protective
(kim hongjoong x reader)
synopsis: hongjoong's assistant (and girlfriend) gets uncomfortable with some words from a security guard while they're on stage. when hongjoong finds out, he's pissed. (4.4k words)
request: someone requested this SOOOO long ago and i responded but can't find it :( so if you requested this, anon: i'm SO sorry it took so long but I hope you enjoy!
tags: hongjoong x reader, idol!hongjoong, assistant!reader, secret dating kinda but not really, hurt/comfort, fluff, some suggestive content. reader uses she/her pronouns.
warnings: reader experiences mild emotional discomfort from verbal harassment and (non-explicit) unwanted touch. allusions to violence (but none actually happens). mild suggestive discussions. discussions of relationship dynamics.
hope you enjoy! let me know what you think <3
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He's on fire. Even more than usual.
As Hongjoong's assistant, you felt it was your job to make sure he had everything he needed to be successful. You arranged his hair appointments, made sure the stylists had ready his outfits for each show, checked with tech that his mic was working, and often, attended to all the other random minor things that Hongjoong would notice and want taken care of in his flurry of worries as the leader of ATEEZ, and as an artist who wanted everything in his art to just be perfect.
As his girlfriend, however, you felt it was your job just to love him. To admire him, to take care of him, to encourage him. As your boyfriend, he did the same, sometimes going to even extreme measures to put the love he has for you into action, not just words.
You watched him from backstage, rapping like he was born to do it, dancing like it was breathing for him, and your heart fluttered to see how in his element he was, how happy he seemed to be surrounded by music, by his best friends, and by ATINY. This was Hongjoong's world, and you were happy to be part of it.
Most of the crew were in various parts of the stadium, making sure lights, sound, and visuals were operating correctly. Near you stood a security guard, one you didn't know well but had exchanged a few polite greetings with in passing. You were grateful that the boys – especially your boy – had such solid protection.
“You're the captain's assistant, right?” You hear him say during a dance break, when the crowd of fans are hushed in quiet captivation at the guys’ artistic movements.
You nod, giving a polite smile, not taking your eyes off the show. You didn't want to miss a moment.
“You like it, being his assistant?”
The question catches you off guard. You pull your gaze away and your eyes land on him. His arms are crossed, and he's watching the performance as well. Maybe he's just bored, you think, making light, meaningless conversation.
“Yeah,” you say, “it's good. Keeps me busy, and I love being part of the ATEEZ crew,” you turn your attention back to the show, in which a new song is starting, the boys taking their places. “They're so talented, you know? They're pretty amazing.”
In your periphery, you see him nod in agreement as the song intro builds. “Not too shabby,” he chuckles.
You give a small, fake laugh in response. The security guard had moved closer to you, just barely. Just to hear each other better, you supposed.
“He good to you?”
“Hmm?”
“Is he good to you?”
You hesitated, faking a smile, though your discomfort grows. You didn't know him well, and his questions were…strange. Random. Maybe you just hated small talk. “Yeah, he's a good boss! Doesn't work me too hard!”
“I mean, is he like…good to you?”
You turn to look at him. What does that mean?
The guard laughs at your expression. “Aw, come on. We all know you're fucking him.”
Your heart drops, and you stutter out something, you've no idea what, you're so confused–
“Now, don't be shy!” the man says, nudging you with his shoulder. “Is the captain a good boyfriend? A good fuck?”
His tone makes you feel sick to your stomach, and suddenly you want to run away from there. That's none of his business, you know, your brain is screaming it, but you force yourself to stay, to politely wave him off.
“Ah, sorry, that's not something we really like to share,” you squint your eyes, your repetitive forced laughs growing dryer and faker with each one.
“Aw, that's cute. Gonna be hard to keep it a secret for long, though.”
“I'm sorry?” Why am I apologizing? you think.
The man shrugs. “He's an idol. He's the leader of an idol group. Paparazzi are constantly watching. Believe me, I've had to fend them off a lot.”
“So…?”
“So, people are going to find out about your relationship eventually, and then they're gonna ask questions, and when you don't answer, they're just going to guess.”
What the fuck are we doing here? You think, pondering over the man's words. What could possibly be the reason for this random conversation?
“You know, if you ever want something more low-key,” the man puts his arm around your shoulders, muttering in your ear, “There's plenty of more… normal guys in the crew who would be happy to oblige.”
Oh. There it is.
You pull away from him immediately, fight-or-flight finally activated.
Thank God this was the last song.
You mutter something about needing to get ready for send-off and head toward the dressing rooms. First you're shocked, then other emotions start to seep in, and your eyes brim with tears. Why are you crying? It was just a stupid conversation. Just a guy talking. Rudely, yes, but still, just talking.
You wait in the dressing room, which is blessedly empty. You just need to rest a moment. It's been a long day.
You're taking some deep breaths to calm down when the boys come in, whooping and chattering. Some wave to you, some offer a quick hello.
Then, Hongjoong enters. He looks tired, but his smile grows wide upon seeing you. For what feels like the tenth time in the past hour, you force a smile.
And he notices. A faint alarm going off in his head. He knows you too well to fall for any false faces you put on. But he won't say anything, not yet. He wants you to feel comfortable enough to bring whatever it is up on your own.
“Hi baby,” he says softly, taking a seat right next to you. “Did you like the show?”
You nod. “It was so good! You all were amazing tonight.”
“Thank you.” He gives you a quick kiss on your temple as he puts his arm around your waist. “Any notes? Anything go wrong?”
You hesitate half a second, thinking about the security guard. That wasn't anything wrong with the show, though.
“No, I think everything went fairly smoothly! I'll talk to the others later, though, to see if everything was okay on their end.”
“Ah, you're such a good assistant,” Hongjoong praises. “So good at your job and good to me. I don't deserve you.”
His wording strikes a nerve, and you quickly try to push past it, knowing it's going to show on your face if you don't. “Thank you,” you say quickly. You stand, grabbing your tablet and throwing yourself into assistant mode. “You've got send off next, then–um–?”
“ –Then we get something to eat, and go home?” he offers, confusion in his voice. “You doing okay?”
“I'm fine!” you say a little too cheerily. “Just tired. Let's go do this.”
At send-off, distracting yourself proves fruitless, but you still attempted anyway. Usually, it's a manager that walks with Hongjoong, but they got busy with another situation, so it fell to you to be Hongjoong's right hand and translator. You put a mask on to somewhat conceal your identity from the fans – most of the ATEEZ crew knew the two of you were dating, but publicly, he was still single and you were just an assistant. You knew fans had their suspicions, but thankfully, the two of you were careful enough that the rumors would tend to fizzle out.
The security guard's words swirled in your head as Joong when from fan to fan, and you tried desperately to push them away. Focus. You nearly missed it when a fan said something in English that he didn't understand, nearly missed the subtle glance he gave to you that he'd give when he needed help translating but didn't want to make a big scene of it. He cared that much about the fans– even in a language he didn't speak, he didn't want to offend.
You chuckled weakly when you realized what the fan had said.
Hongjoong, grinning with a hint of apology crinkling his eyes, glances at you.
You lean toward his neck to whisper in Korean, “She asks if you'll be her ‘pookie.’”
He turns toward you, confusion finally breaking through his friendly facade.
“Like jagiya. But more colloquial, friend-like.”
“Ah,” he turns back to the fan, blowing her a quick air kiss and saying in English, “I am already Atiny’s pookie!”
Giggles and satisfied chatter follow his comment as he moves on, and you're still pushing, down, down, down the feelings that have bubbled up since the conversation with the security guard. The one time you actually notice Hongjoong observing you, he asks under his breath, “Are you doing alright?”
“Yeah, fine,” you respond quickly, trying to redirect his focus to the fans. You wanted this done. And every time you saw some girl– sweet, adoring, just wanting to meet their bias– talking to him like they've known him for years, it twists something in your gut that you've tried to push past. A jealousy you know you have no right to, no reason for. But it exists, and in your tired, tightly-wound state, it grows and threatens to make you burst.
Hongjoong could feel the tension coming off of you, less friendly and engaged with fans than normal, and though he didn't know why you were feeling that way, it caused him to be less himself. He was a little short with the fans, not out of frustration, but out of a need to get somewhere away from all this and get to the bottom of it as soon as possible.
As the door closed behind you, Hongjoong's hand is around yours immediately, warm and gripping firmly.
“Let's get us some food, yeah?” he says, something in his eyes you can't quite understand. “I'm thinking somewhere quiet.”
You sigh, forcing a smile. “Home?”
He chuckles. “That can be a pretty quiet place when we want it to be,” he nods, “We can pick something up.”
At your shared home, you open the takeout boxes as Hongjoong goes to change clothes. The smell of the food combined with the comfort of the couch grounds you a little, bringing most of your thoughts out of orbit. You eat, deciding that maybe you've made a bigger deal out of things than you needed to.
And then Hongjoong sits across from you at the coffee table, legs criss-crossed and his hands resting on his knees. There's a look on his face, smiling but determined, preparing for something.
“What?” you ask through a mouthful of food after he stares at you for a moment.
“Jagiya–”
You raise your eyebrows.
“–What happened today?” His words are hesitant but forthright.
You shake your head like you have no idea what he could be talking about, and reach for your drink. “Nothing happened. I mean, we had the concert?”
Hongjoong's eyes narrow a little, forcing a sad smile. He knows you too well, knows what your white lies sound like.
“Yes, we did have the concert, and rehearsal before that, but you've seemed off since the show ended.”
You feel your stomach start to twist at the memory you'd been trying to let go of all night. Telling him might help you with that, yes, but telling him could also open up conversations you really don't feel like having.
“I'm fine,” you say, chewing solemnly and staring at your food.
Hongjoong sighs, and half-groans, half-laughs your name. “I know something's wrong.” He stands to come sit next to you on the couch, sitting as close to you as he can. “I can feel it coming off you, baby. What are you upset about?”
You don't say anything, unsure of where to even start, and you desperately fight tears that threaten behind your eyes.
“Is it something I did?” he asks quietly.
And that's what breaks you: the idea that he'd think he was anything but perfect, that he could unknowingly cause you pain. Sure, he had his off moments, but he was human.
The sniff betrays your subtlety as you sit up, and Hongjoong brushes your hair aside to see your face. “Oh, no no no!” he quickly pulls you into his arms as your crying becomes audible, sniffing and sharp inhales coming out as you bury your face in his neck.
“Darling, please talk to me,” Hongjoong says in a soft voice, running his hand down the back of your head soothingly. “I want to help.”
After a minute or two, you've calmed down somewhat, breathing less heavily and eyes less watery.
“It was a long night,” you admit. “I think I've been so drained lately.”
Hongjoong nods, relieved that you're finally letting him in on what's going on in your head. “You've worked really hard lately!” He rubs circles on your back as you continue.
“Yeah, and then this security guy, he started talking to me during the performance, and he got in my head a little–”
“Which security guy? One of ours or the venue's?”
“Ours. I don't know his name, though.”
“That's okay. What did he say to you?”
You hesitate, unsure of how Hongjoong will react. Maybe he'll just brush it off. Maybe he'll kill the guy. You had no idea, but you weren't about to lie to him regardless, not when he's looking at you so empathetically, his eyes so soft and concerned.
You tell him what the security guard said–and implied– with some tears returning, though it was mostly anger in your voice now.
“It was so stupid, but he just really fucked with my head,” you chuckle dryly, wiping tears away with your sleeve. “Just made me a little uncomfortable.”
Hongjoong gently holds your chin, moving your face to make eye contact with him. His eyes are so sympathetic, you might start crying again.
“I'm so sorry, jagi,” he says sincerely, holding your face and peppering it with light kisses. “You don't deserve that bullshit.”
He pulls away to look at you, his expression shaping into something determined and his eyes practically manic. “I'm going to kill him.”
“Hongjoong!”
He laughs bitterly, ”What? I'm pissed!” He stands up, anger filling him so much he feels his hands shaking. “No one treats my girl like that. No one treats my assistant like that!” He throws up his hands and starts pacing. “It's not only disgusting, it's goddamn unprofessional.”
Stunned at his reaction, you stare at him. “It was just words, Joong,” you mutter, “Sticks and stones, you know–”
“No!” He points, and when you make a face, he realizes his anger needs to be redirected. More calmly, he says, “No, it's not just that. He asked you invasive personal questions, he implied that we have an unethical relationship, and he harassed you.”
You blink. He isn’t necessarily wrong, but, “It really wasn't that bad–”
He goes to sit down next to you again, and takes your hand, clasping it in both of his. “I'm glad you think it wasn't that bad. But I'd be mad if you were just my assistant and someone did this. It's still wrong. But the fact that you're my partner and he did this makes me want to murder him, baby!” The last part comes out in a cynical laugh, like he's physically restraining himself from storming out the door to hunt down the security guard.
You put your other hand over his. “I'm okay. Trust me.”
He sighs. “Are you sure?”
You nod. “Yes. Can we just…can we just have a nice night now? That would really help me forget all this.”
“Yeah, anything you want,” he nods fervently, pulling you to his side and resting his head atop yours. “But that shithead is getting fired tomorrow, if I have anything to say about it.”
You consider this for a moment, and with a small smirk, you reply, “Do what you need to do, Joong. Just don't kill him.”
Hongjoong scoffs. “No promises.”
The rest of the night you spend cuddled together, and as usual, it's healing in some way. Having him right next to you, his arm warm around you and his heartbeat under your ear as you lay on his chest, watching a show you've been binging together for a while– it's all you’ll ever need.
But that little nagging thought persists in your mind.
“Joongie?” you ask softly.
“Yes, baby.”
“There was something else that really bothered me about today.”
He looks down at you as you pull away to look at him. His brow furrows, seeing the hesitation in your eyes.
You sit up, taking his hand in both of yours for comfort, taking a deep breath.
“What…what happens if people find out about us?”
Hongjoong's hand clasps one of yours firmly. He breathes out a quiet chuckle. “What do you mean, baby? We're not really hiding anything, not actively. People already know.”
“Just the people close to us. The members, the managers, maybe a few others. What happens when people start…speculating?”
Hongjoong reaches his other hand up to run a hand down your cheek, then your shoulder. “I'm still not sure what you mean,” he crinkles his eyes sympathetically. “What do you think will happen?”
You bite your lip, considering for a moment. “Well, for one, the fans will go batshit. They'll hate me.”
“I'm sorry if you don't realize this already, but some might already hate you for just being near any of us,” Hongjoong grimaces. “But there are so many more who would support us, love us together.”
You shrug. “I guess that's true, but I don't know…I'm afraid of getting death threats.”
“There's not a snowflake's chance in hell that I'd let anyone get even close to doing that.”
“It's not really something you can stop–”
“But it's something I can protect you from,” Hongjoong says fervently, his hold on your hands tightening just enough for him to realize what he's doing, and quickly lets go before hurting you. He pulls up one of your hands to his lips and kisses it, eyes closing. “I'd kill for you, jagi, I think I already made that clear earlier.”
Somehow, it was enough for you, to hear him say that and see the determination in his eyes. You know deep down that he'd really burn the world down to keep you safe, even just to keep you happy. You let yourself smile a little, then remember the other feeling gnawing at you.
“It's also…ah, how do I say this–”
“Just tell me, my love,” he practically commands you, but you know it's only out of deep care for you. He wants you to speak freely.
“Our…dynamic…it's something else people would…talk about.”
Hongjoong looks confused.
You sigh. “You're my boss. You're older than me. People are going to say you manipulated me, or seduced me, or some shit, or they'll say I slept with you to get a job–”
Hongjoong's shaking his head rapidly, trying to stop your flood of worries, and puts his palms on the sides of your face. “Oh, baby, no. No!” he laughs, and you're taken aback. “No one will think that. At least, not most people.”
“What makes you so sure?”
“Well, I don't know entirely, but what I do know is that you're a fucking amazing assistant. I couldn't do anything, literally anything without you at my side. Anyone can see that,” he grins. “In fact, a few of the members have asked me where the hell I found you. They see how good you are at your job.”
“I'm not sure how that matters…?”
“It matters because if people are going to be nosy about our relationship, down the line, then they're also going to see that our work relationship is a completely unique and incredibly efficient thing that's separate from our personal relationship. You do so well at your job for the sake of doing well at your job, not because of me. That's just my little bonus,” he winks. “And I didn't hire you because I wanted to…ah…you know,” he says, and instinctively snakes his hands around your waist. “I hired you because you seemed like you'd get the job done, like you could become someone I trusted. Again, just a bonus that we ended up together, and a miracle that we blend both relationships together so well.”
As he speaks, your features soften from worry into awe. You've never thought about how you would describe your relationship before, but he did so perfectly. He was right– your relationship held two distinct dynamics in one, and while the line between the two was often blurred, it still existed, and it rarely affected the quality of your work nor the harmony of your connection.
It was good. That's how you would describe it. Simple. Something so good.
You stare into his eyes for a few moments, the gratitude of everything he is to you washing over you, and he seems to mistake the look in your eyes for something negative, because he breaks your gaze and gingerly takes your hand into his. “Jagiya,” he says softly, looking down. “If this is too much for you, or if you think it will be too much for you–”
Your heart drops at what he's about to imply and you snap out of your trance, quick to reassure him. “No, Joong, no!” you laugh, and you hold his hand up to your lips to kiss the back of his palm, something you know can make him blush and soothe him at just the right times. “There's nothing that could make me want to give this up. It's worth way more than any circumstances that come with it.”
Hongjoong smiles, relief blooming in his expression. He leans in to kiss you, and your hands instinctively going up to the back of his neck. The kiss grows deeper, and soon he has you leaning back against a pillow, his lips grazing over the skin of your neck, just beneath your jaw.
“God, what would I fucking do without you,” he mutters, his voice sending a shiver up your spine and warmth through your entire body. “You're everything.”
° ° °
The next day, the boys have a practice later in the day, so you and Hongjoong have brunch together, then make your way to the KQ building.
Hongjoong leaves you to hang out with some of the guys, before practice starts, planting a light kiss on your temple and mumbling, “Gotta take care of a few things. Be right back.”
It’s only a couple of minutes later that you connect the dots, your heart dropping to your stomach. You go to look for Hongjoong, frantically stopping at every door that’s not someone’s office to check for him. You pray that your boyfriend isn’t committing a crime.
You hesitate outside of a recording studio, the one Hongjoong uses most, practically lives in. Yunho is sitting on a bench outside the door, earbuds in and scrolling on his phone. The sign on the door is switched to [IN USE--DO NOT DISTURB].
Yunho sees you and takes out an earbud. Before he can finish his sentence of greeting, you interrupt. “Have you seen Hongjoong?”
Yunho tilts his head toward the door. “In there. I was about to do some recordings but he came in with someone and asked to just have the room for five minutes.”
Your face falls. “Who went in with him?”
“I'm not sure, some staff guy?”
“Oh, God,” you mumble and plop down onto the seat next to him.
“What?”
You hesitate, but your nerves are so intense that you need to talk to someone about it. “Joong is…getting someone in trouble.”
“Huh?”
“This guy last night, he kinda rubbed me the wrong way, Hongjoong was mad, and--” Suddenly the door opens and sure enough, the security guard from the night before emerges, looking disgruntled, and judging by his tightened lips and his eagerness to leave, slightly nervous.
Something in you was deeply satisfied that it was your boyfriend that made him that way.
The man passes without a word, glancing quickly at you and Yunho and pretending not to see you as he walks swiftly down the hall.
Seconds after, Hongjoong comes through the door looking serious but content. He begins to say something to Yunho but then sees you and grimaces. “Ahh. Hi…jagi.”
You cross your arms, staring at him expectantly.
The two of you stay like that for a few seconds, Yunho swerving his head to look at both of you, then decides, “This seems like… none of my business.” He mutters as he gets up, “I’ll do the recordings later, I guess.”
“Joong,” you finally speak as he sits down.
“Yes, my love.”
“Tell me you didn’t just make an enemy of a guy who keeps you safe.”
Hongjoong sighs and sits closer to you, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. “Doesn’t matter if he’s not keeping the most important person to me safe.”
“Hongjoong.”
“Agh, it’s fine!” He groans, but tries to console you with a smile as he brings his hand to your waist. “All I did was very calmly tell him to stay away from you and mind his own business. I even said it professionally. Even if I wanted to kick his ass.”
You sigh and put your hand over his, pulling him more tightly around you. “You didn’t fuck anything up?”
“Just his ego,” he grins. “Can’t be fun being told off by a man both smaller and younger than you.”
You nod in agreement. “I’m sure Seonghwa knows the feeling.”
Hongjoong scoffs. “Usually it’s him scolding me, I’ll have you know.”
You laugh and give him a small kiss on the cheek. “Thank you for caring so much about this, Joongie.”
“Anything to protect my girl,” he says sincerely, quietly. He pulls you into his lap, and you see the flash of an idea cross his mind.
“What?” you chuckle, arms around his neck.
“I’ve got, what, thirty minutes until practice? And no one’s in the recording studio.”
You look up at the door, then back at him. “And?”
He gives you a look you’ve seen many times before. A small smile and mischievous, narrowed eyes. Usually accompanied by a hand on your thigh. He never seems to have to ask…you always know by that look.
“How unprofessional of us,” you say, practically jumping off of him, grinning. “Let’s go.”
The two of you hurry into the room, and Hongjoong locks the door behind him.
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©máirewrites on tumblr. ©oncomingstorm13 on ao3. please do not repost without permission. this is a work of fiction intended for entertainment and does not represent the personalities, morals, or ways of life of any real people mentioned.
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