Between The Lines Myg (1)

between the lines — myg (1)

⌞part one⌝

yoongi brings his daughter to work with him in hopes to lift her mood and distract her from their harsh reality. only the distraction proves to be more than what yoongi had hoped for… a lot more.

pairing: single dad!yoongi x actress!f reader rating: nc-17  words: 6.1k  genre(s): fluff, angst, comedy au(s): strangers to lovers, single dad, single parent, movie industry, famous heroine, hidden identity, found family warnings: curse words, abandonment issues, past trauma, loss of loved ones, mention of poor mental health, previous financial struggles, side pairing (namseok)

author’s note: the first part is here! i’m so happy to be able to share yoongi’s story. thoughts, opinions and feedback is warmly welcomed! [div cr]

caution: this part will mention a couple of heavy and sensitive topics. please read at your own risk. remember, your mental health matters ♡

© 2023 afterglowjeons on tumblr. all rights reserved.

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“I used to rule the world…” A raspy groan escaped Yoongi’s lips. He rolled onto his stomach, blinking bleary eyed as he haphazardly reached out for his iPhone. Each day, as per his usual routine, Yoongi’s cell phone vibrated at six-thirty in the morning with the unmistakable violins of Viva La Vida. 

Tapping his forefinger on the orange stop button, Chris Martin’s voice disappeared into the comfortable silence of Yoongi’s bedroom. He released another groan, bringing his dominant hand up to run his fingers through his raven colored strands, “Time to get up,” he murmured to himself, throwing off the covers. 

Min Yoongi was a creature of habit; to put it simply. He enjoyed having structure and order in his life, especially where his daughter was concerned. Min Nara was a force to be reckoned with and the light of Yoongi’s life. She brightened his existence in every sense of the word and he couldn’t imagine his life without her. Nara was a bubbly, energetic and effervescent eight year old. She approached each day with curiosity, excitement and wonder – to which Yoongi absolutely adored. The only downside to this was his daughter’s tendency to be late for school. And appointments. And piano lessons. Among other things. So he learned rather quickly that an organized schedule would be beneficial for the both of them. 

“Bug,” Yoongi called from his doorway, “Rise and shine.” 

Nara’s bedroom resided directly adjacent to his own, their doors essentially mirrored. It was one of the things he liked about the modest two-bedroom apartment he currently leased. He was fortunate enough to be renting from his best friend, meaning rent was significantly more affordable than other properties on the market. He couldn’t be more thankful for the friendships in his life. His friends treated him and Nara as family and vice versa. 

Ten minutes passed and Nara still hadn’t emerged from her bedroom. Yoongi was already dressed in a pair of charcoal jeans and a fitted black tee. Although his workplace didn’t mandate a dress code, Yoongi preferred to wear black to work at all times, “Nara,” he approached her door, rapping his knuckles against the door frame, “Are you okay?” 

A cough sounded from the other side of the door and Yoongi’s heart rate spiked. Hastily turning the knob, Yoongi entered his daughter’s bedroom and rushed to her side, “Bug, are you sick?”

Nara glanced up at her father, blankets tucked beneath her chin. She nodded. 

“Oh Bug… Why didn’t you come get me earlier?” Yoongi’s face etched with worry. 

“Because you were sleeping Daddy. I didn’t wanna wake you up.” 

Frowning, Yoongi couldn’t help but feel somewhat responsible. His baby girl was unwell and he wished he’d seen the signs earlier. It had been so much easier when she was younger. 

“It’s alright, Bug. I’m going to check your temperature and bring back some cough medicine, okay? Hang tight.” He pressed a doting kiss to the top of her head and hurried to the bathroom. 

With Yoongi preoccupied in the bathroom, sifting through the medicine cabinet, Nara sneakily pulled a heated wheat bag from beneath her pillow. She placed it directly to her forehead, in hopes for her temperature to rise. She’d managed to warm up the bag in the microwave while her father snoozed, knowing that his alarm went off at the same time every morning. Nara’s plan was all but going according to plan. When she heard his footsteps, she quickly tucked the wheat bag back underneath her pillow. 

Yoongi returned seconds later, his hands full of medical supplies. Overprotective Dad Mode: Activated. 

“My poor baby,” he cooed, placing the items onto the edge of her bed, “Let’s see what we’re working with,” he uncapped the thermometer, gently gesturing for Nara to open her mouth. She complied. While the thermometer began to count upwards in Fahrenheit, Yoongi placed his palm against her forehead, “You’re burning up. Shit.” 

Curse words weren’t an anomaly in the Min household, despite how often his friends scolded Yoongi for being crass around his daughter. He argued that Nara was intelligent enough to know not to use those words, as they were for adults only. He didn’t want to restrict himself around her; he aimed to be as authentic as possible. Nara was all he had and he wanted her to be able to trust him with everything, no matter how big or small. Yes, he was her father, but he also wanted to be her friend. 

“I don’t think I should go to school today Daddy,” Nara mumbled through a pout.

 “I think you might be ri–” The thermometer interrupted him, “Wait, this is weird. It says you’re only ninety-eight degrees.” 

Nara’s eyes widened, “Really?”

“Yeah Bug, that’s normal,” Yoongi said. His eyebrows furrowed, “I don’t understand. Your forehead felt like a furnace.” He placed his palm against her forehead once more. It wasn’t as hot as before. That confused him further, “Huh… It feels fine now. I think you can go to school today, Bug. I’ll give you some cough syrup before we leave, hm?” 

Nara’s lips quivered, “No Daddy! I’m too sick!” 

“Nara, you feel fine–” 

“I’m not fine!” Nara cried out, her hickory colored eyes welling up with tears, “I’m sick! Please let me stay home!”

His eyebrows shot up. Yoongi hadn’t witnessed Nara this way since her ‘Terrible Twos’. She looked distraught and the sight tore away at his heartstrings. What was upsetting his Lovebug?

“Nara,” Yoongi sat down beside her, “You’re upset. Can you tell me what’s going on?” 

Sniffling, Nara reached behind her head and tugged out the heated wheat bag. Relief washed over Yoongi’s face, although he felt a little disappointed that she had tried to trick him. She’d never pulled a stunt like this before and he wanted to know what pushed her to do so. 

After what felt like hours, Nara finally spoke, “I don’t wanna go to school.” 

“Why not?” Yoongi asked gently. 

“Just ‘cause.” 

“Come on, Bug. There’s got to be a reason. You love school.” That was true; Nara adored going to school. She was thriving in all her second grade classes, particularly art and physical education. Just like her father. She had at least half a dozen friends and eagerly looked forward to seeing them every weekday. So this was certainly out of character for his vivacious baby girl. 

Nara tugged the blankets up over her face, causing Yoongi to release a heavy sigh. He didn’t want to push her but time was ticking away. He needed to be in the back lot by eight-thirty and he hadn’t even arranged breakfast for the two of them yet. 

“Okay, I’ll give you some space–”

“No, please don’t go Daddy,” she said from underneath the covers, “I’m sorry.” She sniffled again, peeling back the duvet to expose her reddened eyes to her concerned father. Yoongi felt his heart squeeze and his eyes softened. 

“You don’t need to be sorry, Bug. I’m just worried about my little girl and I want to know how I can help.”

Nara’s lips trembled, “I don’t think you can help, Daddy.” 

“Why not?” Yoongi inquired, his hands reaching out to delicately brush away the flyaways falling over her eyes, “I’m sure there’s something I can do. Should I talk to Ms Lee? Do I need to talk to someone’s mom?” He wasn’t above putting a Karen in her place. He would move mountains and scale the oceans for Nara. 

She shook her head sadly, “No.”

Yoongi was at a loss. He felt helpless. His daughter was hurting and he couldn’t come up with a solution to make her feel better. What a shitty father he was. Rubbing his forehead with his hand, Yoongi resisted the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose out of stress. What could he possibly do in this situation? This was uncharted territory for him. 

“I don’t wanna go to school because everyone is gonna have their moms there except me.” 

Yoongi had been so caught up in his own mind that he’d almost missed his daughter’s admission. Face falling, he noticed the way Nara dejectedly picked at her nail beds, “Oh Bug…” That’s when realization hit him like a freight train. Today was ‘Bring Your Mom To School Day’. He should’ve been more diligent in checking the school semester calendar on the fridge, “I’m so sorry. I should’ve known.” 

Nara shrugged. His Lovebug was putting on a brave face, that was for sure. 

“Come here,” He said, tapping his upper thigh. She immediately flung into her father’s arms, curling up in his lap like she used to a couple years ago. Nara buried her head into his chest and Yoongi’s heart shattered when he heard her sniffle once more. This part never got easier, “I’ve got you, Lovebug.”

His words held promise because he meant them with his entire heart. Yoongi wasn’t ever going to give up on her, not like she had. He closed his eyes as the painful memories resurfaced. 

“Yoongi listen…”

“I can’t do this anymore…”

“I’m not cut out to be a mother…”

“I didn’t ask for this…”

“I’m leaving and you can’t stop me…”

Nara had only been four months old when her mother walked out on them. Was Nara planned? Absolutely not. Yoongi was only twenty-one when Sana called him in tears, wailing that her life was over because she was pregnant. The two of them had been in their final year of college and the idea of having a child was nothing short of terrifying. Neither of them had been ready.

After calming her down over the phone, Yoongi gave Sana the time and space to determine what she wanted to do. It was her body, her choice and he was going to back her on whatever she decided. When she revealed to him two weeks later that she wanted to keep the baby and not terminate the pregnancy, Yoongi was secretly overjoyed. He’d partaken in a lot of research during their short time apart and he believed he could make the whole parenting thing work – even when he was on the verge of shitting himself scared. 

The pregnancy had been a lot of work. Despite Sana’s parents being pretty well-off, she refused to tell them about the baby until the birth. Her tuition was being covered by her father’s hefty bank account and she had a feeling that he would stop paying her school fees if he knew about her pregnancy, so Yoongi had to find another job. He didn’t have the luxury of asking his parents for financial aid, as Yoongi had a difficult childhood. His father left when he was still in the womb and his mother sadly passed away from ovarian cancer when he was just sixteen years old. Yoongi ended up living with his uncle until he turned eighteen and got accepted into university. He was on a full-ride scholarship that included a room in the male dorms, board and necessary school supplies. But to save himself from boredom, he also worked part time as a freelance videographer.

Without Sana contributing any source of income, he knew he needed to step up and provide for his family. So he secured a serving position just outside of campus that luckily offered him thirty hours a week. Between working two jobs, studying for finals and helping Sana in any way he could – Yoongi was exhausted. But it had all been worth it when Sana’s obstetrician told them they were expecting a baby girl. 

“A girl! I’m going to be a girl dad,” He gushed to Sana with glossy eyes, “I’m so happy, babe.”

Little did he know that Sana felt the opposite. She’d been hoping for a son. She didn’t want to raise a girl. In her mind, girls cost more money. Girls required more attention. Girls were just more. But instead, she forced a smile and led Yoongi to believe that everything was going to be okay. She continued to play him for a fool until that fateful day when she packed a duffle bag and left him standing in the middle of their tiny studio apartment, a crying Nara swaddled in his arms. The trajectory of his life changed that day and Yoongi made a promise to himself and to his daughter that he wouldn’t ever leave her. Not like her mother did to her and not like his deadbeat father did to him. No matter what it took, Yoongi was going to give Nara the childhood he never had. 

Now that was easier said than done. With Sana gone, Yoongi fell into a depression. Things became drastically harder. He had to get Nara onto bottles, as breastfeeding was obviously off the table. The transition to baby formula had been a struggle at first, but thankfully it didn’t last for very long. While getting Nara used to a new feeding schedule, Yoongi also had to juggle work. He’d finished college two months before Nara was born but hadn’t been able to do anything with his undergraduate’s degree. Why? Well obviously no company advertising an entry level position was willing to hire a new father. All Yoongi could do was fall back on his videography side hustle and that wasn’t enough to keep his head above water.

Before long, Yoongi had found himself coming face to face with an eviction notice and a month to vacate his studio apartment. He’d hit rock bottom. He was a fucking failure. What kind of father struggled to provide for his daughter? A pathetic excuse for one, that’s what he told himself. He was twenty-two with a six month old baby girl and no sign of light at the end of the tunnel. Until the day he came across Namjoon’s post on a popular leasing website. 

Kim Namjoon posted under the ‘Apartments And Rooms For Rent’ tag, stating that he was looking for a long-term roommate. His prerequisites had been simple: Clean, responsible, self-sufficient. The asking price for the room was dirt cheap and Yoongi almost fell off his futon when he read the ad. He couldn't recall the last time he typed a phone number that fast. Namjoon answered after the third ring, his deep voice filling Yoongi’s ears. 

“Hello?”

“Hi, is this Kim Namjoon?”

“Yes, speaking.”

“Hi Namjoon. My name is Yoongi and I’m calling about the ad you posted online…”

After a twenty-five minute conversation over the phone, Namjoon invited Yoongi to come and visit the property that afternoon. The next day, a tenancy agreement arrived in Yoongi’s email inbox. He cried in relief for about an hour. 

Namjoon had been a gift sent from above. The man was a year younger than Yoongi, but he’d already graduated from university with high honors. He was something of a genius. He worked in advertising and was on a cool six figures a year at twenty-one. Namjoon wanted a roommate for one purpose and one purpose only – he needed someone to handle all the household chores because he was far too busy to do it all himself. When he explained that to Yoongi, he was a little sheepish. The ad hadn’t mentioned that teeny tiny detail, but Yoongi didn’t care in the slightest. Especially when he arrived with Nara strapped to his chest in her baby sling. Namjoon had been surprised but not repulsed. In fact, he became rather enamored the second his eyes met Nara’s big, bright ones. 

“You have a kid.”

“Yeah… Look, I’m sorry I didn’t mention it over the phone–”

“Forget about the rent. Consider the housework your payment.”

“What? Woah, Namjoon, that's not necessary.”

“Yes it is. When was the last time someone helped you guys out?”

Yoongi’s silence had been the only answer Namjoon needed. The original tenancy agreement was scrapped and the two not only became roommates that day, but the best of friends. 

Snapping out of his memory haze, Yoongi proceeded to rub his daughter’s back. Seven and a half years ago, this room had been Namjoon’s. His best friend now lived in a lavish three-bedroom apartment with his husband, a brilliant attorney by the name of Jung Hoseok. Hobi, as he was affectionately known as, was the one who helped Yoongi get his job when Nara was eighteen months old. He truly owed Joon and Hobi his life; he couldn’t imagine where he’d be without them. 

“I won’t send you to school today,” Yoongi broke the silence that lingered between father and daughter, “How about you come to work with me instead?” 

Nara retracted from his chest, wiping her nose with the back of her hand, “Really?”

“Yeah Bug,” Yoongi smiled, “Let’s make today ‘Bring Your Child To Work Day’.” His chest felt lighter when Nara’s face brightened. He would do absolutely anything to make her happy. Putting a smile on her face was the only thing that mattered to him. 

She didn’t say anything. Instead, Nara threw her arms around his neck and squished her face into the crook of his neck, “Thank you Daddy,” she mumbled into his skin, “I love you.”

“I love you too.” 

They embraced for a few minutes more until Nara pulled away. She looked much happier. The sad little girl that tried to fake a fever was no longer in the room and all the weight that had rested on Yoongi’s shoulders was beginning to evaporate, “Alright Min Nara, you have ten minutes to get dressed. I’ll make some breakfast to go. Peanut butter and jelly toast okay?”

She nodded enthusiastically, “Yes please! With extra peanut butter!” She bounded off the bed and hurried over to her white IKEA dresser decorated in a mass of butterfly stickers. Yoongi grinned, That’s my Lovebug, he thought.

With three minutes to spare, Yoongi parked in his usual parking spot. Nara wriggled with excitement when Yoongi pulled the handbrake and shut off the engine to his thirteen year old Kia hatchback. In the six and a half years of working at HB Studios, Yoongi had a near perfect record of clocking in exactly on time. Perks of living a well-structured life. 

“Okay Bug,” Yoongi hummed as they walked from Lot A to Lot C, “I’m going to need you to be on your best behavior today.” 

Nara beamed with a nod. She held out her pinky finger, to which Yoongi linked with his own. They never just promised each other something; it had to be a pinky promise. It just made sense. 

“I’ll have you hang out with Tae today, how’s that sound?”

“Uncle Tae?” Nara nearly squealed. 

Yoongi couldn’t help but laugh, “Sounds good I’m guessing?” He didn’t need her to respond, not when she adored her uncles. Sometimes he believed Nara loved them more than she did himself. Not that he could blame his daughter, his friends were the best of the best. Besides Joon and Hobi, Yoongi had befriended a bunch of his coworkers over the years. There was Taehyung, who worked in the wardrobe department and was tightly wrapped around his niece’s little finger; also Jimin, who worked as a stunt performer; also Seokjin, who worked as an accountant for the production buying team; and finally Jungkook who worked right alongside Yoongi as boom operators. 

With Nara holding his hand, Yoongi punched in his employee code into the clock-in system, “Alright, let’s go surprise Uncle Tae.” Perhaps he should’ve given Taehyung a head’s up that Nara would be joining him today, but honestly, the man would bend over backwards for his niece. He had his own office, so Yoongi wasn’t all too worried about leaving his daughter with his best friend for eight hours. 

“Uncle TaeTae!” Nara shrieked with delight when Yoongi knocked on the window beside his office door, “I’m working with you today!” That had her father chuckling in amusement. 

Taehyung smiled wide, immediately crouching and opening his arms. Nara ran right into his hold, squealing gleefully when her uncle swung her around, “I’m so glad, I’ve always wanted an assistant!” 

Yoongi snorted, “Using my kid for child labor, huh Kim? Now I don’t feel so bad for not shooting you a text.” 

“It’s not child labor if I compensate her with a Happy Meal, now is it?”

“You’re annoying,” Yoongi rolled his eyes playfully when Taehyung laughed, “No but seriously, is it cool if she’s with you today?” He was certain that it wouldn't be an issue, but Yoongi still struggled with asking favors from his friends. Over the years he’d gotten a little better at it, but deep down he still felt like he was failing at being a parent. His guilty conscience could be a real pain in the ass sometimes.

Taehyung gave Yoongi a look that said Duh!, “Of course it is. I will never say no to spending time with my Nara girl.” Now that had the little girl in question beaming like a kid on Christmas morning. 

“Thanks Tae, I owe you one.” 

“No,” His best friend firmly shook his head, “You don’t owe me a thing. I’m happy to do it. Remember that, okay?”

It was hard to stomach but Yoongi nodded anyway. Maybe one day he’ll accept help without feeling like he had to return the favor at any point. 

“Good,” Taehyung grinned broadly,  “Now get the hell out of my office. Nara and I have work to do.” 

It was around two in the afternoon when Yoongi received a text message from Taehyung, alerting him that Jungkook had ‘kidnapped’ his child and was bringing Nara over to Lot F. Yoongi and Jungkook primarily worked in Lot B, where the first eight stages were located. Lot A was the main parking structure, Lot C was the hub for wardrobe, two office buildings and four more stages, Lot D was another eight stages and finally Lot F, where post production was located.

When Jungkook wasn’t busy doing his job, he was frequently found hanging around in Lot F.

“They have the best staff cafeteria!” He proclaimed sometime six months ago, “You think I’m gonna pass up on that extra cheesy carbonara? Like fucking hell!”

Realistically, Jungkook didn’t spend the majority of his spare time in Lot F for the food, but rather the new – and pretty – foley artist. He harbored one hell of a crush for her, no matter how hard he denied it. Yoongi was convinced the kid relied on Nara to be his wing-girl. 

Fifteen minutes later, Yoongi walked inside the main post production building. He looked around for any signs of his daughter and his manchild best friend. They had to be around here somewhere, as the foley studios were only in this building. He wandered around for a few moments more until Nara almost ran into him. 

“Daddy!” She smiled brightly, “Look what Uncle Tae said you could have!” She held up a garment bag no doubt containing a costume from Taehyung’s department. Her grin was near blinding; she was ecstatic. 

“Nara,” Yoongi chuckled, “Have you been carrying that around everywhere?” 

She shook her head, “No. Uncle Kookie carried it for me. He said that’s what his ‘big manly muscles’ are for!” Oh how Yoongi loved his daughter’s ability to repeat her uncle’s out of pocket comments. Jungkook found himself thrown under the bus more often than the others. 

“Is that so? Well I’m glad he made himself useful,” Yoongi smirked, reaching out to take the large bag from his eight year old, “Did Tae really say I could have this? Or did you go looking in the donation bin again?” 

Nara looked sheepish and her face flushed a little. It hadn’t been her first time getting into the donation bin. The studio liked to donate costumes that were no longer needed or desired by the wardrobe department to local charities. So really it wasn’t a big deal that Nara had taken an item or two, “Uncle Tae said it would look better on you than a stranger, anyway!”

“That sounds like Taehyung,” Yoongi said with a knowing smile, “What is it, Bug?” He asked as he peered down at the bag; although he could guess it was a tuxedo of some kind. 

“A suit! Uncle Tae said that you need one! Please try it on Daddy!” 

The excitement radiating from Nara warmed Yoongi’s heart. She’d done a complete one-eighty since this morning and for that, he was eternally grateful to Taehyung. That dude could easily quit his job and become a professional child whisperer. 

“I’ll do that once we get home, yeah?” 

“No!” Nara exclaimed, “Try it on now! Please, please, please!” She popped her lips into a pout, the puppy dog eyes making their grand appearance. She knew his ultimate weakness, “Pretty please.”

With a resigned sigh, Yoongi caved. He couldn’t say no to his baby girl, not when she was giving him the biggest case of puppy dog eyes. She was the only person that could put Jungkook’s doe eyes to shame, “Okay. But it’ll have to be quick, I need to get back to work soon.” 

That was enough to satisfy Nara. She beamed and clapped her hands together happily. 

“I can’t do it here though,” he told her gently, “Let’s go over to Lot D. There’s more places for me to change there.” Truthfully, Yoongi didn’t care whether he got changed here or not. But it was far too risky and he didn't want to get caught slacking on the job. There was nothing scheduled for Lot D today, meaning the entire space should be empty. It was perfect. 

Nara didn’t need to be told twice. She grasped his hand and they made their way towards Lot D together. He made sure to send Jungkook a text, so that the poor dude didn’t have a heart attack over losing his niece. 

When they arrived at the lot, Yoongi ushered them inside Stage 19. It was the smallest one of the eight and the most inconspicuous in his opinion. Stage 19 was known amongst the crew for being the closest thing to a storage room. Everyone brought useless shit, usually things that didn’t have a delegated spot, to that stage and left it there. So Yoongi was confident that he wouldn’t be found out here. 

“Nara, I need you to stay right here, okay?” Yoongi kissed the top of his daughter’s head. She nodded her head when he propped her up on an old white fold-out table that once belonged to the Lot D cafeteria, “I’ll be right out.” He assured her before ducking inside the singular male toilet. 

Yoongi unzipped the garment bag and was taken aback by the suit resting on the metal hanger inside. It was a dark slate gray three piece tuxedo, paired with a crisp black button up. He wondered what movie this costume had been used for, because the suit looked damn expensive. He didn’t know the first thing about designer brands, but there was no doubt in his mind that this was designer. He made a mental note to ask Taehyung later on. 

He stripped off his jeans and T-shirt, leaving him in nothing but a pair of Calvin Klein briefs. Carefully, he clothed himself in the dress pants, button up, four button vest and suit jacket. The material felt like silk against his skin. No wonder Tae let Nara take it, this is way too good to donate, he thought. He stashed his discarded clothes in the garment bag and hung it on the back of the toilet door, so they wouldn’t get dirty. Not that he had too much to worry about, the amenities were professionally cleaned each night. 

“You clean up alright, Min,” he said to his reflection in the mirror, “Bug has good taste.” He smiled fondly at the thought of his daughter seeing him in this get-up. He could imagine the excitement. With that, he blew out a breath and walked out of the men’s toilet. 

“How do I look, Bug?” He asked, lifting his head to find the table empty. Panic stabbed Yoongi's chest almost immediately, “Nara? Nara!” He called out, eyes wide and palms sweaty. He hadn’t spent more than five minutes in the toilet and yet, his daughter was nowhere to be found. He violently cursed himself, running a hand through his hair frantically, “Nara!”

Yoongi took off in a jog, his eyes scanning the area. He felt like he was about to vomit. This was every father’s nightmare, wasn’t it? He’d once dreaded the thought of losing Nara in the grocery store but this? This was ten times worse. No, more like a hundred times worse. He wished he never agreed to trying on the suit. This whole situation could’ve been avoided. How many stupid mistakes was he going to make today?

He kept calling out her name and his heart seized each time he was met with silence. Until he heard her angelic laugh coming from a distance. He ran towards the sound of her laughter, finding himself in the middle of Stage 18, “Nara!” Yoongi hollered. Seconds later, he spotted her. She was sitting on a sofa nestled in the middle of a set, her legs dangling off the edge of the cushions and her head resting against a woman’s arm, watching something on said woman’s phone. Yoongi felt his mouth dry up when he recognized Nara’s company. You weren't just any woman – you were the star of a new blockbuster the studio was in the middle of filming. Yoongi hadn’t landed the contract for that movie, which explained why he hadn’t crossed paths with you until now. 

You were breathtaking in person. He always thought you were beautiful. It’s what led him to doing a shameless Google search four months ago when the movie began production in Lot D. But nothing could have prepared him for your beauty in real life. He felt bewildered, mesmerized and infatuated all at once. What were you doing here? From what he’d heard on the grapevine, Lot D didn’t have a schedule this week because filming was taking place offsite. Has filming already wrapped? He was confused as hell but of course he wasn’t going to speak on it, not when you were the talk of the film industry right now. That practically made you royalty. 

“Nara,” Yoongi breathed when he finally approached the sofa, “What are you doing? I told you to stay. Why would you leave? I was worried sick.” He sounded exasperated and he certainly felt that way. He almost had a panic attack, for crying out loud. 

“Sorry Daddy,” Nara pouted, “I just wanted to say hi.”

Yoongi’s eyes shifted to yours then and he could’ve sworn he felt his stomach erupt with butterflies. He hadn’t been this affected by a woman since Sana… 

“Gosh, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to freak you out,” you apologized, your voice echoing in his ears like his favorite song on repeat, “I was walking past Stage 19 and she must’ve recognized me. She ran out a few seconds later and introduced herself. Your daughter is adorable.” 

Pride spread across Yoongi’s chest. His lips curled into a shy smile, “Thank you. I’m sorry she disturbed you. She knows better than to go up to strangers.” He made stern eye contact with his daughter. Her hickory colored eyes saddened and she looked down at her fingers. He hated this part of parenting. It was tough disciplining Nara sometimes because she was genuinely a good kid. But stranger danger was a big no-no for Yoongi and he wanted Nara to understand why it was dangerous. 

“It’s alright, I don’t mind,” you smiled, “Obviously it’s not safe to approach people you don’t know,” you quickly added for the sake of not stepping on Nara’s father’s toes, “But she didn’t disturb me. I really enjoy her company.” 

“Oh… That’s good.” Yoongi internally cringed at his awkwardness.  

You smiled even wider, finding him refreshing. He was unbelievably handsome, that much was obvious. He wasn’t super tall, but he wasn’t short either, however he was broad. His shoulders filled out the suit jacket he donned perfectly and you blushed a little when you caught yourself staring. You hadn’t seen him around the set before, which sparked your curiosity. The studio was massive and thousands of employees worked behind the scenes, but judging by the way he was impeccably dressed, he had to be someone of high importance. Perhaps he was an executive producer? You wondered if you should ask him, but you also didn’t want to impose. You’d already given him a near heart attack by showing Nara a TikTok on your phone. Was it weird that you found him even more attractive because he was a father? No doubt he had a gorgeous wife at home… 

“Forgive me for being rude, I’m–”

“Y/N,” Yoongi blurted, your name rolling off his tongue with ease, “Sorry. I, um, know who you are. You’re really talented.” He wished the ground would open up and swallow him whole. How fucking embarrassing. You didn’t think so, though. You found him to be endearing. 

“Thank you, you’re sweet,” you smiled, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, “I didn’t catch your name?”

“Yoongi.”

Nara’s face lit up upon your exchange, her eyes twinkling, “My Daddy makes movies!” 

This caught both of your attention. You were intrigued. Yoongi, on the other hand, was gobsmacked. He hoped that you wouldn’t misinterpret Nara’s words and assume that he was a director. That would be humiliating. Especially since his job was to hold the mic above actresses like herself. 

“Does he?” You smiled down at Nara, who had already stolen your heart, “Are you a director for another lot?”

Yoongi opened his mouth to respond, but Nara was faster, “He works in Lot B!” His chatterbox of a daughter revealed. She looked pleased with herself when an impressed expression spread across your facial features. 

“Wow, that’s amazing. I can’t believe we haven’t met before,” you said, “You must be really busy making all these brilliant movies. And you say I’m the talented one.” 

That’s because you are. I'm nobody, Yoongi wanted to say. The words were right on the tip of his tongue but he couldn’t form words. He couldn’t even make noise. Was he in shock? Whatever it was, it allowed the little white lie Nara told to influence your opinion of him. Would you even talk to him if you knew who he really was? He looked you up on Instagram, he knows who your friends are. He knows the kind of company you keep. Your social circle was full of successful, beautiful and wealthy people. He wasn’t any of those three things. And yet, here you were, looking at him like he was. 

“Daddy is pretty busy,” Nara rambled, “But he still spends every day with me! He’s the best.” 

“Thanks, Bug.” Yoongi smiled lovingly at his daughter. Sure, she’d totally fed you a lie about his profession, but she had a heart of pure gold. She probably just misunderstood what he actually does for a living. It wasn’t really her fault. All he had to do was tell you the truth. It’s not like he was ever going to see you again. 

He tried his best to ignore the little voice in the back of his mind that hoped he would see you again. The devil on his shoulder needed to stop being so persuasive. 

“He sounds like the best,” your voice had a bit of a flirty undertone, “We should get coffee sometime. I’d love to pick your brain about directing.” 

Say no, Yoongi. Say fucking no! “Yeah sure, that sounds great.”

Nara cheered. The angel on Yoongi’s shoulder face palmed. You grinned, looking effortlessly gorgeous as you whipped out your phone and opened up a new contact. 

How many stupid mistakes was Yoongi going to make today? Too many to count.

copyright © 2023 afterglowjeons. please do not copy, reupload or translate.

Moonlight Reign Masterlist

A/N: Don't mind me, haha. Here is the new and improved Moonlight Reign! You do not have to read the old version (if anything pls don't it is not written well AT ALL) I've changed many many things about the story, but I hope all my readers enjoy nonetheless

Pairing: Yandere! Mafia! BTS x Reader

Warnings: 18+, fem/fem-bodied reader, yandere behavior, unhealthy relationship, poly relationship, obsessive and possessive behavior, murder, mafia activities, crime, manipulation, crying, trauma, sensory flashbacks, blood, gore, murder, pining, past abuse, past neglect, familial issues, academic neglect, eventual smut, fictional events in a fictional world that I do not condone irl (specialized warnings will be at the top of each chapter)

Last updated: September 23, 2023

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

---------------------------

Main Masterlist

Tip Jar

Highway to You | mlist

~pairing: yoongi x fem!reader ~rating: pg15 ~genre: lots of hurt/comfort, angst, fluff, childhood friends to enemies to lovers, mafia!au see individual parts for warnings and more information

before, you were inseparable. after, you thought you would never find your way back together. this series will be posted non-chronologically, but this masterlist shows the parts in timeline order

Ride or Die - yoongi isn’t sure when he became so accustomed to your ineffably cheery presence. until he sees that innocence crack, he hadn’t realised how far he would go to keep it there.

Highway to you - yoongi never expected to see you again. least of all with a gun in your hand, crashing an important deal in a whirlwind which proves how much has changed.

Rear View -  yoongi can protect you now, even if it may be too late.

………………….

> contact me if you would like to be tagged whenever I post an installment!

Vigilant(e) - MYG

pairing: yoongi x femreader

genre: vigilante au, lawyer au, rivals to lovers

word count: 4.3k

rating: M

warnings: language (the f-word mostly), kissing (not quite smut but I feel like they would if they could), violence (not between our leads), a little blood mention, discussion of law and justice, rhapsodizing about the min yoongi,

a/n: i like to lay blame where it is due: so I blame @raplinesmoon for flooding my dash of yoongi in that final concert. I blame @jl-micasea-fics for the prompt that set this in motion. I blame @seokjinger-ale and @hannahbee12719 for telling me I should write yoongi again. i blame Greedy for the appearance of a diner because that's a top tier yoongi fic. i blame yoongi for looking like he does, performing like he does and just in general being what he is. and I blame myself for have no power to withstand any of the above. I have not written for this man in well over a year and if that means the following is a bit rusty, my apologies. also if there are any typos or mistakes, I'm sorry. i tried my best to find them.

a/n 2: i might have an idea for a part two.

prompt used

Person A: "Why did you save me?" Person B: "Honestly, if I had known it was you beforehand, I probably wouldn't have."

masterlist

Part 1 - Rebuttal

—-----

It’s not tunnel-vision (or maybe it is, you’re not sure you know the definition), but when you are in THAT mode, you see only what is necessary. Your brain predicts the possible outcomes and you follow the one with the least damage and best chances of saving the person in trouble. 

You don’t really see faces.

Maybe your therapist would have something to analyze if she knew that, but you tend to keep the other part of your life secret from everyone, and that includes your therapist. 

Your therapist is probably bored, honestly. 

It’s a typical evening in your life. You’ve finished work hours, dealt with depositions, met with a few witnesses, and held your tongue when the District Attorney asks you to do something clearly under his job description, not yours. You don’t have court tomorrow, just more research, so you change into your coveralls, slip a medical-grade mask on, and your favorite blue beanie. 

You have a police scanner in your car, but you opt just to carry it with you in your backpack. One earbud in and you just look like a very sketchy person out for a walk, listening to music or the latest podcast. 

The police scanner isn’t the greatest of ways to get information. You usually encounter situations by pure happenstance and tonight is no different.

It’s raised voices. 

It’s not the worst part of the city that you’re in, but it isn’t exactly the best either. The apartment complex in front of you needs work, but it’s also free of metal bars on first-level windows or barbed wire, so that’s a plus. 

You pause when you hear. You take out the earbud and listen a bit longer. Sometimes yelling is just yelling. It doesn’t require an intervention of any kind. Early on in doing this thing that you do at night, you have definitely interrupted interactions that did not need your assistance.

Good thing the mask hides your embarrassment. 

You discern mostly one voice, male, that is the loudest. There are other male voices…two more. One is a bit reedy, a little concerned. The other is the lowest register, scratchy, but calm. 

“Fuck you!”

Which again, doesn’t mean you should intervene. But the sound you hear after that does.

A punch doesn’t sound like it does in the movies. You saw somewhere that sound effects people tend to use steak to make the sound of flesh being pummeled.

Seems like a waste of meat. 

The real thing is muted, and if you weren’t a several-year pro at this, the sound wouldn’t raise alarm.

But there are two in rapid succession and that springs you into action. 

It’s down the alley next to the apartment complex, basically the back entrance, you assume. 

Three men. And it’s easy to see who is who. The yeller is the one throwing punches. The reedy-voiced one is trying to hold him back. The calm one is the one attempting to avoid the hits, but isn’t retaliating. 

You don’t even ask, you just swoop in.

Removing the reedy one is easy. You tug him back with one grab of his arm. He stumbles out of the way. 

Which does announce your arrival and stops the instigator from throwing another hit. 

“Who the fuck are you?”

You don’t say anything. You don’t have a particularly overt feminine voice, but it does help the whole process if they don’t suspect that you are a female. Usually. 

The yeller leaves the man he’s just been attacking and starts to swing at you. It’s easy again. Real fighting is not the beautiful choreography seen on screens. It’s slower, especially if there’s no training involved. 

You’ve been trained, but your opponent definitely has not.

You dodge a few of the incoming swipes before landing a solid to his gut. This causes him to keel over, effectively inactive for several seconds. This gives you time to grab him right above his elbow, thumb pushing against that pressure point. 

His scream is satisfying, but that’s not something you tell your therapist. 

“Hey, hey,” you hear behind you. “Let him go. He’s….just let him go.” 

The attacker is begging the same thing, but you listen to the voice behind you. You shove the attacker away, who is immediately helped up by his friend, and with some not-so-creative threats toward you, they hurry off. 

“Well.” 

You turn around, breathing a little heavily because a fight isn’t always your daily norm. Sometimes it’s just helping someone across the street. Or distracting a would-be assault-er. Sometimes your nights are just long walks with no action at all.

Your tunnel vision now focuses on who you just saved. 

Your damsel in distress is several things:

Not a damsel (would have been impressive with such a low voice).

Not especially tall (taller than you, but no one would give this guy a basketball scholarship).

Has long hair (Longer than yours, but you keep yours really short for ease, and this whole night-time-save-people thing you do). 

Is going to have a few marks in the morning from where his attacker was successful. (You only notice because it’s a really nice face you’re looking at).

Is Min Yoongi. 

“I needed him to agree to come in so I could depose him for a case.” There’s a long sigh. “Not sure he’ll do it now.”

Defense attorney, Min Yoongi. The man on the other side of the courtroom. The one who remains calm in practically any situation. Who smirks when his team is getting the best of the State with his loopholes and questionable interpretations of the law. 

Basically, the person your boss hates more than anyone else.

You don’t mean to, but you say his name.

The eyebrows raise. “You know me?”

Quickly you try and keep your voice low (not as low as his, nor as pretty…objectively). “Who doesn’t?”

You’ll give credit. He’s an excellent lawyer and though the media does like to write about him when he wins a case, or loses; he doesn’t seek it out. Not that you can see. While other defense attorneys are often caught out living it up with their ridiculous amounts of money from exorbitant fees, Min Yoongi seems pretty private. 

You also know he does pro bono work because you might have researched him once. Or twice. 

Once for your boss to find something to discredit him. Twice because you sometimes can’t help yourself finding out more of someone’s story. 

Despite the fact that blood is trickling from his eyebrow (the attacker had on a few rings), Yoongi looks very nonplussed as he tucks his hands into the pockets of his trousers. 

You pull your backpack off one shoulder to swing it around and open it. You have a veritable first aid kid in there; along with pepper spray, mace, and various other dissuaders. 

You take out a clean tissue and reach for the wound before stilling when he doesn’t even flinch. 

“Can I?”

Fuck, you forgot to keep your voice low. 

He nods and you dab away the blood carefully. 

“You’re Anon, right?”

Your nightly activities are sometimes reported and the press has given you a moniker - Anonymous, or Anon.

It’s better than anything you could have come up with. 

“That was hardly a life-threatening altercation,” he continues as you draw away to find a bandage. “Why did you ‘save’ me?” He even uses the finger quotation marks. 

It makes you bristle. You can’t help it. 

As you apply the bandage over the eyebrow cut, you respond with some annoyance, “Honestly, if I had known it was you beforehand, I probably wouldn't have.”

He laughs. Outright and very loudly before covering his mouth. You back up, closing your bag and righting it on your shoulders again. 

“Okay, then. Anon.” He meets your eyes and you look away. Most people you interact with like this don’t look too closely, but you know how smart this man is. You don’t need him to get a good look (thank goodness for crappy streetlights that barely work) at your eyes. “I guess you know me better than most.”

He touches the bandage gingerly before dropping his hand. 

“Be careful,” you grumble before starting to retreat because retreat is very very necessary right now. 

“I appreciate the sentiment, but I probably won’t.” 

You look back at him for that comment and he’s doing that smirk again. The one you’ve seen multiple times in the courtroom. That you’ve been on the receiving end of a few times when you’ve taken to questioning the defendant or witness. 

“Thanks, though.”

You get the fuck out of there.

—

It’s months later. After winning one case and losing two others (you don’t mind losing cases if you believe that the defendant is innocent, or that the evidence doesn’t add up, but that doesn’t hold water with your boss; a perfect record should be attained always), you are making an appearance at a charity function because someone from the DA’s office should be there and everyone else has excuses before you can come up with one. 

So here you are, listening to people with a lot more money than you talk about reforms needed for the city, how citizens should abide by the laws, and more money should be funneled into programs to clean up the streets. 

“Or we could just fund programs that actually help those who need it.”

You didn’t see him come up next to you. His voice is quiet enough that the speaker at the podium wouldn’t notice. In fact no one around you seems to care that Min Yoongi has just approached you even though there can’t be anything you two have in common; opposites sides of the legal system obviously. 

You just stare at him, a champagne flute in your hand that is only half full because you don’t like champagne but it’s the only thing at this event that seemed acceptable to drink without resorting to just chugging water. He doesn’t smile at you though the corner of his mouth is lifted slightly like he’s amused. 

Again, it’s definitely an expression you’ve seen in the courtroom.

One of those losing cases was against Min Yoongi. One of the ones you were sure the defendant was telling the truth. But you can’t say that. Because admitting that failure was the correct judgement would be weakness.

Sometimes you wish you heard someone else’s voice in your head other than your boss’s. 

“I don’t think I’m the person to tell that to,” you say, hopefully as softly. “I’m not in charge.”

He stands next to you, facing the stage, almost mirroring your posture; though he has a tumbler of whiskey instead of champagne. 

“You’re exactly the person to tell it to,” he says, leaning a little closer so you can hear him clearly. 

Min Yoongi is attractive. It’s an objective fact. You’re pretty sure that’s why the press enjoys writing about him because he looks good in his lawyer suits. The hair a little too long to be conventionally professional. The sharp jawline in contrast with round cheeks. The sharp sharp eyes that are so dark against his skin. 

Does the journalists know that he smells good too?

That’s new information for you as you have never been this close to him. Minus that night you saved him but there was blood and sweat and general dirty alley scents to mar whatever cologne he prefers. 

“I don’t follow,” you reply. “You know where I am in the hierarchy of this city and the DA’s office.”

The speaker at the podium has finished his talk and the hired band starts to play something that feels more jazzy than current. Yoongi turns slightly toward you and you can’t help but meet his gaze. 

“I do. You do good work there,” he says as he tucks one hand in the pocket of his suit pants before taking a sip of his drink. “Subscribing to the letter of the law, upholding it and every governmental branch that it includes.”

Does he have to sound so mocking?

“If we don’t put faith in our laws, it’d be chaos.”

“I mean, true…” The beginning of the smirk shows up. “But sometimes, the law is a bit restricting, don’t you think?”

You can feel the flare of your nostrils. “Rules are. That’s the point. Justice needs parameters, and it’s our job to make sure justice is served…properly.”

He grins and it blinds you just a bit. 

“Yeah? So, taking matters into your own hands…outside of the police, the courtroom, the local government…that would be wrong?”

Oh fuck. Abort. Abort. 

“Of course.” You take a step back. “Nice to see you, Attorney Min, outside the courtroom, but I have to go.”

You turn and flee the scene as best you can in your sensible heels. You’ve been at this function for nearly two hours. That’s enough time to present a good face for the DA’s office. Time to go home and curl up on the couch to watch the most recent episode of the coziest anime. 

You’re outside the ballroom, coat attained from coat check, and you’re filling in the information on your phone for an Uber when you feel a hand brush your elbow. 

“Let me give you a ride home.”

You shake your head, not looking at him. “I’m good.”

He says your name in his lawyer voice; firm and assertive as though nothing can sway his opinion. 

“No thank you.”

“Anon.”

Your head shoots up from staring at your phone before you can tell yourself to ignore it. He doesn’t look amused anymore. He looks lethal.

“If not a ride home, then something to eat.”

“We just…” your voice is shuddery and you hate yourself for it. “There was food in there.” You point to the ballroom.

He snorts. “I mean real food. The diner two blocks over? You know it?”

Of course, you do. It’s your favorite. 

But you just nod and he gestures for you both to head that way. 

It’s quiet for several minutes, minus the passing cars and people out and about at nine p.m. on a Saturday. 

Your brain isn’t quiet. It’s racing. Trying to figure out how to save this. Save your identity. Save the one thing that you do that feels like it makes an impact because your work at the DA’s office can quite often feel like trying to carry sand in a colander - futile. 

“Attorney Min.”

“I think you can call me Yoongi.” He doesn’t look at you, but opens the door to let you walk into the diner first. You return the wave of one of the servers who recognizes you before finding a booth and easing yourself in (you’ve never been here with a floor-length dress and heels on before). 

He slides in across from you as you’re both greeted with menus and full plastic glasses of water. 

The server, Bora who is working here to get through her associate's degree for accounting, asks if you want your regular.

Yoongi looks at you with pure amusement. “Your regular?”

You shrug. “Burger and shake.”

“What kind?”

“Chocolate malt.”

“Sounds good. I’ll have that too.” He hands back the menu to Bora and waits until she’s gone before speaking again. “So.”

You know how smart Min Yoongi is so you don’t try to deny it or evade.

“I won’t do it anymore. You can’t prove it.”

The eyebrows raise. “Prove what?”

You close your eyes, annoyed and frustrated. “You know what.” 

You hear movement and open your eyes to see that he’s leaned more across the table. 

From this close, you can see a little bit of a scar from where he’d bled that night. 

“Do you think I’m gonna blackmail you?”

“Aren’t you? Why else say anything?”

He sits back at regards you with those eyes for several seconds. You take a long sip of your water. 

“What’s the end goal?” he asks. “Either you get found out or you get hurt or you get killed.”

You’ve thought of that. You’ve thought about that a lot. 

“I know.” You fiddle with the straw. “I thought it’d be just once or twice, but…”

“Doing good is addictive.”

You stare at him, thinking that he seems very sure of this. “Doing good?”

“You think I’m going to say that you shouldn’t do what you’re doing? I mean, yeah, it’s completely risky and the result will probably end in one of those three ways, but you’re doing good things.”

No one knowing about your secret is the right thing for everyone. But that doesn’t mean it isn’t lonely. Getting injured because you didn’t watch the hit coming, suffering through only a few hours of sleep sometimes and having no one to talk about it with…is very lonely. 

“Thank you.”

He smiles a little as your shakes are delivered and you ask Bora how classes are. She updates you briefly. If Yoongi wasn’t here, she’d be way more detailed. 

“But you’re on a date, so next time,” she says and leaves before you can correct her. 

“You know,” Yoongi begins without so much as a response to the ‘date’ comment. “It’s antithetical to your real job. Doing something outside the law.” 

It’s fascinating how neither of you has actually spelled out the secret. 

“Yeah…I know.”

“I mean…it’s why I didn’t believe it at first. Not you. The assistant DA who challenges every line of questioning I start.”

“Not every one.”

“Okay, 90% then.” He has a warm smile like this. Twinkling eyes when he takes his first sip of the shake. “I’ve never had a shake here before. I’ve been missing out.”

If this was a date, you’d talk about how you’ve tried all the options they have on the menu and how the chocolate malt is by far superior and that it’s always the perfect smoothness and sweetness. 

Shouldn’t think of this as a date, though. That’s dangerous. 

“I do believe in following the letter of the law…but…”

“But?” His eyes still sparkle but he’s not drinking right now. He’s looking at you. 

“It’s made by humans. And we never get it perfect or right. We just sometimes miss the mark.”

“So you became a vigilante.”

Not that you didn’t know that he knew (why else has this night even ended up like this?) but the words are so powerful and you feel frozen. 

“I guess.”

He says your name again and you thaw some. “I’m not going to blackmail you. Or say anything.”

That confession takes several seconds to process.

“Why not?”

He takes a deep breath and opens his mouth, but Bora is back with your burgers. Some quick chit-chat chat and then you see Yoongi take a bite and nearly have a transcendent experience.

“Fuck, that’s really good.”

It’s weirdly validating. To have the Min Yoongi think your food choices are good. 

He gets back to your question.

“We are on the same side, you know.”

“I think that we’re fundamentally not.”

“We are. I know what it’s like in the courtroom. We are enemies, I seek to represent my client in their best interests and you represent the law. I know.” He glances away for a second. “But it’s justice, right?”

“But you and your team constantly twist the law and–”

“Because sometimes compassion is needed. Grace and mercy. That’s still justice. Just a different side to it.”

It floors you. Not that you haven’t wanted to give someone a second chance, even those you oppose in the courtroom, but you’ve never heard it said like that. 

You focus on your food, a bit jumpy from everything. “How did you figure it out?”

“That it was you?” You can hear his confidence and it’s both annoying and really attractive. “Your voice. Your height. The fact that your makeup sometimes doesn’t cover a bruise on your leg.”

Who looks at your legs that much?

You hear him move again and reluctantly look up. He’s watching you carefully. 

“Your eyes mostly.”

“My eyes.”

He nods. 

“In movies, the eyes show all the time and no one figures it out.”

He scoffs. “Okay, in movies, most people are dumb. Actually, in life, most people are dumb.” He pauses, pressing his lips together before speaking again. “And most people don’t pay attention.”

“You pay attention?”

“You know I do.”

“I know you do because you find every possible weakness in my arguments to pounce upon and destroy.”

He laughs and props his chin on his hand. “Absolutely. But that isn’t all I pay attention to.” 

Logically, that follows, but you’re a little nervous to see where this path leads. 

“It isn’t?” But you’re curious and you prefer the truth over anything, so you’ll just continue down this trajectory even if it ends in flames. 

The laugh fades, but he still looks happy. The chocolate malt is amazing, but you don’t think it’s that happiness-inducing. 

“I pay attention to you. Both professionally and…” He straightens and scratches the back of his head, looking for less like Attorney Min and more just…Yoongi. “Less professionally.”

Between your daily job and your nightly job, you don’t have much time for dating. And despite it being 2023, you’ve found that men are still intimidated by a professional woman, especially a lawyer. 

So you don’t think about it much. 

And yes, you have eyes and have seen Min Yoongi so you know he’s attractive and may or may not have starred in a dream or two, but that’s dreams. You’ve had dreams about the man who lives two doors down from you and he’s sixty-five and not your type. 

“Less professionally.” Your brain is so overwhelmed that all you can do is repeat his words.

His smile turns wry. “I wouldn’t mind if this,” He gestures to the table and the diner, “is an actual date.” 

He looks a little shy, which is a version of Min Yoongi you’ve never seen. The faint pink in his cheeks, the softer eyes; the fidgety hands. 

You’ve had a lot to process tonight and it takes you several seconds to respond. 

“I wouldn’t mind either.”

You do let Min Yoongi drive you home. He even walks you up to your third-floor apartment, chatting about getting to see his alma mater’s basketball game in two days, why Marvel movies no longer excite him as much as they did, and what kind of ramen he ate for two weeks straight when studying for the Bar Exam. 

“It’s good,” he insists as you slow down in front of your door. “It was. I can’t even look at a package of it anymore without war flashbacks and nausea.” 

“My comfort food was pop-tarts. And I still like them for some reason.”

“What flavor?” he asks stopping behind you as you unlock your door.

“Strawberry…or blueberry.”

“What? Not cinnamon or smores? What kind of lawless heathen are you?”

You laugh (not the first time tonight, you should have known that all those smarts of his would make him funny too) and turn back around to see his mock-horrified expression. 

“If it’s fruit-flavored it’s better for you, right?” 

He rolls his eyes. “Sure.” Then his smile drops a bit as does his gaze to his feet. “So…I guess I’ll see you later?” His head pops up then. “Are you…I guess, patrolling tonight?”

You shake your head. “One, is that a Buffy reference?”

“Yes,” he says without a hint of shame. 

How on earth did he get more attractive? 

“Two, my feet hurt.”

He winces in sympathy.

“And three, I have to be alert and well, this entire evening has made my brain really really hazy at this point. So it’d be stupid for me to go out like this.”

He nods, taking a step closer to you. “Makes sense. I wouldn’t ask you not to. I have absolutely no right to do so.” He looks up at you (your heels definitely give you a little height) and to add to your night of shocks, the way he looks at you is staggering. “But if you do, or when you do, can you let me know? Like occasionally check in so I know you’re okay.”

It’s a lot, really. To go from thinking someone hates you or is at least unimpressed by you to realizing that you’re cared for, and thought of. Especially when you find you feel the same way. 

“I will.” You fiddle with your clutch purse. “It’d be nice to know someone is out there…paying attention.”

“Less professionally,” he repeats.

You chuckle. “Less professionally.”

There’s a pause in conversation, but it’s not quiet. You swear you can hear your heartbeat and the crackle of something in the air. 

“I want to kiss you.”

You meet his eyes and try not to melt. “I’m okay with that.”

Kissing Min Yoongi is a bit like your night job. You are hyper-aware (his hands on your waist, fingers digging in when you open your mouth; the sounds of his breaths, one low moan that you feel all over; how he tastes like chocolate malt), a bit nervous (first kisses are normally so awkward, but this…this is probably what inspires poets), and have to be ready to adapt (when he leaves your mouth and nips at your jaw and neck, you almost ask him to come in). 

He draws back too soon, but it’s a delight to see the flushed color of his skin, lips swollen from your mouth, his hair, already wavy, even more tousled. 

“Let me know when you aren’t working…either job,” he whispers. “We’ll go out.”

“Or stay in.”

The awareness in his eyes makes your body even more tense, like any second you’ll snap like a broken guitar string. “Or stay in.” 

It’s another soft kiss before he lets you go. 

“Good night, Attorney Min.”

“Night, Anon.” 

--

© yoongihan 2023. please do not steal, translate, repost, or whatever. bts belong to themselves and all idols used in this piece are just the inspiration for characters and do not in any way reflect the actual humans.

yoongi fic recs part ii

(biggest love and support to the writers!!)

1. mad about you by @yoongiphoria

established relationship, smut, 0.7k words

2. drown by @hamsterclaw

established relationship, smut, (part of 'vows' series but can be read as a standalone drabble imo)

3. the king isn't dead by @another-army-spot

historical!au, king!yoongi, smut, fluff/romance, 19.7k words

4. muse by @another-army-spot

established relationship, producer!yoongi x dancer!reader, fluff, smut, 4k words

5. green-eyed monster by @yoonpobs

established relationship, angst, smut, fluff ish, (part of 'be in love' series but can be read as a standalone imo), 1.6k words

6. backburner christmas drabble by @yoonpobs

established relationship, fluff, smut, (part of 'backburner' series but can be read as a standalone drabble imo), 6.2k words

7. love language by @yoonpobs

established relationship, fluff, 5k words

8. busy - a night at home by @jungk0oksthighs

established relationship, smut, 3.3k words

9. soon by @ppersonna

established relationship (married!au), fluff, smut, 3.1k words

10. i wanna hold your hand by @minisugakoobies

friendstolovers!au, fluff, 1.4k words

yoongi fic recs part iii

because I have nothing to do and I miss him terribly terribly terribly

(once again, all of love and support to the writers!)

1. haze by @bonvoyagenoona

fwb(?)au, fluff, smut, 6.5k words

2. I already have you and a cupcake, what more could I possibly need by @taetaespeaches

established relationship, fluff, 1.3k words

3. phases of a daydream by @ki-yomii

established relationship, fluff, smut, 2.8k words

4. riding yoongi in his studio chair by @mccnyoongi

established relationship, undergroundrapper!yoongi, fluff, smut, 2k words

5. extra of in our forever by @muniimyg

established relationship, fluff, angst, smut, (part of the 'in our forever' series but can be read as a standalone drabble imo)

6. the trophy wife by @taeyohonic

established relationship, angst, fluff, 5.7k words

7. favouritism by @taeyohonic

established relationship, pandemic!au, fluff, smut, 2.2k words

8. 01:26am drabble by @wtf-yoongi

established relationship, just fluff and cute vibes

9. everything by @hamsterclaw

established relationship!au, fluff, a little angst, smut, (part of the 'vows' series but can be read as a standalone oneshot imo), 2.3k words

( honestly the vows series is one of my all time favourite series and I reread when I'm bored or feeling down so I would recommend the entire series if you haven't read it ! )