psst — angelbang fic dropped last night!
5.5k, with some seriously pretty art from @dustghoul sprinkled in, seriously, this was a blast to write (PRETTY PLEASE READ IT)
uhhhhhhhhhh warning for descriptions of blood and injury, implied internalized transphobia
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me, going through my 15 page dismurrit homoerotic cringe comp that ive been writing for literal months because these two are so fucking dysfunctional: ill give it to you. sometimes you can write
→ extra info: fluff, bodyguard!mingi and rich kid!reader au, inspired by this lovely ask i received
Music flowed out from your fingertips as your hands elegantly flitted over the black and white keys of the regal chestnut grand piano you were sat at. You knew the piece by heart, eyes closed as you let yourself get lost in the melody and bass. You were only about halfway through the rather long piece when a hand on your shoulder startled you. Your fingers crashed along the keys as you jolted, a raucous sound coming from the piano.
Both you and the man who had startled you, your father, winced at the noise. “Hi, Papa,” you said with a relieved smile, offering your cheek up for him to lean down and peck in greeting.
“Hi, little one,” he smiled back down at you fondly.
You noticed another figure in the room with you, a tall man dressed in dark clothes, hands clasped formally in front of him, surveying the room suspiciously for a moment before his eyes fall back on you. Your father noticed where your attention had gone, and offered you a hand to stand up, bringing you towards the other man.
“Y/N, this is Song Mingi. Mr. Song, this is my daughter, Y/L/N Y/N,” your father introduced you, and you curtsied politely to him, still confused as to exactly who he was.
“It’s a pleasure, Ms. Y/L/N,” the man nodded to you, still seeming extremely tense for some reason.
“Pleasure is mine, Mr. Song,” you absentmindedly answered, briefly wondering if your dad was trying to set him up as a suitor of some kind for you. Song Mingi was tall, his features sharp and handsome, you figured you wouldn’t mind entertaining the idea for a while.
Thankfully, your father didn’t keep you wondering for long, as he spoke up again, “Because of the recent… incident, I’ve hired on Mr. Song as your personal bodyguard.”
You froze up at this, mind whirling around. Your father was a high-ranking and often controversial politician, attracting passionate extremists from both sides that would do anything. He seemed to take your reaction as one of fear, as his hand came up to rub your arm, “He’s the best, you’ll be in safe hands with him, Y/N.”
Your reaction wasn’t because you were afraid you wouldn’t be safe with Mr. Song. It was because you’d be safe without him, you didn’t need a babysitter coming along with you everyday of your life. But you couldn’t express this to your father, he was always worried too much about you, and this would help to put his mind at least a little more at ease.
A nod was all you could manage, your father taking this opportunity to end the conversation, “Wonderful. I have a flight to catch now, I’ll be home next week, little one.”
“Bye, Papa. Safe travels,” you kissed his cheek this time, and he grinned broadly at you, then Mr. Song, before he exited the room.
That left you in the music room alone with Mr. Song, who hadn’t moved a muscle since he greeted you. Your smile fell from your face as you regarded him with mild annoyance, “I don’t need a babysitter, you know.”
He raised an eyebrow at your statement, “I’m not a babysitter.”
“Babysitter, bodyguard, whatever. Either way, I don’t need you,” you scoffed, stalking from the room.
Mr. Song kept up with your quick pace easily, his longer legs matching your steps as he followed you down the halls. With a scoff, you took a sharp turn down another hall. You hadn’t eaten lunch yet, your destination being the kitchen.
In the kitchen, the chef greeted you with a friendly smile as she stood behind the breakfast bar you sat yourself at, “Hi, Ms. Y/L/N. How are you today?”
“I’d be better without my new babysitter my father hired,” you jerked a thumb over your shoulder where Mr. Song was standing guard behind you.
“Bodyguard,” he reminded you, only earning another eye roll from you.
“What can I get for you?” Chef Park smiled brightly at you as you took just a moment to think this over.
“Honestly just reheat whatever leftovers you have from my father’s lunch, I don’t care.”
Chef Park nodded then spoke to the man behind you, “Hey, bodyguard, do you eat?”
“No, I’m pretty sure he’s a robot,” you answered for him, trying to gauge any kind of reaction from him.
You could’ve sworn the corner of his mouth almost tugged up into a hint of a smile before he replied, “I’m not hungry, thank you.”
“Told you.”
“Do you just stay in here all day?”
Your new bodyguard had become even more annoying than you could possibly imagine over the two weeks that he’d been with you. Admittedly, you hadn’t left your property in that whole span of time, spending most of your time trying to perfect a new piece of music.
“You’re annoying.”
You told him that for probably the fifteenth time since you woke up to him standing in your doorway again. He didn’t seem to grasp personal space very well.
“Thanks, princess.”
He had taken to calling you that, knowing that it pissed you off every time he did so. Like now, when it earned him an eye roll as you stopped your practice to spin around on the piano bench and look at him with an eyebrow raised.
“Are you bored or something, Mingi?”
You had also taken to calling him by his first name, while your father and the rest of the staff continued calling him Mr. Song. If he called you by some informal and irritable pet name, it was only fair that you called him something informal too.
“A little.”
“Fine. Tomorrow night my father is attending a house party one of his colleagues is hosting. I said before I wasn’t going, but I’ll tell him I changed my mind.”
“Perfect.”
As you entered the lavish mansion holding onto your father’s arm, you smiled at the occasional partygoers who would look at you. Mingi was a formal distance behind the two of you, in an outfit that was only a slight upgrade from his regular attire as he surveyed the surroundings carefully. Despite your favorite pastime being annoying him, he was as dedicated to his job of being your bodyguard as ever.
A waiter approached the two of you with a tray of champagne. Your father accepted a glass, but you declined it politely, having spotted someone at the open bar that you recognized. Patting your father’s arm first, you then let go of it, “I’m going to mingle for a moment, Papa.”
“Really?” He seemed rather surprised at your claim, which made sense. You weren’t necessarily a social butterfly.
“Yeah, you should do the same.”
With that, you left your father to move towards your destination, knowing that Mingi would be following you there, staying a few steps back as to not be intrusive. You slid into the seat beside Park Seonghwa at the bar, an amused smile already across your lips, “Long time, no see.”
The man turned to you, his confusion turning to surprise as he realized who you were, “Y/L/N Y/N, it has been a long time. Two years, if I remember correctly?”
“I think it’s been closer to three.”
“Either way, far too long.”
“What brings you here, Seonghwa?” You asked, crossing your legs under your elegant indigo gown.
“Work, actually,” your old acquaintance informed you, gesturing to where your father and two other men, one in a military uniform and the other in a typical suit, were having a discussion. “My boss, Mr. Han, works as a civilian contractor with Colonel Chae in the military’s aeronautics program.”
“Wow. What do you do?”
“Get their coffee, mostly,” he admitted with a sheepish smile, earning a light laugh from you. “And what about you, Y/N? What have you been doing?”
“Nothing nearly as exciting as getting people’s coffees—” At his protesting, you shook your head, adding insistently, “No, really. I’m at home most days, continuing my studies and not doing much.”
Seonghwa seemed about to say something else when Mr. Han beckoned him over. He stood hurriedly, giving you a short apology, “I’m sorry, Y/N—”
“We can catch up later, go on.”
He nodded before hurrying to his boss’ side, leaving you at the bar alone. Well, not really alone, as you were well aware of Mingi’s presence just a few feet away. You turned to him for a moment, feeling very bored again.
Mingi caught your gaze, gesturing to where Seonghwa had been sitting, “Who was he?”
“An old friend from my father’s brief attempt to send me to boarding school,” you answered candidly, really having nothing to hide, but finding a good opportunity to annoy your bodyguard. “Why? Jealous, Mingi?”
“Not at all, princess,” he replied firmly, going back to scanning the room for potential threats again.
Knowing that he’d be occupied with that for a bit more, you looked back to the bar, contemplating actually ordering a drink from the bartender this time. There was a man in Seonghwa’s empty seat that you hadn’t noticed had sat down beside you. He offered you a captivating smile, “Hi.”
“Oh, hi,” you repeated his greeting, suddenly feeling nervous. The man was attractive, but there was something in his demeanor that just rubbed you the wrong way.
“All alone?”
“No, actually. I’m afraid I have to go back to my father now,” you went to stand, backing away from him cautiously while trying to maintain a normal composure.
“So soon?”
It happened so fast. The man had just grabbed your arm when he was suddenly knocked back, clutching his nose and groaning in pain. Mingi was standing between you and him, as cool as ever. He didn’t say a word, even though all the other guests around you had many of their own flying between them in hushed whispers. Your bodyguard continued staring down the man until he finally grumbled something and slinked away.
When Mingi turned back to you, you were positively fuming.
“Are you okay?”
The question was barely out of his mouth when you snapped, “Shut it.”
You fled the scene, cheeks burning and hot tears of embarrassment pricking at your eyes. You were careful to avoid where your father was, moving as fast as you possibly could in your heels. Behind a heavy red curtain was your safe place where you could finally get away from the prying eyes and judgmental stares of the other elite around you.
Only a few seconds of blissful peace had passed when a hand pulled the curtain back ever so slightly, and you rolled your eyes at who shuffled behind it with you.
Mingi seemed more annoyed than anything else when he addressed you, “A thanks would be nice.”
“You punched a guy in the face, I could’ve done that,” you spat back, feeling all of your shame turn to anger. “But really, you had to go and make a fucking scene like that? I could’ve handled him just fine on my own. Instead, all those people are going to be talking about at the next three social engagements at least, is going to be me and my violent bodyguard who had an unprompted altercation with another guest at that one important party. Fucking hell, Mingi.”
“It wasn’t unprompted.”
“Really? That’s your defense?” You scoffed, crossing your arms over your chest.
“Yes.”
There was a moment of silence while the two of you continued standing there, refusing to look at each other. You were still boiling over with quiet rage as Mingi just seemed plain old pissed off, probably still expecting a ‘thank you’ from you. With a huff, you pushed back the curtains, reentering just outside the main room, where most of the party was being held. And of course, he was right behind you.
“I’m going home now,” you declared bitterly as you pulled your phone out and dialed the number of your driver.
You’d just entered your home when Mingi spoke up again, “Princess.”
“You really want to go there, Mingi?” You whipped around to glare at him, stopping him in his tracks for a split-second.
He persisted, however, “What was the incident?”
Your mouth parted and your eyes narrowed as you became the face of incredulousness, in utter disbelief that that’s what he wanted to say to you right now. A tart shake of your head accompanied your heel pivot to resume walking down the halls, “Doesn’t matter.”
“If I’m aware of previous dangers and attempts on your life, I can protect you better.”
“Protect me,” you said almost mockingly, stopping again just outside your bedroom door.
Mingi nearly ran into you, taking a step back to create space between you that you immediately closed.
Now face-to-face with him and the angriest you’d ever been in your whole life, you finally let loose, “The incident? Which one? I’ve had assassination attempts on me since I was nine years old, from poison to kidnappings to bullets to arson, and I’ve had a 100% survival rate. You’re. Not. Necessary.”
You punctuated each of your last three words with a sharp poke to his chest before throwing your door open and then slamming it with a resounding thud.
You hadn’t spoken a single word to Mingi in exactly thirteen days.
He continued following you around, as usual. Accompanied you to your tutoring sessions, when you practiced your various instruments, your occasional excursion. Everywhere, and it made you positively sick.
Today you had something planned that you hoped would take your mind off the dark spot of anger constantly hovering in your mood. You were meeting up with a bunch of your old acquaintances from boarding school for lunch, an event organized by none other than Park Seonghwa. He’d claimed that seeing you at the house party had inspired him to ‘get the old gang back together.’ You didn’t think you had been there nearly long enough to be considered part of ‘the gang,’ but nonetheless, accepted the invite.
The lunch was being held in the VIP room of an already exclusive restaurant located in the penthouse of one of the tallest buildings in the city. Which only made sense, everyone attending was in some way related to the elite. Either their family were politicians—like you and Jung Wooyoung, the son of one of your father’s most notable political rivals; made of old money—like the Choi brothers whose family owned most of the country, and Kang Yeosang, whose family has had billions of dollars’ worth of stocks invested for generations; made of new money—like Kim Hongjoong, whose aunt was the founder of a booming tech company; or the rich employees of even richer bosses—like Park Seonghwa and Jeong Yunho.
Almost all of them had their own bodyguards there as well, of course. All of this money and power in one place would attract bad news, no matter how unrelated it was to that money and power. Back in boarding school, the eight of you never cared much for your families’ affairs, and the same was true even now.
You’d only been there for less than two months, but you were still appreciative of the friendship they’d given you in that short period of time. And surprisingly, it felt almost exactly like it had back then. Sure, there were moments when they’d reminisce in memories that happened before or after your time there, and you’d feel lonely and left out for a moment. But they always managed to rope you back into the conversation that was easily flowing around the table. The eight of you were playing a modified version of poker, gambling on who would pay the bill of the expensive food you were carelessly ordering.
Hongjoong had just won that round, victoriously standing up and leaning over to scoop all of the chips over to himself. You shook your head, having just lost a good chunk of your own winnings. You weren’t the worst off, thankfully, that was definitely Seonghwa, who had a vein popping out of his forehead from the seat beside you as he silently fumed.
“Two-minute break, guys,” you declared, pushing your chair back from the table.
Some of them groaned, earning an eye roll from you as you meandered towards the bathroom, “Yeah, yeah, complain all you want, but I’m not about to piss myself for your damn poker game.”
Mingi was right behind you, and you stopped him with a hand on his chest, “You are not following me into the bathroom.”
He was practically ecstatic that you’d finally spoken to him again. It turned into his usual cockiness, as he smirked and said, “I wasn’t going to, princess. Unless you want me to.”
You simply gave him a glare before pushing the bathroom door open, leaving him in the hallway just outside it.
As you washed your hands, you looked at your reflection in the mirror to inspect the state of your appearance. Your face was still a light pink, residual anger from your short but infuriating interaction with Mingi. You still didn’t know how he knew exactly what to do to piss you off, but one of these days he was going to end up with your fist in his stupidly attractive face.
Wait.
Stupidly attractive?
“What the fuck, Y/N?” You muttered to yourself, shaking your head in an attempt to shake that thought from your mind.
A cool breeze tickled the back of your neck momentarily. Looking back up into the mirror from your definitely clean hands, you frowned slightly when you noticed that the window behind you was open. You could’ve sworn it was closed when you walked in. Then you noticed something else. Well, more precisely, someone else.
As soon as you made eye contact with the man, he drew a gun and pointed it at you. You barely managed to duck before the first shot rang out, not even thinking as you screamed out, “Mingi!”
This time, it all happened in slow-motion.
The door being kicked open was enough to thankfully distract the man for a second. Mingi was immediately between you and the assassin and took a split second to look at you to make sure you were alright, but it was enough for the man to get his bearings again. Your bodyguard had just turned around again when another shot fired out, and your screech was caught in your throat as the bullet disappeared into Mingi’s arm.
Three deafening heartbeats had passed through you, every other sound becoming muted as you looked on with horror. Mingi had fallen to his knees, but didn’t seem deterred in the slightest, launching himself into the man’s legs as yet another bullet left the gun with a resounding bang.
You didn’t know where it had gone, all you could think of was what was happening in front of you: Mingi was pinning the man down, wrangling the gun from him with his good arm before striking him repeatedly across the face with the butt of it. When the man eventually went still, Mingi slid off of him with a groan.
He scooted over to where you were still crouched in the corner, concern across his bloodied face, “Princess? Are you okay?”
But you knew that it wasn’t his blood, fear seizing you for a moment as you looked back over to the man lying on the floor. Mingi must have read your thoughts, reassuring you, “He’s unconscious. Y/N, look at me.”
When you did, a pained smile graced his mouth, “Are you hurt?”
“No, no,” you gave yourself a once-over with your eyes and your hands.
“Good,” he moved to stand up, a grunt passing his lips as he bumped his shoulder on the wall.
You remembered the bullet that had either passed all the way through or embedded itself in him, “But you are!”
He pulled himself all the way up to his feet, and you followed him up with concern, focusing in on his shoulder. Despite his dark clothes, you could still see the even darker and wet patch blossoming and falling down his shoulder and arm. You insistently yanked his jacket off, earning another hiss of pain from him that you ignored. Not engaging him in his protests of being okay, your hands were shaking as you tried to tie it around his shoulder, only succeeding in dropping the garment and spreading red across your skin.
Mingi’s other hand reached up to grab yours gently, encouraging some kind of choked noise to come from you. “I’m fine, princess.”
A movement in the doorway caught your attention, and you suddenly remembered the other seven plus people there with you. “Holy shit,” Wooyoung cursed as he took in the scene before them.
“Well stop standing there like idiots and call the fucking police, you asshats!” You yelled out, startling the statue-like men into action, grip on Mingi’s hand tightening.
They rushed around, and some of the other bodyguards came in to help get Mingi out of the bathroom, while others stayed to watch the would-be assassin that was still very much unconscious. You didn’t let go of Mingi’s hand once as they took him to the main lounge and sat him down on a chair.
If you didn’t have a million other things to think about in that moment, you would’ve realized that was the first time he had ever called you by your name.
To Mingi’s credit, he didn’t pass out. Not even when the doctors offered to knock him out for a little bit while they removed the bullet and stitched him up. He stayed wide awake, face screwing up in pain while he quietly hissed profanities under his breath in the emergency room. You wanted to stay with him the whole time, but as they transferred him to his own room, your father had called you.
Apparently, he had heard about the attack, already down at the police station and involving the highest investigative agencies he knew. You blandly replied, eager to hang up and see Mingi.
When you were about to go to Mingi’s room, a nurse kindly pointed out that you might want to at least wash your hands of the dried blood.
You did so, numbly replaying your friends’ words from when you were waiting for the ambulance showed up. Hongjoong and San had gone out for a smoke with their bodyguards; Jongho, Yeosang, Yunho, and their bodyguards were in the men’s bathroom opposite the lounge from yours; Wooyoung had to make a call on the balcony with his bodyguard; and Seonghwa was two whiskeys deep at the bar and the only one who had come unaccompanied by a protection detail of some kind. They all came at the very end of the altercation. Not that it would have mattered much, having more people in there would’ve only increased the danger.
While you went in the ambulance with Mingi, some of the other men informed you apologetically of their unfortunately-timed meetings they had to leave to attend, and the others stayed back with the promise to make sure the police knew exactly what happened.
You didn’t even want to look in the mirror of the bathroom, it all being too familiar for you as you watched the red water streaming from your hands lighten until it was perfectly clear again. Keeping your eyes trained on the floor, you dried your hands off before shoving the door open.
In the halls, you were accosted by the same annoyingly caring nurse who insisted on checking you over for injuries as well. Bitterly, you agreed, impatiently staring down the door of the examination room she’d taken you into and answering her questions shortly. Finally, she let you go, and you pretty much sprinted to Mingi’s room.
You thought he was asleep, but as soon as you took a single step into the room, his eyes shot open.
“Y/N.”
“Mingi,” you breathed out a sigh of relief, rushing to stand at his bedside. “How are you feeling?”
“Fuckin’ dandy,” he plastered a grin across his face as he struggled to sit up, even going so far as to offer a thumbs-up too. “Don’t worry about me, princess. Not even the first time I’ve been shot.”
You didn’t even have it in you to be annoyed by the pet name, letting out a shaky sigh of relief, “That’s not very reassuring.”
“What about you?”
“I’m just fine.”
“Did a doctor tell you that or—”
“A nurse checked me out, okay? I swear, I’m fine.”
Mingi relaxed back into his pillows again, looking at you with hooded eyes and a fond smile that for some reason made your heart flutter, “Y/N?”
“Hm?” You replied attentively.
“I’m sorry, for causing a scene at that party. And this one too, I guess.”
You couldn’t tell if you were laughing or on the verge of sobbing as you replied in a strained voice, “Mingi, you… you didn’t— Thank you, for protecting me at both of them.”
“Well, I’d be a really shitty bodyguard if I didn’t.”
There was a beat of silence as you desperately tried to keep your emotions and tears under control. But you couldn’t, not when all you could think about was how this was definitely your fault.
“I’m sorry, Mingi,” you whispered hoarsely, voice cracking as your eyes watered.
“For what, princess? This wasn’t your fault,” he tried to reassure you, but you wrenched your hand back from his own that had reached out towards you. “Y/N, it’s not—”
“The incident,” you blurted out, stopping his kind words in their tracks.
“What?”
“You asked me before… what the incident was, the reason why my dad hired you.”
He nodded slowly, encouraging you to continue.
“Someone had come very close to killing my father. An assassin hired by the faction that supports Jung Woojae. I spotted him before he was able to get close to my father and alerted the security at the event we were attending. The next day there was a note in our mailbox swearing that they’d kill me if they had to, to get to my father. Our security cameras had caught the face of the man who’d left the note… it was the same man in the bathroom today. I’m so… so sorry I didn’t tell you, Mingi.”
“Jung Woojae… isn’t that…”
“Wooyoung’s father, yes,” you nodded solemnly, well aware of just how stupid you had been today. “Their factions usually leave us out of things, at least they did when we were kids. I’m s—”
Your third apology of the afternoon was cut short by Mingi pushing himself up into a sitting position. You went to try to fuss over him and get him to lay back down, but he raised one of his hands to your face, the back of his fingers stroking your cheek in the most tender gesture you’d seen him do. He leaned towards you slowly, and you didn’t move away. Your breaths briefly mingled in the tiny space between you until his lips finally touched yours.
The kiss was soft at first as it took you a moment to process what was really happening. Once you had, you couldn’t say you didn’t want it to. Sure, Mingi was annoying, infuriating, and a bother. But for some reason, you loved it anyway. There must really be something wrong with you, you loved every spiteful and teasing interaction with him.
Not as much as you loved what was happening right then, however. His mouth moved gently against yours, deepening the kiss ever so slightly as he pulled you even closer to him. You nearly toppled over onto him, but he kept you steady as you settled into your new position half on his lap and half still standing, your mouths never leaving the other’s. Your fingers threaded through his hair, keeping him close as you broke the kiss.
You rested your forehead against his, your eyes drifting downwards as you caught your breath. That was when you saw his bandage peeking out of the top of his hospital gown, a spot of bright red growing along it.
“Mingi!” You nearly vaulted yourself off of him to stand up again, “Your stitches!”
“It’s okay, princess,” he tried to argue, grabbing your hand in his.
You let him hold your hand, but he wasn’t going to be able to get out of this one, “No, it’s not.”
“I can’t really feel a thing, they’ve got me on the good stuff.”
“I’m getting your doctor.”
As you went to leave the room, his grip on your hand tightened, and he jerked your arm back with enough force that you somehow ended up on top of him on the bed again. You glared down at him as he merely grinned up at you innocently. He kissed you again, momentarily distracting you as his lips enraptured you and intoxicated you.
You managed to pull yourself away from him again, your original mission coming back to you. Climbing off of Mingi, you danced away from his insistent hands.
“I’m getting your doctor.”
“Fine,” he laid back into the pillows again with an uncharacteristic pout.
