been putting off going to the store for the past couple days. "You are my guest, after all."
To your surprise, Yoongi gently grabbed your shoulders and moved you to sit at your small dining table. He placed the grocery bag in front of you. "Open it," he says, sitting across from you as he tilts his head back slightly to tousle his hair. You felt like you were going to faint.
You opened the bag to find Pedialyte, a bottle of ginger ale, and a few of your favorite snacks as well as some pain meds and a small plushie shaped like Snoopy. Your jaw dropped.
"Y-Yoongi-ssi, I can't accept this," you begin, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks. This was one of the sweetest things anyone had ever done for you. It was almost embarrassing how much it made you want to tear up.
"Yes you can." Yoongi said simply. "I don't do returns."
You crack a small smile at his remark, looking up at him to see him grinning back at you softly. His dark brown eyes were full of so much care, and it almost made you wonder for a moment if any of this was real.
"Did you hear I'm getting a new stylist tomorrow?" he questioned, shifting in his spot on the couch to face you better. "Apparently they fired Jieun for something she said about the company."
"Oh wow, no way!" you said in disbelief. Jieun hadn't been working at HYBE for very long, but she seemed nice enough so it came as a surprise that she was fired. You were sure you'd be busy training the new person tomorrow, whoever they were.
The conversation flowed naturally and Yoongi stayed for about two hours longer, making sure you were settled and taken care of. He even ordered you some takeout before he left, refusing to let you pay him back for it. You didn't want the morning to end and you had to admit, having the company was nice.
But of course, all good things must come to and end eventually. He had to excuse himself, saying there was work to be done at the studio. "The Genuis Lab isn't going to make the hit songs by itself." he had told you with a small chuckle as he put his Jordans back on.
And then you were back to being alone again.
You munched on your delicious breakfast crepe Yoongi had ordered for you as you scrolled through your streaming services to find something to watch.
"Eh, whatever..." you muttered to yourself as you clicked on some random drama that seemed decent enough. Just as the opening scene was about to play though, your phone rang.
You glanced at your phone with a groan, seeing the call was from work. You were almost certain they weren't supposed to bother you on your day off. You assumed it had something to do with what Yoongi had mentioned to you earlier.
You assumed correctly. And that meant this would be a long call.
"So about tomorrow," your supervisor began, taking an annoyingly dramatic pause. "We have a new stylist for BTS coming in, I think she's going to be working with Suga-ssi. It'll be up to you to show her around and you'll probably have to show her how Jieun had been styling his hair recently. She may have said words against the company but she styled his hair well."
You pursed your lips at this. Yoongi had recently came from the military and his hair was in the process of growing back out. It was short and spiky, slightly reminiscent of his trainee days which made you giggle. You recall Jungkook showing you Yoongi's BigHit audition video once, his spiky hair sticking straight up and his lime green polo shirt contrasting against the stark white wall of the audition room. Anyways, Jieun had regrettably shown some distress when styling it, complaining how Yoongi's military-do wouldn't cooperate.
And you'd never tell her, but after she was done with him, Yoongi would wordlessly beeline his way over to your chair, and you had been the one styling him.
"Yes sir, I'll be sure to arrive early tomorrow to prepare." you reply, holding back a yawn. Just thinking about waking up early made you tired.
Finally after what seemed like forever, you were able to get off the phone. You sipped on the ginger ale Yoongi had been so kind to provide, the soft drink soothing your upset stomach. You watched a few episodes of the drama you had selected before you felt yourself drifting off, the Snoopy plush in your arms.
-----
"Yah Jungkook, you're going to wake her up," you heard someone scold. It sounded like...Seokjin?
The smell of bulgogi stew reached your nostrils, and your eyes fluttered open, practically salivating. You checked the time on your phone and it was 7 PM. How had you slept through your entire day off?!
"Too late..." you heard Jungkook say, and you looked to your left to be greeted by the maknae's toothy grin.
"Woah, what're you doing here?" you asked, pulling the blanket you were wrapped in (how did that get there..?) closer to your body.
"I told you. I literally texted you and said Jin-hyung and I were coming over." Jungkook replied with a shrug.
"Kookie, texting me something and telling me something are two different things. But anyways, thanks for coming I guess?" you say, facepalming.
"Oh yeah, no 'Thank you Jin-oppa for cooking for me, I'm so grateful!'" Jin says from behind you, doing his best impression of your voice. You quirk a brow at him, unimpressed.
"Okay, okay, thank you Jin-oppa." you smile, to which he chuckles and offers you a bowl of steaming hot stew. You accept it gratefully, feeling privileged to have the older man cooking for you tonight. This wasn't how you expected your night to go but you weren't complaining. You put the Snoopy plushie aside so you could eat your dinner, you were starving.
"Hey, where'd you get the Snoopy from?" Jungkook asked from beside you, his own bowl of stew in hand. Jin sat on the other side of you, shifting to get comfortable.
"Oh, Yoongi brought it when you sent him to check on me earlier. Thanks for that, by the way," you nudged him slightly, only to earn a confused expression.
"What do you mean? i didn't send Yoongi-hyung to check on you." Jungkook replied before taking a bite of his food. Jin's expression turned into one of understanding.
"You texted me and said you were sending him!" you argue, determined to keep him from getting away with it. Jungkook smirked, seemingly catching on.
"No Snoopy," Jungkook said teasingly, the new nickname bringing a shade of pink to your cheeks. "I waited until Jin-hyung wasn't busy so he and I could come cook for you. I haven't talked to anyone else except for you two today."
And that's when the realization finally hit you.
Yoongi had came to visit you on his own accord.
-----
You, Jin, and Jungkook had wrapped up dinner hours ago, and they had decided to stick around a little longer and play some Mario Kart with you to keep you company. You were currently going neck and neck with Jungkook, Jin smoking both of you and leaving you in the dust. It was getting really late, but the three of you were locked in.
"Damn Kookie, I thought you were better than this," you joke lightheartedly, knowing the maknae was usually good at everything he tried.
"Usually I am." he replied, his eyes not once leaving the screen. "And usually, I'm not up against Jin-hyung at Mario Kart." this earns him a maniacal laugh from Seokjin, who is on an ego rush from the fact that he's actually beating Jungkook at something.
"We've played like ten rounds already, I gotta win one before we leave." Jungkook said, his competitiveness pushing him to really focus on the game. You knew you'd be dead last, but that was okay with you. You were just enjoying the company.
You couldn't help but think about your impromptu visitor this morning. Had Yoongi really gone out of his way just to see you and make sure you were okay? Sure, he was a really really sweet guy and you knew that, but it was just hard to wrap your mind around. Did he actually have a thing for you? Was there even a chance?
You knew he'd had a couple secret flings here and there, but he never once gotten attached. He'd play the "I'm busy being a member of the biggest K-pop boy band in the world" card and end things before they ever got too serious. You'd seen it happen multiple times, and each time it happened Yoongi would just delve deeper into his work, disappearing for days at a time. You knew he enjoyed his alone time, but surely he got lonely.
There had only been one other guy you were serious about before Yoongi. Or rather, you thought you could date someone else while pushing your feelings for Yoongi away. He was older than Jungkook but still younger than you, and he was a trainee at JYP (which made you feel like a traitor) until he debuted in a group a year after BTS. Your relationship with him didn't last long though, being a part of different companies combined with his jealousy of you working with other guys didn't bode well.
"Hey Snoopy, are you paying attention or what?" Jungkook nudged you, snapping you out of your thoughts.
"Whoever loses has to go down to the convenience store on the corner and get ramyeon." Jin challenges.
"Hey, that's not fair! I'm still nursing myself back to health..." you whine dramatically, knowing you'd lose. You didn't want to leave the comfort of your home for anything at the moment. "Okay, loser between me and Jin-hyung then," added Jungkook, who was gaining on Jin by the second. "Also, we just ate!" you added.
"Gaming makes me hungry!" Seokjin retorts, throwing his hands up in the air and yelling when Jungkook throws a blue shell and passes him at the last second, resulting in him winning the game. "FUCK!"
Jungkook began cackling, throwing his head back and pumping his fists in the air. "Hell yeah!" he cheered, Bowser Jr. doing a little cheer onscreen in tandem. "You know what that means, hyung."
"Aish, fine. What kind of ramyeon do you guys want?" Jin asks with a sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose with his thumb and middle finger. You and Jungkook looked at each other knowingly, both shouting "JIN RAMYEON!" at the same time. Despite the fact you both thought it'd be funny for Jin to buy ramyeon with his face on it, the ramyeon itself was actually delicious.
---
"Okay, I think we'll get going. We all have to be up early tomorrow." Seokjin announced, beginning to grab his things to get ready to leave your place.
"You go on ahead hyung," Jungkook said. "I need to talk with Snoopy here about something." he gave you a look, and you immediately knew what it meant.
Jin left with a shrug, bidding you a goodnight. As soon as the door closed behind him, Jungkook whirled around to you. "Alright, so tell me this," he said, looking like he was thinking really hard about something. "You're telling me Yoongi came here all on his own?"
"As far as I know, yeah. I didn't even know he knew where I lived. That's why I thought you sent him." you explained.
"That motherfucker said he was sick and didn't show up to dance practice!" Jungkook exclaimed. "Hoseok-hyung said Yoongi messaged him and said he didn't feel well."
"So then how does he know where I live? Unless..." You furrowed your brow. Hoseok had been to your apartment only once. He'd came under fire due to a hair emergency and needed a fix on your day off so he stopped by. To your knowledge, Hoseok and Yoongi were really close. For all you knew, Yoongi could have asked Hobi for your address and he could have just decided to show up.
"It also could be public record." Jungkook made a good point there. You'd written your address down for job applications, including your application for this one years ago. But why go through all that trouble just for you?
"If he's not into you, I don't know what he is." Jungkook said with a shrug. "You need to just tell him."
"No, I'm not going to just tell him." you reply, sighing as you fold up your blanket on the couch and toss it aside. "He's had flings before and I'm not about to be one of them. He doesn't do feelings, remember?" you remind Jungkook, who seems to be impervious to your excuses.
"You should still tell him~" Jungkook said in a singsong voice, grinning as he made his way to the door, changing back into his sneakers.
⋆˚࿔ Whenever your parents were too busy wrapped up in their destructive fight then make-up sessions, you would find solace in the woods outside your home — climbing trees with the hopes your parents would come looking for you. And every time, they failed to show up as you sat among the birds on the branches of the sturdiest oak. What did find you as you sat up high, crowned by the sun, was a young boy named Yoongi. He was different from anyone you had ever met — he listened to every word fall from your lips as if you were the prophet and he was your ever-faithful disciple. From the moment he laid his rich, coffee-colored irises on you seated amongst the millions of branches, Yoongi knew his life had inexplicably become intertwined with yours. For far too long, the world threw its worst at you, and Yoongi was determined to be the safe haven you so desperately needed.
⋆˚꩜｡ 𝘱𝘢𝘪𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨: min yoongi & fem! 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳
𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴/𝘵𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘨𝘦𝘳𝘴: 18+ MDNI, Rockstar yoongi, Small town au, Multiple time skips, Mentions of childhood abuse, Meet-cute (sort of?), He falls first and falls HARD, Protective yoongi, Mentions of depression, Mentions of suicide ideation, alcoholism, parental abandonment, He “saves her life”, Childhood friends, Lowkey have always loved each other
THIS CHAPTER DOES CONTAIN DARK THEMES. pls read triggers, and pls, take care of yourselves <3
﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌
Age 17/18
Yoongi and Y/N hung out nearly every afternoon for the next year, spending hours upon hours sitting high up in their favorite woodland oak tree venting about their parents and getting to know each other more.
For example, Yoongi learned Y/N was in chorus at her school, and he even came to a recital one time with a bouquet of her favorite flowers, sunflowers, daisies and tulips, in Y/N’s favorite color, yellow like the sun (her exact words, as Yoongi recalled). In fact, he called her Sunflower because of how much she talked about the damn flower — as well as how much she reminded Yoongi of the bright, yellow petals rising above a plain.
She loved sweets, so he started carrying extra candies in his pocket because he learned her parents never kept anything sweet in the house. The thought of Y/N not having something she enjoyed so much felt absolutely wrong, truly a grave sin, in Yoongi’s eyes.
He also learned Y/N was scared of thunder when they got caught in a storm over the summer, her body shivering in fear as the loud claps came one after the other. That was the same day she told him about everything she went through at home — everything from her parents’ near-daily fist fights to how they never seemed to be happy with anything she did. Their boisterous arguments make it impossible for Y/N to tolerate any loud noises, and thunder was one of the loudest and worst sounds imaginable (again, her exact words).
Yoongi would share some of his at-home troubles with Y/N, but she truly gave him a new perspective on what a toxic relationship with parents looks like. Sure, his parents were still unsupportive of his dreams to become a guitarist in a rock band, but he was willing to at least finish high school before trying to convince them to let him pursue music fulltime. He was holding onto hope that maybe his parents would come around, but even if they didn’t like what he did, Y/N has been there to fill the void since Yoongi first spoke to her in that tree.
He always played music for her, showing Y/N all the ideas he had for songs, performance concepts and she always was giving Yoongi 100% of her attention. She would even provide her own feedback on how some chords sounded, or if a guitar riff would be able to be done when sung by someone else. Yoongi felt more connected to his passion than he ever did, and it was all because of Y/N.
Today, Yoongi had brought some lyrics he wrote the other day when he let his mind wander to thoughts of Y/N.
After their first afternoon together, Yoongi ran home and wrote the first song he was actually proud of. Since then, he’s run every song he’s written by Y/N, her input meaning more than any critique he would receive from any teacher or even his parents. Before Yoongi could realize, Y/N had become his muse — the motivation and inspiration behind every verse and refrain he penned in blue ink in the pages of a worn and torn composition notebook.
He would hand Y/N the notebook, showing her whatever song he had been working on, and she would write her thoughts in the margins of the pages in a glittery, purple pen.
I like this phrase: "Born in a ditch but rise up a dragon..." feels empowering
“Set me free, these days I feel blue for some reason.” Colorful and full of imagery…I can see these words as I hear you sing them
This resonates deep in my soul, Yoongi. Are you a mind reader? “Because the dawn right before the sunrise is the darkest, You, in the future, never forget yourself now.”
I needed to read this today. Thank you, Yoongi “In this world covered with hatred, the Lotus Flower shall bloom again. Future’s gonna be okay.”
Yoongi was reading through some of the notes Y/N left the last time he saw her almost a week ago. This was the longest he had ever gone without seeing her, and Yoongi would be lying to himself if he said he wasn’t worried about Y/N. He looked down at his phone, eyeing the time and feeling the worry grow in the pit of his stomach. Something about this week of no-contact just felt wrong to Yoongi, and he needed to know she was okay.
He had walked her home in the past a few times before, so Yoongi decided to take it upon himself to walk over to Y/N’s house just to make sure everything was okay. Though, if Yoongi were honest, he had the feeling things weren’t quite right.
Y/N’s world had crashed down all around her in a matter of moments when her mother decided enough was enough, packed a suitcase and left her and her father behind to “start a new life.”
Apparently, the child Y/N’s mother had already wasn’t enough for her to stick around, and now, Y/N’s father had fallen back into old habits of constantly nursing a bottle of liquor to numb his emotions rather than face them. She had to pick up the slack caused by her mother’s abrupt departure, doing all the chores her mother was previously responsible for — from cooking all the meals to doing her father’s laundry because he was too drunk to even stand upright.
Drinking wasn’t the only nasty habit Y/N’s father seemed to pick up — now that her mother was gone, Y/N had become the outlet for her father’s pent-up, booze-induced rage. Over the course of the last week, Y/N’s father scolded her for every little move she made — whether it was because she wasn’t doing the chores “fast enough” or because she was taking an extra five minutes to herself in the bathroom to just have a moment of peace.
The worst of it, however, happened when Y/N came home from school a day or two after her mom left. Her father had drunk near an entire handle of Maker’s Mark, and when she came home, he screamed at her for over an hour, demanding to know where she had been all day. He was so drunk that when Y/N explained she had gone to school — just like most teens her age do — he didn’t believe her because he thought it was the first hours of the day rather than the middle of the afternoon.
When she tried to explain the misunderstanding, Y/N was met with a sudden, sharp, stinging pain as her own father struck her hard enough to knock Y/N back a couple of steps. Never had Y/N thought it possible for one of her parents to lay their hands on her, yet over the last week, her father had fallen into a violent spiral where Y/N was trapped in the middle.
Sometimes, he just shook her by the shoulders with a death grip harsh enough to leave fingerprint-shaped bruises. Other times he would throw empty liquor bottles at her, lamenting how if only Y/N were a better child, maybe her mother would’ve stuck around.
In a matter of 24 hours, Y/N’s life had gone from difficult but doable to a hellish cataclysm of constant physical, mental and emotional anguish.
All Y/N wanted was to be able to go back to the oak tree in the woods just to escape for a short amount of time, but most of all, she wanted to see him.
A realization Y/N had in the wake of the total upheaval of her life was just how much she looked forward to seeing Yoongi everyday. It truly had become routine — she would get out of school, text her parents she was going to study at the library with her friends, and then she would make her way to the oak tree in the woods to meet up with the boy who served as the only light in her world.
She had grown to cherish their songwriting sessions amongst the high branches, often sitting next to him and resting her head on his shoulder as he wrote lyrics. Yoongi always asked for her feedback on what he would write, and for Y/N, it was the first time someone actually seemed to value her opinion or input on something. He made her feel as if she was actually worth something, and she desperately needed to feel like she was needed — like she was worth the space she occupied.
As Y/N worked on washing the massive pile of dishes in the sink while her father slept in his room upstairs, she heard the knock on the front door. She shut the faucet off, walking to the front door as she adjusted the straps of her tank top. Looking out the peephole, Y/N felt her heart soar when she saw Yoongi standing on her front porch with his notebook in hand and guitar slung over his shoulder.
She quickly grabbed the cardigan hanging on the coat rack next to the door, slipping it on to hide the marks her father had left on the upper portion of her arms. Y/N opened the door, the first smile she had in days breaking out across her lips.
“Yoongi!” She beamed, closing the door behind her quietly to not wake up her father who was asleep upstairs. Y/N couldn’t help but notice the soft smile breaking out across Yoongi’s lips when she called his name. “What are you doing here?”
“You haven’t been back to our spot in over a week,” Yoongi took a step forward, his eyes scanning Y/N for any indicator something could be wrong. Immediately, he noticed she was tense — way more tense than what was normal for her. He also noted the presence of dark circles under her eyes, meaning she hadn’t gotten quality sleep in days. She looked absolutely physically and emotionally exhausted, and within moments of looking at her, Yoongi knew something was wrong. “What’s wrong, Y/N?”
“Yoongi, I’m sorry I haven’t been able to see you-”
“Don’t apologize, Y/N. Never to me.” He looked at Y/N, his gaze intense as he looked down at her eyes, which at this point were starting to fill with tears she desperately tried to fight off. “You look like you haven’t slept in days, Sunflower. Talk to me, what’s going on?”
Yoongi’s words paired with the genuine concern in his opened the floodgates, the tears falling freely as Y/N felt the last bit of her restraint snap. Without thinking about it twice, Yoongi set down his notebook and guitar, reaching out to pull Y/N closer to him and cradling her in his arms as she sobbed.
Yoongi’s gaze turned dark as he held Y/N, his mind churning as he thought of what could possibly have caused the breakdown the girl clutching onto him was experiencing. Seeing her shoulders shudder as she wailed in his arms was enough to make Yoongi want to murder anyone who dared to hurt the one person, in his eyes, who deserved all the happiness in the world.
Whatever or whoever was causing Y/N to feel this way, Yoongi would make sure it never ever came close to her ever again.
“Shhh…” His voice was a hushed whisper as his hand moved to cradle the back of Y/N’s head, holding her securely in place as she wept in his arms. “Y/N, it’s okay…I’m here, talk to me.”
“My mom…” she said in between sniffles, her voice shaky and wrecked. “She left. She left, said she couldn’t take it anymore. That she needed to start over.”
“She what?” Yoongi’s eyes widened once the words left Y/N’s lips, his heart breaking for her as she told him the woman who gave birth to her just up and left. Not only that, she left her daughter behind to “start over,” as if Y/N was something she could just toss away without second thought.
“She’s gone, Yoongi…I’ve had to do all the chores she did, I haven’t been sleeping, I’ve been crying on and off for over seven days straight, I feel like I’m losing my entire world.”
Her sniffled sobs were now turning into full-body shudders and hyperventilating, and Yoongi knew he needed to get her out of that house, even if it was just for a few minutes. He held her for a few more moments before pulling away just enough to look at Y/N, his hands resting on the top of her shoulders to help ground her.
“Y/N…” The way he said her name was almost as if he was handling it with utmost care, as if he was afraid one wrong move would cause Y/N to break. “What your mom did to you and your dad, it’s wrong. You can’t just walk away from your child like that-”
“But she did, Yoongi,” Y/N managed to choke out, her eyes glassy and her cheeks stained with tears. “She’s gone, my dad couldn’t take it and he’s back to drinking like he used to…”
Yoongi stiffened at her words, remembering how Y/N recounted her father’s alcohol abuse from her younger years. He remembered how Y/N’s entire demeanor changed as she recounted those stories, how her father would drink and then yell at her and her mother. Y/N insisted he never physically hurt her then, but she did say she saw him shove her mom a couple of times.
Every story Y/N told about her father made Yoongi’s blood boil, and hearing he relapsed after his child was abandoned by her own mother not only broke Yoongi’s heart, but outraged him. The situation was already bad enough for Y/N when it was just dealing with her mother’s decision to just leave her with her recovering alcoholic father, but learning her father had relapsed as a result of that decision made everything a million times worse.
This girl seemed to have no one in her corner, no one looking out for what’s best for her. Seeing Y/N in this state and hearing how those who were supposed to love her most were treating her made Yoongi sick to his stomach. He was beyond angry — he was livid.
“Your dad is drinking again?”
She nodded, looking down at the ground as she avoided looking into Yoongi’s eyes. “Yeah, and when he drinks he tells me it’s all my fault. That I’m the reason my mom left…and maybe he’s right.”
Yoongi was about to barge into this house and wring this pathetic excuse of a man’s neck for having the audacity to say something so disgusting and cruel to someone as wonderful and brilliant as Y/N, implying she was responsible for her mother’s actions. Instead of acting on his instinct to march upstairs and beat the shit out of the fucking prick, he took Y/N’s face in his hands, gently cradling her head and looking into her eyes as if she was the most priceless treasure Yoongi ever encountered.
“Your father is fucking idiot if he actually believes that, Y/N,” Yoongi’s thumbs wiped away the tears cascading down Y/N’s cheeks, his gaze softening as he spoke to her. “Your mother leaving…I can’t imagine how she made you feel, and now your father…”
Another tear fell down Y/N’s cheek, and Yoongi felt his own heart fall into his stomach as he spoke with a soft, tender timbre. As if on instinct, he continued to trace his thumbs along the sides of her cheeks while adjusting his hands to gently pull her face slightly closer to his. Yoongi then gently craned her head so he could make sure she was looking at him when he said what he wanted to say next.
“You did not cause this, Y/N — they’re the ones who failed you, not the other way around. They’re cowards, both of them, and you deserve so much better.”
Yoongi felt his own voice start to waver as his eyes glossed over, the thought of this girl he thought the world of being treated like garbage by her own parents bringing Min Yoongi to the verge of tears. He dropped his voice to a soft whisper, leaning in just a couple of centimeters as if to ensure his words were heard by her.
“Y/N, they’re idiots if they don’t see what I and so many others see.”
“And what do you see, then?”
“Radiance,” he answered instantly, his eyes wild with the desperation of wanting to help carry some of the pain she held in this moment. “That first time I saw you sitting in that tree, it was as if I saw the sun for the first time after years of darkness. I thought I was seeing a heavenly vision — an angel came to me, clothed in light. And Y/N, I swear to you, since that day, I’ve thought of you as one of the most brilliant, kind-hearted people I’ve ever met.”
Y/N’s eyes were wide as Yoongi spoke, her heart beating out of her chest at Yoongi’s words as the tears finally started to slow to a halt.
“Never in my life has anyone actually wanted to hear my ideas for music or has actually thought I was capable of doing something with it. Then I met you, and you not only were interested in hearing my ideas, but you actually listened. When I would work on a new verse, I would think about how I couldn’t wait to show you because you actually seemed to care. You’re so special, Y/N, and your parents are goddamn morons for not seeing something so blatant to me.”
Y/N’s breath caught in her throat as Yoongi poured his heart out on her front porch, his eyes never leaving hers as he continued to cradle her face in his hands.
“Yoongi-”
“If you’re about to ask me something stupid like if I actually believe what I just said, yes. Every. fucking. word.”
Y/N felt her shoulders visibly relax at Yoongi’s reassurance, her eyes misting once again but this time, because of kindness rather than cruelty. She melted into his touch, practically jumping to wrap her arms around his neck, pulling Yoongi close and holding onto him like her life depended on it.
After freezing for a moment from the surprise of the sudden embrace, Yoongi returned the embrace, his arms moving to wrap around her waist as he bent down to hold her close. They stood there for a moment — arms wrapped around one another — both doing everything to commit this moment between them to memory.
“All those things you said,” Y/N whispered, her face buried in the crook of Yoongi’s neck as he held her close. “That’s how I feel about you. You’re my light and my hope this will get better. When you’re around, the world doesn’t feel like it’s against me all the time. When I’m with you, Yoongi, I feel at peace.”
It was Yoongi’s turn to start shedding his own silent tears as her words pierced through the walls he had spent his entire life constructing. The icy, more reserved persona Yoongi had created to distance himself from the rest of the world started to crack when he met Y/N, but now, standing on her porch and hugging her close as if to keep her held together, Yoongi’s heart couldn’t deny what had been blooming over the course of the last year.
He offered her a soft smile, a couple of tears managing to fall down his cheek as he moved to tuck a strand of Y/N’s hair behind her ear.
“I’m not going anywhere, Y/N. You’re going to get through this, and I’m going to be with you every single step of the way.”
Yoongi continued to brush the hair out of Y/N’s face with his hand, his fingers gently grazing the side of her face and sending a rush of relief washing over Y/N with every touch.
“Everyone deserves to have someone in their corner, and for too long, you’ve had to do life by yourself.”
He didn’t seem to notice how Y/N took a slight step closer, closing any space that was left between them as he whispered to her under the porchlight.
“You don’t have to do this alone anymore, my Sunflower,” Yoongi murmured as he cupped her face, bringing her face inches away from his. “You’ve got me, and I’m not going anywhere. I promise.”
The floodgates were now fully open, Y/N falling completely into Yoongi’s arms as she continued to sob as he held onto her tightly, trying his best to help bring her comfort during the worst time in her life.
Without thinking, he placed a soft kiss on the top of Y/N’s head, softly inhaling the lavender shampoo Y/N used as he ran his hands through the back of her hair. She instantly melted into him, her shoulders shuddering as she continued to sob in his arms as Yoongi consoled her.
Yoongi noticed Y/N’s cardigan had slipped off her shoulder, and when it did, he saw marks resembling finger-prints wrapping around her bicep, making his heart freeze in his chest. He took a deep breath, his hand instinctively going to trace the bruises covering her arms, his eyes dark with the rage simmering just beneath his cold and collected persona as he looked at the fragile girl in his arms.
“Y/N. Where are these from?”
He felt Y/N completely freeze, her sobs even coming to a halt as she was silent. Her eyes moved to look at the now visible bruises along her shoulder and arm, her brain working to come up with an explanation. “I fell the other day-”
His mind instantly remembered the stories Y/N would tell from her childhood when her father would get physical with her mother when he would get drunk. Now that he’s relapsed and gone back to drinking, there was no one in that house other than Y/N for him to take all his anger and rage out on. A pit was forming in Yoongi’s stomach as it dawned on him what — or rather who — could have caused those bruises.
Yoongi instantly shook his head, his eyes still locked on the dark marks littering her skin. “Sunflower, you and I both know those are not from a fall.”
She froze again, her body going completely rigid as she went silent.
“Y/N, I need you to look at me.” Yoongi’s voice was soft and calm, despite the fury stewing just under the surface. He moved to cup her cheek with his left hand and crane Y/N’s head to face him completely, using the other hand to tenderly graze his fingertips over the bruises on her arm. “I need you to tell me the truth. Did someone do this to you?”
Y/N couldn’t speak, but she managed to give him a nod, the fear in her gaze evident. Yoongi swallowed hard, using every bit of restraint to remain calm as he asked the damning question.
“Was it your father, Y/N? Did he hurt you?”
Y/N couldn’t bring herself to answer, but the terror in her eyes was enough of a confirmation for Yoongi: not only had her mother abandoned Y/N, but she had become her father’s personal punching bag.
The universe must have a sick sense of humor, because in that moment, the front door swung open and revealed the man responsible for the turmoil Y/N was facing.
“Y/N, why haven’t you finished the dishes?” Yoongi fought the urge to grimace as the odor of stale liquor wafted every time Y/N’s father opened his mouth. Y/N’s father took a step — or rather, stumbled — closer to Y/N, and Yoongi moved to put himself between Y/N and the man he knew caused those bruises.
Y/N’s father glared at Yoongi, drunkenly lumbering over to stand over the two teens. “Who the hell are you, and why is your arm wrapped around my daughter?”
Yoongi was not about to let this man lay another hand on the girl who had spent the last hour trembling in his arms. Yoongi glared up at the pitiful excuse for a man, feeling Y/N cling to him tighter and cower behind him. His arm acted as a shield between her and the monster standing in front of them.
“Someone who seems to care more about your daughter than you ever have, apparently.”
Yoongi’s voice turned ice cold, his eyes burning with anger as Yoongi wanted nothing more than to leave behind bruises the way he left them on her. He felt Y/N’s fingers bunch the fabric on the back of his shirt as she watched the staredown between her father and the boy who transformed into her knight in shining armor.
Her father took another step toward Y/N and Yoongi, his rage building fast and visibly so. “I see my daughter is whoring around with a loser kid with a smart ass mouth.”
Before Yoongi could stop himself, his hands reached out, gripping Y/N’s father by the collar of his shirt and throwing him against the front door hard enough to nearly break it off the hinges.
“So you’re not just a drunk, pathetic excuse of a man who leaves bruises on his daughter’s arm, but you talk about her like she’s a burden to her own father? Color me surprised.”
Y/N stood — frozen in place — unable to speak as the scene unfolded in front of her. After a few moments, she gained the strength to step forward, reaching out to Yoongi.
“Yoongi, he’s just drunk-”
“Y/N. He will not talk to you that way, not in front of me.” Yoongi’s voice was almost a snarl — a cold rage icing over each word as he continued to hold the drunk man up against the door, his eyes burning into Y/N’s father’s. “No one should talk to anyone that way, let alone a father to his own child. You call me a loser, and though I may be a smartass, you’re the real loser here, you fucking son of a bitch.”
Before he could do anything to stop it, Yoongi saw a clenched fist come up in his periphery followed by the sudden feeling of ramming his head directly into a brick wall. Despite being punched in his eye, Yoongi still managed to hang onto the older man’s collar, so he threw her dad against the door, the drunken man’s head crashing into the worn brass door knocker and blood running down the side of his face. Somehow, Y/N’s father managed to shove Yoongi off him, creating enough distance to give him the time to collect himself before charging toward the 18-year-old boy.
Y/N started moving on her own, jumping in between her father and the boy who was doing everything in his power to protect her. She planted her feet firmly under her, and — without giving it a second thought — channeled every ounce of strength to bring her arm back, form a fist and throw the hardest punch Y/N could muster. Turns out, years of pent up anger at your parents can knock them right on their ass.
Y/N was shaking, her eyes wild with a pent up fury long overdue for release finally exploding as she stared down at her gobsmacked father. “You will not touch him. He cares about me, and I will not let you hurt the one person in my life that makes me happy.”
She turned to face Yoongi, who appeared in awe of how Y/N stood up for herself. He gave her a genuine smile, his left eye starting to swell from the punch he received earlier. “That’s my girl.”
For the first time in Y/N’s life, she felt empowered — like she was in control in the situation for once. She turned to Yoongi, feeling a wave of relief wash over her when she saw the same gummy smile that brought her comfort every day in their oak tree. She turned back to face her father, her voice almost darkening with all the unleashed suppressed resentment toward the man who failed Y/N over and over and over again.
“I am tired of being something you can walk all over, Dad. I’m tired of being blamed for what’s YOUR fault,” she started to raise her voice, the anger burning Y/N from the inside out. “And you can take all your anger out on me, but Yoongi is off limits. You will not attack him or touch him, and if you try to keep me away from him, I will go to the police about what you’ve been doing to me.”
“You fucking cunt,” her father drunkenly spat at Y/N, her heart slamming against her chest as he yelled at her. “I’m your father, and I will do with you what I see fit. This boy has clearly brainwashed you-”
She moved to stomp on her father in the shins — hard. She could feel a small crack from his leg when she did so, her father wailing and whimpering into concrete.
“No. You are a fucking alcoholic. A pathetic, depressed, cowardly DRUNK old man. You are a terrible father, and my whole life, I have never EVER been enough for you,” Y/N’s voice was now dangerously cold, anger seeping into every syllable. “Yoongi is the only person who has ever made me feel like I actually matter. All you and mom have ever shown me is how much you hate me and how I will never ever do anything worthwhile. And I’m done, Dad. I’m fucking done.”
Her father glared up at Y/N, then at Yoongi, his eyes glassy from the alcohol in his system. He turned back to Y/N, his gaze empty and barren of any sympathy for his own daughter. “It’s this attitude from you that ran your mother off, you brat.”
“No, it’s your inability to actually change and be a good father and husband that ruined everything. Oh, and that’s not even counting the times I saw you hit her when you drank before.”
She turned around, ready to leave her father on the porch to let him sleep off the alcohol while she set her plan in motion.
“Yoongi, will you walk me to the police station, please?” She asked, her voice shaking with nerves but still holding a hint of newfound confidence.
The boy nodded his head, smiling as he motioned for her to walk to him. “Yeah, let’s go, Sunflower.”
Y/N smiled as she started to take a step forward, Yoongi turning around to walk down the porch steps. She’d finally found the courage to take control of her situation, and now she would finally get some justice for everything she was forced to endure.
In just a second, that courage was swept away as a large hand wrapped around her wrist, pulling her to the ground as her father wrapped that same arm around her to pin her to him. He then used the other hand to hold the blade of a cheap pocket knife against the column of her throat, his eyes wild with desperation, fear and unadulterated rage.
Yoongi heard the commotion and instantly turned around, seeing the knife by Y/N’s throat halting him in his tracks. His tone was deceptively calm, but it was to mask the fact he was planning 75 different ways to kill this man and make it look like an accident. “What the fuck are you doing?”
“Don’t come closer,” her father slurred, his eyes almost demented and filled with an evil glint. “You will not go with him, Y/N. I forbid it.”
Y/N’s adrenaline was pumping, her mind working quickly to craft up the best plan to get out of her father’s grasp and get to help. As her father was working to try to open the door to drag her inside, a lightbulb went off — if she could just manage to keep her father at bay long enough for Yoongi to get help, she would have the best chance at getting out of this intact.
She turned to Yoongi, seeing the fear and anger in his body language and facial expression. His eyes were wild yet cold all at once, as if he wanted nothing more than to take the knife her father held against her neck and drive it into her father’s jugular.
“Yoongi,” she whispered low enough that her extremely impaired father couldn’t hear her. “Go get help. I have a plan.”
Yoongi hesitated — everything in his body screaming for him to stay with her out of fear of her father doing something reckless and irreversible. But he also knew Y/N was smart, if she had a plan, he had to be willing to trust her and follow her lead.
“Okay, I’ll go…please, be careful. I’ll be back, I promise.”
Y/N’s father managed to open the door, tightening his grip on his daughter and pressing the blade slightly harder into her neck, causing it to sting ever so slightly. “Y/N, you’re not leaving this house until you’ve learned to respect your father.”
Yoongi sprinted down the sidewalk, turning to look back as Y/N’s father dragged both himself and his daughter into the house. He knew every second that passed could mean the difference between life and death, and the thought of losing Y/N-
He couldn’t let his mind go there, so instead of falling into a spiral, Yoongi focused on each step as he sprinted with all his might to the police station 10 minutes away, praying with each stride he wouldn’t be too late when all was said and done.
i hope you enjoyed this part my lovelies, this lowkey turned out to be waaaay angstier than i initially planned, and i realized i had the chance to do a crazy cliff hanger. so sorry about that (but am i really?).
Ulterior Motives. // Chapter 1: 7 Days Before the Party
✎ ˎˊ˗ Pairing: Min Yoongi x Reader
✎ ˎˊ˗ Summary: POV you're the head stylist for BTS and you have had the biggest crush on Yoongi since forever. It doesn't help that your childhood best friend Jungkook knows about it and is literally dying for you to tell him. Unbeknownst to you, Jungkook comes up with a secret scheme to get the two of you together seven days before his birthday party.
✎ ˎˊ˗ Alternately: Hoseok is Yoongi's wingman.
✎ ˎˊ˗ Genre: Fluff, a tiny bit of Angst, and a whole lot of cliché silliness.
✎ ˎˊ˗ Chapter Warnings: jungkook is a little shit, namjoon is accident prone AF, hoseok is a little shit, yoongi is sleepy and down bad, all the tannies are silly
✎ ˎˊ˗ Word count: 3k
✎ ˎˊ˗ Notes: thank you for reading!! <3 pls enjoy & don't forget to reblog or leave a like if you enjoyed! This fic is also posted to AO3 under my same username :)
Masterlist
─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───
"I'm gonna tell him," Jungkook sneered, trying to get a reaction out of you.
"Kookie, I swear to God if you so much as think about telling him so help me." you threaten, getting closer to his face to blend out the highlight you had just put on him. He cackled maliciously, but settled down so you could finish touching up his makeup for the ongoing GQ shoot. You were the only stylist on duty today and everyone was currently in the middle of doing solo shots, so you took this opportunity to fix a couple things while the youngest wasn't occupied.
"Just letting you know in advance, Hyung knows everything. He will find out eventually."
"Yeah, well I've managed to keep the secret for this long, I think I can manage."
Jeon Jungkook has been your best friend of about 15 years, and you've been his personal stylist for almost 11. The two of you practically did everything together, and you knew everything about each other.
This includes your ever-growing crush on his bandmate, Yoongi. And ever since you told him a few years ago, Jungkook has never let you live it down.
"You guys would be cute together though!" Jungkook whined, trying to convince you to let him break the news.
"That's still not going to change my mind. If he ever does find out, I'd want it to be from me on my own terms. Besides, I'm not so sure HYBE would approve of an Idol dating an employee." You add a touch more eyeliner.
Jungkook had been trying to get you to tell Yoongi how you felt for years now. You'd been harboring your feelings about him for what felt like forever, and though you'd known Yoongi for quite some time, you never were quite able to get an exact read on him. And the uncertainty made you nervous. Sure, you were the only one Yoongi would allow into his studio to bring him food sometimes. And yeah, maybe there were a couple times you'd caught him staring at you a moment too long while doing Jungkook's hair.
But your relationship with Yoongi was good as it was, you were decent friends and you didn't want to ruin that by telling him about any certain overwhelming feelings you may have. And you made Jungkook swear not to tell anyone, not even Taehyung.
"What are you two chatting about?" asked Jimin with a quirked brow, a slight lilt in his tone and the little smirk to go with it. "Idols dating employees, huh?"
You gave Jungkook a deadpan expression. The no-guilt look on his face told you everything you needed to know.
"Goddammit, I can't believe you told Jimin of all people, Kook." you fixed a couple of stray hairs, clicking your tongue.
"Oh, he didn't tell me. I figured it out." Jimin replied with a chuckle. "It wasn't that hard to tell anyways."
You were especially worried about Jimin finding out, because as much as he would pretend otherwise he couldn't keep a secret to save his life. But he also was able to read people easily, which is probably why it wasn't hard for him to guess who you were weak for.
"I'm pretty sure everyone knows except Yoongi-hyung." Taehyung piped up, sauntering over to your work station, beaming his boxy grin at his fellow maknaes. "He can figure things like that out about everyone else, just not about himself."
You scoffed in disbelief. Had everyone known the entire time and just didn't tell you? You thought you had hidden your secret so well that no one would ever find out.
"Yah, don't you two have to go stand in front of a camera or something?" you asked, your cheeks turning pink from embarrassment.
"Nah, we're on break," Taehyung shrugged.
"Ohh, that's right~" Jimin smirked, watching you closely. He knew what he was doing. "It's Yoongi-hyung's turn."
As he said that, you couldn't help but cock your head to the side, glancing over to where the photoshoot was taking place. The three maknaes erupted in laughter as you were met with an empty photoshoot space.
You glared at the three of them, knowing better than to have expected anything less. Tae was patting Jungkook's shoulder as he chuckled, and Jimin hunched over from laughing so hard.
"Park Jimin, I can and will ruin the hair extensions I got for you to wear during the Netflix concert." you pointed a finger at him, to which he just grinned playfully and shook his head.
"C'mon, I was just messing with you. Besides, I know you don't like wasting high quality extensions." Jimin remarked, fixing his hair in the mirror that stood behind you. He had begged you to put some in for him, and since he asked nicely you went all out and bought a very nice set: 100% human hair.
Typically each member had their own stylist, but sometimes they would come to you if they wanted something specific. They'd never say it outright but all seven of them trusted you with their hair more than their own stylists at times. You even had to save Namjoon from his debut hairstyle when you were hired all those years ago. You were one of HYBE's best, which is why you were the one called to come help with damage control today at the GQ shoot.
"Y/n-ah!" a voice whined, his voice cracking. You immediately recognized the man's voice to be Namjoon's. Speak of the devil. You whirled around to see the taller man trot towards you covering his forehead, an uncomfortable look on his face.
"You're going to kill me." he said, to which you quirked a brow. "What'd you do this time, Joon?" you were essentially desensitized to anything he came to you with at this point, he was the most accident prone out of the seven.
Namjoon slowly retracted his hand from his forehead to reveal the front pieces sticking up straight from his head. The three maknaes surrounding you burst out into laughter. You sighed, glancing down at Jungkook who looked back up at you, his lip piercing glinting in the bright light. You motioned for him to get up, allowing Namjoon to sit so you could fix his hair. This was the second time he'd came to you about his hair in the past hour, and you were through with using the more gentle products.
"How do you manage to get yourself into these things?' you ask Namjoon, gently combing through his hair with some gel in order to get it combed to the side again. "I don't even know anymore," he sighs, pursing his lips in thought like he wants to say something. When he ends up not speaking, you ignore it and continue messing with his hair, trying to get it to stay where you want it.
Once the gel dries, you rummage around in the drawers of your workstation for something specific.
"A-HA!" you exclaim, pulling a neon yellow can of Got2B Glued hairspray. Namjoon frowns. "What...is that?" he asks hesitantly, looking at the abnormal nozzle on the bottle.
"This is what people use for liberty spikes," you say, smirking confidently. "I'm gonna use it to set the gel. If it doesn't work and your hair moves again today after I put this shit on it, I don't know what will."
The rest of the shoot went by without a hitch, and all seven of the boys were exhausted from a long day of photoshoots and filming promotional content. You trailed along behind Bangtan as they walked through the parking garage to the SUV that was waiting for them.
"Let's all go get hot pot!" Hoseok suggested, walking in step ahead of you with the other members. You smiled softly, looking at the seven guys in front of you. They all looked so happy to finally be together again after so long.
You'd never admit it out loud, but you really did miss them. You were the only stylist they'd had who had been with them pretty much since the beginning and still stuck around. Most everyone else had either left, or gone on to work for other groups and companies. Sure, you had helped with the Tomorrow X Together boys and the LE SSERAFIM girls some to help keep your rent paid, but you had made it clear you were never leaving BTS behind. They were almost like family to you, and while of course there were boundaries you would never cross as an employee of HYBE, you were not above helping the guys out if they needed anything.
"Hey Y/n, you're coming too, right?" someone piped up, snapping you out of your thoughts. You nearly stopped in your tracks as you realized Yoongi had turned around to ask if you were coming along to eat with them. You hadn't had the chance to interact with him much today, but you knew he tended to keep to himself during shoot days.
Your heart fluttered at the invitation, but the moment was ruined when you saw Jungkook standing behind Yoongi, eyes wide. He was making eye contact with you and nodding his head, motioning for you to say yes. You would have face-palmed if everyone's eyes weren't on you.
"I- well, I wouldn't want to impose-" you began, but Jungkook cut you off. "Yes, she's coming. Right, Noona?" you merely nodded, knowing there was no getting out of this. "Yes, I'll come."
The seven men cheered in tandem, as if they had just found out the best news of their life. You chuckled, shaking your head at their antics.
"I'll meet you guys there, I'm pretty sure your SUV won't fit eight people." you say, heading towards your car. But as soon as you started walking away, you felt two hands grab your shoulders and usher you towards the already waiting SUV.
"Nah, we can all fit, right everyone?" Hoseok's voice rang out behind you. Why was he trying to get you to ride with them?
As you stepped into the car, you realized the seats up front were taken. The only spot that remained was a seat in the very back.
Right next to Yoongi.
You glanced over at Jungkook, who was already looking your way with a knowing expression. "Aish, this guy..." you thought.
You squeezed past Seokjin and Jimin, who were in the seat in front of Yoongi and plopped down next to the sleepy-looking man. Poor Yoongi looked exhausted, you knew him well enough to know he probably hadn't been getting much sleep. He was so busy with working on Arirang that he probably had been pulling all-nighters in the studio. He'd never complain though. His hard work always paid off, and you knew he wouldn't stop until he was satisfied.
On the drive to the restaurant, Yoongi ended up making small talk with you. He told you a little bit about the new album, and how a certain track, 'Hooligan' was especially giving him trouble. You were able to give him some words of encouragement, which he seemed to really appreciate.
When the eight of you arrived at the restaurant, you were ready to get out and use the restroom. Long shoot days like this didn't really allow for breaks, especially with you being the only stylist on duty.
"Hey Kookie, will you save me a seat? I'm gonna go use the restroom." you tell him as Namjoon walks up to the host stand to get a table for the group. Jungkook nods and motions for you to go ahead, so you excuse yourself and beeline for the bathroom.
You sigh and stare at yourself in the mirror for a moment after relieving yourself. "Damn, I look fucking exhausted..." you think to yourself, and it's true. The tiredness in your eyes says it all: you have had a hard (yet rewarding) day at work. HYBE luckily would be paying you extra for today since you worked alone, so hopefully it meant you'd have a little extra to treat yourself.
You walked out of the bathroom, heading to the closed off rooms for private parties. Since BTS was the biggest group in the industry, they typically had to reserve one of the private rooms in the back. You and the boys would come here often, whether together or separately, so you knew your way around.
You slide open the door that you heard the very loud (and usual) banter of the boys come from, scanning the room briefly to find the space Jungkook had saved for you...
...Right in between him and Yoongi.
He noticed you when you walked in and gave you a subtle thumbs-up, to which you gave an eyeroll and a deadpan expression.
You took your seat without a comment, however, lest Yoongi figured something was up. That's the last thing you wanted. Jungkook greeted you by sliding you a shot glass full of soju, and you accepted it gratefully. This would definitely help you loosen up a bit.
"Oh Noona," Jungkook began, seeming to remember something. "My birthday is coming up and I'm having a small get-together at my place next Friday. Please come?"
You arched your brow, knowing Jungkook's idea of a 'small get-together' was much different from yours. However, after considering for only a moment, you conceded. "Of course I'll come. I gotta wish my favorite maknae a happy birthday, right?" you replied, and Jungkook grinned.
"Hey, I thought I was your favorite maknae!" Jimin said playfully from across the table, giving you a soft nudge with his foot. You laughed softly, shaking your head. "You're all my favorite, Jiminie."
To your slight dismay, Taehyung piped up, "Wait, but I thought she liked Y-" but before he could get the words out, Jungkook elbowed him in the arm.
"Yah, stop with the fussing and let's eat already." Seokjin scolded, changing the subject as the assortment of meat, noodles, and veggies arrived. Your stomach growled, quickly distracting you from the previous conversation. You had only had a granola bar from the staff snack table to eat today, and you were absolutely famished.
You were letting some of your pork belly cook in your miso broth when Yoongi spoke up from beside you. "Hey, you should try the brisket. It's really good."
You glanced over at him to make sure he was actually speaking directly to you and not just the table, and sure enough, you were met with his dark brown cat-like eyes staring back at you. "Oh, okay Yoongi. Could you pass me some then please?" you asked the older man, eyeing the plate of brisket on the other side of him.
But instead of handing you the plate, he grabbed his chopsticks and grabbed some already cooked brisket from his own bowl, holding it up towards your mouth expectantly.
You could feel the heat rush to your cheeks, not expecting this kind of behavior from Yoongi. Of course, he was a kindhearted and giving person, but you didn't expect him to share his own meal with you, especially not when there was more meat right next to him.
You could feel a few stares from a couple of the boys, who were waiting to see what you would do. You took a brief moment to steel yourself before you opened your mouth, allowing Yoongi to feed you the brisket.
"Wow, you're right. It is good!" you say, enjoying the food. Yoongi nods. "It's really good with the broth I have, which is why I gave you some of mine." he said, giving you one of those soft smiles you adored so much.
"Thank you, oppa." you say, not thinking much of the implications of the honorific. You turned back to your own food, missing the smirk that came to Yoongi's face when you called him 'oppa'. Namjoon stared in disbelief at the interaction, to which Jin nudged him and went back to his food.
By the time you were done with your dinner, you were stuffed...and maybe more full of soju than you'd like to admit. You always went all out on hot pot nights, but tonight in particular had you feeling more drunk than usual.
"I shouldn't have ordered all those gyoza..." you whined with a pained expression, holding your tummy. You almost felt like you were going to pass out into a food induced coma. Or maybe it was just the soju making you sluggish. You weren't too sure about anything at this point.
"Noona...should I drive you home?" Jungkook asked, noticing how you stumbled a bit as you all walked out of the restaurant.
"...Maybe..." you slurred, embarrassed. Usually you were more in control of your alcohol than this, but today had been a long one and you drank a little more than you thought.
And so...
The rest of the boys dropped you and Jungkook off back at your car. Jungkook got in the driver's seat after carefully helping you in the passenger seat. The drive back to your apartment was pretty quiet, and you were pretty sure you fell asleep a few times.
"Aish, did Yoongi-hyung's little food sharing act mess with you that much?" Jungkook teased, feigning annoyance as he helped you out of the car. You groaned in response, feeling a bit too queasy to give a proper response.
"I will say though," Jungkook continued, trying to keep your brain preoccupied so you didn't vomit. "He usually doesn't share his food like that, let alone allow someone to eat after him. Maybe he does like you."
Jungkook had been to your apartment quite a few times now and knew his way around the place. He went into your closet and grabbed some PJs for you to change into while he went to grab you some water and medicine from the bathroom. Once he helped you get settled, he called a car to take him back to his home. Luckily for you, the following day would be a day off for you since you worked all by yourself today. Jungkook made a mental note to maybe swing by tomorrow to check in on you, but for now he knew you were fine.
✎ ˎˊ˗ Summary: POV you're the head stylist for BTS and you have had the biggest crush on Yoongi since forever. It doesn't help that your childhood best friend Jungkook knows about it and is literally dying for you to tell him. Unbeknownst to you, Jungkook comes up with a secret scheme to get the two of you together seven days before his birthday party.
✎ ˎˊ˗ Alternately: Hoseok is Yoongi's wingman.
✎ ˎˊ˗ Genre: Fluff, a tiny bit of Angst, and a whole lot of cliché silliness.
✎ ˎˊ˗ Word count: 5.7k
✎ ˎˊ˗ Notes: thank you for reading!! <3 pls enjoy & don't forget to reblog or leave a like if you enjoyed! This fic is also posted to AO3 under my same username :)
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 |
disclaimer: this is entirely a work of fiction and by no means is meant to be a projection, judgment or representation of real-life people. yoongi is used solely as a face and a name for the story. this is not a representation of real-life scenarios.
hi guys it’s been a minute since i posted it’s been hectic i recently got a promotion so that’s been taking up my time but here’s another list of my favourite yoongi fics honestly reading them was so much fun and made me feel happy so i hope you enjoy them as much as i did. remember to please show lots of love and support to these incredible authors and creators and their blogs, don’t forget to give them a follow , leave a heart, reblog or leave a kind message i know they will appreciate hearing from you, these fics contain smut so no minors interact feel free to send and share any fics you are currently into and would like to share with me i would love hearing from you guys
a- angst s- smut f- fluff
series
love lockdown by @personasintro f s a (enemies to lovers zombie apocalypse)
belong by @ahundredtimesover f s a (exes au basketball yoongi summer love au)
in the margins by @bonvoyagenoona f s a (enemies to friends to lovers slow burn)
look down on me like that by @here2bbtstrash s a (enemies/coworkers to lovers slow burn)
andante cantabile by @kkulfm-2 f s (regency au unrequited love slow enemies to lovers pianist yoongi)
match made in hell by @ughcore f s a (arranged marriage doctor au rivals to lovers)
only yesterday by @borathae f s a (strangers to lovers)
dating advice by @taleasnewastime f s a (strangers to lovers)
the deal by @untaemedqueen f s a (strangers to lovers gang/cartel au)
matilda by @babystrcandy f s a (brother’s best friend unrequited love)
down the hall by @jjungkookislife s a (brother’s best friend)
ink nemesis by @scriptaed f a (fake dating au)
unexpected lovers by @jjkeverlast f s a (fake dating artist yoongi)
love is a dog from hell by yourlocalhoney (ao3) f s a (love triangle friends with benefits) ft.Jungkook
petals by @yoonia f (parents au)
pink bird houses by @54daysormore f a (single dad au)
everytime by @deathbyyoongx f s a (fuckboy exes au)
desolate by @angelicyoongie f s a (hybrid au)
one-shot
first-date bait by @jimlingss f (strangers to lovers)
↬first-date bait drabble @/jimlingss s (strangers to lovers)
wallflowers by @bonvoyagenoona s (strangers to lovers)
shirt by @bonvoyagenoona s a (one night stand idol au)
sugar by @zehakoo f s (ceo au strangers to lovers neighbours)
radio sweethearts by @helenazbmrskai s (brother’s best friend college au slow burn)
tongue like candy by @jjungkookislife s a (brother’s best friend age gap)
auburn skies by @persphonesorchid f s a (brother’s best friend)
black and white by @akinnie75 f a (slow burn)
always & forever by @sugakookitty f s (established relationship wedding au)
hard liquor by @chateautae s (boss x employee age gap)
sweetener by @taegularities f s (enemies to lovers fwb au fuckboy)
soft spot by @cultleaderyoongi f (first date)
↬sweet spot by @/cultleaderyoongi f s (established relationship)
sticks & stones by @xpeachesncream f s a (friends to lovers ex friends with benefits pinning au)
fuck being friends by @strawberrynamjoon f a (friends to lovers college au)
the seventh muse by @wwilloww f s (friends to lovers)
tell me what you want by @/wwilloww f s (friends to lovers)
yoongi’s lullaby by @jiminrings f a (unrequited love friends to lovers soulmate au)
illicit favors by @yoongiofmine f s a (friends to lovers)
snow blanket by @yoonieper f s (friends to lovers)
a wager of lords & love @hisunshiine s (regency au arranged marriage)
an empty home by @7deadlysinsfics s a (arranged marriage) ft. Taehyung
the nanny diaries by @btsgotjams27 f (single mom roommate au)
the good part by @introlxv s (roommate au)
handyman by @borathae s a (rebound au roommate au)
peaches in bed by @/borathae s (domestic au husband au)
don’t hold hands by @whatifyoulivelikethat s ( friends with benefits roommate au)
by the time i’ve figured out what it’s worth by @ugh-yoongi f s a (marriage au)
swing life away by @aphrodijin f s a (marriage au)
the little things by @kth1 f s (boyfriend au)
fxck a fxckboy! by @yoongifis s (fuckboy)
cupid’s curse by @ressjeon s a (first love au)
dawned in by @aquagustd f s (dilf yoongi)
bad things by @yoonia s a (escort au pining)
close call by @xjoonchildx (mafia au)
↬looking for other myg fics or the other bts members check out my library
⇢ Summary: Your loyal and committed bodyguard who sometimes spends more hours a day of what you pay him sticking beside you, starts to catch feelings for you.
⇢ Word count: 11.7k
⇢ Trope: Yandere bodyguard x popstar female reader, slow burn, smut (not for this part)
⇢ Warnings: forced proximity, two people who hate each other sharing home, yandere behavior, over-protection, vague alcohol issues, anxiety issues, there's a stalker harassing and threatening oc, physical violence, threats.
⇢ thvlouvre's note: this took me ages to finish, but I'm very happy I made it in spite of everything. I hope this fic matches your expectations and know for sure part two is coming sooner than ever, I just wanted to give you all something. I want to thank the lovely and kind @jjkeverlast and the sweetest @moonchild-your-eyes for their support 💖🙏🏻
⇢ Songs: paint the town read by doja cat. angel by the weeknd. you're making me high by toni braxton. (they will make sense later)
⇢ Main masterlist | Nex Part | The Bodyguard's Moodboard. OC's Moodboard.
“Put me down! Now!” You screamed with your face looking down at his rear. Your closed fists hit his back and your body bounced under the rhythm of his hurried steps. It was always like this, you would always end up on his shoulders like a sack of potatoes he would carry to your car, the same car he would always end up driving.
“I told you we would leave in five minutes and I gave you six, I’m in a good mood today” Yoongi had pulled you from the knees and lifted you like a rag doll at the moment the club’s loud music the flashing lights made him sick. And you were already drunk enough to have the strength and fight him.
“This is outrageous! I am your boss, you should follow my orders, not the other way and if I want to dance till dance, I will dance all night!” Young took out your car keys from his pockets, and now he was pushing the alarm buttons to unlock the door.
“And let you embarrass yourself again? I remember you the last time that they uploaded those drunk pictures of you on the internet you cried for two days.” he opened the copilot seat where he put you inside as if your body was light luggage, he locked the safe-belt like a toddler.
“Ugh, why do you have to be so stiff always? Always remember me all the things that can go wrong” You are conscious that your party dress, short and tight was stretching over your thighs but you didn’t care anymore, you felt sleepy out of nowhere. You yawn once he got inside the driver’s seat and turned on the car “And I cried because those pictures were unfavorable, the blue light does not go with my skin tone, I looked orange”
“Sure.” Yoongi suppressed a low laugh and drove silently, watching you over the corner of his eye how slowly your eyelids closed with the rock of the car moving around Los Angeles streets. While he drove in silence, he remembered the wild and imprudent way you acted that night, he hasn’t seen you like this in a while, drinking so fast and eating so little. As if you wish you could forget about everything for a moment.
He allowed himself to smile when the sound of your snores bounced inside your convertible Porsche, and he asked himself how such a musically gifted creature could make such an animal snore. Then you arrived at your house, Yoongi parked your car inside your private garage and he found himself in the dilemma of waking you or carrying you to your bedroom. He would always end up doing the second thing, he took your body out of the car and carry you to your room where he put you in the bed above the sheets after taking off your high heels.
That night you picked gladiator sandals, the endless ribbons were tangled all over your legs and felt invasive. Usually, your heels were easy to take off, a buckle around the ankle and you're done, but the sandal’s ribbons were long and the not in your knees was tight, it took him more time than planned. He told himself that if he felt uncomfortable was because he was causing that awkwardness and he couldn’t give himself the luxury of feeling intimated by your presence because the moment his will hesitated terrible things could happen.
Speaking of bad things that could happen, after coming out of your bedroom where you were peacefully sleeping, he found baffling material inside your kitchen trash can—a black envelope that he was sickly familiarized with.
"My dear, _____. It’s been a while since the last time I wrote you, did you miss me?"
And annexed to the regular letter was the awaited photography. Yoongi recognized it, it had been taken three or four days ago when he accompanied you to Rodeo Drive to buy and try on some clothes.
So that was why you started to drink again. Your anxiety was returning.
He cursed inside his mind and took a protocol walk around your mansion, going around the perimeter and making sure everything was in order and the doors were locked. He felt sorry you didn’t have enough trust in him and told him right away when the letter arrived. He knew you have been carrying this weight since before he worked for you as your security boss, but still, he had to know about this.
Your nightmare started a year ago. The letters had arrived one after one, slow but constantly. At first, they were harmless, a little bit risqué but slightly a little more intense than the average that would be delivered to you.
They were dark and visceral, full of passion and devotion to your work that even if it seemed a little alarming, you found it flattering. A person, a nameless and faceless follower would send magazine clippings and short messages that could be read in a very literal way.
"My precious _____, your music gives me life, I’d rather stick out my own eyes than stop listening to you"
“Dear ____. Thanks to you I quit my shitty job, I will follow your advice about doing what we are passionate about, and my passion it’s you.”
At first, you found it touching, your messages and your voice were moving people’s hearts, people who found your music attractive. You always deep down thought that your image as a singer had been constructed in base on your physique and, since the majority of critiques would write in the music tabloids, you were more publicity than artistic craft. A pretty face and a fine body with a mic and a great agent.
“Surprise, surprise! _____, I will move to L.A. with you! You will see me often, baby, we can finally be together.”
“My dreams of being the one who controls your voice are a day closer to becoming true each time, ____. Please wait for me.”
You started to feel afraid, because… why would a fan of yours would want to control your voice? You ignored how subtly his letters started to become more and more disturbing and how the calligraphy was turning more and more unreadable as if they wrote them in the middle of a crisis and his hand couldn’t control the pen. But you have received so many letters at your studio by that time, you would recognize the letter and the way to speak to you by miles.
After three months of receiving those letters, it started to get violent. After you went out for a coffee with one of your friends, Adam Noriega a famous basketball player whom you have been friends with for a long time. Contrary to what others thought and what the media would write, you two shared a real friendship, because you were the only one who knew his most intimate secret, one not even his agent knew. Adam was into boys.
“I saw you went out yesterday with the basketball player, first a coffee shop now a party, what’s next?”
“Was it necessary for you to include such a nasty verse in your last song? You didn’t need that cheap rapper. Each day I am more disappointed with the course your career is taking, and I have more reasons to keep that voice to myself forever”.
Also, when you wanted to collaborate with male artists or record content for your social media with male influencers you would always receive a letter 48 hours later, where they would threaten him and the boy. The magazine scratches that were delivered to you, the same scratches that would always be trimmed so delicately were now torn with an ‘x’ drawn on your eye sockets; the fan would even send on purpose full-size scratches of your whole body with the piece of paper split in your neck.
As moths were by, the letters started to turn more and more threatening, with such a precise redaction that could even make you feel guilty. Didn’t you have the right of going out with people and having a life? For a moment you thought you didn’t, that you owned your love to your fans and that hurting their fidelity and their feelings was being unfaithful to them.
The paranoia started to take over you and, fortunately, your agent noticed it. She noticed you were sleeping under lock and key, closed windows and your white and summerish curtains were replaced with dark tainted ones that did not let see through them inside your home; she notices you were arriving tired to your rehearsals, you started to reject collaborations with male artists and each day you were refusing a little bit more about going to the studio and record. You were hesitating about leaving your official places, and you even wanted to be accompanied to the convenience store, but above all, your agent noticed you hated opening your fan mail. Something that gave you so much happiness, such as your follower’s words of encouragement, was now making you pale and nauseous.
Your agent Whitney started to open your mail herself and at first, she noticed the regular letters until she ran with black envelopes with chilling content. She called you over the phone, questioning you about why you never told anything about it, you were supposed to trust her.
“Whitney, I swear it isn’t a big deal. It’s been months since I received those letters and nothing has happen, trust me it might be just a bore dude seeking attention and that’s precisely why I decided to ignore it, no one has free promo” you alleged via phone, and even when Whitney couldn’t see you, she knew you were drinking in spite of be 11 a.m.
“It isn’t a big deal? ____, this person is threatening you, their pendent of each move you make, they find out the places you go and go there before paparazzi themselves, this is worrying me.”
“You see? Surely it’s one of those shitty paparazzi who are always harassing me, they just want to scare me and sell those pictures of me.”
Whitney took a look at the pictures she saw, and even when some of them coincide with the same places and dates where the paparazzi had followed you, those pictures didn’t seem to be taken by a photographer. The person should have been more discreet because your face and body looked closer, y without the dilated lens. Almost as if they were behind you and you didn’t notice.
“I don’t think so, ____. These pictures they took of you are different from the paparazzi’s ones, they must have taken this with a cell phone, besides these are angels I’ve never seen, closer to you, it looks like they were two tables away from you” she said looking at the coffee shop photos where you were with Adam and Julie, your actress friend whom you seemed to like very much.
Your spine felt goosebumps after gearing your agent’s words; like you hadn’t checked your mail in weeks you knew those black letters have been accumulating and surely there were more unseen threatening pictures and scratches of you. You found it disgusting knowing he was close to you just two days ago, when you were out with Adam and Julie, speaking about her wedding plans.
Whitney did not ask about it, she simply started to move her contacts and hired a private investigator who is specialized in threats. The man said that those letters were not being delivered by mail, not only because they lacked a return address or stamp, but because there were no records in the Los Angeles parcel service about those envelopes being sent, it was as if they were personally leaving them overnight at your record label's facilities.
The man also told Whitney that while he finds out more about the intentions or the seriousness of the matter, she should not put your life at risk and give the stalker the benefit of the doubt; You should have a bodyguard.
"She hates bodyguards," Whitney told the detective.
“I think she would hate her more if her throat was cut like the scratches they send her” the man replied wryly.
"You don't know her, I love her like a younger sister, but she is obnoxious, if I give her a bodyguard she will make my life miserable as only she knows how to do it"
"If you love her so much, then you will understand that even I find these letters alarming, these are not simple death threats on the Internet, there is a person following her every step she takes, waiting for the slightest slip to attack her" the detective explained that it was enough to a window of yours open at night, an approach with a man from the industry or even a trip to the supermarket and your life could be in danger.
“I know a man, someone I used to work with on investigations. He retired a while ago, and now he's a paid private security agent” he took out a file, the man's resume, and the list of names he had worked for being examined by Whitney.
"He has protected from presidents to peace officers, he has dual nationality and is an expert in martial arts and the use of firearms" The detective, who knew the bodyguard as well as his son, spoke of him with pride "He is loyal, committed and would risk his body for his bosses, he can also help me with the investigation and get this rat to jail faster."
Whitney's eyes darted over the lines in the file.
Min Yoongi.
30 years. Korean-American. Certificate of 1000 hours of private security service. Certificate of 500 hours of Tae Kwon Do training. Certificate in firearms use for personal defense. State medal for the defense of civilians. Medal for bravery during situations of social anxiety. National medal for civil defense.
"He seems good," Whitney sighed.
"He's good" corrected the detective.
“Too good to end up taking care of a rude brat, don’t you think he'd hate it if he ended up taking care of my ____. She wouldn't even agree to pay him such an amount."
"Then pay him, if you wish, I'm not going to impose his services if you're unsure, but one thing I can tell you is that if Yoongi works with me, we could solve this case in three months and take care of your client"
Whitney didn't think twice, and she told herself that once the stalking asshole was arrested, she would write you a check for Yoongi's fee, but for now she would cover those expenses. She will never forget your indignant face when one Thursday at noon, when you were in your garden long chair, she gave you the good news that you would now have a bodyguard.
“Are you fucking kidding?" You laughed indignantly.
“No, he will be here in 30 minutes. Steven told me that he was formal and very punctual, so put on some decent clothes please, you won't expect him to find you in a bikini” he threw a towel at you to cover yourself.
“That’s why I hate bodyguards, why do I have to control myself in my own home? I'm not paying him for invading my privacy.” You tossed the towel away down your long chair, your body once again exposed to the cool summer breeze.
“I remind you that someone else is already invading your privacy, a stalker. And you are not going to pay him, I will"
"How are you going to pay him?" you asked confused.
"His salary is already covered for three months, it is what the detective calculates that it can take to track down the stalker”
"Please don't call him that, it just makes everything feel more real" You put your hand on your temples with concern, regretting how Whitney made such a decision without your consent.
"____, cutie, it's for your safety, just a few months, okay?" You agreed, and at that moment you wrote her a check for the three months' salary that she had already given to your future bodyguard.
“25 thousand dollars?!”
"That's already the three months' salary." Whitney tried to calm you down.
"Does the bastard have wings or what?"
Whitney was about to list his achievements and certificates to you when a quiet, guttural voice answered behind you two.
"I don't have wings, but I know how to drive planes and helicopters at short distances in emergency situations" You both jumped scared at the young and attractive-looking man who appeared behind the chair in the garden.
"And who are you?" you spoke quickly.
"____, this is Min Yoongi, your new bodyguard" Whitney spoke after taking a deep breath to calm her shock "Yes, you're sneaky like Steven said"
"How did you get in?" you asked puzzled, the main entrance was locked with the security PIN, and the door was right in front of your eyes from your place in the garden, how did you not see him enter?
“I got in by the back door” he pointed to the door on the yard corner, the one you always forget to lock “You should keep it closed.”
“Couldn’t you wait for us to open the main door?” Great, he just had been in your house for a minute and you already disliked him.
“I knocked twice, I hate when people make me wait.” He put his hands in the pockets of his suit pants. He was not what you expected, you imagined a middle-aged man, gray-haired and tired. When Whitney told you that he was a retired ex-service agent, you didn't quite know what she meant by it, but you pictured someone old, Morgan Freeman-esque.
Yoongi, he looked young. Of thin appearance and a fine, delicate face. The suit was neat and tailored, her long, shiny hair brushed back, leaving her face uncovered except for a single unruly strand of hair escaping from his forehead. He could have been a model if he wanted to, but he had chosen to be a bodyguard. If not for a scar that covered his right eye from a couple of centimeters above his eyebrow to his cheek vertically.
“Didn't you say he was a retired ex-agent? I thought we'd have a grandfather, not an ex-wannabe rock band vocalist” you whispered close to Whitney's ear but she ignored you, pulling an envelope with your house plans and more from her bag.
You didn't mind running your eyes shamelessly over Yoongi's body, he was different and memorable. You were expecting a giant and hunky bodyguard, someone who could easily intimidate you and that's why you rejected the idea originally, not that now you would agree with the idea of someone else watching over you day and night, but there was something about Yoongi that put you in a situation difficult to explain.
He looked interesting. And it wasn't that you considered yourself an inherently lewd person who went around scanning men up and down but you couldn't take your eyes off him. You thought it would be easier to hate him if he was ugly, but no, the man had to be a bomb.
"I'm sorry, Mr. Min, the doorbell inside doesn't ring out here, we didn't notice" You and Yoongi didn't say a word, you heard Whitney talking in the distance but you and him had entered a silent contest of stares where you scolded him for being the unwanted intruder in your daily life, and he returned the insolence telling you that he would only do his job.
Apparently, Yoongi didn't notice that you were in your underwear, the delicate fabric of the red bikini only covered your private areas and was held up by strings that were tied. But it seems that he didn't even notice it, because he only looked at your face and nothing else.
Whitney gave him the first letters that had come to you and then gave him the last ones that had come to you. Yoongi noticed something specific when she paid attention to the paper on the cards.
"He is a cashier, he must be a cashier" she mentioned, confirming that the notes written in a fast and tormented way were indeed all written with the same paper.
“It is a blank banknote roll, they are using ticket paper”
Yoongi took the evidence with Steven that day, and you gave him the guest room that was in the garden for him to stay there. Originally you used that room just for your garden tools, but there was space in it for a bed, a dresser, a small chest, and a desk. Yoongi requested that a monitor be placed there to have access to your home's security cameras.
This is how your working relationship with Yoongi had started, he was the first to read the letters that arrived. It saved you the pain of seeing how far they had been following you and reading the threatening messages one more time. You discovered that he was good at doing his job, he was a serious and focused man. Cool-headed when it came to watching you and not even the most tender of your pouts would make the man get away from you, neither at parties, nor in bars, nor your outgoings to cafes. Forget about privacy in the mall, you tried on clothes with him standing outside the dressing room door making sure no one disturbed you.
It was annoying how much he worked.
Every day at 6 in the morning he walked in your garden to check the perimeter and took the opportunity to do his exercise routine. At seven he would take his dog for a walk, Yoongi had a German shepherd named Pete who was his loyal and only friend; he'd rush back to the house knowing that the lady who cooked and did your laundry would be home early, so you wouldn't be alone.
He always wore a suit, always had his perfectly ironed black pants, his black or white dress shirt, and on top of that the suit jacket and vest. Sometimes it bothered you how simplistic and little varied his wardrobe was, you could swear that the man went to the nearest tailor to ask for seven identical suits; but he looked so good in them it was hard to find it frustrating.
Yoongi had one day off a week, where Steven came to replace him while he talked to you about the progress of the investigation and received his weekly payment. He would always disappear on Sundays, leaving as early as seven in the morning and returning by 11 at night, if not later. When you tried to be a bit of a gossip and inquire into his personal life, the man would turn you around and change the topic of conversation.
You didn't make it any easy for him, you were horrible to him at first.
After all, you had a reputation as a spoiled star to maintain.
You made him carry your shopping bags when he stuck like a sticker and accompanied you from boutique to boutique. You made him take care of your bag when you went around the nightclub, you even stepped on him with your stilettos when you pretended not to see that he was behind you while you danced in the center. You bought him a mochaccino latte with two shots of espresso and put it in his thermos of black coffee.
“What did you do to my coffee?” He said with his eyebrow raised as you watched him mischievously from across your living room, your chai latte and tablet on your lap.
"Nothing, why?" You denied, returning the gaze innocently.
“What did you put in it? Is it any of your disgusting saturated-with-sugar frappes?”
“It's not a frappe if it's hot, duh” you rolled your eyes and laughed at his nonsense “It's just a nice mochaccino latte with two shots of espresso and almond milk.”
Yoongi knew what your intentions were every time you bothered him, every time you behaved in a hostile and tantrum manner, you wanted him to leave, you wanted him to run away and return your 25 thousand dollars that, although you didn't need them, you were bothered to pay, because you never wanted a bodyguard.
To your surprise, Yoongi didn't reproach you, he downed the moccacino in front of you in one go despite his dislike for milk and excess of sugar. He put the thermos in front of you and slowly approached you to say:
“Thank you very much, ____, it was delicious, who would have thought you would be so kind” he left you alone in the living room that day, but despite his distance you put a pillow on your face to scream because that man was relentless, his temper and Patience was apparently bulletproof. No matter how hateful you could be towards him, he would take it.
You decided that your first few missions hadn't worked, so now you would start bothering him in worse ways. One Thursday night when you had no plans or events to exist around, you thought about calling Sean, a former dancer who worked for you on your previous tours; He had left the stage because he finally started his own dance studio and was doing well with it.
But he did more things for you on tour than just dancing. He treated you well, without love and affection involved; The limits were well marked and he respected them, your body was his to touch when they were in bed and vice versa, outside of this you and he were limited to business.
“Is ____ here?” Sean asked at the garden gate, where you had specifically told him to come in so Yoongi would see him.
“Who is looking for her?” Yoongi asked, taking a look at the guy: tanned skin, athletic physique, sports clothes and messy hair, he looked like he just woke up.
“Just tell her Sean's here, man.” Yoongi didn't like his condescending attitude, he wasn't your butler or your doorman to guard your door every time someone came looking for you, but nevertheless, he knew he had to have control over all the people who would come to your house looking for you, especially with the crazy man loose around.
“In a moment,” Yoongi answered dryly and proceeded to close the door in his face. He pressed the intercom buttons and spoke into the microphone:
“____, there's a Drake wannabe out here looking for you” his dry voice sounded in the kitchen where you were writing and you laughed because Sean was actually a Drake wannabe.
“Let him in, please,” your honeyed voice sounded and Yoongi rolled his eyes at your high-pitched tone.
Yoongi didn't answer, he opened the garden door and extended his arm for him to enter. Sean walked in with a noticeable frown at Yoongi's negativity.
“Since when does ____ have a doorman?” He said entering the garden.
“I'm not a doorman, I'm her security boss.” Yoongi slammed the door and entered the security codes to keep the doors locked like he had suggested you to do.
“You are his bodyguard.” Sean tried to make him feel bad, but Yoongi had been through so much that he himself thought that being a bodyguard was the most comfortable thing in his life, he earned a lot, it was still similar to his previous jobs and his anonymity was safe.
“Bodyguard, security boss, babysitter, whatever you want to call it but I make sure she is well, I monitor everyone who approaches her.” The authoritative tone Yoongi used with you showed to the brown-eyed male and Sean would be lying if he said the guy wasn't scary, with the scar across his eye and expressionless face.
When Sean found you in your kitchen, drinking coffee and writing on the counter, he smiled because he hadn't seen you in a while. You stopped needing him when your health improved, and although it made him happy to see you, he didn't like to see that there was something wrong in your life.
“Hey,” he greeted, biting his smile, he missed your curves and the smell of your hair.
"Hello, how are you?" You greeted back, approaching with your arms extended familiarly, It had been a long time since you felt the touch of a man and you missed it.
“I'm fine but not finer than you,” he winked at you flirtatiously like he used to, and that side of Sean always made you laugh, always trying to win you over to see if he could officially have the “pop girl” of the moment. Luckily for you, you were always direct with him. He wasn't your type, in fact you didn't even know what your type was, it was one of the many things you had to find out about yourself.
“Your new bodyguard… that guy is scary, he closed the door in my face” he said, closing his arms around your waist, the orange lights bathed you both in warmth, even if the darkness of the garden filtered through the window of the kitchen. You tried to suppress a laugh because that sounded like something Yoongi would clearly do.
“Yes, he’s kind of intimidating, that's his style” you placed your face on his chest looking towards the garden, it was already late and you didn't like the darkness but since Yoongi lived in your house, the utility room always had the lights on. Sometimes you could see his silhouette moving inside his room when he had the window open that faced the house. You didn't feel so alone in that huge mansion anymore.
You kept looking at the orange light in Yoongi's room, hoping that he would peek in and see how much fun you were having with Sean's lips on your neck, but the silhouette of your bodyguard did not appear in your vision and you were disappointed because a very deep and sinister part of you wanted him to see you with another man, maybe then he would stop being so dry with you.
Sean's hands began to wander further below your waist and just when you closed your eyes to enjoy his touch, the much-awaited Yoongi looked out his window to close it and finally sleep. He saw yours that guy’s silhouette in the distance, both leaning on your kitchen counter. He didn't care, if you trusted him he didn't mind you having fun, but Yoongi would be lying if he didn't think that Sean guy was kissing you wrong. Like a horny frat boy, very fast and eager.
He could do it better.
Ugh, no, God. Yoongi couldn't think that, for many obvious reasons.
One, and the most important one, you were his boss, he had to make sure you were safe and sound so he would receive the check from him when he finished the investigation. Two, you were unbearable, capricious, and superficial as shit, a delicate little princess who kept getting in his way to work and distracting him. Three, you were out of his league. Clearly, he wasn't your type and you weren't his. Yoongi shook his head, eliminating the intrusive thoughts about whether or not to kiss his boss.
After a month of having Yoongi as a paid and unwanted guest in your home, was that you got to knew his relentlessness. You had sneaked away without telling him where you were going, you decided you were going to Adam's house in the middle of the night for a friend’s talk; you had to tell him everything that was stressing you out with a glass of wine, also you wanted to get out of your home. Going out alone, specifically. You took an Uber because if Yoongi saw your convertible leaving the house he would cut you off in the middle of the street, that man always appeared and disappeared left and right, it was as if he could teleport.
You arrived in the Uber at Adam's house, in yoga pants and a hoodie that belonged to Sean four times bigger than yours. Adam suggested ordering Italian food so you could pick it up, he thought it was necessary for you to get some fresh air since he had never seen you so pale.
“Honey, I think your agent is right on this occasion” he tried to tell you gently when you were crossing a park two blocks away from the restaurant, it was dark and since it was after midnight there were no people around you “I think it's better to have someone looking out for you if there is a stalker all over you.”
“I hate having someone watching me, do you know how hateful it is to have to tell him every time I want to go out and have him stick beside me like a little school girl?”
“I know honey, but it's necessary. Does he know you’re here?” Adam raised an eyebrow at you, knowing you had surely run away.
“No, and don't you dare to give me shit about this, I need a break for the love of God” you began to rub your palms over your face in desperation, Adam had placed his hands on your shoulders, rubbing them comfortingly when a sound of branches and photoshoots noises sounded not too far from you two. Your bodies tensed, it was a sound you were both familiar with. You looked at each other, confirming that it wasn't a hallucination and that you had really heard the same thing.
"What was that?" You whispered paranoid. Looking at your surroundings.
“I don't know, but keep moving, it won't take long until we make it to the restaurant” you began to walk quickly, the darkness and desolation of the park no longer consoled none of you, it scared you both because the camera was about five or seven meters away. It kept ringing and the hairs on the back of your neck stood up because something told you it was him.
The noise of some branches and a loud struggle caught your attention and you stopped when they heard a man cursing at loud. You both turned to look back.
“Ouch! What's wrong man? My camera, ahhh!” A camera flew behind the bushes and then two bodies fighting fell as well, struggling until a robust, mustachioed guy was left face down and another thin, pale-skinned guy was on top pressing his weight to keep him against the ground.
It was Yoongi, you recognized his thin body and his stealth.
He wasn't wearing his 'uniform', the black suit and tie were left at home and now he was in jeans, with a mint and white sports jacket, a red dragon embroidered on the back. The embroidery seemed important.
“What have I told you about not telling me when you want to go out?” he looked at you both, his hands still battling with the photographer beneath him.
“Yoongi? God, let the man go!” Your voice came out broken and dry, showing how nervous you were of having been caught red-handed trying to run away from him.
“Pick up the camera, I want to see the photos” Yoongi said and you timidly approached close to the man's face where his camera was lying a few steps away.
“Wow, ____ but who is this?” Adam's flirtatious voice had come out for a walk after checking Yoongi out.
“My bodyguard” You answered dryly.
“____, honey, don't be a rude bitch and introduce me” Adam said, nudging you, his open smile and gaze fixed on your security boss.
Yoongi got up from the floor letting the man stand up. The man's cramped neck cracked and he groaned as he straightened it. Yoongi walked to you and snatched the camera out of your hands clearly annoyed with you for leaving without telling him and ignoring him.
“Give me that man, give me my camera” the photographer said but Yoongi pushed him again with one hand, without looking at him and sent him to the floor.
“Let's see what we have here.” He sighed opening the photos.
“Were you following me?!” you asked as Yoongi scanned the guy’s camera, ignoring your noises and complaining about how he found you. “How did you know where I was?”
“I have access to your Uber account, next time you sneak out try to close the back door.” “ he replied curtly, scolding you as if he hadn’t casually mentioned that he had access to your Uber account.
“Did you hack my phone?” you asked astonished, ignoring Adam who was drooling as he eyed Yoongi like you did the first time you met him.
“I would prefer the term track it, hacking is when you do it without consent.” Yoongi frowned when he saw the photos didn't look like the ones you got with the letters, these were regular paparazzi photos.
“But you don't have my consent, I never knew when you put a tracker on my phone” she alleged.
“It wasn't necessary, your agent had put a tracker on you before, I just asked for a copy.”
“Whitney?” Oh no, that explained how Whitney always found you at after-parties and clubs to take you out in the middle of the night.
“She suggested I track your phone because she told me you were sneaky, she wouldn't use it if you didn't sneak out in the middle of the night without saying anything.”
“Sometimes you need time alone without having to announce it from the rooftops,” you refuted, clearly annoyed. Your tone rising with each sentence of the conversation.
“In my contract I specified that I would take care of you all day because your situation is not a regular security protocol, you are under threat so it is my job to follow you” his eyes matched the height of yours and you both were screaming into each other’s faces.
"Contract!?”
“The one I gave you so you could read and know the working conditions, my clauses, and under what circumstances I am responsible for your safety and which ones I am not, did you even read it?”
“That bunch of papers? I simply signed it!” you said hesitantly, regretting that you had ignored him and signed it without reading what you were agreeing to.
“There I got your consent to have a copy of your phone tracker. And the permission to follow you even when you want to sneak away.” Yoongi rolled his eyes.
“Well, it was the middle of the night and I didn't want to wake you up,” you began to excuse yourself, still upset because you felt cheated in something that you yourself agreed to. “Besides, how would I know that you were still awake, huh? I'm no fortuneteller"
“When I tell you that I am in your care twenty-four hours six days a week, it is twenty-four hours a day, I don't sleep when it comes to your safety, you have to get used to the idea that you are at risk-”
“Can you give me my camera, my friend?” His heated discussion was interrupted by the man lying on the floor, surrendered to approach for his camera because of fear that Yoongi would push him again.
“SHUT UP!” You and Yoongi yelled at him at the same time, causing the guy to freeze on the asphalt.
Yoongi gave up when he saw that the paparazzi wasn't actually your stalker, if anything it was Adam's. There were videos of the paparazzi camping outside the basketball player's house to find something juicy to expose, she thought she had found something when she saw you and him leaving. Yoongi took out the memory from the device and threw the camera at the disgusting reporter.
“It seems that he wants to expose something yours…” Yoongi extended the memory to Adam and he picked it up without hesitation and with great excitement. He took the memory from his hand, and shook it enthusiastically.
“Nice to meet you, I'm Adam, a friend of ____, nothing more than just friends.” He said smiling, as Yoongi returned the handshake.
“Yoongi, the bodyguard.” Yoongi turned to the paparazzi and said three octaves lower, “Try not to follow people without their consent, If I see you around them again I'll report you.”
You and Adam froze in your spots, not believing that this was Yoongi's true nature, physically violent and not afraid to get dirty, verbally quick and cold. Everything in such a sweet face.
“Come on, you can keep going, I will give you your space to continue talking but I will follow you” Yoongi stayed in his place, watching the paparazzi run and you took the opportunity to take a very stunned Adam by the hand and pull him back to the path you were following.
When you moved forward a couple of meters, you were tense and quiet and Adam couldn't believe anything that just happened. When he saw you so upset about having a bodyguard, he imagined a robust and sweaty middle-aged man, not a young man with a doll face, an intimidating aura, and a voice to die for.
“How can you be upset about that Adonis is taking care of you twenty-four hours a day?” His whisper sounded stunned, he constantly looked back to where a casually dressed Yoongi walked calmly behind you. “Damn, he's gorgeous, do you think he likes boys?”
“I don't know, Adam, I prefer not to think about my bodyguard's sex life.”
“How bad, you should, he's the darkest and most sensual guy I've ever seen, if you don't want him I'll pay him to take care of me” he laughed discreetly, thinking of how many times you were God's chosen one and you didn't notice it.
After that day you didn't go out again without telling Yoongi, you had realized that it was useless anyway, so you preferred to send him a message telling him that you were going out and two minutes later he would appear at the door waiting to accompany you. Still, incessant fights and disagreements were the order of the day, Yoongi thought you were reckless, brash and selfish, you didn't know how to measure danger, and you thought he was uptight and emotionless, like a soldier.
Yoongi was starting to dislike you, with your very obvious intentions of making him quit, but the more he delved into the investigation, the more he noticed that the guy had been following you for more years than you thought, at night he would review all the letters you had received previously and he noticed that there were letters from three or four years ago that had the same stroke pattern on the letter 'r', and this fan telling you about long-term plans, like moving to Los Angeles, getting a better job and becoming a photographer.
It matched with the plans the stalker had.
Yoongi tracked down those two letters and noticed that they were from another country, and despite not having a sender, he believed that he could trace where those envelopes were from. Hopes and investigations were stopped within two months of having Yoongi working for you: the letters stopped coming, but Yoongi talked to you and Whitney and told her not to think it was because the stalker was satisfied, he had stopped because he knew that he was being investigated.
"What do you suggest?" Whitney asked.
“The investigation will continue to progress, but it will be slower now, the stalker must have noticed that ____ now has private security and a detective hot on his heels, so he is proactively stopping from giving us evidence and making us back off so the police pause the investigation"
“Does that mean he's going to stop?” you sounded overly excited to have your life and safety back again, but Yoongi was sorry to tell you it wasn't the case.
“I doubt it, he will probably stop sending you letters for a while, but he will continue to follow you, he knows where you live, the places you visit, he knows who the people you hang out with, he knows everything about you, while we don't know anything about... ”
“Anything about him,” you finished, defeat permeating your voice.
“There is one month left to finish the contract.” Whitney brought up the elephant in the room.
“I understand if you don't want to renew it, but I think it is now more than ever when ____ has to be protected, the stalker is angry and without his letters we don't know his next step, we don't know where or when he is going to attack.”
Whitney and Yoongi were silent, waiting for your approval. As much as you hated the lack of your freedom, and you knew that Yoongi was not to blame for your situation, you would be lying to yourself if you didn't admit that your anxiety was more controllable now that Yoongi was home with you. You were sleeping more, drinking less, eating at time, and although it still bothered you that Yoongi knew what you were doing, with whom and where, after the night in the park, you felt safe.
No one would touch a strand of your hair without going through Yoongi first.
“I think we should renew the contract” you said, but Yoongi noticed that if you could you would say that you didn't want to see him in your life.
“Okay, I will send Whitney a new copy of the contract and my fees, please read it” Yoongi got up and walked to his cabin where he was sleeping in the garden.
Yoongi cleaned the new black envelope that was in the trash where he had found it, and decided the first thing he would do tomorrow morning was take it to Steve to examine it.
This letter was more threatening because it had been delivered directly to your home, not to your record label or your agent. This was getting personal, in the last few months you had improved so much, you looked so healthy and now this bastard showed up again and you decided to act like you used to. It was pissing him off that he couldn't catch the jerk, but he had to keep taking care of you; Steve would figure it out.
Yoongi decided not to take off his suit and go to his bedroom yet, he just took out his suit jacket and unbuttoned his open vest, loosening his tie a little; he preferred to stay inside your house a little longer, make sure that nothing interrupted your sleep and that you rested a little more. God knew he couldn't rest with this latent threat hanging over his head so he decided to do something that gave him relief.
The darkness of your living room surrounded Yoongi's exhausted silhouette. For a strange reason, being in your living room where photos of you, magazine covers, platinum records, awards and posters with your face gave him peace. He had found comfort and a safe place in you, to the point where a dark, psychotic side of him understood why someone would become obsessed with you and your voice. He was starting to do it himself.
He could stare at the poster of your Vogue magazine cover that you had hanging on the wall for hours. He would read each inscription on your awards and memorize the year, the category and the ceremony they were given to you. He had also seen all the photos you had, because you were the most self-centered brat he had ever met, of course you would have a million photos of yourself everywhere; If he were half as beautiful as you he would be worse.
But the main activity he loved to do in your living room when no one was watching, when you were sleeping peacefully, was to turn on your television on and watch yourself in it. He would play everything, music videos, live performances, live sessions, anything. All he wanted was to stay awake so he could protect you, and your voice was a shot of vitamins.
He poured himself a glass of whiskey, turned on the screen, and tried to choose which video to play first. He recently loved the performance where you were just standing in the middle of the stage in a sparkling white dress and a microphone stand. No backup dancers, no weird lighting or difficult choreography, just you shining alone.
He couldn't explain to himself why he found peace in watching you sing, when during the day you and him were always trying to gouge each other's eyes out. You had a not so peaceful personality, you were annoying and childish as shit and he was dry and rigid. You were always missing out at parties, getting drunk and forgetting the normal rules of decent human behavior and he was always right behind you, ready to take you out before you could do something stupid, like tonight.
Yoongi was afraid the moment he saw your clear intentions to dance on the bar’s tables, he wouldn't allow it when you were wearing those damn gladeator sandals with 15-centimeter heels, he would prefer you to step on him rather than see how you got tangled. And he also didn't want them to post humiliating photos and videos of you again.
He never thought he'd end up like this, carrying a star's shopping bags after a five-hour marathon at the boutique. He used to have a dangerous and exciting job, he used to have a family, not a family related by blood, but a society that would take care of him. He had to make a decision to save himself and now there he was, drinking cold whiskey on your pink couch, watching you sing.
He thought you didn't know, that you hadn't noticed him sneaking out of his bedroom and heading to your living room where he played your videos, but you had. You noticed him almost from the beginning and that simple act seemed so endearing to you. You noticed it almost in the second month after he started working for you. Yoongi didn't know when you had gone from being a pain in the ass to an angel he wanted close to him all the time, but you did know when he had stopped being a burden to a body you wanted to climb in the darkness of the night and a man you wanted to get lost with inside his sheets.
It was a week after Yoongi's first three months ended and his contract was renewed. They had published some photographs and videos where you were dancing freely in the anonymity of a club, people had not realized it was you, but a bartender who recognized you took photographs and videos of you and sold them.
No one approached you in a threatening way that day, but Yoongi realized that he cared about you a little more every day when he felt guilty for not noticing that there was a club employee recording you and that he exposed you. Yoongi was never going to forget the sadness in your eyes when Whitney called you and sent you the links where the tabloid sites were making fun of you.
“_____, in her rebel era? Photos in a seedy bar show that the it girl singer of the moment is not in one relationship, but in many”
“Lock her up! _____, good girl gone bad, not even her bodyguard can control her.”
“Is there a club in LA that hasn't seen ______ drunk? The wildest singer in the industry strikes back again”
You were in the kitchen, bothering Yoongi for drinking black coffee with no milk and no sugar for the third time that week when you got the call from your agent and then looked up the sites on the internet that were roasting you.
What hurt you the most were the comments from people who watched it and reviewed the videos that shouldn't even exist, the photos that shouldn't have been taken, and the thousands of eyes watching something that was meant to be a private moment.
“LOL, doesn't a video of her come out every week?”
“Bring her back to the studio, she’s only good for singing”
“That happens when you have a child actress and you let her go astray to that point, it's better for her to focus on singing again.”
“the wildest singer in the industry? better say the sluttiest singer in the industry"
“she's getting cellulite, take the margaritas away lmao”
Yoongi next to you, could only see how your tears fell slowly one after another while those photos where you are bare-faced, sweaty and with a giant smile from side to side were taken as joke. Each comment you read was more hurtful than the previous one. Only your fans, your group of loyal followers were the ones who came to your defense.
“She is an adult woman who has the right to go out and have fun, why are they criticizing her like that?”
“If it were a male artist who had gone out partying alone, no one would have said anything, it's only because she is a woman”
“Why isn’t anyone criticizing the bartender who took those photos without her consent and sold them?”
Yoongi closed the computer and handed you a tissue. His throat had closed and his words came out hesitantly but he really felt the need to tell you:
"I'm sorry." His words were rough as you were used to from him, but his gaze was down, face sad, and hands in his pockets.
“Why are you sorry?” you asked him, somewhat stunned because Yoongi wasn't to blame for anything.
“Because I shouldn't have allowed you to get to that state, and I should have watched to see if anyone was recording,” he admitted and for the first time, you saw Yoongi a little less harsh. You didn't think he was faking it to make you feel better, and if he was, it worked.
“Yoongi is not your fault, really. This has happened to me since I was eighteen since I started going out to have fun, when I was a teenager the industry had me as the good girl, now I'm just... another little star who went out of control” you dried your tears with the crumpled handkerchief he gave you and you tried to stretch out to reach your computer.
“No,” he denied it to you, picking it up from the table and putting it on his back. “You won't see the comments anymore, I forbid it.”
In the midst of your tears, you snorted out in amusement and surprise. This ‘bodyguard era’ was surprising you more and more every day, the man had already invaded your home, your wallet, your personal life and now he prohibited you from using your own laptop, what would be next? Asking him permission to shower? Your mind played tricks on you and the image of you and Yoongi showering together appeared in your vulnerable brain.
“You are forbidding me?” You said stunned, hoping he was joking. “It's my computer, you can't forbid me from using it, that's not in your contract.”
“Have you read the contract yet?” Yoongi raised an eyebrow mockingly, knowing that of course, you wouldn't read it.
“Sure,” you lied, trying to lunge behind his back to snatch your computer but he dodged you, his chest facing your face.
“Remind me of clause seven, please,” he challenged you.
“Something about protecting my physical and mental integrity, it doesn't say anything about stealing my laptop, give it to me!” you jumped once towards his back but Yoongi stopped you again.
“Clause seven, any incident inside or outside the client's residence will be attended urgently in order to safeguard the physical, mental and emotional integrity of ______ ______, her well-being will be a priority while I, Min Yoongi, am on duty,” the man recited to you the clause, making you cross your arms in annoyance.
"What does that mean? What does it have to do with my computer?”
“It means that, even in your own home, I have to protect you from any circumstance that affects you emotionally, that includes a stupid video and stupid hate comments” the annoyance in Yoongi's voice was something dark to hear. You wondered if his irritation towards the whole situation was because he found this whole situation ridiculous or if it was because he was actually taking the issue of your mental health very seriously.
“And what do you suggest I do while Whitney figures all this out? Sit and imagine how the internet eats me alive?”
“You could read the contract once and for all, so our work dynamics would relate better to each other.”
“I'm used to these kinds of comments, Yoongi, this is just another streak. What is making me cry is the blue light in the photographs, I look orange, like a tangerine.”
“Tangerines are pretty, but even tangerines have feelings.”
“What nonsense are you saying? Give me my laptop!” you shouted.
But Yoongi walked out of the kitchen, ignoring your screams, and you didn't bother to follow him because you knew he wasn't going to give in, so you let him be.
The hours passed that afternoon, and you found yourself forgetting for a moment about the incident when you had a movie marathon in your living room while drinking hot coffee and eating ice cream. Yoongi peeked into the living room a few times, his spirit and consciousness calmed when he saw you immersed in a romantic comedy while you were wrapped in a blanket.
In the afternoon he got to work, after filing a complaint against the establishment and the employee, his contacts with the state police caused the paperwork to move faster than usual, and the guy found himself in need to use the money from the photographs and video to pay the fines from his workplace and to request financial support to pay for his own bail. It wasn't a real suing, Yoongi didn't want to involve your name and cause you more stress, it was all a drama to give him a good scare.
But that was not enough for him, the memory of the tears falling off your perfect face one after another addicted him inside and days after what happened, he picked up the old phone, the one he always kept in a drawer turned off, and dialed the phone number that he could never forget even if try:
"What do you want?" his ex-colleague asked him, speaking Korean as she recognized Yoongi's number.
“I need a favor, one of the many I've done for you” Yoongi responded in Korean as well.
“A favor goes unrequested, that's why they're called favors,” the scavenging voice from the other side of the line laughed and Yoongi remembered the good times when that laugh appeared when he did the atrocities they asked him to do.
“Well, those favors are going to start to disappear little by little and I will let LA police station get a hand in the investigations that I have been in charge of stopping” Yoongi felt satisfaction when the other end of the line remained silent.
"What do you want?" The annoying voice of his former partner reappeared, and it sounded just like when they were partners.
Yoongi gave him the bartender's details. Name. Age. Shift hours. Personal address. And with that he gave instructions.
“I want you to cause him a lot of pain, but not kill him, just make him take a long time before walking again.”
“You do know that my favors have a price, right?”
“I will leave the money same place as always, on sunday at nine in the morning, in a bag of food behind the telephone booth.”
“Your wishes are my orders, Suga” the voice of his former mate sounded amused again when using Yoongi's former nickname, even knowing that he hated it.
This was the big secret behind Yoongi and his serious facade. During his teenage and pre-pubescent years, until he was twenty, he had belonged to a gang in Los Angeles with whom he had worked doing everything. Selling drugs, assaults, robberies, intimidation, hurting people. Although he was not inherently violent like his companions, he was the strategist. He planned the robberies, he located the victims, he organized the team and let the others swing the bats, fire the guns and release the fists. From time to time, he would take the gun too and his hand was not heavy enough to pull the trigger, he did it without any conscience.
Shortly before he turned 21, one of his strategies to move a shipment of cocaine had gone wrong. When the police grabbed him and his team, and so that they wouldn't be arrested too, he pretended that they were his victims, he ignored them. Much to his good luck, Steve was the one who caught him.
“You have a lot of potential, your logistics for moving merchandise were very good.”
“Not so good if I'm back here arrested now.” A young Yoongi responded, handcuffs tightening around his wrists that were hidden beneath his military-print jacket, his short, platinum blonde hair shining beneath the roof of the patrol car.
“It was good, we were just better” Steve said.
Yoongi didn't respond, he just endured the paperwork and two nights in detention, until he discovered that Steve had paid his bail and hidden his criminal record. He enrolled him in Quantico after a few months in jail. He couldn't get rid of the drug possession charges but Steve got rid of the assault charges. He came out at the age of 21 as a new man.
A part of Yoongi missed his days in the gang, they were the only family he ever had. The only one he kept in contact with was RM, the man he now owed two thousand dollars to for beating up the guy. RM was always the leader, or Joon as Yoongi called him at the time, for the other boys he had become a traitor and they treated him as if he had died.
Sadly, someone had taken over the bartender a few days before Sunday, and in a much bloodier way than Yoongi had planned. The black envelope he was so afraid of had arrived, and this time, it was a folder.
Yoongi found you in the middle of the hallway, with the letter and the bloody photos spread on the floor, your knees squatted and your eyes swollen. He lunged at you, hugging you by the shoulders as he rocked your body back and forth, stroking your hair and wrapping you in his soft arms.
Your tears were soaking his white shirt and your fists were clinging incredibly tightly to his sleeves, crumpling the thin fabric. Yoongi tried to reach out and reach for the photos, but instead, you unable to speak due to your sobs, handed him the letter that had arrived.
"My dear, _____. I have taken care of this idiot, I know his actions have caused you a lot of stress, and for every photo he took of you it was a finger I cut off. Unfortunately, I ran out of fingers. By the time this letter reaches you, I will have to disappear for a while, or I will raise suspicions, I just want to let you know that you have someone watching over you. As proof of my commitment to you, I send you his gaze for the videos he took of you too”
Next to the bloody photos of the bartender and his mutilated body, there was a small wooden box. When Yoongi took it from your hands and saw the trigger for your crisis, he understood why you were crying on the floor. The man had sent you his victim’s eyes. Yoongi called the police and Steve. The local prosecutor's office was already aware of the disappearance of the bartender's body and his family were now trying to track down the killer.
Both you and the family agreed to keep everything private, after their son's actions they acknowledged that he had done wrong and had apologized on behalf of their passed son, but now they wanted to get away from the world of sensationalist headlines and live their mourning peacefully as they sought justice.
Not even a second, while the prosecution came to collect the letter, photographs, and box as evidence, did you let go of Yoongi, you simply hugged him crying and refused to talk to anyone. Yoongi didn't let go of you either, he gave his version of the events and cooperated with Steve with you in his arms, rubbing your hair while your soft cries were still decreasing.
Yoongi understood the trauma that the whole situation in general was causing you, but this, this was the limit. Yoongi cradled you in his arms and as the hours passed trying to mask your crisis and calm you down, he realized more and more how he was getting used to touching you. To hug you, to comfort you.
You, by your side, felt protected and safe in Yoongi's arms, his smell of expensive perfume, as if taken from the confines of the furthest forest, mixed a little with the smell of tobacco moistened your mouth and made you sink into his chest. You didn't know Yoongi's chest could be so soft, but it turned out to be extremely comfortable to forget about the hardships of your life for a moment and let him take control.
That same day at night you couldn't fall asleep, you didn't want to be in your room where everything was dark and lonely, so you went down to get a glass of water, and you found him again, he was still wearing the same shirt from the morning but his tie was hung untied around his neck.
He was at the kitchen counter in front of his computer, making calls in what appeared to be Korean. His native language. Yoongi hung up when he noticed your presence dressed only in a huge t-shirt and Shreck socks that reached your knees.
As soon as you saw him, you burst into tears. He quickly walked over to where you were and hugged you again, stroking your back to tell you that it was okay to cry with him.
“I can't sleep” you began between sobs “Every time I close my eyes, I see his dead eyes looking at me” Yoongi clenched his jaw, trying not to let go and go crazy all over California looking for the son of a bitch who had been tormenting you for months.
“I didn't want him to die, I swear I didn't, I didn't hate him enough to want him dead.”
“I know you didn’t, hone-…” Yoongi restrained himself, although it was an extraordinary situation, he felt little by little the boss-employee boundaries were being lost inside his mind, and every day this situation felt less like a case he had been paid for, and more like a personal attack, as if you were his family.
He shook the amorous nickname out of his head and fell silent. He was going to speak when you asked him.
“Can you sleep with me?” You lifted your face from his chest and looked at him with wide eyes, red and swollen from crying so much. Yoongi opened his eyes in surprise, but before he panicked and let go of you, you spoke again. “I mean, keep me company while I get to sleep, please.”
Yoongi discovered that he had a weakness every time you said “please” to him. The next thing he knew he was lying on the floor next to your bed with a pillow under his head and a borrowed pink blanket.
“Yoongi, you can sleep up here with me, my bed is the size of two king sizes together, we won't even touch each other.” You poked your head over the side of your bed, where Yoongi was lying.
“I want to respect your space” was his only argument, when in reality, all he wanted was to stop having lewd flashes of you and him.
And I want you not to respect it, you thought.
“It's okay, but if you're cold you can pull out one of the blankets,” you gave up, turning over, knowing that just having Yoongi breathing near you would easily put you to sleep. Five minutes passed, or maybe ten, but you couldn't sleep without asking him something extremely important to your vain heart.
“Yoongi?” your soft voice bounced off the walls of your huge bedroom.
"Yes?” You heard his deep voice and bit your lip trying to imagine how his voice would sound like when he woke up.
“Did I look too orange in those photos?” You knew that whether you looked orange or not should be the least of your worries, but you wanted to be able to talk about it without feeling short of breath and wanting to cry, and the only way you could do that was to find humor in all of this disaster.
"Yeah." Yoongi answered bluntly. He was aware that it was a defense mechanism, to talk about the situation without it being so traumatic. But he wasn't going to lie to you.
“Like an orange?” He heard the stress in your voice and almost wanted to laugh.
“Like a tangerine.”
"What is the difference? They’re both round and orange as fuck!” and even though you couldn't see him, you knew he was smiling.
“Tangerines are pretty. Oranges are not.”
“I hate oranges.” You repeated.
“Me too, I hate processed orange juice.”
“Well, I guess it's better to be a tangerine, if you like them…” You sighed and after another five minutes of silence, you spoke again. “Yoongi?”
"Yes?”
"Good night." Yoongi was relieved that you couldn't see him from above on your bed, because he was grinning maniacally from ear to ear, like fucking Cheshire; his eyes bright in the darkness of the night.
"Good night, ____. Sleep peacefully, I will be here” he sighed to himself, beginning to accept a terrible, horrible, disgusting reality: Yoongi was falling in love with you “I will always be here, angel”
⇢ thvlouvre's p.s. I downloaded Grammarly you all!! could you tell?? I'm still having a lot of anxiety since this is too long! I tried, I swear I tried with being a little less extra but Bodyguard Yoongi had me uuff 🤯... please remember english isn't my native language, you can leave feedback kindly and reblog it if you like it, also comment your theories about who do you think the stalker is 👀
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