An Original work written, produced, storyboarded, edited, agonized over and owned by: bangtanbeforebitches
Starring: Min Yoongi and Actor YN/Reader (from a purposely POC perspective) with guest appearances by everyone else you know and love.
Genre: Bangtan is Bangtan-verse AU, Rom-Com, Interracial Relationship Navigation, Strangers to Lovers, Quick but Slow Burn, Star-Crossed Lovers, Story within a Story, POC POV, K-Drama Indulgent on all fronts
Themes/Warnings: Heavy issues, Honest discussions, Things people probably don’t want to hear, Ridiculous run-ons for the fuck of it, 4th wall breaking, Inner monologue rants, YN is EXTRA AF, Mentions of racism, Childhood trauma resurfacing, Mentions of anxiety, Dangerous situations, a Shit-ton of swearing, Drinking, Probably smut at some point down the line, Some hopefully not so confusing script breakdowns, Usage of basic film and stage production terminology, Excessive flirtation (but Jimin doesn’t count), Fluff on Fluff on Fluff, Smooth moves, Lots of awkward moments, YN is a klutz, Sweetness to rot your teeth, Mood Swings, Denial of emotions, and at some point after therapy- Acceptance.
Format: Multi-chapter, ongoing WIP
Word count: currently 17k
Rating: Explicit, Minors are advised to not pass GO. 18+
[AUTHOR'S NOTE: I have zero clue WTF I'm doing. I have never been to South Korea-- SO! All the places, references and pretty much everything in this hot mess of a daydream is to be taken as FANTASY. Non-reality based, peoples. Secondly, I would like to say that a lot of the material and conversations and opinions you'll find in these pages have been pulled from my last relationship (8 years with a Korean man- SK born but definitely American as all get out) and my ongoing friendships with his family members both living here and there. I just ask them random ass questions and try my best to not let on that i'm asking for BTS fan fic purposes... cause I would never hear the end of it. Big shout outs to my besties @vyduan and @inkbluelily for pumping me with constant encouragement and hyping me up to do the impossible... actually post. ]
---------- Flashback to the beginning, Two years ago --
Navigating the streets in Seoul had finally started to become second nature.
Thank goodness.
Working up the guts to approach a local and ask for help had always tended to be hit or miss. Either people feigned not being able to understand your Korean, pretended to not know any English (though you had heard them speaking it just seconds before) or they completely ignored your pleas for help and started asking you a dozen rapid fire questions about your hair.
So many hair questions.
It's a constant thing here.
You understand the curiosity. Your curls are on point and frankly, pretty damn fabulous. But people apparently have a negative grasp on the concept of personal space when it comes to foreigners, yet they heed to the utmost levels of hesitation and bodily respect when it comes to physical contact with one another.
But a black girl trying to find the shoe repair shop that’s supposed to be on the corner?
What do her boundaries matter?
One second it's "Oh! You're so dark!" and then that phrase is (9 times out of 10) immediately followed by a darting hand grasping for those shiny springs of kinky wonder and magic.
You’re used to it. No offense taken because… let's be real. You would be offended all the time if you let silly things like their inquisitiveness get to you like that.
And the people here always seem so shocked when they realize you’re able to speak a bit of their language. You assume it’s mostly because they realize that you can understand what they’ve been saying about you in front of your face. Some apologize. Some don’t. Some just politely backpedal and compliment you for attempting to learn Korean at all.
You’re not by any means fluent just yet. You’ve got the basic Seoul dialect pronunciation down but still have a terrible grasp of the grammar structure... but, hey.
At least you try.
----------
You crossed the last congested intersection, a smile stretching across your face while (not) blending in with the flock of despondent souls en route to start the work day. You all, like bees in a swarm, buzzed through the landscaped courtyard, past the lunch stands prepping their menus and tents for service in the afternoon. You, in your merry mood, took a moment to beam up at the massive (and massively intimidating) building that stretched skyward in front of you.
You were lucky enough to have been offered a position as a production assistant at KBSMedia around eleven months ago. It's afforded you opportunities that you could only have dreamed of back home stateside. At the price of your loneliness? Totally, but still very much worth it in the long run. You’ve met countless Korean celebrities, idols, been a part of the crew for two hit drama programs and now, (a drumroll seems fitting here--) finally.
This glorious, low dust and pollutant filled air-quality morning marks day one of a new chapter for both your career and your status within the company ranks.
It's almost unheard of.
Seriously. It’s maybe the second or third time in Korean broadcasting history. You still get a little choked up at the thought of it all.
Today is the day in which you will take a rightfully-earned, long-awaited and over-due, monumental first step on that path leading to a place in front of a camera lens and into the spotlight.
You.
A [COUGH] relatively young, black, American woman.
Here.
In one of the palest countries a person could possibly imagine.
Halfway--
No.
Literally on the other side of the planet.
When the network gave the “OK” for your director's "out of left field" idea to cast you (he personally delivered the news to you with many air quotes and hand gestures) in this thought provoking, meticulously scripted and groundbreaking role… to say that you were shocked would be the understatement of the century.
All the same, you were beyond grateful for the opportunity and more than ready.
Ready to play the best damn "comic-relief roommate of the female lead who basically only says 'Annyeonghaseyo' from the apartment couch, usually with an absurd amount of food in her mouth, providing visual gags with charm and conveying affection and friendly support for the main character" that the South Korean film industry has ever seen.
You even get to improv.
In your pocket are two degrees to backup your talent. You majored in Theatre (with a concentration in Acting) and then continued your graduate studies while pursuing your dreams in New York and rotating through multiple (expensive) performance and film classes.
Cliche.
You are aware.
How you’ve ended up doing so much dang production work, you’re not one hundred percent sure. You had come to realize after hearing "No, but thank you for your time today" so much that that must just be the nature of the business in the most competitive audition field in entertainment.
They say, “You get in where you fit in and you fake it till you make it”.
Even if that mantra takes you across the globe.
----------
"Annyeong, ____-ah! How was your weekend?"
"Lonesome but productive. Just studied at home and dreamt about all the chicken and beer nights I’m going to miss at your place from now on. I’m pretty much off book, though. So, there’s that,” you shrugged and smiled with a wiggle of your dark brows. “How's she coming along, ah jeo-ssi?"
This “older” man, your friend, was the single nicest soul at KBS.
Seung Woo was the daytime front desk security guard. He prefers the term security agent so the position sounds more stealthy and cool. He likes to give off a Bond vibe while working and wears a full suit most days. Steamed creases and all, courtesy of his wife.
It is not required for him to be this extra, that’s for sure.
But this guy, right here? He knows just about every employee in the building. Just like the classic, dashing spy would in a blockbuster movie. He sees all. Knows all. Only really likes a few of these ‘show-biz’ types that pass him by without so much as giving him eye contact (which is how you bonded) but for some reason he took to taking care of you like an uncle, more so than a big brother.
It’s sweet considering if you were back in America you would be considered practically the same age, but here at work? You love getting to use the formal honorifics. You can tell he appreciates the respect.
Though, when off the clock he will enforce the “oppa” card.
Which you enjoy far less.
Because cringe.
He only bests you by a few years. He recently turned 34, but it’s 35 when tracking his life span the Korean way.
You’re turning 31 this fall.
And that’s a good, old-fashioned (or possibly “good new-fashioned”, because honestly? What the hell do you know? You’re still just a kid in the grand scheme of things if you consider the current average life expectancy of an active, healthy, non-smoking, adult female like yourself...)
So, yeah. The point? Right.
You’re turning a plain ol’, solid, traditional for the western hemisphere, starting post-utero, only counting from your first breath, “don’t anyone dare think about adding an extra digit to your years if they value having all of their teeth and toes”-- 31.
You’re clinging to your youth with all you’ve got. Both hands. Maybe your thighs too. You weren’t blessed with this melanin-infused baby face for nothing.
And you were grateful for Seung Woo’s face, just the same. When you started, there was a good stretch when he was the only smile you’d come across until it was time to clock out and head home to FaceTime with your family. You’ve had a friendly banter going ever since your first day when you swiped your ID for clearance through the shiny turnstiles. You’ve been helping him and his partner learn more English in exchange for the daily lessons on how to survive in this building and in this country. You would've given up here long ago if not for his advice and their friendship.
"She's getting bigger by the second. Look," he said and deftly whipped his phone out of it's holster on his hip to show off his wonderfully pregnant spouse.
Yea, he really uses one of those belt clips. The last time you saw one was on your father.
Despite this fashion faux pas, Seung Woo was still handsome as all get-out and a total DILF in the making.
His wife, Chaeyeong, was a former idol who fell for his charismatic smile and bashful eyes whenever she had a schedule at the studios. She had been caught making eyes at him by a photog one too many times (aka, one time) and when her group's contract was up for renewal, she and her company “mutually decided to part ways so that she could pursue other endeavors outside of the pressures from the spotlight that comes with idoldom”.
Or at least that was the story DSP’s PR team came up with in the statement they dropped to the media. In reality, they didn’t want to bother dealing with the dating rumors and Chae didn’t think staying was worth an innocent man with a beautiful heart being dragged through the mud by netizens. So, she jumped ship and went for it. Now, she’s one of the co-hosts on a variety program where they dish out love advice to viewers and she’s been embraced by (most of) the public for following her heart.
While she may be widely considered the prize of the pair to the untrained eye, personally, you think she's a smart young lady for taking him off the market.
Because that man treats her like a queen.
"She's simply radiant, Seung Woo-ssi."
"Thanks, I know,” he said, clipping his phone back into place. “We couldn't handle it anymore and we found out the gender Saturday. I wanted to tell you in person."
"We couldn’t handle it?” you snickered.
“Fine. Me.”
“There you go,” you nodded and smacked his back affectionately. “You made it to 8 months. Honestly, I’m shocked."
This was how you guys worked.
He laughed, ignoring your snide tone, not the least bit put off by your jab about his lack of patience. It was an indisputable fact. You prompted him to continue with a light tap to his arm. "Well?"
His exuberance shined all the way up to his glistening eyes and it felt as though it would burst through the top of his head like the bat signal.
He truly beamed. It was almost blinding.
"Really? It’s a boy?!"
"I could cry!" Seung Woo was unable to contain himself, his body bobbing on the balls of his feet. Any more force and he would actually be jumping for joy, if you will. It was disgustingly cute. He had been praying their first child would be a boy.
Most men over here seem to want male heirs.
“Could cry?” you gave him a look of disbelief, grinning.
He met your eyes. There was no way he could hold out. His whole body sighed in defeat.
“I did cry.”
“That all?”
You placed your hands on each of his shoulders to pull him down closer for inspection. You leaned in towards his face with your dark eyes, sharp as a blade, cutting him deep for the real story.
Which you basically had the gist of already. There were many texts from Chae earlier this morning requesting that you keep an eye on her emotional hubby and asking you for confirmation that he was okay once you spoke to him. She was careful not to spoil the news of the appointment. Though Chaeyeong was your friend too, she knew this would be something that he would want to share with you first.
“Ok, fine. So, I cried. A lot. Aish, I couldn’t stop crying. I cried like a baby. Snotty gross crying. All weekend. At the drop of hat ever since we found out. I couldn’t even start the car leaving the doctor’s and Chae-Chae had to drive us home from the office. She made me take the bus today to be safe because she didn’t trust me to not break down in traffic if a stroller passed me at a stoplight. I only just pulled myself together a few hou-- minutes ago before you got here after sobbing at the bus stop, sobbing at the breakfast truck, sobbing at my locker and sobbing in the bathroom. I had to run out before the team pre-shift meeting because-- surprise, surprise!-- I was a mess when Hee-hyung brought up his son’s birthday party yesterday. I’ve had to go back to the bathroom twice since then just because a baby in overalls and a shark hat was carried by the desk. I’m doing my best with every breath that I take not to scream it out at the top of my lungs that my beautiful wife that I don’t deserve is giving me a son and I feel like the king of the world!! Happy?!”
Seung Woo inhaled deeply and you snorted and clapped your hands.
"CONGRATULATIONS!!"
He let out a sort of squeal-like sound at that and the two of you bounced together in a tiny circle, your celebration possibly a little bit too buoyant for the employees passing by you, drawing attention and some passersby grimacing in your direction. Remembering your place, you broke apart, him coughing into his fist to cover his proud simper and you took to readjusting his jacket and tie.
"I can't wait to come down later and chat but I can't be late today,” you said as you brushed his shoulder off and then pounded that fist that he was now stretching out to you.
“You’re going to kill it, ____-ah.”
“Thanks, Woo-ssi. Oh, and I definitely want a copy of that new ultrasound for my refrigerator!" you stage-whispered loudly to him as you took a blind step back and then started to skip backwards towards the parallel lines of elevators. The lobby around you was noticeably more clear than just a few moments ago. Seung Woo was deep in his own world, pulling out his wallet to stare at the black and white blob of a photo of his unborn.
You paused to watch him fondly before skipping backwards some more.
"We need to take a picture of all three of us, you know. Or I guess now it’s four!!--”
Man down.
Well… "Woman down".
Wait--
Nope. "Man down", too.
You had taken a hostage to the floor with you and he was trapped under your flailing limbs and coif of curls.
"OH! Oh my God, I’m sorry! I’m so sorry!" you stammered over and over as you attempted dismounting the lap of the man you had fallen on top of so gracefully.
Obviously, that is a lie.
There was nothing graceful about this moment.
"I'm so sorry! I wasn't watching where I was going and I was just so excited for my friend and--"
A set of hands gripped your waist tightly to steady you and before you could register that they were connected to the person beneath you, Seung Woo's arms were under your own and helping to lift you onto your feet.
Once up on your shaking stems, you immediately hitched your body into a bow towards the gentleman on the marble tile.
This was embarrassing.
And awkward.
You were all of the “awkward”.
All of it.
Every little bit of what comes together to define that which is “awkward”?
That’s you.
Right now.
And your anxiety will probably never let you forget it.
You’ll be at your wedding about to say “I do”-- or maybe this will leave you shook when you’re cutting your cake and you drop a chunk of buttercream on the floor-- so you look down to make sure you missed your dress-- and that’s when you notice the fake marble dance floor sticker tiles and they look just like this floor that you’re staring at right now-- but your fiance had insisted on them because he’s a “classy guy but cheap” and the vendor gave you a discount because he was Korean and you could speak his language fairly well-- he was actually a really nice guy-- but you’ll see it and panic-- and so you close your eyes and have a PTSD-like flashback of these painful minutes-- but when you squeeze your eyes tighter to clear the images everything is suddenly moving in slo-mo-- and now you’re back to when you were 30 and thriving and living in a foreign country-- and your big, dumb ass just had to knock down an innocent stranger-- and you’ll remember rendering him paralyzed, mute and deaf in his left ear from the concussive impact of his head smacking that cold, hard floor-- which led you to losing your work visa, your chance at an acting career, and you were thrown in jail before being shipped back to the United States in a packing crate in the luggage hull of an airplane-- next to a gassy dog and what you think was an unmarked box of snakes… on a plane.
Or much later in life, you’re going to be old and gray-- but probably with no wrinkles because you never had a reason to smile after this-- and you’ll probably be in a cheap and poorly rated nursing home-- with no friends or family who care about you left in the world-- eating questionable cream of corn soup that is neither sweet nor salty-- just no flavor at all-- and it’s definitely not supposed to be green-- and your teeth will be in a cup on the nightstand next to both your hot pink and your purple SMTWTFS pill popper packs that are stuffed with enough meds to kill a giraffe-- and the nurse on meal service will have forgotten your lime jello and cup of ice AGAIN-- and you will STILL be able to feel the tightness in your chest from this amount of awkward embarrassment that you’re currently feeling in this moment-- and you will STILL be able to replay this memory on repeat in your mind like it happened hours and not years ago-- and it will be in full 186,405K resolution-- which is quadruple HD clarity… because that will be a thing by then.
And when your time comes and you think you can finally be rid of this memory, you’ll be born again-- and you’ll be plagued with flashes of this moment in your dreams in your next life-- and you won’t recognize the faces in the scene but you’ll for HELLA SURE know that that shit looked embarrassing as fuck-- and you’ll probably pay for lots of therapy trying to deal with the nightmares-- until you give up and try to recreate the dream-- and then the cycle of trauma will start again.
Ahem.
Very visibly trembling, you dropped to your knees and clasped your hands in front of you, bending your forehead down to meet them. You couldn't bring yourself to make eye contact with the face of your victim. It’s not like you would have been able to see him from your current angle even if you did look up, what-- with all of your hair blocking your view, but still you didn’t dare.
You heard what you assumed were his hands dusting himself off as his companions helped him up off of the floor. They were all chuckling while looking him over to make sure he was alright. You only had a sliver sized peek of multiple sneakers, some bulky ass boots and loafers with the owner’s heels hanging out, ruining the back of the expensive looking shoes.
That should be considered a crime, even if your feet do look that smooth.
"I can't believe-- I'm so sorry! I'm such an idiot. It'll never happen again. I'll watch where I'm going and be more careful, I swear! I'm so very, very sorry!” you apologized as a man stepped between you and the small crowd of people. You stared at the tile with fear-filled, wide eyes and could almost feel his shadow that cast over you. It matched your darkened spirits that were sending you into a spiral of panic.
You peeked up at the man and stuttered at the sheer width of him. He was wearing all black (or at least his pants, shoes and socks) and he was much larger than you. Very much larger than you. “Is- is he hurt? Oh god, I'll g-get a medic and I can pay for the b-bill. It's the least I should do, right?”
Receiving no response more than his unreadable face, you righted yourself up on to your knees and with a flip, tamed your curls out of your vision, smoothing them back into what you hoped was a presentable style. You contemplated what was going to come of you while fixing the neckline of your blouse and then rubbed your hands nervously over your thighs. You were still unable to see past the man in front of you, as his thighs were in your direct line of sight and thick as hell.
You looked up at him the way you had as a child while awaiting punishment in Catholic School, and he mirrored Sister Agnes’ scowl down upon you to a tee. There was no wooden ruler rapping against his palm. So, with scant confidence in your muscles to assist you, you instead rose from the floor aided by Seung Woo’s shaky hand.
He must’ve been thrown by the accident as well. For a guy trained and trusted to protect and defend people in a crisis, he’s got the nerves of a mouse.
Broad, RBF-man then turned, giving you his back and you read “SECURITY” across his jacket. You stilled in place from his profile as he glared at you over his shoulder and scoffed with a tilt up of his sharp chin.
Hold up. Was that “in disgust”? Seriously?
In your heels you were still a few inches shy of being able to see over this wall of a man as he spat a curse at you.
“Yah, this wasn’t assault or anything. Just an accident,” you looked up in distress, holding your one elbow while the hand of that cradled arm palmed the side of your face. You rolled your eyes and rubbed your temple. “Who is this guy, Woo-ssi?”
He didn’t answer. He was holding his radio earpiece, listening to a call. More than likely about the commotion you had caused. This was not what you needed before your big day. It felt like a bad omen.
“Did I break something, sir? I can drive you to the hospital!” you cupped your hands around your mouth to project past the linebacker blocking you and over the murmur of multiple voices.
“Oppa, I'll need to borrow your car or-- Ah, shit! Of all days for you to take the bus,” you groaned and rubbed both temples.
You whipped your head to Seung Woo as he gasped.
“What? I’m sorry. I was just kidding,” you said as he nodded along to his com. “That was rude of me.”
Having been facing you during the majority of this time, making sure that you were alright and then waving along the nominal foot traffic, Seung Woo redirected his attention to the crowd behind him. He let go of his ear-piece and started to shake his head back and forth rapidly, his face and neck paling. He clasped a palm tightly to his mouth.
“I was in the bathroom crying. I missed the briefing…” he mumbled through his fingers.
“Briefing?”
“I’m sorry, ____-ah. Don’t hit me later, please.”
“No, I’m the one who’s sorry. I swear, I’m sorry-- I’m sorry-- I’m sorry-- I’m sorry to everyone!!"
"Please stop apologizing."
That voice was new.
There were giggles.
Male giggles.
“And for the love of God-- HYUNG! I’m fine. Stop touching my pants. Cut it out already, guys.”
That voice.
You knew that voice.
You had heard it somewhere, at least a million times before, you were sure, but you couldn't pinpoint exactly from where. You hesitantly took a step towards the MIB in front of you just as his figure took a step to the side.
Jeon Jungkook can do a lot of things, but readying himself to date Min Yoongi is his most ambitious goal yet. To Gold Star this mission he’ll need to do three things:
– Graduate
– Get a job (????)
– Complete the side quest of taking Yoongi on the best first date anyone’s ever been on without revealing his massive crush
A fresh, irresistible rom-com from debut author Emma Lord about the chances we take, the paths life can lead us on, and how love can be found in the opposite place you expected.
Meet Pepper, swim team captain, chronic overachiever, and all-around perfectionist. Her family may be falling apart, but their massive fast-food chain is booming ― mainly thanks to Pepper, who is barely managing to juggle real life while secretly running Big League Burger’s massive Twitter account.
Enter Jack, class clown and constant thorn in Pepper’s side. When he isn’t trying to duck out of his obscenely popular twin’s shadow, he’s busy working in his family’s deli. His relationship with the business that holds his future might be love/hate, but when Big League Burger steals his grandma’s iconic grilled cheese recipe, he’ll do whatever it takes to take them down, one tweet at a time.
All’s fair in love and cheese ― that is, until Pepper and Jack’s spat turns into a viral
Twitter war. Little do they know, while they’re publicly duking it out with snarky memes and retweet battles, they’re also falling for each other in real life ― on an anonymous chat app Jack built.
As their relationship deepens and their online shenanigans escalate ― people on the internet are shipping them?? ― their battle gets more and more personal, until even these two rivals can’t ignore they were destined for the most unexpected, awkward, all-the-feels romance that neither of them expected.
goodreads
REVIEW
WHAT I LIKE
It was realistic. If the two of them had a twitter war in real life, I would be one of those people who would ship them. It's refreshing to see some memes and savagery on what I am reading. It was not hard to be drawn in the scenarios and I get some butterflies whenever they bicker with each other. Now, I am shipping Wendy's and Burger King. Lmao.
It was surprising on how deep the story went. I thought it was just a petty twitter war, throwing some shady and savage tweets then finding out who they other person by the end of the story with a very climatic and intense reveal but, it was anticlimatic to the point I was taken aback. I never guessed they would reveal themselves that early which is kind of coll because, I kept on looking forward on what is going to happened to the story next. It's not just all about the twitter fight, it's way more dramatic than that.
Pepper and Jack's relationship were too cute to handle specially after the twitter war. It's cute to see them grow and helped each other through difficult times no matter what the circumstances are.
As I said earlier, it went pretty deep, somehow this romantic comedy, feel good book made me cry at some point.
P.S. This book made me up all night (which is now rare because books makes me sleepy these days)
WHAT I DON'T LIKE
I hope the relationship between the main characters and some minor characters developed. It would be good to see Pepper and her frenemy had more moments together where they bond, but seeing how realistic the book is I think they are just trying to be civil about their relationship.
