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☙ Summary: You work hard at your job in the music shop during the day, but you spend your evenings rapping covers of Yoongi's songs at a small bar. A bar that's supposed to keep people from filming your performances. Only a day after Yoongi himself walks into the shop, a video of you rapping his songs go viral. You're all over every social media platform you've ever heard of, and Yoongi is back at your workplace demanding answers.
☙ Themes/Warnings: He's an idol, Y/N is an underground rapper of sorts; he offers to be her producer; she has a celebrity crush on him; accidental confession; she doesn't like the industry; someone at the bar makes a move on the reader, and she gets uncomfortable; some people catcall/whistle at her.
☙ Summary: You work hard at your job in the music shop during the day, but you spend your evenings rapping covers of Yoongi's songs at a small bar. A bar that's supposed to keep people from filming your performances. Only a day after Yoongi himself walks into the shop, a video of you rapping his songs goes viral. You're all over every social media platform you've ever heard of, and Yoongi is back at your workplace demanding answers.
☙ Themes: He's an idol, Y/N is an underground rapper of sorts; he offers to be her producer; she has a celebrity crush on him; accidental confession; she doesn't like the industry
☙ Warnings: Someone at the bar makes a move on the reader, and she gets uncomfortable, and some people catcall/whistle at her
☙ A/N: Again, I can't commit to anything. Here's another story I'm bringing over from my Wattpad. This is honestly one of my favorites. I love their dynamic (you'll see eventually hehe). As usual, enjoy! Also, side note, I'd love to get the tattoo Y/N has one day, so that why that's thrown in there (sorry, not sorry).
It's a normal day at the music store where you work, where you're hanging up some guitars that just came in. You hear the door open, and you look up, ready to help. As soon as you do, your heart stops, and you almost drop the guitar you're holding. The customer who just walked in is none other than BTS' Min Yoongi.
Hanging up the guitar, you hurry to the counter to help him. "Can I help you find anything?" you ask politely.
He glances up from his phone, a look of indifference on his face. "I need a new soundboard," he says flatly.
You look at him, and your brain comes up with the only response you can. Looking him in the eye, you say calmly, "I don't know about those, but I can get someone who can. I don't know much about music yet. I'm new."
He actually smiles a little. "I know which one I want. I just need an employee to get it down for me."
"Well, I think the ones for sale are in boxes," you stammer out the obvious.
He holds up his phone. "Yeah, but your website says you only have one, which I'm assuming is the display one."
"We're not supposed to sell those, but I suppose I can ask my manager for you," you offer.
"I'll come with you. He might be more willing to concede if he sees who's asking."
You bring him to your manager, who quickly concedes when he sees who the customer is.
After work that evening, you're still reeling from the interaction, even as you drive to your second job. You pull up to the Olde Stage Tavern, a bar where you've been earning extra cash by rapping covers of Yoongi's songs.
When you enter the bar, you greet the manager before setting up the equipment you'll need for tonight. People start trickling in as you head into the back to change. Tonight, you're wearing bleached jeans and an oversized T-shirt, purposely mimicking the clothing Yoongi wears during his solo concerts.
Once there's a fairly substantial crowd, you get up on stage and begin your performance, putting your own spin on Yoongi's signature rapping mannerisms. Once the performance gets going, you decide to show off the tattoo you got on your back. It's a lotus flower, with the lyrics from Yoongi's song 'Amygdala' running along your spine.
You pull off your shirt. now only wearing your jeans and a bra. You ignore the whistles and catcalls from the men in the bar, focusing on the thrill of performing like this and the way the music seems to flow into your veins. You finish the last song with a flip you've been perfecting for months, landing on one knee, your head bowed and chest heaving.
Applause erupts from the crowd as you stand up and walk off stage, heading straight for the water bottles. You pull your shirt on before packing up your things, preparing to leave. As you're putting the last of your equipment away. a man you've never seen before approaches you. "Hey, sweetheart," he calls, a suggestive lilt in his voice. "Nice performance up there. Can I have your number?"
Alarm bells go off in your head, and you take a step back. "I'm sorry, I'm not interested."
The man huffs. "Your loss. I was looking forward to seeing that body up close."
You give him a stern look. "Get away from me, you pervert. Before I report you to the bar manager for harassment."
He raises his hand in mock surrender, heading for the door while glancing over his shoulder. The way he looks at you gives you the creeps. You quickly pack the rest of your equipment, thank the bar manager, and head home.
When you arrive at work the next morning, you notice a lot of people staring. You just assume it's because you missed your alarm and have bedhead, but toward the end of the day, Yoongi comes in and makes a beeline for where you are. He holds his phone up and shows you a YouTube video.
It takes your eyes a moment to focus on the screen, but the second they do, your face pales. On his screen is a video of your performance at the Olde Stage Tavern, including the part where you take your shirt off.
You're both waiting for your drinks at a café, and the order is taking longer than expected. Jungkook drums his inked fingers against the counter. "I'm bored,” he complains.
"I can tell."
His face suddenly breaks out into a grin. "Hey, how about a joke?"
You immediately shake your head. "No."
He ignores you, his eyes lighting up mischievously. "What do you call cheese that isn't yours?"
You already know it's going to be bad as you shake your head in dismay. "What?"
"Nacho cheese,” he says triumphantly, smiling with the confidence of someone who believes he's just achieved comedic greatness.
You cover your face. "Seriously?"
"Come on, it's a classic."
"It's ancient."
"Good jokes survive."
"That one just refuses to die."
Jungkook laughs so hard he almost misses when your drinks are called. The barista slides the cups across the counter and Jungkook picks yours up first. "You know—."
You point a warning finger at him. "Don't even think about it."
His eyes widen. "What kind of shoes do ninjas wear?" You stare at him unimpressed and a few seconds pass. "Sneakers!"
You walk toward the door without your drink, rolling your eyes theatrically. Behind you, Jungkook’s laughter echoes through the café. A moment later, he catches up, still carrying both cups. "Come on, you gotta laugh at that one."
"I'm pretending I don't know you,” you tell him, barely holding back a smile.
"Oh, but you do,” he says in a sing-song tone. “You definitely do."
KIM TAEHYUNG/V ❤︎
You're browsing through a niche record store together. Taehyung disappears between the shelves for several minutes before reappearing with yet another dated vinyl he has absolutely no intention of buying.
"I've learned something,” he announces.
"What’s that?"
He holds the vinyl up as if he's about to deliver profound wisdom. "What has four wheels and flies?"
You immediately start overthinking it, deciding to hazard a guess. "A delivery truck?"
"No,” he grins. "A garbage truck."
You stare, noticing the picture on the album cover and deciding to play along. "I see. The flies?"
Taehyung nods enthusiastically giving you that boxy smile you loved. "Exactly!" he says excitedly. “The flies!”
"That was… awful,” you say. “Please don’t tell it again.”
"I know. Jokes aren’t really my speciality,” he concedes.
"You looked so serious, I thought you were going to come out with something great."
"I wanted you to think it was deep and philosophical."
You laugh, giving him a playful nudge. "It almost was."
He laughs, delighted that the setup worked better than the punchline. "You really considered it."
"I gave you far too much credit."
"I appreciate that,” he says, putting the vinyl back with complete dignity, as though he hasn't just inflicted such a terrible pun on you.
KIM SEOKJIN/JIN ❤︎
You're helping Seokjin prepare dinner when he suddenly raises one finger. "Hold on,” he says reverently. “I have something to say.”
You stop mid-chopping vegetables, staring at him curiously. "What?"
"I've remembered something important." His expression is so serious you immediately assume it's about the recipe. But instead, he clears his throat. "What kind of doctor fixes websites?"
You blink in surprise. "A web designer?"
"No,” he says, beaming proudly. "A URL-ogist!"
You close your eyes, a giggle at the ludicrousness of the joke escaping you. "Seokjin."
"Yes?" he replies innocently, pouting ever so sweetly. It’s so adorable you want to kiss him more than chide him.
"I think I physically lost brain cells,” you say.
"But you laughed,” he insists.
"Yeah, because it was so… ridiculous!"
"You still laughed." He points at you triumphantly. "I win."
"Did you make that up?"
"Of course not!” he gasps in mock offense. “Now you’re wounding me.”
"You’re wounding comedy,” you retort playfully.
Without missing a beat, he kisses you chastely on the cheek and steals a piece of carrot from your cutting board.
“You laughed, baby,” he says, walking away whilst humming victoriously and looking impossibly pleased with himself.
PARK JIMIN ❤︎
You're walking home together after dinner when Jimin suddenly slows his pace. "I've been thinking."
"Oh, yeah?"
He nudges your shoulder. "Listen." His expression is completely earnest. "—Why don't eggs tell each other secrets?"
You already know you're going to regret answering. "Why?"
"Because they might crack."
He watches your face expectantly as you stare straight ahead. "Really?" you say. "That's what you've been thinking about?"
"For like twenty minutes."
"Jimin!"
"You don't like it?"
"I feel betrayed."
Jimin laughs so softly his shoulders shake. "I almost told you a different one."
"There were actual options?"
"Sure."
"Please never reveal them."
"Oh, come on!” he says, smiling so sweetly that it's impossible to stay annoyed. "I knew you'd pretend not to laugh."
"I'm not pretending."
“I can see that smile coming,” he coos, stroking your cheek and indeed cajoling out a smile from you.
"That was involuntary,” you attempt to protest through your grin.
"That still counts,” Jimin tells you. “It’s exactly what I hoped for.”
MIN YOONGI/SUGA ❤︎
It's nearly midnight. Yoongi is editing a track with the concentration of someone performing surgery.
Quietly, you set down an iced coffee beside him. Without looking away from the screen, he suddenly says, "I've got a joke."
It takes you by surprise because he isn’t really one for randomly blurting out jokes. “Do you?” you say, intrigued.
"What do you call fake spaghetti?" he asks.
You snort despite yourself. "I don't know."
"An im-pasta,” Yoongi says flatly, returning to clicking through audio tracks as though nothing happened.
You wait. "That's it?"
"Yeah."
"You interrupted your workflow for that?"
"Mmhmm."
"You don't even look proud."
"I am."
"You should reconsider."
A tiny smile appears at the corner of his mouth. "I got you to laugh."
You sigh. “Only because it was so—.”
"Hey, you'll think about that joke later,” he tells you confidently.
"No, I definitely won't,” you say resolutely. There is a silence between you for a beat. "Im-pasta," you mutter with a tut.
Yoongi doesn't even turn around. "I told you."
KIM NAMJOON/RM ❤︎
You find Namjoon in his room, surrounded by notebooks flung open, a series of differently coloured highlighters, and three cups of coffee in various stages of abandonment. When you walk in, he looks relieved to see another human being.
"I need a break," he declares.
"Sounds like a plan.”
He pushes his chair back dramatically. "I need to lighten my brain,” he tells you. “Let’s try a joke.”
You narrow your eyes immediately. "Oh God, no."
"Too late,” he says, folding his hands with complete sincerity as he thinks for a moment. "What do you call a fish wearing a bowtie?"
You groan. "I don't know."
"So-fish-ticated,” he announces with a flourish.
You blink once in the silence. "Joon—."
He bursts into laughter before you can even react, slapping the desk. "That's actually terrible,” he guffaws.
"I know!" you cry back. "You chose to tell me that of all jokes?"
"I've been saving it,” he grins.
"You should've kept saving it."
Namjoon is laughing so hard he nearly knocks over his coffee. "It was worth it though, just to see that look on your face.”
"I don’t know about that.”
"It made you smile, didn’t it."
"I suppose so,” you say, biting back your smile at seeing him so thrilled with himself.
His grin grows impossibly wider. "I'll take it."
HOBI/J-HOPE ❤︎
The dance practice has finally ended, and everyone is exhausted. You collapse onto the floor dramatically. "I can't move,” you complain.
Hobi crouches beside you with far too much energy for someone who's been dancing for hours. "I have something that'll cheer you up."
"I'm scared."
"You should be,” he beams. "Why don’t oysters donate to charity?”
You stare at the ceiling. "I don't know."
"Because they’re shellfish!" He immediately starts laughing before you've even processed it.
You groan into the floor. "No, no Hobi, that was so bad!"
"Yes!"
"That wasn't even funny,” you retort, shooting him a look. But he looks so adorable, it’s hard to maintain your seriousness.
"It was adorable,” Hobi tells you. “You know you want to laugh.”
"It was an actual crime."
Hobi points finger guns at you. "Ah, I see it,” he says. “You’re smiling."
"I’m smiling because it’s just so… I can’t believe you came up with that!”
"It still counts though,” he says, offering you a hand to help you up.
You accept. Halfway to your feet, he whispers, "Shellfish."
You let go on purpose, and he laughs so loudly the rest of the members look over.
thanks for reading • 𓂃𝜗𝜚
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☙ Summary: You have always dreamed of coming to Korea. Now you're here, and everything is going perfectly. You're studying Korean and making new friends until you run into BTS' Yoongi in your professor's office and get pulled into something nothing could prepare you for.
☙ Themes: Implied age gap; Y/N is a female language student, Yoongi is an idol; romance; kidnapping (side char); mentions of the mafia in later chapters (this is not a mafia ff, it is a brief situation)
☙ Warnings: MDNI, as later chapters will have explicit scenes.
☙ A/N: I've been neglecting some of my ffs already, ahhh. Here's a new installment of this ff for y'all. It's longer than the others (1k is a lot for me, but I did it!). I hope you like it! We meet Yoongi in this chapter.
The next morning, you make your way to Seonsaengnim Choi's office, arriving a bit before 8:00. Despite being early, you knock.
"Just a moment," Seonsaengnim Choi's voice comes through the wood. You open the door anyway, feeling unsure what to do.
"Y/N! You're early. Could you wait outside for a few minutes?" he asks, but you don't hear a word. The man he was meeting with had turned around when you opened the door, and now you're not sure how to react. You know those dark brown eyes so well, but mostly just for pictures. Those are Min Yoongi's eyes.
"Can I help you?" he asks, obviously displeased at the disturbance and your staring.
"N-no. I was just about to leave," you stammer, backing out of the room. You turn around and sprint down the hallway toward where you'd told Jung-Young to meet you for class. As you near the busier parts of the hallway, you slow down and pull out your phone.
"Meet me where I told you to. NOW." As soon as you send the text, you hear sneakers thumping on the floor behind you. Clearly, Jung-Young isn't as worried about appearances as you are. Her footsteps are incredibly loud.
You turn around to tease her for being so loud, only to realize that the person who ran up behind you isn't Jung-Young.
"I'm sorry I made you leave," Yoongi manages to get out as he catches his breath.
"It's alright," you insist. "I figured out my homework on my own anyway. I-I'm supposed to be meeting a friend here soon. You might want to leave if you want to avoid her." You stop yourself before you can start rambling, but you don't know what to say now.
"You're super calm right now," he comments. "I'm impressed."
"Oh, it's completely external, I assure you," you stammer. Damnit. Why did I have to say that?
He laughs so hard his shoulders almost reach his ears. "You're funny. But I think I see your friend, and people are starting to recognize me. I should go," he says, turning to leave.
"O-oh, okay. Bye!" You manage to say, though part of you wants to stop him. But he's right. Some people are giggling and looking between him and you, and you see Jung-Young coming around the corner. You need to clear up your text with her before class starts.
As soon as she close enough to speak, she busts out the dreaded question. "Who was that?" she asks as she stops walking.
"I'll explain later. We're going to be late for class," you cut her off, adjusting your backpack as you headed for the classroom, fighting a grin the whole time.
During class, you have a hard time focusing on anything Seonsaengnim Choi is saying. Your mind is occupied with so many questions. What is Yoongi doing here? How does he know Seonsaengnim Choi? Why did he follow you?
"Y/N? What are you thinking about?" Jung-Young whispers in your ear.
"Ladies. You came to class to learn Korean, did you not?" Choi's voice echoes through the classroom.
"Y-yes," you both mutter.
"Then let's learn now and talk later." Gosh, you think, he knows exactly why I can't focus.
Despite your best efforts, you simply cannot focus on class. It passes by in a blur of pondering and daydreaming.
You try your best to rein in your mind as you walk to the bus. As you walk, you hear footsteps behind you.
"So...who's the guy that captured your attention so easily?" Jung-Young teases.
"I'll tell you in a less crowded place," you promise.
She rolls her eyes, but agrees. "Yeah, that's fine, I guess."
On the bus, you discuss class from that day, most of which you were zoned out for. Jung-Young promises to make you copies of her notes.
By the time you make it to your place, she looks like she's about to explode. She runs ahead of you through the door and makes a beeline for the couch, insisting you sit down and tell her everything. When you sit down, she begins the questions.
"So...this guy. Who is he?" she asks, practically vibrating as she waits for your answer.
You try to dodge the question. "You don't know him."
"Okay...where do you know him from?" she presses.
"I don't, really. Not any more than you do," you explain awkwardly.
She looks really confused now. "So, let me get this straight. You met this guy this morning and you're already smitten with him. What am I missing?"
"Probably that both of us have seen him before, but we've just never met him," you answer, trying to get her to come to the conclusion herself and hopefully not squeal too loudly.
"How does that even...wait...oh my word. The only person I can think of who matches that situation that you'd go crazy for is Yoongi. But that's impossible, right?"
"Apparently not," you reply, waiting for the squealing to start. But instead, she rapid-fires questions at you.
"How did you meet him? Why was he talking to you? And most importantly, did you get his number?"
"Okay, okay, slow down. First off, he was meeting with Seonsaengnim Choi when I got to office hours early this morning. I opened the door anyway, and he was there. Second, I had a but of an 'I don't know what to do' moment and took off-"
"Wait, you saw your celebrity crush this morning, and you ran away from him?" she interjects.
"I'm not finished. Lastly, I didn't get his number. But I don't think he would have given it to me anyway."
"Wow. How did it feel?" she asks, processing all this information.
"Uhm...like you have a million things to say and a million thoughts, but they're all jumbled up and you can't pick one," you explain, but it's a poor representation of how it actually felt.
"Okay...this is crazy. Uhm...now what?" she asks.
"Well, at the moment, I'm absolutely starving, so I'm gonna fix something. Anything you particularly want?"
"What? Oh, no, not really. I'm just processing. It's like we're in a fanfiction or something."
You laugh as you head to the kitchen to make ramen, but even you can't believe what happened. It has to be some crazy coincidence, right?
☙ Summary: After a night of passion with your pack's heir, you find yourself pregnant and exiled. When a den you stay in turns out to be inhabited by a rogue alpha named Yoongi, your whole world changes. He insists on protecting you, giving you no choice but to trust him with both your and your pup's lives.
☙ Themes/Warnings: omegaverse; possessive alpha; stepdad (eventually); pregnancy from another alpha; he's a single dad; he has a traumatic past; MDNI; he's really possessive/overprotective; he comes across as an asshole at the beginning; there's mention of a past event of homicide/infanticide, which he was present for, but did not participate in
summary | You’re used to playing just one more game with bestie, Min Yoongi, who shares your love for basketball —but behind your competitive natures, neither of you realises that you’ve really been asking for one more excuse to stay.
pairing | yoongixf!reader
word count | 5.6k
elements | attraction; friends to lovers; first kiss; basketball; romance; slice of life; soft Yoongi; basketball is just foreplay; mutual pining
author's note | Writing for Yoongi could become a habit… I love the thought of casual, cool Yoongi at the basketball court! I was meant to post this last week sometime but with work, the World Cup, BTS concerts etc, I didn't get the chance. Anyway, I hope you enjoy, and as ever, please excuse any errors I may have overlooked −editing is a total drag and I am not thinking all that clearly atm! 😒
b•𓂃𝜗𝜚 bts masterlists ( ❛ p a r t • o n e ❜ ) | ❛ p a r t • t w o ❜ ) ( ❛ bts taglist ❜ )
yoongi masterlist
Everyone says Min Yoongi is cold, but everyone is wrong.
Cold people don't remember the exact way you take your coffee or text you at some ridiculously early hour of the morning because they’ve found a song they think you might like. They don’t stand outside convenience stores waiting for you to finish tying a shoelace when they could have easily walked ahead.
No, Min Yoongi is not a cold person. The problem is simply that he’s almost impossible to read. He feels too much and shows too little, which of course makes every tiny crack that appears in his composure close to feeling on the edges of catastrophic.
Like now.
"Do I have something in my hair?” Yoongi asks flatly, without looking up from his phone.
He sits beside you on the bleachers overlooking the small community basketball court, casually dressed in a baggy black hoodie and black cargo pants that all but cover his hi-top sneakers, legs tucked underneath him, expression unreadable, aloof and almost bored.
It’s cute you think for the hundredth time.
Late afternoon sunlight stretches across the asphalt as the game below you goes on. Loud teenagers shouting, sneakers squeaking alongside the rhythmic bouncing of basketballs fills the air. Yet you could pick out his voice as clear as day, deep and smooth, like rivers of exquisite fine coffee grounds.
"I can feel your eyes on me, you know,” he says. “You make it obvious.”
You swallow. You should be used to his level of blatant honesty by now, but sometimes it takes you by surprise. "You’re fine,” you reply. “I was just thinking. Don’t mind me.”
Finally, he lifts his head up, one eyebrow raised sceptically, with a look so dry it should come with a drought warning. You giggle nervously, but his expression doesn’t change one bit, which only exacerbates your nervousness.
"Is there something funny,” he asks, deadpan.
"Uh− well, no. Not really I guess,” you answer, laughter fading and colour rising in your cheeks.
“Okay,” he says simply, returning his attention to his phone. "You laugh at everything."
"No, I don’t,” you state, a little affronted, defences rising.
"You laughed when I dropped my phone yesterday,” he reminds you. “That could have ended in disaster if I hadn’t spent so much on the screen protection.”
You bite back a smile. "You just looked so annoyed that gravity exists. It was mildly amusing.”
His mouth twitches in that almost-smile that he thinks nobody notices. But you know him so well that nothing escapes you, a condition that seems to have gotten significantly worse over lately.
Six months ago, Min Yoongi was simply a friend. A slightly intimidating, sarcastic friend, who preferred to listen rather than speak. But something had changed over those weeks, because now you have become painfully aware of things, details, that no friend really ought to pay any mind to, or even know.
The shape of his lips, the way he fidgets with his fingers when he’s tired or bored, the look in his eye he gets when he finds something he’s passionate about. You smile to yourself at the thought, as you remember the way his entire face changes and he forgets to act detached and you can suddenly see every emotion he’s been hiding.
It’s annoying that you’ve memorized it, because that means that it means something. Something more than it should. What’s worse is that you are starting to suspect that Yoongi might know. The thought makes your palms clammy.
You tear your gaze away from him and look toward the court where a pickup game is underway between some local college students who were regulars. It’s not a serious game, but it’s also the kind of game where everyone insists they're playing casually while secretly trying very hard to be noticed or do well.
"Want to play?" you ask, stealing a glance sideways at Yoongi.
His eyes remain on his phone. "Are you asking me?"
You scoff. "No, I’m asking Jimin. He’s behind you."
"You're in a weird mood today,” Yoongi states.
You poke your tongue out at him even though he isn’t looking at you. "No, I’m not,” you pout. “It’s you who’s being weird. What’s so interesting on that phone anyway? You’ve been glued to the thing since we got here.”
He doesn’t reply, so you don’t push any further. A few seconds pass, and your attention settles back on the game, but you aren’t really paying attention, your mind distracted elsewhere. a slight puff of breeze carries the scent of warm asphalt over you and into your nostrils, edged with the scent of the nearby hotdog van.
The smell used to make you hungry, but instead you find yourself paying more mind to the fact that Yoongi’s shoulder is almost touching yours. It’s distracting.
"You've gotten worse,” he says suddenly, startling you.
You still, for one dreaded moment it feels like he can see into your head and read all your inappropriate thoughts. “What?”
He stops scrolling. "You used to hide it better."
Your pulse immediately begins to thrum in your ears in a fast-paced beat. "What are you talking about?"
He casts you a strange look. "Basketball,” he says, pulling a face. “What else?”
Relief crashes through you so hard it nearly becomes embarrassment.
"What is up with you today?” Yoongi asks, studying your face intently. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost or something."
You snort. “Nothing,” you reply as casually as you can manage. “I just wasn’t expecting you to come off that damn phone.”
He ignores the dig. "You’re definitely hiding something,” he insists. “Your face looked like I had accused you of tax fraud."
You shove his shoulder harder than necessary, but Yoongi barely moves. "You enjoy making my life difficult."
"Do I?”
"You admitted it."
"I've never denied it,” he says, giving you that dangerous smile he brings out to great effect.
The one that appears unexpectedly and disappears before anyone else notices, and you wonder again just how many people get to see this version of him. Not the performer or public figure, but just the guy sitting quietly beside you on worn metal bleachers, comfortable and happy as he teases you.
The thought warms you inside, happiness looks good on him. It’s what he deserves.
"Now what?”
You snap out of your thoughts, attention returning instantly to him. "Huh?"
"What is it this time?" he asks. “Don’t tell me you’re thinking again, because that’s not gonna wash the second time round.”
"I honestly have no idea what you’re on about,” you say hurriedly, giving him a glare. “You’re being paranoid.”
Yoongi looks pleased with himself, which is a rare occurrence. Probably one that should probably be documented.
“Nah,” he says slowly, gazing at you thoughtfully. “−There’s something you’re not telling me.”
Before you can formulate an appropriate response to throw him off the scent, a basketball bounces its way toward the bleachers, and quick as a flash you catch it automatically.
The player, a short, slightly muscular guy, jogs over. "Hey, are you both doing anything?” he asks. “If not, would you mind if we borrowed you? I’m Ace by the way.”
“Hi, Ace,” you greet as you look down at the court and see that the teams are uneven. Someone must have left.
"We need two more,” Ace says.
You glance at Yoongi, but he immediately shakes his head. "Sorry, no."
Ace sighs dramatically. "Ah, come on −please?”
Yoongi shakes his head no, and Ace turns to you with a desperate expression. "Help?" he pleads.
"I go if he goes,” you say, with a smile. “I’m curious as to how long he can keep saying no."
Yoongi groans, and you grin. Ace points at him. "You're tall,” he says.
"No, I'm not,” Yoongi replies.
"You’re taller than me,” Ace insists.
"That’s not exactly a high bar,” Yoongi says dryly, a smile playing at his lips.
"Wow,” Ace says, with mock offence.
Eventually, through a combination of persistence and guilt, you and Yoongi end up walking onto the court. Yoongi complains the entire way, something about being mid-composing something very important, but you know if that were the case he would never have left his spot, so you ignore him. Well, as much as you are able to anyway.
The game starts but immediately becomes a disaster for you. It isn’t because you’re a bad player. You’re actually pretty decent, reasonable athletic and capable −but… Yoongi is annoyingly competitive. It’s a trait that most people wouldn’t associate with him unless they had witnessed it firsthand.
"Seriously?" you whine, throwing your hands up as Yoongi steals the ball again.
“What?” he smirks.
"You don't play defence like that in a casual game,” you shoot.
"This isn’t defence."
"No,” you agree. “−This is psychological warfare."
He sinks a jumper without looking impressed or celebrating, and the teenagers on the sidelines lose their minds.
You point accusingly. "See?” you say. "They're all cheering."
"That's not my fault."
You put your hands on your hips and stare hard at him, unimpressed. "You’re doing it on purpose,” you say firmly. “You're loving it.”
“I’m not −really,” he says.
“That’s a lie, Min Yoongi,” you declare.
You know that’s a fact because the corner of his mouth keeps threatening to curve upward, and his eyes are brighter than usual.
The game continues, and the score stays close. The sun drops lower as sweat gathers at your temples and your lungs burn. Neither of you stop though, not even when the game should have been over and common sense suggests you should rest.
Around you, everyone else begins losing their energy, and still you both go on stubbornly, because now there’s a challenge involved that neither of you is willing to abandon.
"Last point,” someone calls in exhausted desperation.
Ace bends over, exhausted. "Please,” he implores. “What are you two, robots or what?”
You laugh breathlessly. "Okay, agreed."
Yoongi catches the ball and spins it once. He looks towards you, and the expression in his eyes instantly raises your blood pressure. “Oh no!” you gasp.
"Oh, yeah,” he grins. "Guard me."
"I hate you."
"Just guard me."
You move into position, and the court falls strangely quiet. It’s actually all in your head, not literally, but it feels like everything goes into slow motion. Yoongi, the ball, and the distance between you.
He dribbles once, and then again, slowly watching and waiting, and suddenly you find yourself aware of every inch separating you. You’re close enough to challenge him and hear him breathing in short, heavy bursts.
His eyes lift and meet yours, and something seems to shift.
"You know you're distracted, right?" he says, breaking the moment.
Your entire brain crashes, as if it just shorted out. "What?"
The ball disappears past you with one smooth movement. One devastating fake. You react a second too late, and everyone erupts as the winning shot sinks cleanly through the net.
Game over. Yoongi catches the rebound, and the smug expression on his face is absolutely unbearable.
"You cheated,” you whine.
"I did not."
"You psychologically attacked me!” you say. “That’s not fair!”
"That's basketball,” he grins.
"That is manipulation."
"Skill issue."
The fact that he says it with a completely straight face nearly kills you. You glare, but he glares back at you. Then for the first time that day, Yoongi actually laughs −a deep, real laugh right from his stomach. It’s rich, warm and unfiltered, and it transforms his entire face.
You feel a pull in the core of your heart that reminds you why you’re in trouble. Because no matter how much you tell yourself otherwise, it is very apparently undeniable that you are totally, completely and irrevocably gone for him.
When the game ends is when your problems begin. During the game, everything has rules, clear objectives and distractions. You can blame your racing heartbeat on physical exertion, and say your attention is competition. You can pretend the way Yoongi looks at you means nothing at all.
But after the game, you’re shoved back to reality, which is far less cooperative.
"You're buying me a drink,” you state, the words leaving your mouth before you've fully recovered from being humiliated by his winning shot.
Yoongi tosses the basketball back to one of the players with a wink that does nothing to calm your alarming heartrate. "For what?"
"For emotional damages,” you quip. "You embarrassed me in front of teenagers."
"You embarrassed yourself."
"I disagree."
"You can disagree and still be wrong."
You make a face at him, but his expression remains completely neutral. You recognise his amusement when you see it. "You think you're so cute, don’t you?” you say sourly.
"I'm just devastatingly handsome."
His response comes so unexpectedly that you almost lose your footing, but Yoongi just looks forward as if he didn't just say that. As if confidence like that is perfectly normal and your brain just hadn’t crashed out again.
"You look offended,” he says innocently.
"No, I'm just shocked at your crazy ego!” you exclaim.
"My ego is appropriately sized."
"I think your ego is well on its way to demanding its own postal code."
A low huff escapes him, and you count it as a small victory.
The two of you say your goodbyes and leave the court together. You’ve been playing for a good while, and the sky has turned into evening now, with orange bleeding into violet. The streetlights begin to flicker awake and around you the city starts to undergo the daily transition ritual from day to night.
You both walk on in silence until the convenience store appears at the corner and without discussion, both of you head toward it out of habit. The bell above the door chimes and cold air washes over your overheated skin, providing instant relief. You immediately head for the drink refrigerators and Yoongi disappears toward the snack aisle. A few minutes later, you find him standing motionless in front of instant ramen.
"Why does it always take you so long to decide on noodles?” you ask.
He shrugs. “It just does.”
You grab a couple of bottles of water, before hesitating for a beat. A familiar hand reaches past you and curls around the sports drink you had been eyeing.
Yoongi places it in your basket. "You'll regret the water."
Your stomach does an inconvenient double somersault. "Thanks."
He smiles like it’s nothing, as if remembering your preferences is automatic. But you are so acutely aware of every small kindness, every thoughtful gesture, and each moment that reveals how attentive he actually is.
The accumulation of those moments is becoming impossible to ignore.
You reach the register and the cashier scans your items. Before you can grab your wallet, Yoongi hands over his card.
"You said I owed you damages,” he offers matter-of-factly.
"That was a joke!” you state. “Come on, let me get mine.”
"It’s okay,” he says firmly. “You’re the expensive type, right?"
You frown and give him a playful whack. "Oof, I can’t stand you sometimes!” you hiss, but you’re smiling.
The cashier looks between both of you with a knowing grin that strangers give when making assumptions. You blush, the colour deepening when Yoongi’s gaze turns to you, then back at the cashier.
Something unspoken lingers in the air, but nobody says anything else. The walk outside feels different afterward, charged with an underlying tension. You don’t notice how the city lights blur across the pavement, you don’t notice the passing cars or conversations that spill over from nearby bars and restaurants. Life continues around you, but your awareness is solely on the man who walks quietly beside you.
The baggy clothing, the quiet confidence, the thoughtful way he digs his hands deep into his pockets. Even the way he moves, and the way he smells.
You wonder if he knows, what he knows, and if he’s always known.
The thought follows you for several blocks, and eventually, curiosity wins. It’s a risky outcome. "Can I ask you something?" you start nervously.
Yoongi glances sideways. "That depends on whether it’s annoying or not.”
"It's definitely annoying,” you play along.
"Then no.”
You laugh, but you can tell he’s listening. “You have to be honest, okay?” you say. “That’s all.”
"That’s an interesting start,” he notes.
"When did we become friends?"
It isn’t the question you intended to ask, but it's the one that comes out.
Yoongi quietly considers it for a beat. "You don't know?" You shake your head no. "You don’t remember how you invited yourself into my life?"
Your mouth falls open. "I did not."
"You started countless conversations,” he tells you. “I swear, it was one every ten minutes.”
"It’s normal behaviour to talk to people," you retort.
"And you kept showing up,” he adds, “Everywhere I was, you were there.”
"We worked together!"
"Yeah, but you also showed up recreationally."
The accusation is somehow worse because it's true. "I was being friendly, okay,” you say softly. “I didn’t know that was a crime.”
"You were very persistent,” he says gently.
He looks at you, and you see the smile that tugs at the corners of his mouth.
"Oh, you loved my persistence!" you grin.
His eyes drop briefly, but more of the smile emerges. But the moment he sees you noticing, it goes immediately. Too late, you think. You’ve already seen it, caught it and stored it away alongside every other rare expression he gives.
"I tolerated it,” he insists, but the truth is reflected in his eyes.
You smile knowingly, but you don’t say anything else. There was something to be said for speaking a little too much.
"You know what I noticed first about you?” he asks, catching you off-guard again.
His question catches somewhere in your chest. "What’s that?"
His gaze stays ahead, as if not looking at you would make the words easier to say. "You always look people directly in the eye."
You laugh softly. "That's your first impression?"
"Yeah, it stood out,” he says. "You weren't trying to impress anybody."
Yoongi rarely says things he doesn't mean. When he compliments someone, it’s genuine. You don’t know what to do with his statement, so you joke. It’s your primary defence mechanism.
"That's the nicest thing you've ever said to me,” you say. “Top five, definitely.”
He rolls his eyes, but he doesn't argue. It feels suspicious because the conversation should move on, but instead, the air between you gets heavier in a meaningful way. Full of space for all the things that neither of you have said yet, that invites confessions and honesty.
You aren’t that brave just yet.
Thankfully, your apartment building looms ahead, and relief and disappointment arrive simultaneously. The familiar contradiction surprises you and you find that you don’t want the evening to end just yet. It’s a realisation that makes you feel alarmingly vulnerable.
You stop near the entrance and Yoongi stops too.
"Well,” he says.
“Well,” you say too.
Immediately you hate yourselves. "That was painful,” he chuckles softly.
"A little,” you laugh.
He gives you that smile that was only reserved for private moments. Suddenly neither of you seems eager to leave because something is happening. Your heart races wildly, as if in anticipation of something lifechanging.
Yoongi shifts his weight, looking at you as if he’s considering an important decision. Your breath catches and his eyes meet yours. The look he gives you sends warmth rushing through you. Everything fades into the background and there’s just you and him.
"Yoongi,” you say, his name leaving your mouth softer than you had intended.
The effect is immediate. Something unmistakeable changes in his expression. "Hm?" he hums gently.
You should say something smooth or clever, that doesn’t reveal exactly how much power he currently has over your nervous system, but your grasp of language has abandoned you. All you can conjure up is one, inaccurate word. “Nothing.”
Yoongi exhales slowly, seeming almost amused. "God, you're terrible at this."
You giggle with embarrassment and relief. "That's rich coming from you."
He looks genuinely caught for the first time you can remember. There’s no defence or sarcasm that comes your way. Realisation settles between you that the time for pretending was over. Although nobody’s saying anything yet, it’s getting close enough that you can feel your heart preparing for impact, because whatever happens next would change everything.
You sleep badly that night.
Your brain spends the entire night replaying every second outside your apartment building. The looks between you, the silence, the almost-conversation, the possibility −the fact that nothing actually happened.
By morning you've analysed the situation from every conceivable angle and arrived at exactly zero useful conclusions. It was a truly impressive waste of mental energy. You blame Yoongi of course, it’s easier than blaming yourself.
The next few days don't help. If anything, they make everything worse, because now you're really paying attention, and once you start noticing something, it's impossible to stop.
Things like the way Yoongi’s messages arrive first thing in the morning, how he saves articles he thinks you'll like, and the way he automatically walks on the outside edge of the sidewalk whenever you're together. Those kinds of tiny, silly things that shouldn’t matter but they do, far more than they should.
Three days later, you're lying on your bed doing absolutely nothing when your phone buzzes.
A single message from Yoongi −‘Basketball?’ That's it. No greeting, context or explanation. Just one word.
You type back, −‘Wasn’t the other day enough for you?’
He responds immediately −‘I need more.’
Arrogant−
‘Court, one hour’ you type.
Twenty minutes later you're standing in front of your closet wondering why you've changed shirts three times. It's basketball, not a date. It’s irritating that you’re questioning something you never had before.
The court is mostly empty when you arrive. The late afternoon sun hangs low overhead, and a few people shoot around on distant hoops. There’s nothing unusual about anything, except one thing. Yoongi is there already, waiting, and the sight catches you off-guard.
He stands near the centre of the court holding a basketball beneath one arm, all in black again, his dark hair messy but looking annoyingly good for someone doing absolutely nothing. Your nerves immediately flicker alive.
"You look guilty,” he says. Some greeting.
"You invited me."
"I might have made a mistake,” he smiles.
"Too late,” you quip.
He tosses the ball toward you, and you catch it, the familiar weight settling into your hands. Something about that feels significant, although you can't explain why. Perhaps it’s because basketball has somehow quietly become your thing −together.
Yours and his.
Neither of you keeps score throughout the game, not officially at least. But that doesn’t stop Yoongi from celebrating every successful shot as if he's proving a point.
"What’s that all about?" you call.
You watch him sink another jumper. "What was what?"
"The unnecessary smugness,” you tell him. "You look so pleased."
"I am pleased."
"You made one shot,” you say pointedly.
"I make many shots."
There was nothing wrong with his confidence. You smile to yourself, but you see Yoongi catch it and he flashes you a quick, knowing smile back.
The game continues, and time passes so quickly. You don’t even notice it disappearing until it’s already late. One game turns into three, before both of you collapse onto the bleachers, breathing hard with exhaustion. Sweat cools against your skin and above you, evening is once
Yet somehow less distracting than the man beside you.
"Why basketball?" you ask quietly, more thinking aloud than anything.
He glances over. "What do you mean?"
"Out of everything." You drum your fingers absently on the ball which rests between your feet, waiting. "You write music,” you continue. “You could have picked anything."
Yoongi looks toward the court. "Because it's simple,” he says. "When everything else gets complicated."
You wait for him to continue, sensing he wanted to elaborate more. His fingers rotate the water bottle in his hands.
"I’ve always liked it, even before all the arenas and cheers,” he says. “I always know where I stand when I’m playing.”
His answer is unexpectedly revealing and personal, but you get it. It’s a contrast to emotions and relationships, to uncertainty and whatever this was that nobody has claimed yet. You know exactly why Yoongi has been hesitating. He cares enough for it to matter.
Yoongi's expression changes, something thoughtful and unresolved settling behind his eyes. "You never answered my question,” he says.
You know what he’s talking about already, but yet again the ability to talk yourself out of a corner seems to have vanished into thin air. “No.”
What an incredibly eloquent response.
"You’ve had a while to come up with something more than one syllable that tells me absolutely nothing productive," he says. “And that’s what you come up with?”
"I panicked,” you admit.
"I figured,” he says, the warmth and affectionate in his tone tugs at your heart.
You don't know what to do with it, and you don't know what to do with him. So you decide to tell the truth. Maybe because you’re tired or brave, or just plain stupid and terrified of getting this wrong.
"I didn't know what to say.” Yoongi listens attentively, the smile fading from his expression. "To be honest, I still don't."
You can hear your own vulnerability in the quietness of your voice. Your admission hangs between you, exposed and raw, and for a moment you wonder if you’ve misjudged everything and made a massive mistake by saying too much.
"I think you do,” Yoongi says, his eyes pinning yours steadily. "You always know what to say.” He’s far too perceptive, and your heartbeat thumps behind your ribs. "−You just don't know if you should."
The accuracy of his statement leaves you speechless, because that's exactly it. That fear that you had got it wrong, the fear of changing everything between you and losing the friendship you cherished so much.
The streetlights suddenly flicker on and someone across the court sinks a three-pointer and celebrates like they've just won a championship. You barely notice, the intensity of the situation you hang on the precipice of too much to share attention with anything.
Yoongi sits beside you. He’s so close that you can see the faint crease between his brows and see that he’s as nervous as you are. It startles you because Yoongi hardly ever got nervous, and if he did, he almost never lets anyone see it.
Yet here it is, hidden beneath his calm expression, visible only if you know where to look. Which you do −you know exactly where to look.
His fingers tap once against the water bottle, then stop.
"You make that face when you're thinking,” you observe.
“What face is that?”
"That one."
"That’s helpful,” he says, eyes lingering on your face.
How exactly are you supposed to explain it? How do you describe being looked at in a way that makes you feel like the most precious person in the world? How do you put words to the certainty that has been quietly building inside you for months?
Yoongi watches your internal struggle unfold. "You've got nothing?"
"I have plenty."
"Clearly."
"I just—.” You groan, dropping your head into your hands when words fail you again.
A laugh escapes him, it’s low and rich, the sound filling you up like sunshine. You look up. Yoongi looks happier than you've seen him in days, maybe weeks. He also looks relieved, and you know why too. It’s the same relief you have of not having to carry something alone anymore, knowing the feeling existed on both sides. Any fear is manageable.
You take a breath, tired of waiting, of stretching this moment any longer. “Yoongi?”
Your heartbeat pounds on and your hands feel awkward. Your brain suggests fleeing the country, but you’ve already started so you keep going.
Yoongi waits patiently, just like he always does, and it gives you the courage to go on.
"I like you,” you blurt out. “I’ve liked you for a while.”
Done. The sentence hangs in the air like temptation itself, and there are no takebacks. You focus on the basketball court, then the sky −literally anything except him for approximately five seconds before you give in and look at him. He’s looking at you as if he’s finally hearing something he already knew.
"You knew, didn’t you?"
He smiles. "I suspected,” he confirms.
"Oh my God!” you gasp, covering your face immediately, because apparently humiliation is forever.
A hand catches your wrist gently, pulling yours down before you can hide again. The touch lasts only a moment but your entire body catches fire. Yoongi must feel it too, because you see something flash briefly across his face.
"How long have you known?" you ask quietly.
"A few months."
Your eyes widen. "A few months?"
"Yeah?"
"You just carried that information around?"
"Just like you did."
You hate when he's right, which is far too often. “You could've said something."
Yoongi exhales and looks towards the darkening sky. "I didn't want to ruin this, ruin us.”
You know exactly what he means. All the late-night conversations, basketball games and routines. Your friendship and the trust you had built together. Something precious, and worth protecting. You understand why he had hesitated because it was the same for you.
"We could've avoided months of suffering,” you say softly. “If one of us had just said something.”
"You call that suffering?" he asks. “That’s a bit dramatic, don’t you think?”
"You’re so emotionally repressed,” you retort, grinning.
"Strong words."
"But true words."
He seems less guarded now, more open than you've ever seen him and the sight makes your chest ache unexpectedly. For all the time you've spent wanting him, trying to decipher him, you’ve never actually let yourself imagine the part where he likes you back. Now that it’s happening, it feels like it had been inevitable. As if you had reached a destination you had always known you were going to.
The basketball hangs loosely from Yoongi's fingertips, forgotten for the first time all evening.
He looks at you thoughtfully. "I had this whole conversation planned," he says quietly, placing the ball between you at his feet.
"Yeah?”
"Yeah. It was terrible."
"I would've liked to hear it."
"Not a chance, this is going far better."
"Are you nervous?” you ask with a smile.
“No, not nervous,” he tells you, stepping in to you, closing the gap.
You look up. “But you are making it hard to keep my distance,” he murmurs, dark eyes searching yours intently.
You bite your lip, drawing his gaze to your mouth. “I think this is the part where one of us does something stupid or brave,” he says quietly, a small smile touching his lips. “I get the feeling it’ll probably be me.”
Your heart pounds so loudly you're certain he can hear it. He lifts a hand slowly, setting against your cheek. His touch is gentle and warm, so tender that your heart blooms.
"You still with me?" he asks.
You nod. “Yes.”
He leans in slowly enough that you can feel his breath before your lips meet. The kiss is soft and lazy, lasting only a few seconds before you break apart, but you feel it all the way to your core.
Yoongi studies your face with an expression you've never seen before, and a smile he isn’t trying to hide. "I've wanted to do that for a while,” he tells you.
You laugh, unable to help yourself. "That's what you say after kissing me?"
He smiles again. "Don't tell anyone."
You reach down and pick up the basketball, tucking it under one arm. "Your secret's safe with me."
He glances at the ball, then back at you, and a familiar look appears in his eyes. Without warning he reaches for the basketball, and you react instantly. You’re too late of course, because he’s already stealing it from right under your nose.
"Yoongi!"
He stands, holding the ball beneath one arm, equipped with the cutest little smile. “Yes?”
"We just kissed,” you state in disbelief. "−And your first instinct is basketball?"
"Basketball is important,” he says, completely seriously.
You shake your head but then you see a small crack in his composure, and a smile threatens to appear. Then you’re both laughing together so hard that your stomach hurts and tears threaten your eyes.
This had to happen in the most Yoongi way possible, with basketball and teasing. The future seems strangely uncomplicated as you finally seem sure of where you stand. The realisation is comforting instead of scary.
Yoongi bounces the ball and looks at you. "One more game."
You smile. "This is your love language, isn’t it?"
He rolls his eyes and avoids your question. "Are you coming or not?"
You stand up and brush invisible dust from your clothes before walking towards him, the distance between you disappearing easily like it always should have. Yoongi hands you the ball.
Your fingers touch briefly, and the contact lingers but neither one of you makes a fuss. When he falls into step beside you as you head back toward the court, you realize that maybe basketball was just the reason. The place where conversations happened and trust formed. Where two stubborn people spent months circling the truth before finally admitting it.
The game had simply given you somewhere to meet, and to learn one another. The rest had always been inevitable. Yoongi bumps his shoulder lightly against yours and you grin immediately, knowing exactly what it means.
And this time when he smiles back, there’s nothing left to wonder about.
*Pairing: idol!OT7 x f!reader
*Word Count: 4.7k
*Posted: july 9, 2026
*Genre: idol au, hired tour companion au, fluff, angst, eventual smut, canon-ish
*Summary: BTS, despite being the biggest band in the world, are only human. Embarking on a yearlong world tour would be hard on anyone. Combating loneliness, frustration, and stress, they've always needed someone on tour with them. A companion, a friend to go to when the stage lights fade to black. For the ARIRANG tour, that's where you come in.
*Warnings: little alcohol consumption but nothing else in this chapter!
*A/N: hey hi hello! this idea has been ruminating in my brain for months and i've finally gotten some of it out into words. this is my first actual series, so bare with me and settle in for the ride! my current plan is to update every (2) weeks on Thursdays, but i'll let y'all know if that changes as time goes on. i really hope you enjoy this as much as i'm enjoying writing it!
*A/N 2: this story will be told non-linearly! it has a lot of skipping around between past and present, but i will always make it clear so it's easy to follow. :)
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“Kook, it’s gonna be okay,” you say soothingly, playing with the youngest’s hair as he lies his head in your lap, “you’ve all been working so hard. You’re gonna kill it. I know you will.”
He doesn’t say much anymore. Considering he just word vomited for the last half hour, venting his frustration and anxiety about the opening night of the tour, you’re not surprised. He’s exhausted. Physically and mentally.
He had sent you a simple text earlier. Just three words. i need you. And you came straight to his apartment.
Jungkook was the member you had just naturally vibed with the most from the very beginning. Despite meeting him individually last out of the group, there was just something about him that made you comfortable from the jump.
The first time you hung out with him alone, the two of you lost track of time, ending up gaming on his couch until two a.m., laughing and yelling at each other through every round of whatever game you had played that night.
Now, six months later, you sit on that same couch, threading your fingers through his hair while he’s locked in an existential crisis about their first concert as a group in almost four years.
“But what if we screw up?” he asks you quietly.
You sigh. The exasperation isn’t directed at him, never at him. You just hate how much he doubts himself.
“The seven of you are so capable, Jungkookie. You’ve all said rehearsals have been going off without a hitch for days now. You’ve got this.”
His leg bounces on the couch fast enough to jostle you a bit. His fidgeting used to bother you a little, but you got used to it. Now you hardly notice it.
“I hope you’re right, noona,” he finally relents.Jungkook is the only member who insists on calling you that. You’re older than the three youngest members, but Taehyung and Jimin took your ‘drop the formalities’ suggestion to heart as soon as you’d said it, unlike him.
He says it’s just a term of endearment at this point, but you’re not convinced. You honestly think he’s still a little intimidated by you being three years older than him, even if he won’t admit it. It’s cute, really.
Just like always, you stay as long as he needs you. Until the racing of his heart slows to a calm thrum, until the air fills his lungs and the weight lifts from his chest.
In the six months since you met him, you’ve learned that Jungkook, to be frank, needs to be babied sometimes. He has such confidence in his work, and he’s truly such a powerhouse with his craft. But beneath that, his anxiety is almost crippling sometimes. The other members all know that about him, but he doesn’t always like to bother them with how he feels. So, he comes to you now. It’s not like he only texts you when he needs emotional support, though. The two of you have fun together: gaming, cooking, drinking. But you’re more than happy to be here for him during times like this, too.
The thing you don’t tell Jungkook at this moment is that you’re also anxious. Not for the same reasons, of course. You really believe they’re going to absolutely crushtheir first show on tour. But, you can’t help but be a little worried about the fact that your first day on the job, your first day actually supporting them through this tour, is tomorrow too. And thinking about that makes you remember how this all started.
~~
September 2025
“You understand the need for discretion if you were to accept?”
You nod. Because of course you do.
Being the designated.. companion.. during BTS’ upcoming tour is not something to fuck around with. It’s, as far as you know, not exactly legal. From what you were told when you first interviewed for the job, previous tour companions provided many levels of support to the artists and maintained very close relationships with all of them throughout their contract terms. You didn’t need to be explicitly told what that meant- you understood solely based on the look the manager had given you.
The stack of legal documents and contracts in front of you on the table is enough to make your head spin. The group of managers and lawyers sitting across from you makes it even worse. But you press on.
“As we discussed during our initial meetings, all expenses, travel, and visa requirements will be taken care of by our team. You will be paid half the stated salary on a monthly basis, beginning from the start of the trial period, which will then increase to the full salary listed once the tour begins if you stay. You’d be hired on officially as an assistant to the artists, for legal purposes.”
The managers continue on, showing you sections of each employment document and contract, giving you time and space to ask any questions you have. Which, as expected, are quite a few. But they don’t mind. They understand all too well the gravity of your decision, and the seriousness of what could happen if you didn’t understand something. You, their company, and their artists would be put at risk if you failed to follow their explicit employment conditions.
“Your employment duties would consist solely of providing companionship and support to each of the artists. How that’s achieved is something you would discuss and decide on with each of them separately. You would have full decision-making power, the ability to disagree with anything that’s suggested, as long as you explain your reasoning and suggest a reasonable alternative that is mutually beneficial,” the manager continues.
An hour passes. Maybe two. You don’t really know, you’ve lost track of time. By the end of the meeting, all your questions have been answered and you’ve made your decision.
You’ve heard nothing but good things about all seven members of BTS from other “assistants” they’ve had during their past tours. The managers had shown you their post-contract review sheets, in which all previous assistants had given their honest opinions about working for them. No glaring red flags. All the reviews had stated that all members were kind, respectful, and supportive in return (when able, of course).
The contract is for the entirety of their already-announced tour dates, plus the six months preceding it. Eighteen months. With the possibility to extend when the next leg of the tour is announced, if mutually agreed upon. The salary is.. impressive. More money than you’ve probably made in your entire adult life combined so far. And the best part, aside from the travel opportunities? The contract is breakable. Unlike other companies, both you and BTS can end your contract at any time with no penalties for either party. They care about their employees’ wellbeing, and allow them to make their own decisions about whether they’d like to continue their employment, contract or not. So, you don’t feel you could be stuck in something that might not end up being a good fit for you or the artists.
You sign all the contracts and legal documents with the help of the company’s lawyers.
You’ve officially accepted their offer of employment.
The next six months before the tour begins will be spent getting comfortable with the artists, both with each member individually and the group as a whole. After all, there’s no way the company can expect you to set off on a twelve-month world tour with seven men you don’t know.
Your salary is decreased during those six months because your responsibilities are significantly decreased as well. All you’re doing during this time period is hanging out with the members when they ask. Not even officially on call for them. It’s honestly more like you just being friends with them, aside from the fact that you’re being paid for it.
If the trial period goes well, the company will ask you one last time if you’d like to continue your employment during the tour. They’ll allow the members to decide if they want to keep you. Mutually agreed upon, like everything else in your contracts. They’ll give everyone an out if you or they decide the vibe just isn’t there.
You’re nervous. Of course you are. These men are the seven biggest idols in the world right now. And it’s your job to make yourself available to them. To provide support, companionship, a constant presence that’s there for them however they need. More than anything, though, it’s your job to be their friend. A neutral person who has nothing to do with any part of their career trajectory or professional endeavors. Someone they can be comfortable with, vent to, lean on during the most stressful time of their career thus far.
But, nerves aside, you’re excited too. Ready to take this on.
So, you decide to take the next six months day by day. Really get to know them and stay neutral during that time to decide if this is a good fit for you. You’ll either vibe with them or not, and there really isn’t anything you can do about it. You’ll bow out gracefully if you don’t fit with them. No hard feelings. Because that’s the entire point of this trial period. To see if all of you think you could handle being together for twelve months straight once the tour starts.
But, you also can’t help thinking.. what if you fit well with them? What happens then?
The only way to find out is to try. So, you try.
And that’s how you ended up where you are now.
~~
The afternoon of the first show of the tour, you’re backstage in Goyang. Your first official night providing real support to the members now that the eight of you have all agreed you’re staying with them through the tour. Decked out in all black, casual jeans and the same long-sleeved shirt the rest of their staff wear, badge hanging from your neck giving you access to their spaces. You’ve never met their tour staff before tonight, so everything’s a whirlwind. Learning names you probably won’t actually remember, learning the space so you know where to go when someone needs you. It’s chaotic, to say the least.
The staff knows what you’re there for. They know your role. But, you took it upon yourself to help in little ways with other things when the members haven’t directly asked for you. You’re helping organize a table of water and snacks when your phone buzzes.
Namjoon: Can you come to my dressing room?
You set the water bottle in your hand down on the table, reply to the text with a thumbs up, and make your way down the hallway to Namjoon’s dressing room, knocking twice before you open the door.
“Hey,” you say once the door is shut, “everything okay?”
Namjoon, perched on the arm of a chair with his head bowed, looks up at you when you speak.
“Can I just.. walk through my approach with you?” he asks.
“Of course. Spill it,” you say.
Namjoon is a yapper. Everyone knows that. So it doesn’t come as a surprise to you when his words tumble out, his brain working faster than his mouth can keep up with.
He talks about what he’s planning to say to the crowd, how he’s going to introduce the special surprise song segment, and his ending words. He asks your opinion, if you think he’s on the right track and if his words make sense.
“Namjoon, you’ve been giving these speeches for over ten years. You should trust yourself,” you finally say.
He just nods, exhaling slowly. That’s something you’ve noticed about him, too. He tries to breathe out his worries. He has a massive weight on his shoulders, leading the biggest group in the world, and sometimes, it feels like too much for him to carry on his own. But he still does.
“I learned something from Yoongi,” you say then, “squeeze the muscle in between your thumb and index, like this.” You demonstrate, showing him the exact spot he needs to target. He copies you, massaging the spot.
Yoongi explained it to you one night over dinner at his apartment after you’d asked him why he did it during the filming of their ‘2.0’ music video. He told you that the pressure point is called Hegu. It’s supposed to be well known in acupressure to be one of the best pressure points to stimulate to help relieve headaches and stress. In theory, all you have to do is massage the spot for thirty seconds, and it should start taking effect.
“Huh,” Namjoon says then, “that.. actually seemed like it worked a little. Even if it’s just in my head.”
You smile softly at him. “Good.”
He stands then, wrapping you in a hug that you gladly return.
Something else you learned about Namjoon in the last six months is that he’s a hugger. He’s strong, muscular, even somewhat intimidating sometimes, but really, he’s a giant teddy bear underneath all that. His deeply dimpled smile should have told you that from the beginning, but you’d be lying if you said the first time he’d asked if he could hug you hadn’t surprised you. It just so happens that you’re also a hugger, so after that first time, you’d told him he didn’t need to ask to hug you when he wanted a hug. So he doesn’t anymore.
“Now, quit worrying. I promise that even if you went out there and completely fucked up everything you planned to say, they aren’t going to care, okay?” you say, rubbing your hand gently over his back.
He finally lets you go, keeping his hands on your biceps for a few seconds, that signature dimpled smile peeking through. “That’s probably true,” he says with a chuckle.
“It is,” you say in agreement, chuckling too, “now, go out there and kill it at soundcheck. They’re waiting.”
With that, you leave Namjoon’s dressing room, happy to support him. That’s what you’re here for, after all.
~~
The rain has been nonstop since soundcheck. At each intermission of the concert, the staff has to help the members change clothes, and then wring out the water from the outfits they just took off. It is absolute chaos, in the best way. People are shouting, everyone is rushing around, and clothes are being tossed aside like nothing. By the time the concert ends, you truly don’t know how none of the members got hurt. The stage was flooded, Jimin almost slipped, and they had to seriously alter their choreography to prevent injuries, but the crowd? The crowd was insane. Screaming their lungs out, singing every song, and dancing in their seats in their cute little ponchos BTS so graciously purchased for the entire venue.
When ‘Into the Sun’ fades out, the members walk off stage as they say their goodbyes. They all file backstage in pairs. They’re soaked, naturally, but the looks on their faces.. that’s something you can’t even describe. They’re happy. The amount of pure joy on their faces is adorable.
“See? Didn’t I tell you?” you say to Jungkook as he comes to you and wraps you in a very wet hug, snorting with laughter at how soaked you are now too.
“Yeah, you were right, noona. That was — probably the best night I’ve had in years,” he responds, cute bunny teeth on display as he grins.
The members all head to their dressing rooms, exhausted but happy. You help with the backstage cleanup, since no one has asked for you and you want to make yourself useful while you’re still here. Trash gets taken off of tables, discarded jackets are given to the wardrobe staff for proper laundering, and someone even asks you if you can help with making sure mic packs are dry and placed in their boxes.
Just as you’re about to check with their manager if you can help with anything else, your phone buzzes in your pocket.
Yoongi: Dressing room in five?
And that’s your cue to go find him.
One thing you’ve noticed about Yoongi since meeting him is that he rarely asks for help. He observes, he anticipates others’ needs, but he doesn’t really think about his own.
Yoongi: can you ask the staff for a blanket?
That message makes you pause briefly. A blanket?
You shake your head, not questioning it, and ask the nearest wardrobe staff member if there are any you can take to him. They gesture vaguely toward the wardrobe room, which you learn is them telling you to go find it yourself. So, you do.
The wardrobe room is massive. Stocked with racks of all of their stage outfits, including extras in case of emergencies. Sifting through a tub of random items, you finally find a soft, blue throw blanket folded up underneath some mismatched socks and beanies.
You knock twice on Yoongi’s dressing room door, waiting for his signal. But instead of just telling you to come in, he opens the door himself.
The sight you find behind the door is downright devastating. Poor Yoongi, you think to yourself. The man is standing there, dressed in dry sweatpants and a henley shirt, shivering.
He steps aside to let you in, closing the door behind you.
“Still cold?” you ask as you hand him the folded blanket.
“Fuckin’ freezing,” he admits through chattering teeth, “thanks for this.”
He just walks over to the couch in the corner, sits cross-legged, and wraps himself in a blanket burrito. You stand where he left you, and he doesn’t say much for a while.
That’s another thing you’ve learned about him since you met. He isn’t much of a talker unless it’s something he’s really passionate about. In moments like this, it’s only natural for him to stay quiet. He pulls the blanket tighter around himself, curling into the corner of the couch.
“Sorry about the rain,” you say then, “it was really inconvenient for the first show of the tour. Can I get you anything? Coffee or something?”
He just shakes his head, cat-like eyes fixed on his phone screen. “Nah, I’m okay. Just trying to warm up because I can’t feel my fuckin’ fingers.”
You can’t help but pout slightly at that.
If you didn’t know any better, you would’ve assumed the show would’ve been canceled with how bad the rain is tonight. But you do know better.
BTS would never cancel a show unless it was absolutely necessary. Like.. fatal emergency necessary. They adapt, they make it work. But canceling isn’t in their vocabulary.
But you feel awful. Surely the other members are just as cold as he is, and you hope they’re warming up just the same as he is.
“Hey,” he finally says, setting his phone on the arm of the couch.
“Hm?”
His jaw works, like he’s deciding if he should finish that sentence or not. Like it takes effort to actually get the rest of the words out. Then —
“Could you sit with me?”
You move on cue, depositing yourself on the couch a safe, professional distance away from him.
Then he has the audacity to chuckle. Like, he actually laughs.
You look at him, shock crossing your face.
“Why are you laughing?” you ask in disbelief.
He shakes his head, still chuckling.
“Let me rephrase that. Could you sit next to me so you can help me get warmer? Body heat and all that.”
Oh, okay. That’s.. new.
But you move then, and to your utter surprise, he lifts his arm, blanket still attached, and waits. Looks at you like he thinks you’re dumb if you don’t understand.
So, again, you move. And he pulls you against his side, arm and blanket both around you now. And latches onto you like you’re his own personal heating pad.
You can feel his body shaking behind you, but you just aren’t sure how to go about this. In the six months you’ve known him, he’s never even so much as asked you for a hug. He isn’t big on physical contact. So the fact that he is basically cuddling you on a couch underneath a blanket is just.. weird. Not a bad weird, but weird nonetheless.
A few minutes of still-weird silence later, you finally speak.
“Um- sorry. I’m trying not to overstep, but I don’t know what you need right now,” you admit.
He buries his face in your shoulder blade, still shivering.
“I don’t know either,” he murmurs, “but the rain was killer. My whole body hurts and I’m still freezing,” he responds.
You hum then, thinking. You lift one of your arms and let it hover near his stomach.
“I could hug you back? If you’re comfortable with it,” you suggest.
He doesn’t answer you with words, but you can feel the slight nod of his head against your shoulder. You wrap your arm around his middle, essentially curling yourself around him underneath the blanket.
The silence between you two is comfortable, not awkward. You’re just not used to being this close to him, so you don’t know what to do or say to keep it not awkward. So you stay quiet until he speaks up again.
“You’re okay with this?” he asks.
Ah. Very typical Yoongi. Checking on everyone before he worries about himself.
“Yeah. I don’t know how much the others have told you, but I’m fine with physical touch and whatnot. I hug the others all the time,” you explain.
He’s the one who hums this time.
“K. Can you put your legs in my lap then?” he asks, voice still muffled against your shoulder.
Oh.
“Yeah, if that’s what you want.”
You sense the shift in his mood then as he pulls back slightly, so you turn to look at him.
His almond-shaped eyes meet yours, and he speaks slowly, softly.
“It’s not all about me, y’know?” he asks.
You cock your head, curious what he means.
“Are you okay with putting your legs in my lap?”
You nod then. “Yeah, I’m okay with it.”
Yoongi doesn’t respond at first, still searching your eyes as if to check if you’re being truthful. He sits further back against the couch, keeping you wrapped underneath the blanket with him.
“Just because you work for us doesn’t mean your comfort doesn’t matter,” he says, “you need to tell us if something isn’t okay.”
You let out a soft chuckle then, understanding his concern.
“Oh, yeah. I know. I promise I’m fine with it,” you answer.
He simply nods then before gently repositioning you so your legs drape over his lap and buries his face back into your shoulder.
“Just- a year is a long time. Gotta communicate or we’ll be at each other’s throats within a month,” he muses.
You sigh. “Yoongi, I know. I will tell you if something bothers me. This is fine.”
He wraps the blanket tighter around the two of you, settling into the couch now that he knows you aren’t just agreeing to this for his benefit.
“Next time I ask you if something is okay, just try not to answer with, ‘if you want.’ That makes me feel like you’re just agreeing out of obligation, and I hate that shit, yeah?”
You nod. “Yeah, okay. Sorry. That’s just how it comes out, because I want to make sure you know that I’m here for you. But I wouldn’t agree to something I wasn’t comfortable with.”
The dressing room falls into comfortable silence then, and little by little, Yoongi stops shivering. His limbs loosen, relaxing as the warmth seeps through him. He eventually starts to trace soft patterns against your forearm where his hand meets your sleeve.
“The show was good, by the way,” you say softly after a bit.
“Thanks,” he murmurs against your shoulder, “rain really was shitty, though. We couldn’t put on the full show the way we wanted.”
“I know. But the fans didn’t care. They were just happy to see you guys performing again, I’m sure,” you answer.
A soft huff of laughter ghosts against your back. “Yeah,” he agrees.
The two of you sit together like that until a knock sounds at the door, followed by Namjoon’s voice. “Yoongi-hyung, cars are leaving.”
Wordlessly, you untangle yourselves so you can leave. You stand, and he folds the blanket neatly, moving to set it on a table in the corner.
“I can take it back to wardrobe on my way out,” you offer.
He tosses the blanket on the table and shakes his head. “Nah. You’ve done enough tonight. Go home and get some rest.”
Bold of him to be the one to tell you to rest when he just performed a two-and-a-half-hour set for 60,000 people.
As you exit the dressing room, Namjoon greets you with his signature dimpled smile, and you offer him words of encouragement about the show before you step away.
“Take hot showers when you get home,” you say over your shoulder, “it’ll help.”
You leave then, having successfully gotten through your first official shift as Bangtan’s designated tour companion.
~~
“You’re comfortable with her,” Namjoon muses in the backseat of the blacked-out SUV.
Yoongi, face still buried in his phone, just hums in acknowledgement. The car is quiet, the two of them resting with their heads on the backs of the seats. The driver cranks the heat, seemingly aware that they’re freezing because of the rain.
“You feeling okay about this still?” he continues.
Yoongi sets his phone on his thigh, shifting to get more comfortable. “Yeah, Joon. I’m good.”
Namjoon can’t help but glance at him then, knowing his best friend better than that.
“Yoongi.”
An exasperated sigh leaves Yoongi’s lips then. He knows what Namjoon is asking. He always does. And even though he acts like it bothers him, he appreciates it. Namjoon knows Yoongi is much more guarded than the others, especially after what happened last time, during his solo tour a few years ago.
“She’s nice,” Yoongi comments then, “I- I don’t even know why I asked her to sit with me like that. But I was fuckin’ freezing and I didn’t think.”
Namjoon stays quiet, giving Yoongi space to continue when he’s ready.
“I can’t get attached to her, Joon.”
Ah, there it is. Exactly what Namjoon was expecting.
“Then don’t. Just be her friend,” Namjoon suggests.
Yoongi hums under his breath.
“It doesn’t have to be like last time. You don’t have to make it into something else,” Namjoon adds.
The SUV continues through the dark, rain-slicked streets of Seoul, Namjoon and Yoongi returning to that quiet comfort that’s second nature between them.
The driver drops Yoongi off at home first, and he trudges inside, starting his normal post-show ritual. He toes his shoes off in the entryway, sets his bag down, and goes to the kitchen to make ramen. While the water is boiling, he pours himself a small glass of whiskey, sipping it, letting the burn hit his throat.
With his ramen in his lap, he sits on the couch and pulls his phone out of his pocket. He scrolls through all his social media, answers a few texts and emails, and even posts a selfie to his Instagram story.
Unconsciously, his thumb presses your contact and opens a new message thread.
Yoongi: thanks for tonight.
Then he sets his phone face down on the couch and eats his ramen, enjoying the junk food after not eating much of anything all day long. Even though he’s on a pretty strict diet, he figures it’s fine to eat unhealthy crap after shows. He just burns it off the next day anyway, either from another show or from his daily run.
His phone buzzes with a text.
You: anytime. :)
Yoongi’s jaw works, working the response over. It’s so simple, so direct. Very you. So he can’t quite explain why his heart stutters just slightly just from reading it.
Oh, yeah. He is absolutely, completely, royally fucked.
But he won’t admit that to himself until much, much later.
CREATOR GAME TAG | Post some of your gifs before and after coloring!
I was tagged by @defendingwarrior @hobipowers @jjungkkook
Here's a bit of a mix since their comeback. I will say now 75% of the time I hate what it turns out to be. I decided to do mostly concert gifs as that was the file I still had on my computer, and a couple youtube videos. Sometimes coloring is one of my favorite things. Since before their comeback my coloring has definitely changed, but I think that's because this tour has been hard to color and slapping my old PSD on it wasn't cutting it. I usually use camera raw filter as a base, but since I couldn't do that with showing the before and after I just used adjustment layers and my PSD I made for the Arirang tour. And also an exposure layer HATE to see me coming.
Tagging: @joonpie @jung-koook @minyoonjin @yoongikook @namchyoon (if you want too, and i'm sure some of you have been tagged already)
☙ Summary: When your parents surprise you with tickets to a BTS concert in Korea, you're over the moon. But you didn't expect the concert to end with you losing your virginity to your bias. After an unforgettable night in your hotel room, you return home, not realizing the consequences of your decision would follow you.
☙ Themes/warnings: idol x fan; one night stand; unplanned pregnancy; some smut; MDNI; focus on unplanned pregnancy; reader loses her virginity to him
☙ Summary: After a night of passion with your pack's heir, you find yourself pregnant and exiled. When a den you stay in turns out to be inhabited by a rogue alpha named Yoongi, your whole world changes. He insists on protecting you, giving you no choice but to trust him with both your and your pup's lives.
☙ Themes: omegaverse; possessive alpha; stepdad (eventually); he's a single dad; pregnancy from another alpha; he has a traumatic past
☙ Warnings: MDNI; he's really possessive/overprotective; he comes across as an asshole at the beginning; there's mention of a past event of homicide/infanticide, which he was present for but did not participate in
☙ A/N: I figured you guys would need a nice break since I've been posting so many functional posts like masterlists and stuff. Well, here you go. This has a nice fluffy moment at the end, so I hope you enjoy. It took me a minute to figure out what to put in this one, so I'm glad I've been making use of the queue function on here. It makes writing more enjoyable. Anyway, that's enough rambling. Enjoy!
You spend most of the day resting, while Yoongi and Jieun play and work around the den. By the time evening rolls around, they've built a fire and set up a place to cook the game Yoongi brought that morning.
While the food cooks, you all sit around the fire, making friendly conversation. Yoongi looks over at where you're sprawled out, massaging your lower belly. "So, I told you my story. Are you going to tell me yours?"
You slowly sit up, crossing your legs awkwardly under you. "Well...my story is much less interesting than your story," you deflect.
Jieun pouts, "But I wanna hear it! I love stories!" Yoongi looks at you again, as if daring you to deny her request.
You crack a smile, rubbing your belly. "I guess I could tell it real quick," you mumble shyly. Jieun immediately claps her hands in excitement.
You adjust yourself into a more comfortable position before beginning. "I was the second youngest, and the only omega. I had three brothers, two alphas and a beta."
Yoongi tilts his head. "So...you're probably actually carrying more than one pup?"
You shake your head. "I'm an anomaly, I'm only carrying one pup. Nobody knows why."
Yoongi just nods and gestures for you to continue. You glance at Jieun before trying to continue as vaguely as possible. "I fell for our pack's heir. Our alpha's son. He's...rather handsome. We hung out one night and...I was there all night, y'know....and...well..." you gesture to your belly.
Jieun huffs, sounding a lot like Yoongi when she does. "I know what sex is."
Your head whips around so fast your neck cracks. "What?? How do you know about that?"
Jieun smiles smugly. "Daddy told me. I'm very smart, so I also know you're only supposed to have sex with your mate. Is your pack's heir your mate?"
Your eyes dart to Yoongi, then back to Jieun. You shake your head slowly. Jieun frowns, "No wonder your pack got mad at you. You broke a rule."
You feel your eyes fill with hot tears, and you get up as quickly as your belly will let you, making your way toward the den. You hear Yoongi behind you, calling your name, but you don't stop. When you get inside the den, you curl up in your nest, sniffling softly.
Yoongi comes running in soon after, and he kneels next to your nest. "Y/N? Are you okay?"
"Y-yeah," you mumble. "It's just my stupid hormones."
You feel a soft blanket being draped over you, and Yoongi's voice comes again. "Get some sleep, then. I'll save you some food."
You wake up a while later to a sharp cramp in your stomach, causing you to groan. You've been having false labor pains like this off and on for a while, but the healers said everything looked fine before you left.
It's dark outside now, but that doesn't slow Yoongi's reaction time to the sound of your groan. He's by your side almost instantly, his voice laced with panic. "Are you okay? Is the pup okay? Do I need to boil water?" his questions come out rapid-fire.
"No...no, it's just false pains. I've been having them for a while. They're not pleasant, though," you whisper, your voice slightly strained.
"Do you need anything? Are you sure you're okay?" he asks again.
"Just...could you maybe get in the nest with me?" you ask softly.
He freezes. Alphas rarely enter omegas' nests, except during mating or births, or if explicitly invited. The fact that you invited him into this one is a huge deal, especially since we just met.
"Y-yeah, sure," he responds before climbing in and lying down. You move closer to him, and his arm automatically loops around your shoulders. He freezes again, making you laugh. He looks over at you. "What?"
"Y-your...your own arm surprised you," you cackle.
Your laugh wakes up Jieun, who had been sleeping in her own mini nest in the far corner. She looks over. "What's going on?"
"Nothing, I was just teasing your dad," you chuckle.
She frowns, getting up and walking over to your nest. "Why is Daddy in your nest? Are you cuddling?"
You blush and hide your face. "He was just making me feel better, sweetheart. My stomach hurt a little."
"Can I make you feel better too?" she asks.
You smile a little at her kind offer. "Of course. Come here."
She climbs in and snuggles against your side, falling asleep quickly in the way only children can. You glance over at Yoongi, whose eyes are also drooping.
"Go to sleep," you whisper before closing your eyes. Yoongi's deep breathing lulls you into sleep soon after.
