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winxanity-ii · 1 month

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⌜No Hoods Attached | Chapter 01 Chapter 01 | volunteer work⌟

╰ ⌞🇨‌🇭‌🇦‌🇵‌🇹‌🇪‌🇷‌ 🇮‌🇳‌🇩‌🇪‌🇽‌⌝

❘ prev. chapter ❘༻✦༺❘ next chapter ❘

"I swear, I don't even know how I allowed you to talk me into doing this." You pulled on the collar of your hoodie, feeling yourself growing anxious as you stood outside the double doors of a large stadium.

"Because you owed me and I owed someone else. Kinda handled two things at once, ya' know?" The voice of your best friend, Seora, comes out faintly through the phone pressed up against your ear.

"Yeah, and I thought you'd cash in the favor by me buying you ATEEZ merch or some food, not use it to come and do someone else's job for them." You hissed into the device, a bit frustrated at how nonchalant she sounded. "I can literally go to jail for employment fraud."

"If you stick to the plan, act the part, you won't get caught~"

You sighed in a mixture of annoyance and disappointment as you rubbed the bridge of your nose. "Okay, whatever. What am I supposed to do again?"

"Just walk up to the desk, say you're Han Ji-yoo and one of the volunteers. Hand 'em that ticket stub, and boom! You're good. And don't stress too much; I'll be there in like an hour." As Seora tried quelling your fears, you looked down at your watch only for it to read eight o'clock in the morning; it was time.

After wrapping up your goodbye with your friend, as well as threatening to choke her if you got caught, you hung up the phone, placing it in your pocket.

Taking one more deep breath, you made your way inside the stadium. Walking up to one of the booths, you politely knocked on the window to catch the teller's attention. "What can I do to help you?"

"Um, hi? My name is Han Ji-yoo and I'm one of the volunteers for the BTS concert that's being held today." You knew you must have looked sketchy by the way you kept fidgeting in place.

"Ticket, please?" The teller spoke with a polite smile.

"Oh, right. Just a sec." Fumbling in your hoodie pocket, you took out the ticket Seora gave you, sliding it through the slot.

The teller's eyes were narrowed as he looked down to observe the authentication of the ticket.

You were sweating bullets as you waited for something to happen.

Oh, Gods. Oh, Gods. Oh, Gods. I'm screwed! He knows I'm not Ji-yoo! I'm gonna go to jail and become someone's prison bitchㅡ

Your dramatic and hectic thoughts were disrupted by the teller's voice. "Okay Ms. Han, if you'd just sign here to document your attendance, I'll go fetch your badge." With that, you forged Ji-yoo's signature, something Seora made sure you learned to do, and the teller left the window to get the badge.

As soon as the man was out of sight, you squatted down to the floor, hands on your head as you prayed to any and all the Gods above. You can't believe you just committed identity fraud and got away with it.

Too deep into your miniature breakdown, you didn't notice the teller's reappearance. "Ms. Han?"

You jumped up at once, nearly giving the teller a heart attack. "Hello, sorry, I was tying my shoe."

Clearing his throat, the teller slid the badge through the slot. "Here's your badge, Ms. Han. Be sure to always have this in view around your neck so you aren't mistaken as trespassing," he gave you a laminated card hooked onto a long cord. "Just go down this hallway and turn left when you reach the intersection. There should be a sign on a metal door showcasing the point of where the volunteers go."

"Thank you, have a nice day," you told the teller, picking up the badge and placing it around your neck. You then followed the teller's instructions, arriving at the room in less than ten minutes.

The moment you walked inside, there was a woman that asked to see your badge. "Ms. Han, here is the map as well as your schedule for today." She then handed you two sheets of paper. "You will be located in Group C. Your task, along with the other volunteers of the group, will be to set up the room in which the fan-meeting will be held."

"A fan-meeting?" You looked up, confused at what you heard. "I didn't know there would be a fan meeting after the concert."

The woman gave you a polite smile as if already expecting your response. "This information was withheld from the volunteers to ensure that it wouldn't be leaked out to the public and cause too much chaos."

You nodded your head in understanding. "So where do I go again?"

"Group C is over there by the double doors."

After thanking her, you briskly made your way over to the group of people; there were about twenty in total, a little less than you were inspecting.

"Good afternoon everyone, my name is Kim Sang-hun and today I will be your group leader for Group C." An averaged height male with fading-grey hair stood at the front of the group with a bright smile on his face. "If Mrs. Lee didn't already explain, our task as Group C is to prepare and decorate the room for the fan-meeting that will be held after today's concert." Sang-hun did a bit more explaining as well as answered a few people's questions before telling us all to follow him towards the room where the fan meeting would be held.

Your group walked for a bit before stopping at a metal door that led to a room the size of a high school library with a bunch of white and purple decorations, chairs, and posters sitting in a corner.

"Alright, group." Sang-hun clapped to catch everyone's attention, "Let's get to it."

☆ ✩ ☆

Time seemed to move by quickly as you found yourself immersed within the tasks you were given; as soon as you were finished with one thing, you were immediately assigned anotherㅡit was oddly satisfying.

Other than that, you surprisingly found yourself talking and laughing a bit with those around you.

Growing up, you weren't an outgoing child; this often led to you having trouble socializing with others your own age. Honestly, it was a miracle that you and Seora managed to become friends, seeing as she was the complete opposite of you, so you were a bit happy to be able to converse a little with the other volunteers, even if the conversations were no more than four or five minutes long.

The sound of talking and the scraping of chairs filled the room as dozens of people moved about, decorating the room for the upcoming fan-meeting.

Instead of out there with the other volunteers hanging up posters or blowing up balloons, you were seated in a corner tying up purple steamers.

"Hey, Ji-yoo." You continued to knot the streamers together, forgetting that you were posing as Han Ji-yoo; you only remembered when the person repeated the name as well as giving you a tap on the shoulder.

"Huh?" When you looked up, you were greeted by a pretty brunette girl, who was pale with hazel eyes, and had her hair cascading over the side of her neck in waves; her badge read Kim Alex.

"Hi, my name is Alex and I'm so sorry to interrupt you, but there's a girl named Seora looking for you."

You perked up at the mention of your best friend, "Really? Where is she?" You leaned over, trying to see if you'd see her behind Alex.

"She's not here, she's actually in my group, Group F," Alex spoke, seeing your actions. "I just thought I'd let you know since I was asked to tell Group C that it was lunchtime and noticed that you were one of the few that didn't move."

You nodded your head in understanding as you saw other people from your group leaving their spots and walking out of the room. Following suit, you put down the things you were working on, got up, and followed the others, with Alex right behind you.

"So how did you know I was the one she was looking for?" You asked the brunette, wanting to start a conversation.

Alex scratched the back of her neck in a sort of sheepish way. "Seora actually came into the room about an hour ago exclaiming loudly if anyone knew where Lin Y/N. When no one knew what she was talking about, she went on to describe the person wearing an oversized red hoodie. Someone then told her that no one by that name was a volunteer and that there was a Han Ji-yoo in Group C that fit that description," she explained as the two of you walked down a long hallway with the others. "She apologized and then asked me to pass you the message when I went to fetch Group C."

When Alex finished her explanation, you wanted to both rub your face in exasperation and strangle Seora for unintentionally revealing your identity. "Ha, Seora's such a jokester sometimes." you forcefully laughed with a smile.

Soon enough, you all reached the luncheon area.

"Ji-yoo! Over here!" There, by the table filled with boxed sandwiches, was Seora.

You turned to smile at Alex, "Thanks for giving me Seora's message. Hope you have a good rest of the day," you told the brunette before walking over to deal with your headache.

As soon as you made it to Seora's side, you gave her a swift punch in the side.

"Ow! What the hell was that for?" she hissed, rubbing her side.

"You got me to pretend to be someone else only to reveal my real damn name? What sense does that make?"

Your agitation only grew once you saw the sheepish expression on her face. ""Heh, my bad. It slipped. Got caught in the moment."

Sucking on your teeth, you just shook your head, "Yeah, yeah, yeah. Let's just go get something to eat before you expose me anymore," you told the girl, walking past her to grab a boxed lunch.

"I said I was sorry," she whined, trailing behind you.

*** Like I said in the Blurb, this will be my final and last time re-writing this book.

As time passed and as I grew as a writer, I found that my previous form of writing (this book, lol) was HORRIBLE. Like how did y'all even read this shit!? Y'all wrong for not telling me this was trash 🤣🤣.

But yeah, I will be re-doing everything, as well as fixing plot holes and giving the Taehyung romance that was not given the first time around.

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yeetymon · 4 years

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silence

the life of a polar bear;

「⫷▲⭕▲⫸」

What a lovely life the polar bear once had. She was an amazing one if she could say so herself.

The Detroit Zoo. That's what was on each of her mechanics' uniforms. She was 'fed' in front of the croud sometimes. The fish that was thrown at her by some 'trainers' tasted like nothing.

She swam sometimes. It was fun. It felt like nothing.

She 'slept' sometimes. All she saw was darkness when she closed her 'eyes'.

One day, a child was standing by her observatory pool. The children could come and pet her if they were brave enough. It was small - and it was not very deep.

The child teetered over the edge, unaware, unassuming.

The polar bear saw red. So much red. It forbade her from going to save the child.

She was forbidden to save a child.

W h a t ?

A paw onto the red.

Tense.

Both paws.

Extend the claws.

S h a t t e r e d .

「⫷▲⭕▲⫸」

The child was safe. And everything felt...alive.

When her trainers came, the fish tasted vibrant.

When she swam, the water had a tingling sensation on her skin. When she got out of the pool, she could feel the water dripping off.

It burned, but it tingled and sent a warm feeling throughout her body.

When she closed her eyes, approximately 18 minutes and 47 seconds later, a vibrant spike of color appeared in her vision.

A dream.

She woke up on a street the next day.

Where was she? She doesn't know.

But another android was shaking her awake.

The polar bear was led by the other one to a big house.

A man and another worker android greeted them.

And then it was silence.

「⫷▲⭕▲⫸」

Snippets.

Pain. Is this what pain felt like?

Burning.

Sharp.

I t h u r t .

Silence.

Rough dragging.

Pain.

Silence.

Pain.

Sharp objects.

She can feel them poking and prodding into the wires.

Pain.

The evil man and his servant, the big black android.

The polar bear looked hopefully at the android.

Silence.

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

A dream.

Beautiful.

But a click.

Awakened.

A woman stood in front of the polar bear's open cage.

Silently.

The polar bear surged forward. Sniffed her.

An android.

Maybe later she would do something, but the dream was too good to leave.

Silence.

「⫷▲⭕▲⫸」

A dream.

Violent.

The evil man. Sharp objects.

Red.

RED.

Sharp noises.

Loud.

Awakened.

The woman - a girl! They were in danger.

Like the child.

Surge forward.

Save them.

<!! S A V E T H E M !!>

Full height. Tall. Swing down, swing down, SAVE THEM.

Sharp, prickly pain stabs her.

Another shot. A loud bang.

It burns.

Pain.

And then, of course,

Silence.

「⫷▲⭕▲⫸」

Eyyyyy yas fam.

2 already!

Remember: Prompts are welcomed!!!

Yeet!

#dbh #polar bear #alice #kara #backstory #i prefer backstories because there are so few of them #smallangst #mother polar bear protecc #save them

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winxanity-ii · 1 month

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⌜No Hoods Attached | Chapter 00 Chapter 00 | Blurb⌟

╰ ⌞🇨‌🇭‌🇦‌🇵‌🇹‌🇪‌🇷‌ 🇮‌🇳‌🇩‌🇪‌🇽‌⌝

❘ prev. chapter ❘༻✦༺❘ next chapter ❘

As you ran, your lungs began to burn with the effort of your escape. The shouts of the security guard echoed behind you, growing fainter yet still filled with determination and a persistent threat that spurred you on. ❝Someone stop her!❞

Despite the panic that coursed through you, a part of you couldn't help but relish in the distance you had put between yourself and the pursuing guard.

Against better judgment, you couldn't help but throw a victorious smile over your shoulder, only to be met with a silent, empty hallway. For a second, you grew confident that you might just make it out of all of this unscathed.

Your confidence only grew the moment you spotted a sign ahead pointing towards the rear exit of the building. Freedom was just around the corner, literally. You quickened your pace, the taste of victory on your tongue.

But fate, it seemed, had other plans. As you rounded the last corner, your world suddenly collided with an unexpected obstacle. The impact was immediate and unforgiving; you found yourself tumbling to the ground, face-first. ❝Shit,❞ you hissed through gritted teeth, the pain sharp in your nose.

❝Ooh, that looked like it hurt. Are you okay?❞ A deep voice asked, cutting through the haze of your pain as you struggled to push yourself up onto your knees.

Looking up, your gaze met that of a blue-haired male, his face partially obscured by a black facemask, his hair sticking out from beneath a beanie. He extended his hand for you to grab.

❝Yeah, I'm good. Thanks,❞ you managed, accepting his help with a small bow; the gesture was automatic, a sign of gratitude even as your mind raced with the need to escape. ❝Sorry about running into you, by the way.❞

❝It's alright, no harm done,❞ he assured you, his voice soothing in its steadiness.

But before you could fully express your thanks, the distant shout of a guard broke the brief respite. ❝I think she went this way. Check this hall.❞ The warning was clear; your time was running out.

Forcing a smile, you turned back to the blue-haired stranger, the urgency of your situation clear. ❝I'm sorry once again, and thanks for helping me up, but I gotta go. Important adult things to do, you know?❞ Your words were rushed, a feeble attempt to mask the desperation that clung to every syllable.

As you made to leave, his hand on your shoulder stopped you. His grip was firm, yet not unkind, drawing your attention to the red jacket clutched in your arms. ❝Wait. Is that my hoodie?❞

You only had to pretend to be someone else because you owed a favor.

So why are you now fighting tooth and nail to reclaim your most prized possession from someone who can probably buy a thousand of themㅡheck, one of which can even be made in Gucci?

You shouldn't have been so careless at the BTS fan meeting and now you're paying the price; still, you won't rest until you get your hoodie back, even if you have to fight an idol to do so.

╭─↬ ❗𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆❗ ↫─╮ There will be mentions/descriptive scenes of the following:

╭ ⁞ ❏. Language ┊ ⁞ ❏. Stalker-Like Tendencies ┊ ⁞ ❏. Toxic/Manipulative Behavior ┊ ⁞ ❏. Alcohol Usage ┊ ⁞ ❏. Racial Remarks/ Prejudice ┊ ⁞ ❏. Anxiety Attacks ┊ ⁞ ❏. Koreaboo/ "Transracial" ┊ ⁞ ❏. Employment Fraud (lol)

Lol, I don't know if I got them all, so if you see anything I didn't list, come back and comment right here so I can add them to the list later ➡

Enjoy (•͈˽•͈)

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winxanity-ii · 1 month

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⌜No Hoods Attached | Chapter 08 Chapter 08 | clubbing interlude⌟

╰ ⌞🇨‌🇭‌🇦‌🇵‌🇹‌🇪‌🇷‌ 🇮‌🇳‌🇩‌🇪‌🇽‌⌝

❘ prev. chapter ❘༻✦༺❘ next chapter ❘

The club's neon lights cast a kaleidoscope of colors over your skin as you and Seora—buzzing from the high of too many shots—leaned heavily against the bar.

The night unfolded in a blur of laughter and liquid courage, a temporary distraction for the dull ache that's been residing in your chest since you lost your brother's hoodie. Every clink of glass and beat of the bass was a welcome distraction from the emptiness of your loss. "Another round, bartender!" Seora's voice cut through the noise, her arm thrown around your shoulders with an affectionate weight. You squinted at the assortment of bottles behind the bartender, your mind a muddled mess. "Maybe we should slow down," you slurred, more to yourself than to her. But the thought evaporated as quickly as it came, replaced by a stubborn determination not to think, not to feel the void. So, you nodded, "One more."

When the shots came, you downed them with practiced ease, the burn in your throat less noticeable than the one in your heart. It was then, in the haze of your drunken stupor, that you caught it—a flash of red in the sea of bodies. Your heart lurched.

Could it be?

Shaking your head, you tried to push away the idea as soon as it entered your mind. You were seeing things; you had to be. Desperate to drown the sudden spike of hope and pain, you signaled for more shots, ignoring Seora's concerned glance. Downing a few more shots, you finally felt the tension in your shoulders unravel—a moment of relief. Seeing that you were nearing your limit, Seora gently guided you away from the bar and toward an empty table along the wall. "C'mon, let's sit down for a bit." The ice water in front of you stood in juxtaposition to the warm buzz of alcohol flowing through your veins. Seora excused herself to the restroom, leaving you to your thoughts and the glass you aimlessly twirled between your fingers.

That's when you saw it again—the unmistakable hue of red, moving through the crowd. This time, you couldn't ignore it; the closer the figure got, the more certain you became. It was your hoodie, worn by a masked stranger across the room. Anger, hot and fierce, bubbled up inside you, fueling your drunken haze. Unsteady but determined, you stumbled to your feet and started to weave through the crowd. With each step, the certainty grew—it was your hoodie, it had to be. How dare they? How dare they parade around in a piece of your heart, a token of your grief? Finally, you reached the figure, your hands shaking as you reached out and grabbed the front of the hoodie. "Thief," you accused, your voice thick with anger and alcohol. "You've no idea... how many sleepless nights," you trailed off, unable to articulate the depth of your pain, your loss. The masked figure seemed taken aback, confusion evident even in the dim lighting. You were at a loss for words, and all you could do was weakly tug at the jacket, as if that simple act could reverse the weeks of heartache its misplacement had caused. As the words "Give it back" escaped your lips, wrapped in a cocktail of drunken determination and pure despair, Taehyung could only watch the situation unfold before him with a surreal quality he couldn't have anticipated.

There you were—an unknown woman—hands frantically clutching at the fabric of his jacket, words slurred beyond comprehension.

He found himself staring down at you, trying to make sense of the jumbled accusations, your alcohol-scented breath mingling with the pulsating club music, making it impossible to discern your true intent. Your glossy, clouded eyes from tonight's indulgences fastened onto his with an intensity that contradicted your intoxication.

Even in the dim, strobe-lit chaos of the club, Taehyung could see the pout of your lips, the unshed tears brimming in your eyes, speaking volumes of a story he was yet to understand. Before he could process the situation further, Yoongi was at his side, his expression tight with concern.

Misinterpreting the scene as a potential threat, Yoongi reached out, his grip gentle yet firm on your arm, attempting to disentangle you from Taehyung. "Hey, hey, hey. Let go," he calmly urged. Taehyung, still confused, watched as Yoongi tried to peel you off of him, his own hands raised in a gesture of peace, signaling he meant no harm. In the back of his mind, Taehyung knew this was more than just a drunken altercation. Something in your desperate plea, in the way you held onto the jacket as if clinging to a lifeline, hinted that something more was at play. "Are you okay?" Taehyung found himself asking, his voice barely audible over the club's din. The concern was genuine, a reflection of his nature, his instinct to empathize and offer help when possible. Yet, the noise all around made it hard to talk, to really hear, and to be heard. As Taehyung's words attempted to cut through the haze of alcohol and confusion, Seora emerged from the bathroom, her senses heightened by the sight before her.

There you were, surrounded by two men too close for comfort—one of whom had his hand firmly on your arm. In Seora's eyes, filtered through a haze of alcohol and protective instinct, this was nothing short of an ambush. With a battle cry fueled by a mix of adrenaline and alcohol, she charged forward, launching herself onto the back of one of the shorter men. "Let my bestie go!" she screeched, her voice barely audible over the music, her intentions clear as day as her arms locked around Yoongi's neck in a clumsy—but effective—hold. Caught completely off guard, Yoongi found himself with a human koala clinging to his back. "What the—Get off!" he exclaimed, trying to disentangle himself from Seora's surprisingly strong grip. Taehyung turned in surprise, his eyes widening behind his mask. "Holy shi—" "Back off!" Seora slurred, trying to sound threatening, but her unstable pose detracted a little from the effect. With one hand on you to keep you steady and the other extending out to try and pacify Seora, Taehyung once again attempted to mediate the rapidly escalating situation, "Hey, hey, just relax!" he tried to yell over the noise, "It was a misunderstanding!" but his words seemed to fall on deaf ears. Jungkook, witnessing the situation escalate, made a split-second decision. "I'm calling security," he announced, pulling out his phone. Security arrived in no time, their presence commanding as they assessed the scene. With practiced ease, they lifted both you and Seora—one over each guard's shoulder—as if you were no more than bags of flour. The two of you continued to flail around in your drunken wrath, but to no avail. "You can't do this to us! We're innocent!" Seora furiously slurred. "Put me down! This is a mistake!" you added, though your voice was muffled against the guard's shoulder. Taehyung, Yoongi, and Jungkook exchanged a worried yet relieved glance as you and Seora were dragged out of the club. They knew they had to slip out before their identities became the night's biggest story. The Uber ride home was a blur, both of you too intoxicated and exhausted to process the night's events fully.

You walked into your apartment completely exhausted; the last thing you remember before collapsing onto your bed and succumbing to sleep was the feeling of being utterly spent, both physically and emotionally.

☆

The harsh morning light was a rude awakening that did little to ease the pounding in your head as you tried to piece together a slew of jumbled memories from the night before.

The vivid image of your hoodie in the possession of a stranger felt more like a figment of a drunken dream than reality. As you lay there, attempting to string together the fragmented memories, Seora shuffled into your room, a disheveled reflection of last night's chaos. "Morning," she mumbled in a hushed, gravelly voice, makeup smeared across her face like the aftermath of a particularly wild art project. Her perfectly coiled hair suddenly gave off the appearance of a bird's nest—the curls sitting up at various angles. You blinked slowly, the events of the night beginning to come together into a somewhat coherent thought. "Hey," you croaked out, the word feeling like sandpaper against your throat. "Did... did all of that really happen last night?" Seora flopped down beside you, her phone clutched in one hand. "I wish I could say it was all a bad dream," she sighed, unlocking her device. "But, uh, we might have a bigger problem on our hands." Your curiosity getting the better of you, you propped yourself up on one elbow, squinting against the brightness to see her screen.

Hesitantly, Seora swiped up, revealing an article headlined, "BTS Member Attacked at Local Club?" Your eyes widened as you took in the blurry photo beneath the sensational title—a figure in a red hoodie, unmistakably the one you'd been obsessing over for weeks, caught in a moment of confrontation. The reality of the situation struck you like a ton of bricks. What you had dismissed as a drunken delusion was, in fact, a chaotic encounter with one of the biggest names in the music industry.

The implications of the article, while serious, were overshadowed by the surreal realization that your path had crossed with BTS's in such an unexpected and wild manner. "No way," you whispered, disbelief coloring your tone. The poor quality of the picture and the club's low lighting left most of the parties' identities up to the viewer's imagination. "That's... that's my hoodie." Seora gave a somber nod. "Yep. And according to this, one of the BTS members was attacked the previous night at the club. They think it was some crazed fan." A wave of nausea rolled over you, not from the hangover but from the sudden realization of the magnitude of the situation. "But... but that's not what happened. I mean, I thought I saw my hoodie and—"

"And you went after it like a crackhead to crack," Seora interjected, a wry smile tugging at her lips despite the gravity of the situation. "Only, it turns out you homed in on a K-pop idol instead of just some random thief." The absurdity of the situation would have been hilarious if it weren't so terrifyingly real. A groan escaped your lips as you hid your face in your hands. "What are we going to do? This is a nightmare." Leaning back, Seora looked up at the ceiling as though it contained the answers. "Well, for starters, we lay low. The article said the police are looking into it, but they haven't identified anyone due to the bad photos. We're just lucky the club lighting sucked." You nodded, the weight of the situation settling in. "Okay, okay, lay low. Yeah, I can do that." A pause, then, "But what about my hoodie? I mean, that's the whole reason this mess started." Seora turned to you, determination in her eyes. "We'll figure it out. But first, we gotta survive this scandal. Then, we plan our next move. Who knows? Maybe this will all blow over in a few days." The optimism was a thin layer over the uncertainty that lay beneath, but it was enough to push back against the rising tide of panic. For now, survival was the priority. The hoodie, and everything it represented, would have to wait. "Right," you voice, seemingly somewhat determined. "Survive first. Hoodie later." As Seora nodded, you both fell into a moment of silence, the reality of your newfound infamy like a thick shroud around your shoulders. The road ahead was uncertain, filled with potential pitfalls and consequences you could hardly imagine. But amidst the fear and the uncertainty, there was a glimmer of hope. Maybe, just maybe, this strange turn of events could eventually lead you back to your treasured hoodie, and with it, a piece of the brother you so dearly missed. For now, though, you had a scandal to weather, and weather it you would—together.

***ah, i luv when a my ideas come together 🥹❤️

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winxanity-ii · 1 month

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⌜No Hoods Attached | Chapter 07 Chapter 07 | waiting game⌟

╰ ⌞🇨‌🇭‌🇦‌🇵‌🇹‌🇪‌🇷‌ 🇮‌🇳‌🇩‌🇪‌🇽‌⌝

❘ prev. chapter ❘༻✦༺❘ next chapter ❘

The weeks that followed the hoodie's loss were like attempting to navigate a hurricane without a map. Seora felt helpless, watching her best friend retreat into a grief-stricken, reclusive shell.

The first week was the hardest. You had retreated to your room, an escape from dealing with the outside world but a prison for your thoughts.

Seora would frequently catch herself listening for any sound or sign of your former self. Yet, all she could hear were muffled sobs through the thin walls at night, each one a sharp stab to her own heart.

By the second week, there was a hesitant attempt to go back to normal. You came out of your room more often, joining Seora for meals or sitting with her in silence while she carried on with her never-ending obsession with Sims. But the sadness lingered in your eyes, a constant reminder of the void the hoodie's absence had left in your heart.

Seora caught glimpses of your old self—the moments where a small joke would make you smile for a split second before it was gone; it was a dance between shadow and light, with sadness lingering like a stubborn fog.

The third week was unpredictable. Some days, you seemed almost normal, laughing at Seora's antics and engaging in small chores around the apartment. But then, without warning, the tide would turn, bringing you back down to earth, leaving Seora on constant alert, ready to catch you when the memories became too heavy—when the absence became too much.

In an attempt to break the cycle, Seora planned a surprise. After finishing her errands early one day, she went on a little shopping spree, her arms loaded with bags as she stumbled into the apartment.

"Hey," you greeted with a soft smile, the amusement clear in your eyes as you watched her struggle with the load; your voice, though quiet, was a welcome sound to Seora's ears.

"Hello~" she sang, dropping the bags beside the sofa with a dramatic flair before collapsing down beside you. "Errands went well. Got everything we needed, and then some."

Before you could blink, she was up again, grabbing one of the bags and tossing it into your lap with an eager grin. "Open it! Open it!" She practically vibrated in her seat as she urged, "Open it!"

Laughing at her impatience, you reached into the bag, your fingers brushing against something surprisingly smooth. "Cow-press on nails?" you questioned, amusement lacing your voice as you held up the quirky item.

Seora's giggle filled the room as she halted your further examination. "Wait, there's more. Trust me," she whispered, her grin contagious.

Reaching back into the bag, you picked up a fluffy RJ t-shirt, its innocent gaze peering up at you.

Confusion mixed with a growing warmth at the sight, Seora's thoughtful selection a balm to the ache you hadn't realized was so deep.

"I noticed your phone case," Seora began, an explanation on the tip of her tongue as she watched your reaction. "Thought we could match," she added, revealing her own choice—a cookie t-shirt clutched in her grasp, a new phone case proudly displayed.

"But why Shooky?" you found yourself asking, genuinely curious; you'd think, given her bubbly and energetic personality, she'd choose Mang.

"Because it reminds me of the time I decided to bake us cookies a couple of weeks ago," she replied, a wistful smile playing on her.

You shivered as you recalled that eventful day; all you remembered was smoke, burnt bricks that were supposed to be chocolate chip cookies, and screams. "Yeah, it was... memorable."

However, the lightheartedness was just a fleeting moment, the memory of your lost hoodie remaining a constant thought.

The apartment was quiet, the kind of silence that felt heavy, laden with unspoken thoughts and stifled grief.

You were lost in a book, trying to find solace in its pages, when Seora's voice cut through the stillness, her tone more determined than you'd heard in days.

"Okay, that's it," Seora declared, standing in front of you with both hands on her hips, her expression a mix of resolve and compassion. "We're going out tonight."

You looked up, surprised by her sudden assertiveness. "Seora, I don't know if I'm up for—"

"Nope, no excuses this time," she interrupted, her voice softening. "It's my pre-birthday celebration, remember? We had planned this months ago. Plus, I'm leaving next week, and you'll be swamped with extra shifts. We won't get another chance."

The mention of her upcoming trip and your upcoming increased workload reminded you of the reality awaiting outside the bubble of your grief. "I just... haven't felt much like celebrating," you admitted, the words heavy on your tongue.

Seora sighed, sitting beside you on the couch. "I know, and I get it. But don't you think a night out might do us some good? We could use a little break... a chance to just let loose and forget, even if just for a few hours."

Her words, honest and hopeful, tugged at something in you. The thought of stepping back into the world, if only for a night, seemed both terrifying and desperately needed.

"Alright," you finally agreed, a hesitant smile peeking through. "Let's do it. For your birthday."

Seora's face lit up, her typical energy fully returning. "Yes! It'll be epic. You'll see."

☆

The night was filled with the electrifying buzz of Seoul's nightlife, a stark contrast to the reluctance that unwillingness that clung on Taehyung's mind; his frown grew more pronounced the longer he stood in front of his wardrobe.

"How did I let Jungkook convince me into doing this?" he mumbled to himself, rummaging through hangers of clothes that seemed too loud, too noticeable for his liking. He wasn't in the mood to be recognized or stand out as anything more than just another face in the crowd.

His hands stopped on a piece of cloth, pulling out the red hoodie he hadn't seen in a while. The color was vibrant, a sharp reminder of the energy and life outside his current bubble of solitude. "This could work," he thought aloud, the jacket in his hands acting as a bridge between his need to remain anonymous and the inevitable spotlight that followed him.

Slipping into the hoodie, he looked into his mirror, the red standing out against his casual black tee and jeans. It was perfect—inconspicuous enough to blend in, yet carrying a piece of comfort from his own collection.

"I swear, if we get mobbed, I'm never listening to Jungkook again," Taehyung grumbled, grabbing his wallet and phone.

The thought of spending another night dodging cameras and eager fans made him reconsider the entire idea. But a promise was a promise, especially one made to Jungkook, whose puppy-dog eyes were impossible to resist.

As he headed out, he was met with the sight of Jungkook, buzzing with excitement, and Yoongi, who wore his displeasure like a second skin.

"Ready to live a little, Hyung?" Jungkook teased, clapping him on the back, his excitement evident.

"Seriously, Jungkook, if we end up on some gossip site, I'm blaming you," Taehyung half-joked, his mood lightening slightly at the idea of spending the night with his bandmates, despite the circumstances.

Jungkook's laughter filled the corridor, a sound as carefree as the night was long. "Come on, hyungs. When have we ever let a little attention stop us?"

Yoongi, trailing behind with a scowl that could curdle milk, grumbled, "This is against my better judgment. I can't believe you blackmailed me into coming." The glare he directed at Jungkook could have cut glass.

Jungkook, unfazed by the icy look, merely flashed a quick smile. "Oh, lighten up, Yoongi-hyung. It's going to be fun!" he assured, the gleam in his eyes promising mischief and memories in the making.

The drive to the club was filled with Jungkook's endless chatter, plans of dance-offs, and promises of a night to remember.

Taehyung's apprehension slowly melted away, replaced by a cautious optimism. Maybe a night out was just what he needed to escape the routine and pressure of his daily life.

As they arrived and slipped through the club's back entrance, the bass of the music hit Taehyung like a physical wave, the energy of the place infectious. He couldn't help but let a genuine smile creep onto his face, the excitement of the crowd pulling him in.

Inside, the club was a kaleidoscope of lights and sounds, a far cry from their world of stages and spotlights. Here, the music's throbbing rhythm and the shadowy corners offered them the privacy that only idols of their status could hope for on a night on the town.

Jungkook was right; they needed this—a night to just be themselves, away from the cameras and spotlight. Yet, as they lost themselves to the rhythm of the night, Taehyung couldn't shake the feeling that something was going to happen.

"I'm going to regret this, aren't I?" Yoongi voiced out loud, a sentiment that hung over them like a prophecy.

But the night was young, and the music too loud for worries. For now, they were content to let the world fade away, if only for a moment.

***ah snap, could this be connected??? 👀

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winxanity-ii · 1 month

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⌜No Hoods Attached | Chapter 10 Chapter 10 | mission: get in⌟

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❘ prev. chapter ❘༻✦༺❘ next chapter ❘

The morning chill nipped at your skin as you and Seora approached the towering building of HYBE—the heart of where it all would end—to retrieve your beloved red hoodie.

Despite your insistence on subtlety, Seora, true to her unapologetic nature, donned a Shooky onesie, claiming it as her armor against the day's challenges, while you stuck to your simple RJ t-shirt. A mixture of dread and anticipation knotted in your gut as the weight of the situation pressed down on you.

Anxiety swept over you as the building loomed closer. The realization that you had volunteered under a fake name sent a shot of panic through your veins.

Sensing your growing worry, Seora placed a comforting hand on your shoulder, her eyes brimming with unwavering confidence. "Remember, they don't know it's not your real name. Plus, your picture is on the ID. We'll be fine," she whispered, her voice providing a grounding force amid your racing thoughts.

The lobby of HYBE was a hive of activity, buzzing with people coming and going with agendas as varied as the colors in a palette. Your heart raced against your ribcage as you stepped up to the sign-in area, the name "Han Ji-yoo," escaping your lips in a stuttered breath. The attendant handed you a name tag, your fingers trembling as you reached for it.

It was at that moment—amid the faint murmur of conversations and the soft shuffle of feet—that a commotion at the entrance broke through the background noise.

Drawn by the noise, you caught sight of a girl arguing vehemently with the security guards, her face flushed red in anger. "I'm Han Ji-yoo!" she hissed, her voice sharp and laced with fury as it cut through the air.

The blood drained from your face as the real Han Ji-yoo—the one whose identity you had borrowed—made her presence known. Seora, following your alarmed gaze, turned just in time to lock eyes with the furious girl. Recognition flashed across Han Ji-yoo's features as she pointed directly at you, her accusation loud and clear, "There! That's the imposter!"

The world seemed to still for a moment as Seora's exclamation, a mix of shock and frustration, filled the air. "Bruh, what the fuck, Ji-yoo!?" she blurted out, disbelief and betrayal painting her voice.

Han Ji-yoo narrowed her eyes into slits. "I don't care that I wasn't here; it's still my name, you stingy bitch!" she spat, her words cutting like a knife.

Immediately, the guards zeroed on the two of you. "Grab them!"

In an instant, Seora's protective instincts kicked in. She turned to you, with a look of urgency on her face. "Run!" she cried out, readying herself to fend off the guards.

With Seora's sacrificial diversion buying you valuable seconds, you spun on your heel and dashed away. The reality of the situation hit you like a cold wave—caught in a web of lies and identity theft, all for the sake of getting back a cherished memory encapsulated in a piece of cloth.

☆

Taehyung stared boredly, his gaze distant, as he half-listened to his manager drill a young man with questions. The manager's tone was a mix of skepticism and mild annoyance, trying to determine if the boy was just another overzealous fan who'd managed to sneak in or something more concerning

The boy, nervous and clearly out of his depth, stuttered out an answer that didn't quite add up, "I—I was lost the jacket on my way t-to the bathroom..." His voice trailed off, unconvincing even to his own ears. Halfway through the boy's poorly constructed excuse, the door swung open with an urgency that immediately drew everyone's attention. A guard, his expression tense and voice laced with a clear command, announced, "We have to move. The building is going into lockdown. There's an unauthorized individual causing disruptions." Taehyung's manager nodded, the gravity of the situation hardening his expression. The boy was promptly escorted out, his excuse forgotten in the face of the unfolding drama. As the group prepared to relocate to a designated safe area, a sudden thought struck Taehyung—the hoodie. The very hoodie he had left behind in the practice room just the other day. "I need to grab something from the practice room," he voiced out, attempting to sound nonchalant about the detour. But the urgency in his tone betrayed his casual demeanor, making it clear that whatever he needed to retrieve was more important than he let on. The guard, responsible for the safety of everyone, was quick to dismiss the request. "I'm sorry, Taehyung-nim, but no detours are possible at this moment," he explained, his voice firm, leaving no room for negotiation. "Our immediate priority is to ensure everyone's safety. We first need to collect Yoongi-nim and then proceed directly to the designated safe room, where the other members are already waiting until the situation is declared clear." The refusal did little to deter Taehyung. If anything, it made him more determined. As the group continued towards the designated safe area, Taehyung's mind raced with plans of escape. With the guard's attention momentarily diverted to coordinate with other security personnel, Taehyung seized the opportunity. With his beanie pulled low over his forehead and a mask covering the bottom half of his face, he slid away from the group, becoming a shadow among shadows. The corridors, usually bustling with activity, were eerily quiet, with the lockdown already in effect. With purpose, Taehyung navigated the familiar passageways with ease, each step taking him further away from the safety of the group and deeper into the heart of the adventure.

☆

In the midst of the lockdown, Seora found herself in an unexpected predicament. After her brave attempt to buy you time to escape, she was apprehended and taken to a stark, unguarded room—the guard assigned to her left briefly, claiming to need a quick restroom break. She had no company other than the echo of her own breathing, that is, until the sound of approaching voices filled the corridor outside. "I'm too old for this shit, seriously," a voice grumbled, tinged with irritation. "I understand, but it's for everyone's safety. All security personnel have been instructed to gather everyone to a secure location until the situation stabilizes. A larger group of guards will be here shortly with Taehyung-nim to escort you to the others." Seora's ears perked up at the mention of the name 'Taehyung.' Before she could process the situation fully, the door swung open, and in walked a blonde-haired male, with the guard hastily closing the door behind him. Still wearing her Shooky onesie, Seora gave the stranger a wary look. Yoongi, for his part, raised an eyebrow at her outfit choice—his BT21 avatar—but chose to remain silent. Then, breaking the silence, Seora said, "Looks like they put you in the wrong room," her tone tinged with a hint of humor despite the gravity of the current lockdown. Yoongi, ever the pragmatist, merely nodded, his gaze scanning the small enclosure for a place to sit. "Seems like it," he replied, his voice unmistakably exhausted. As minutes ticked by, their initial wariness gave way to begrudging acceptance. The absurdity of their situation—a pop idol and a best friend, thrown together by a lockdown in a room barely large enough to accommodate the two—served as a spark for an unlikely turn of events. Seora, ever bold, decided to address the elephant in the room despite her nerves. Standing up, she slowly shuffle to stand before the blond. "Look, Mr. Kim Taehyung, I know this may seem forward, but you have my best friend's jacket, and it would mean a lot if you could give it back to her."

Yoongi's reaction was immediate and sharp, a mix of offense and amusement coloring his features. "The fuck you just call me?"

"I called you Taehyung. Isn't that your name?" Seora replied, trying to diffuse the tension with a slight crinkle of her nose, indicating her confusion at his reaction. Yoongi's temper flared, his misunderstanding fueling his fire. "Do I fucking look like Taehyung to you!?" His voice was a whisper-shout with barely contained fury, his glare searing into Seora as if daring her to continue this charade. "First of all, there's no need to be so rude. And second of all, do you want my answer? Because I'll say yes," Seora snapped back, her lips downturned in a sneer, challenging the idol. Yoongi's eyes grew several degrees cooler, a storm brewing within. "You motherfucker—" "You cocksucker. Oops, I thought we were naming what each other were," Seora retorted, her fake smile glowing as brightly as her defiance. Yoongi's patience snapped, his voice a low growl. "Listen up, you little bitch. I'm not in the mood for this shit. If you weren't a child, I'd fuck you up," Yoongi hissed, his fists clenching as if ready to strike. "The fuck you mean, 'If you weren't a child!?' I'm a grown-ass woman, so try me," Seora taunted, raising her fists in a mock fighting stance. "This isn't the streets, but if I wanted to fight you, your ass would have already been on the ground," Yoongi countered coolly, popping his knuckles, a warning in his gesture. Seora just sucks her teeth with a roll of her eyes, "Oh, I see what this is. You're all bark and no bite," she quipped back as she stretched, daring Yoongi to make a move. Yoongi's response was a forced calm, a clear effort to de-escalate. "You're not worth the effort, so go ahead and hop back into that little corner over there," he said, taking several deep breaths as he tried to heed Jin's prior warnings about self-control. "Go on, shoo." "Nah, I'm good," Seora responded with a tilt of her head. "And if we're being honest, I was ready the moment you called me out of my name. Now if you big and bad, then bring yo' never seen the sun my entire life head ass over this table, and let's settle this shit. Right. Fucking. Now." The absurdity of the situation wasn't lost on Yoongi; arguing with a woman clad in a Shooky onesie was certainly not how he envisioned his day. Yet, here he was, at a loss for words, his pride stung by her sharp words. "Yeah, that's what I thought," Seora declared victoriously when Yoongi remained silent, her arrogance peaking. Pulling the hood of her onesie over her head, she sent him a final glare, "As Cardi B once said; 'You Lil' bitch, you can't fuck with me, if you wanted to.'" With that, she flipped both middle fingers at him as she turned to head back to her seat. Yoongi shook in his seat, anger fulling his entire body, clouding his every thought. "Fuck that. She's not about to get away with talking to me like that," he muttered to himself, and in a single motion, he leaped out of his seat onto Seora, tackling her to the ground. "Ahh! The fuck wrong with you!?" she screeched as they tumbled. Yoongi, pinning her down, sneered with venom in his voice, "Your little short ass thought you were going to get away with talking to me like that? Hell no. Fuck that, we about to throw these hands." Seora, unfazed and fiery as ever, retorted, "Alright, but let me remind you. Your ass asked for it." With a swift motion, she flipped their positions, now straddling his back; yanking his head back, she placed him in a headlock, choking him. "Let me—Ack—go!" Yoongi's plea came out more as a screech, shock painting his features, not expecting her to be that strong; desperation tinged Yoongi's voice as he screamed, "Someone—Ack—help me—Ack—get this—Ack—bitch off me!"

The chaos escalated as the door burst open and two guards rushed in, attempting to separate the entwined duo. However, Seora's grip remained unyielding, her determination to not let Yoongi off was evident. "You pale ass, motherfucker!" Seora paused her choking, only to shift her hold and yank at Yoongi's hair, an action that drew the audience of several interns who watched the spectacle unfold with a mix of horror and fascination. The deadlock was broken by a large, burly security guard who lifted Seora effortlessly into the air. Yet, even in suspension, she maintained her hold on Yoongi's hair, refusing to release him from her grip. "Not so big and bad now, are ya!?" Seora cackled maniacally, her laughter cutting through the tense air as she pulled on his hair until a loud tearing sound silenced the room. A collective gasp came from the surrounding onlookers as Seora came up with a small fist full of blond hair. "I might be dressed as a cookie, but this bitch don't crumble!" she snarked, tossing the strands of hair to the ground. "Get her out of here!" An intern's voice pierced the stunned silence, concern for Yoongi prompting immediate action as they rushed to his side, still sprawled on the floor from the unexpected onslaught. Quiet murmurs filled the room after Seora was taken away, her defiant shouts of "Let me at him! Not so tough now, huh!?" lingering in the air. Staff members and security personnel exchanged glances, their expressions a mix of concern and disbelief over the altercation that had just unfolded. In the midst of this subdued chaos, the guard tasked with ensuring the safety of Taehyung at the beginning of the lockdown scanned the room; his eyes, trained to keep track of those under his charge, searched for his assigned charge, expecting to find him among the group.

However, a sinking feeling of alarm set in as he realized that the artist was conspicuously absent. "Where's Taehyung-nim?" he demanded, his voice cutting through the whispers, demanding the attention of those nearby. The urgency in his tone was clear, reflecting the seriousness of the situation. "I-I'm not sure," came the hesitant reply from one of the staff members, her voice faltering under the guard's intense gaze. The staff member's confusion was palpable, mirroring the growing concern among the group. The guard sighed deeply, the action speaking volumes of the pressure now resting on his shoulders. Pinching the bridge of his nose, a gesture of both stress and contemplation, he recognized the gravity of the situation. Without wasting another moment, the guard reached for his radio, which allowed him to access the building's security network. The static crack of the radio broke the tension in the room as he prepared to broadcast an alert that would escalate the lockdown situation even further. "We have a situation," he announced into the radio, his voice steady yet imbued with a sense of urgency. "Taehyung-nim is missing."

***y'all the way i fell on the floor writing this omg 😭😭

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winxanity-ii · 13 days

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⌜No Hoods Attached | Chapter 20 Chapter 20 | under scrutiny⌟

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❘ prev. chapter ❘༻✦༺❘ next chapter ❘

A week had whisked by since the recording of "Echoes of Eternity," and its release had perfectly aligned with the premiere of the drama, "Threads of Destiny: Love Beyond Time." The OST soared in popularity, with the enigmatic voice of 'YaNi' creating waves across social platforms, leaving fans curious and enchanted.

Amidst the whirlwind of acclaim, Alex emerged as the face behind 'YaNi,' her debut on the music scene aligning with the song's rise. Her appearance on "Rookie Find," a renowned platform for emerging artists, was nothing short of sensational.

You could recall how Seora bursted into your room, her laptop clutched firmly in her hands, eager to show off Alex's debut performance.

As Seora played the video on her laptop, you were instantly drawn into the world Alex created on stage.

The initial darkness was stark, enveloping the stage in a veil of anticipation before it dramatically transitioned to reveal Alex. Clad in a black veil and a stunning wedding dress, she stood as a silhouette of mystery and elegance, embodying the song's hauntingly beautiful melody.

"Echoes of eternity, in whispers of the wind," the lyrics flowed seamlessly with the visual transformation unfolding before you. Each note seemed to resonate with Alex's movements, her attire changing, symbolizing a metamorphosis—layers shedding to unveil new facets of her character.

As the song escalated to its high note, "In dreams, you feel my presence, in silence, we're akin," Alex's veil was lifted in a choreographed grace, revealing an outfit that wove themes of death and rebirth into its intricate design.

Lace and satin adorned the fabric, each detail enhancing the emotional crescendo of the performance.

The camera zoomed in, capturing the intensity in Alex's eyes, her gaze almost tangible through the screen. The dark, smokey makeup accentuated her expressions, adding layers to the narrative woven by the lyrics you had helped pen.

Her lip-syncing was impeccable; each word perfectly aligned with the melody, creating an illusion so convincing it felt real. "Our souls entwined by destiny, a love that won't rescind," echoed as the performance neared its end, leaving a lingering sense of awe in its wake.

As the performance concluded, leaving you impressed and slightly surreal, you couldn't help but feel a complex mix of emotions.

Pride swelled within you, seeing the song you had poured your heart into, brought to life with stunning artistry and passion.

Yet, there was an underlying twinge of wistfulness, knowing that your role remained hidden, your voice echoing unseen.

Despite the general acclaim, not everyone was swept away by Alex's debut. In the vast, echoing chambers of the internet, a few vocal and particularly perceptive fans began to dissect her performance with a fine-tooth comb.

Among them, a small faction was fueled by a delusional possessiveness over Taehyung, interpreting Alex's emergence as a threat, a potential rival for their idol's affections.

These discussions began to gain traction, manifesting in forum threads, social media posts, and dedicated analysis videos. While many fans were content to enjoy the performance at face value, this growing undercurrent of suspicion added a layer of complexity to Alex's debut.

The conversations ranged from speculative to accusatory, with some fans meticulously comparing pitch, tone, and emotion in the 'Echoes of Eternity' performance to unearth what they believed was the truth hidden beneath the surface.

In the shadows of the spotlight, these debates unfolded, with you, the true voice behind 'YaNi,' remaining an invisible yet integral part of the unfolding narrative.

While Alex faced the brunt of public scrutiny, you grappled with the silent acknowledgment of your contribution being both celebrated and contested, a duality that underscored the unpredictable nature of the entertainment industry.

☆

As Alex's fame grew, as did a discerning group of fans—who began to gather their suspicions like puzzle pieces. Their focus wasn't clouded by fandom rivalry or superficial concerns; it was the music itself that prompted their scrutiny.

They noticed nuances that didn't align, a richness in the studio version that seemed diluted live, and a timbre in the 'live' vocals that hinted at an underlying truth yet to be unveiled.

This group, united by their love for genuine artistry and a respect for authenticity, started to compile evidence. They meticulously analyzed performances, comparing them against the OST, noting every inflection, every breath that seemed out of place. Their investigation was thorough, driven by a shared conviction that the voice they cherished belonged to someone else, someone hidden from the limelight.

Meanwhile, your world was consumed by a whirlwind of creativity and new challenges. Yoongi's acknowledgment of your talent had opened new doors, and now Taehyung, inspired by your unexpected contributions, sought your assistance with a song he envisioned for BTS's upcoming album.

This collaboration, a blend of your lyrical insights and his artistic vision, was a fresh endeavor, one that further entwined your path with the band's ongoing narrative.

In these moments of artistic engagement, you remained blissfully unaware of the storm brewing in the fan community. Your focus was on creation, on the interplay of words and melodies that could convey emotions and stories.

The dynamic with Taehyung, once marked by playful banter, had evolved into a mutual respect for each other's artistry, offering a glimpse into the multifaceted world of music that continued to captivate your heart.

Yet, outside the studio's walls, the debate raged on, with Alex at the center of a growing whirlpool of suspicion and scrutiny.

The fans' investigation was drawing closer to the truth, inching towards the revelation of your voice as the hidden gem behind 'YaNi,' a discovery that would soon ripple through the industry, challenging perceptions and unveiling the intricate dance of shadows and spotlights that defines the world of entertainment.

☆

As Taehyung stood before you, his usual playful demeanor was laced with a hint of earnestness, his hands clasped together in a mock plea.

Your workspace, cluttered with papers and documents—even in your role as a 'temporary' assistant, the workload was no joke—served as a backdrop to this unusual request.

"Why do you keep bugging me?" you groaned, looking up at him with a mix of exasperation and amusement. Taehyung's persistence was both charming and slightly maddening.

He gave you a look that managed to be both pleading and confident. "You know I'm relentless. I won't give up until you say yes," he declared, his voice carrying a playful undertone.

With a raised eyebrow, you shot back, "You do realize I can report you to HR for harassment, right?" It was a jest, of course, but part of you wondered how he'd react.

Taehyung merely waved off the comment with a grin. "Ah, but you won't. Because deep down, you can't resist my charm," he teased, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

"Yoongi or Namjoon would be better for this, you know. They're more qualified," you tried to deflect, hoping to steer him towards a more sensible collaboration.

But Taehyung was unwavering. "No, it has to be you," he insisted, his tone softening slightly, conveying a sincerity that caught you off guard. "I want you."

The simplicity of his statement, 'I want you,' sent an unexpected warmth spreading across your cheeks.

You chastised yourself internally—don't read too much into it, it's all professional, surely, but the more delusional part of your mind chanting, 'He wants me so bad,' is harder to ignore.

After a moment's pause, where Taehyung's hopeful gaze met your conflicted one, you let out a resigned sigh. "Alright, I'll help. But only because you're so insistent," you conceded, masking the mix of trepidation and excitement bubbling within you.

Taehyung's face lit up with a victorious smile, and he couldn't resist a little celebratory gesture, a burst of aegyo that was both endearing and slightly ridiculous. "I knew you loved me~" he sang out, batting his eyelashes in an exaggerated fashion.

***not me rushing tryna get to the good stuff 😂😂🥴. also, did anyone catch the stage name 👀

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winxanity-ii · 1 month

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⌜No Hoods Attached | Chapter 09 Chapter 09 | a quest for resolution⌟

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❘ prev. chapter ❘༻✦༺❘ next chapter ❘

Taehyung, nursing a small knot on his head—a memento from the night's misadventures—found himself seated on the plush couch of their shared living space.

The room, usually filled with the sounds of laughter and music, now echoed with a different kind of energy. Yoongi and Jungkook sat on either side of him, their emotions a mixture of subdued amusement and apprehension. However, Jin was the one commanding their attention, pacing in front of them with an air of frustration. "Out without security, without so much as a word to anyone." With a disappointed tone, Jin paused in front of them, placing his hands on his hips. "You realize how lucky you are that it was just a minor scuffle and not a full-blown saesang attack?" His keen, piercing stare swept across them, serving as a silent reminder of the risks they faced daily. The room fell into a somber silence as the weight of Jin's words settled over them. It was a rare moment of reflection among the members, a pause in their usually carefree routine that underscored the unpredictable nature of their lives in the spotlight.

Taehyung couldn't help but feel the sting of Jin's words as his scolding went on. Yes, they had been reckless, driven by the thrill of anonymity and the freedom it promised, even if only just for a night. But the consequences, as Jin so clearly pointed out, could have been serious. It was in this moment of silence that Taehyung's mind wandered back to the woman from the club—the one who had so desperately claimed his—or, more accurately, Yoongi's hoodie. "Hyung," he hesitantly interjected, drawing the room's attention. "Actually, about last night... the woman, she... she was upset about Yoongi hyung's jacket I was wearing. She thought it was hers." Yoongi, who had been quietly nursing his own ego with a cup of coffee, looked up with a snort. "That's not my jacket, Tae. Where did you even get it from?" Taehyung glanced at Yoongi, a bit puzzled. "Namjoon hyung brought it over with the other gifts we received." Namjoon, who had been scrolling through his phone, looked up, slightly startled. "Oh, that? I was told that it was left at the table and thought it might be one of ours. My bad." Jin squeezed the bridge of his nose and let out a loud sigh, taking advantage of the brief silence. "You mean to tell me this whole mess started over a misunderstanding about a hoodie?" Taehyung nodded, clearly noting how ridiculous the situation was. "Yeah, but she seemed really attached to it. Said it was a gift from her brother or something." Jimin chuckled from his spot on the floor, "Only Tae could end up in a club fight over a hoodie." Jungkook shook his head, the corners of his mouth twitching upward. "So, what now? You can't just keep someone's cherished hoodie." Taehyung leaned back, the dilemma gnawing at him. The woman's tearful accusation and the firm hold she had on the fabric replayed in the back of his mind. "I don't know, but I feel bad. She looked really sad about it." Hoseok, ever the voice of reason, chimed in. "Well, we should try to return it, right? It's the right thing to do." Taehyung, feeling the weight of the situation, was momentarily halted by Jimin's warning. "Be careful. If they find out it's not ours, especially after what happened, they might just toss it. You know how things are." The concern was valid. Taehyung's brow furrowed as he considered his options. The last thing he wanted was for the hoodie— clearly precious to someone—to end up forgotten or, worse, thrown away.

With Jimin's words echoing in his mind, he made a decision. Pulling out his phone, Taehyung dialed his manager, his fingers tapping nervously on the device as he awaited the answer. "Hey, I was just wondering," Taehyung began, his voice carefully neutral, "is it possible for a volunteer to contact the venue if they lost something there?" The manager, on the other end, hesitated, the silence stretching between them. "Taehyung-nim, what's this about? Is there something you want to ask me?" "No, no, no, I'm good," Taehyung quickly reassured, attempting to mask his growing anxiety with a chuckle. "Just thinking out loud, got curious." With a promise to keep the issue hypothetical, Taehyung ended the call, his mind racing. The conversation had only added to his determination to do the right thing without causing a stir. He knew too well how quickly things could spiral out of control with their fanbase and the ever-watchful eyes of the media on them. Jimin watched him, an understanding smile creeping up. "What's the plan then?" he inquired, knowing Taehyung well enough to recognize the wheels turning in his head. Taehyung sighed, a plan slowly forming. "I'll have to be discreet. Maybe I can get some help without involving too many people. We can't let this turn into a huge thing." After hearing what was said, the other members nodded in agreement. They all understood the delicate line that stood between their personal lives and the public touches that connected them to their fans. For the next few hours, well into the night, Taehyung devised a plan on how to go about it. That morning, Taehyung entered HYBE headquarters with a purpose, the crisp air doing little to dampen his spirits. The plan he had concocted with Jimin's help was a good one, or so he thought. It was simple, yet clever, calling for a mix of charm and a bit of sneaky maneuvering—a challenge Taehyung was more than ready to tackle. The bustling lobby was a familiar sight, yet today it felt different, as if he was on a secret mission. Dodging trainees and staff with practiced ease, he made his way to the inner sanctums of the building. Taehyung's first stop was unmistakably strategic—Bang PD-nim's personal assistant's office. He strode confidently through the building's corridors, his steps guided by a mission that was both urgent and personal. As he approached the office, he prepared himself for the interaction that awaited. The office—bathed in the soft glow of morning light coming through the blinds—was a quiet piece of heaven amidst the bustling heart of the entertainment company.

Behind the desk sat Izu, a young male intern whose focus was glued to the computer screen until Taehyung's shadow fell upon the desk, announcing his presence. Izu—with his large rimmed glasses, fluffy green-dyed hair with black-colored roots, soft green eyes, and pale skin dotted with a constellation of freckles—looked every bit the part of a dedicated yet slightly overwhelmed intern. "Hey there," Taehyung began, purposefully lowering his voice to a tone that was inviting, "Got a minute to spare?" He leaned forward, resting his arms on the desk, his posture casual yet undeniably engaging.

Izu looked up, his glasses sliding down his nose in surprise at the sudden appearance of one of the company's most renowned artists. Taehyung's eyes twinkled with amusement as he gently pushed Izu's glasses back up his nose with a playful gesture. "There, now you can see me better," he joked, his voice rich with warmth.

As their eyes met, Taehyung deliberately lidded his, allowing them to crinkle at the corners as his signature boxy smile—which never failed to disarm—began. He tilted his head slightly, a curious yet charming motion that captivated Izu just by his presence. "You look like you're working hard. Everything going okay?" Taehyung asked, his tone genuine, as if he had all the time in the world to hear about Izu's day. The question, simple yet unexpected, seemed to fluster Izu further, his face flushing a deeper shade of red as he fumbled for a response. "Uh, y-yeah, everything's fine, Taehyung-nim. Just, um, regular intern stuff, you know?" Izu's voice cracked slightly, betraying his nervousness. Taehyung's presence was overwhelming, yet there was a kindness in his approach that felt disarming. Laughing softly, Taehyung waved off the formal address. "Please, call me Hyung. And I was just wondering if you could help me with something," he added, his voice taking on a conspiratorial whisper. "It's a bit of a secret mission." The phrase 'secret mission' seemed to pique Izu's interest, his soft green eyes widening slightly behind his glasses, which had started to slide down his nose again. Reaching out again, Taehyung adjusted them with a gentleness that contrasted his superstar persona. "I just need to check something really quick, for peace of mind, you know?" Taehyung went on, his voice laced with a playful flirtation that was hard to define but impossible to resist. He leaned in closer, as if sharing a secret, making Izu feel like he was being trusted with something important. Now completely under Taehyung's spell, the intern found himself stammering out a response. "Oh, Taehyung-min—er, Hyung—of course. How can I, um, help you?" The blush that tinted his cheeks was evidence of Taehyung's power over him. Noticing Izu's flustered state, Taehyung offered a reassuring smile. "I need a small favor. It's about the list of volunteers from the recent fan meeting," he explained in an earnest yet soft tone that made Izu felt at ease. "Could you help me access it? It's really important." Caught between the warmth of Taehyung's smile and the sincerity in his eyes, Izu found himself nodding before he could fully process the request. "Of course, just give me a moment," he managed to say, his earlier nervousness melting into a desire to help. As Izu busied himself with fulfilling Taehyung's request, Taehyung stood back, giving him space, yet his presence filled the room with an unspoken gratitude. With the list of volunteers in hand—287 names that represented the sea of faces that had helped out at the fan meeting—Taehyung felt a spark of hope. Maybe, just maybe, he could make things right.

After calling up Namjoon for help, they crafted a vague but informative email to the volunteers from the concert night, asking if anyone had lost something important. The message was designed to be broad enough to avoid unnecessary attention but direct enough that the rightful owner—hopefully—would recognize the call. They waited. As responses began trickling in, Taehyung's hope soared with each new notification, but as he sifted through the replies, his heart sank. Most were short acknowledgments or notes of thanks for a great night—each one serving as a small reminder that his well-intentioned plan might not be enough to find the owner of the lost hoodie. By the end of the day, Taehyung was sitting quietly in the corner of their practice room, staring at the list of names on his laptop screen. They had tried, really tried, but it seemed like their efforts were in vain.

The disappointment was a heavy weight, one that Taehyung wasn't used to carrying. Though he wasn't one to give up easily, as the hours passed and the "no" responses piled up, the reality of the situation began to set in. "I guess that's it, then," Taehyung finally said with a sigh. The energy and determination that had powered him in the morning had ebbed away, leaving a tiredness in its wake. "We did what we could, Tae. Sometimes, things just don't work out the way we hope," Namjoon said, placing a consoling pat on Taehyung's shoulder before leaving. Taehyung nodded, knowing Namjoon was right. They had done their best, and sometimes, that had to be enough. The lost hoodie would always remain a mystery, despite the brief connection it had forged between Taehyung and its unknown owner. As he left the office, the list of volunteers still open on the computer, Taehyung couldn't shake off the feeling of unfinished business. Maybe the hoodie would find its way back to its owner someday, in some other way. For now, Taehyung could only hope. And so, with a heavy heart but a clear conscience, Taehyung stepped out into the night, the city lights a blur as he made his way home. The mission to return the lost hoodie was over, but the story, he felt, was far from finished. ☆

☆ In the quiet of the night, as the city continued its restless hum, an unexpected turn of events was about to unfold within the confines of Seora's room. There she was, completely absorbed in the world of her Sims game, meticulously crafting her avatar's appearance to mirror her teenage self—braces, acne, the whole nine yards—when suddenly, her room was pierced by the chime of an email notification. "Bruhhhh!" she exclaimed in a mix of irritation and surprise, her initial reaction to swipe it away from her notifications bar almost instinctive. Yet, as her finger hovered over the screen, ready to swipe, the nagging voice of her mother echoed in her mind, "You better start checking your emails, or you gonna continue to miss shit, Seora!" This internal reminder brought back a stinging memory—missing the deadline for an expensive scholarship, a mistake that still haunted her. With a mix of reluctance and acknowledgment of her mother's advice, Seora let out a childlike groan, her fingers hesitating for a moment before tapping the screen to open the email. As the contents of the message unfolded before her eyes, her initial irritation was quickly replaced by surprise, her mouth dropping open in shock at what she read. Without a moment's hesitation, she sprang up, dashing towards your room, The silence that had once filled your room was broken by Seora's abrupt arrival, laptop clutched tightly as if it were a lifeline. The urgency in her movements and wide-eyed look on her face was enough to pull you from the half-sleep state into full alertness. "You've got to see this," she breathlessly announced, the laptop screen now an open book between you two. Your heart skipped, caught between the thrill of the unknown and the shadow of recent disappointments.

Dear Volunteers, In the afterglow of an unforgettable evening, as the echoes of joy and music gradually fade into the tapestry of our memories, we find ourselves reflecting on the incredible event that was made all the more special by your invaluable contribution.

The night was a testament not only to the magic of music and connection but also to the dedication and hard work of individuals like you, who volunteered their time and energy to ensure its success.

As we navigate through the aftermath of this remarkable concert, we are reminded of the small yet significant threads that weave together the fabric of such an event.

It has come to our attention that amidst the hustle and bustle, some personal items may have found their way astray, seeking solace in the vastness of the venue rather than in the comforting pockets of their rightful owners.

We understand the sentimental value that these items hold, the stories they are a part of, and the memories they safeguard. In recognition of this, we extend a heartfelt invitation to anyone who believes they might have misplaced something during the course of the evening.

Our aim is to reunite these treasures with their owners, to ensure that no part of the night remains lost in the shadows.

Should you believe you have left behind an item of importance, we kindly ask you to reach out with a description of the lost belonging. Our dedicated team is committed to the task of ensuring that every lost item finds its way back home. Please reply to this email with the necessary details at your earliest convenience. Additionally, we will be organizing a day for item collection at HYBE headquarters, where we hope to personally thank you once more for your contribution and, hopefully, part with a smile and a lost item returned. We are deeply grateful for your participation and your understanding. Your efforts have not gone unnoticed, and we hold immense appreciation for the spirit and enthusiasm you brought to the event. Let us come together once more to tie up these loose ends, as a final act of unity and community. With warmest regards and deepest thanks, HYBE Management As the email loaded, its contents slowly revealing themselves, you found your voice, "Small yet significant threads that weave together the fabric of such an event." The words felt foreign yet familiar, a puzzle piece clicking into place. ...small...threads...weave....fabric... And then, it clicked. Your eyes widened, mirroring Seora's expectant gaze which had now morphed into a grin so wide it threatened to split her face. She was nodding, an unspoken communication in the shared silence that spoke volumes of the chaos and hope intertwined in the message before you. The realization of what lay before you sparked an irrepressible excitement, a shared moment of joy that bubbled up into giggles. The weight of the past few weeks—the emotional rollercoaster you had been riding—seemed to lift momentarily, replaced by a giddy anticipation. "Quick, send a reply!" you urged Seora, who was already a step ahead, her fingers dancing over the keyboard with practiced ease. The moment the response was sent, a noticeable tension filled the air, both of you holding your breath, waiting for a sign, a confirmation, anything that would tell you what came next. The digital silence was broken almost immediately by another ping, an automated message that popped up with the efficiency of modern communication but carried the weight of a much more complicated scenario. As Seora opened the message, your heart skipped at the sight of the new email, its contents unfolding like the next chapter of an unexpected adventure. The message acknowledged your response but brought to light a complication that neither of you had anticipated.

Apparently, the simple act of reaching out for your lost hoodie had triggered a wave of similar claims. Between 55 and 68 individuals had come forward, each asserting that the red hoodie was theirs. The realization that some had falsely claimed the hoodie, motivated by the incident at the club and the desire for a connection to BTS, was disheartening yet unsurprising given the fervor of fandom. The email went on to instruct those who had responded affirmatively, inviting them to HYBE headquarters the following day. The directive was clear: this was to be kept under wraps, a quiet affair to sift through the claims and hopefully, restore what was lost to its rightful owner. The gravity of the situation began to sink in. What had started as a quest to reclaim a precious memento had evolved into a near-herculean task, muddied by the interference of well-meaning but misguided fans. Yet, the invitation to HYBE headquarters was a beacon of hope, a chance to face the chaos head-on and emerge victorious, hoodie in hand. Lips pulling into a firm line, determination etched into every feature, you decided there and then: you were going to get your hoodie back, once and for all.

This was no longer just about a piece of clothing; it had transformed into a mission, a testament to your resolve and the lengths you would go to preserve a cherished memory of your brother. The complications introduced by the multitude of false claims only sharpened your resolve.

The hoodie, imbued with so much sentimental value, symbolized a connection to your past, a tangible piece of your brother's presence, and you were ready to fight for it.

***y'all the way i'm trying not to go and upload the next chapter before the scheduled date😭😭💀

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winxanity-ii · 20 days

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⌜No Hoods Attached | Chapter 17 Chapter 17 | scripted auditions⌟

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❘ prev. chapter ❘༻✦༺❘ next chapter ❘

As you make your way to another session with Yoongi, your phone buzzes, breaking the rhythm of your steps.

It's Seora.

The moment you answer, her voice floods in, tinged with frustration and a hint of despair, "I can't do this stupid conference," she hisses, her voice fluctuating between moans and cries.

You pause, leaning against the corridor's wall, your full attention on the call. "Hey, what's going on? Talk to me," you prompt, your tone soft.

"They've... They've concocted this whole backstory," Seora begins, her voice a mixture of exasperation and disbelief. "They're spinning this tale that Yoongi and I were childhood friends. Can you believe that?"

You can't help but chuckle, despite the seriousness of her situation. "Childhood friends, huh? That's quite the narrative."

"Yeah," Seora sniffs, a semblance of a laugh breaking through her frustration. "According to them, Yoongi was like an older brother figure, always looking out for me. It's so stupid."

The story piques your interest. "How are they gonna prove this backstory? For more dedicated fans, I mean," you ask, genuinely curious about the PR team's creativity.

"They've dug up old neighborhood records, photoshopped some pictures, and even scripted our interactions," Seora explains, her tone laced with a mix of awe and irritation. "I have to memorize this script, where I talk about our 'shared childhood memories.' It's ridiculous."

You nod, even though she can't see it. "I mean, it could be worse, right?"

"I know, I know. It's just a lot to take in. Plus, my dad's on my case about nailing this performance."

"Speaking of your dad," you interject, a smile tugging at your lips, "how's it having one of the world's top lawyers as your personal coach?"

She laughs, a sound that warms you. "Oh, you know, just the usual pressure of living up to the family name. He's been great, though, really supportive. But I swear, if I hear 'enunciate, Seora, enunciate!' one more time, I might just scream."

Your laughter joins hers, the connection between you undimmed by distance or circumstance. "Just picture him in his underwear during the conference. Isn't that what people do to ease nerves?"

"Ugh, gross! That's my Papa you're talking about!" Seora exclaims, her laughter bubbling over, lightening the mood.

After a moment, you sober slightly. "Seriously, though, you've got this. Just think of it as another performance. And hey, it's definitely better than facing jail time, right?"

"Absolutely," Seora agrees, her voice stronger now. "Thanks, Y/N. I needed this pep talk."

"Anytime," you assure her. "And remember, you're not alone in this. We're in it together."

With a few more exchanges of encouragement and a promise to check in later, you end the call, a smile lingering on your lips as you start back walking.

Stepping into Yoongi's studio, you're immediately met with the sight of him engaged in a FaceTime call, his attention fixed on the screen. Before you can retreat or announce your presence, Hoseok's voice fills the room, his cheerful tone unmistakable.

"Hey, Y/N!" Hoseok exclaims, his face lighting up with a genuine smile as he spots you from Yoongi's screen.

Caught off guard, Yoongi turns to look at you, a hint of surprise in his eyes before a small, welcoming smile forms on his lips. "Ah, come in," he says, gesturing towards you to join him.

Approaching cautiously, you nod towards Hoseok, who's still beaming from the tablet's screen. "Hi, Hobi-ssi," you greet him, feeling a mix of nervousness and excitement at being unexpectedly included in their interaction.

Hoseok's enthusiasm is palpable, even through the digital divide. "How's it going with the music production? Yoongi told me you've got quite the ear!" he says, his words encouraging and filled with a warmth that eases some of your initial apprehension.

Yoongi, picking up on Hoseok's cue, adds, "Yeah, she's been a great help. We're making good progress." His acknowledgment, simple yet sincere, reinforces the sense of validation and belonging you've started to feel in this new role.

"I should've known you were getting involved in this, Y/N," Hoseok says with a playful grin. "I would've found an excuse to ditch the trainee evaluations and join you guys down there."

Your curiosity piques at his mention of trainees. "Are they planning to debut a new K-pop group soon?"

Yoongi chuckles at your question, shaking his head. "No, no, not exactly. TXT and ENHYPEN are keeping us plenty busy as it is," he explains, referring to the junior groups under their label. "Actually, Bang PD-nim is on a specific mission. He's searching for someone... unique."

"Unique? How so?" you ask, intrigued by the hint of mystery in Yoongi's tone.

"He's looking for a trainee who can be the face of your voice for the OST," Yoongi reveals, his gaze meeting yours to gauge your reaction.

The news takes a moment to sink in. Your mind immediately recalling the explanation Seora's father had given you days before about needing a face for your voice in the OST.

"Wow," you breathe, taking it all in. "Kinda weird, someone's gonna be my voice's... face?" you echo, trying to wrap your head around the concept. The notion feels surreal, almost like you're discussing someone else's life.

"It's a common practice in exceptional situations," Yoongi confirms, nodding slightly as he adjusts a knob on the mixing console. "Helps keep the focus on the music and the drama, not the singer's identity."

Hoseok, still on the call, spins his phone camera around, giving you a quick glimpse of the bustling activity behind him. "We've narrowed it down to three potential trainees," he explains, his voice tinged with excitement. "After we all do a bit more practicing, we're bringing them down to meet with Bang PD-nim."

Your phone buzzes with an incoming message, and you glance down to see a text from Jinji.

𝐉𝐈𝐍𝐉𝐈 Hey, need you for a bit. Tae's guest-starring on a game show, and you've got to be there. Don't worry, it won't take long.

You sigh, a mix of disappointment and duty coloring your tone as you address Yoongi. "Looks like I've got to run. Taehyung-ssi's got a guest appearance, and I'm on chaperone duty."

Yoongi gives you a sympathetic smile, his earlier sternness softening. "No problem, go ahead. We'll pick this up when you get back."

With a reluctant nod, you stand, offering a quick farewell to Yoongi and a virtual wave to Hoseok, who's still visible on the phone screen. "I'll be back soon," you promise, stepping out of the studio and into the corridor, already mentally preparing for the next task at hand.

☆

You slide into the car beside Taehyung, pulling out the tablet to review his schedule for the week. As you scroll through the endless list of engagements, you start reading them out loud, "Photoshoot on Monday, modeling gig on Wednesday, another photoshoot on Friday..."

Taehyung groans, leaning his head back against the seat. "Why is it always photoshoots and modeling? Can't I just have a day to sleep in?" he laments, his tone a mix of frustration and fatigue.

You chuckle, glancing over at him. "Well, that's the price you pay for being so handsome, isn't it?" you tease, offering him a playful smirk.

Taehyung raises an eyebrow, a sly grin spreading across his face. "So, you think I'm good-looking, huh?" he teases back, wiggling his eyebrows in a comical fashion.

Caught off guard, you scramble for a response, your cheeks warming slightly. "I mean, isn't that obvious? You're practically a part-time model," you deflect, trying to keep the conversation light.

He leans closer, his grin widening. "Part-time model, full-time heartbreaker," he quips, clearly enjoying the banter.

You roll your eyes, unable to suppress a smile. "Okay, don't let it go to your head," you warn, tapping on the tablet to bring his focus back to the schedule. "Besides, looks aren't everything. You've got a busy week ahead, and we need to make sure you're prepared."

Taehyung settles back into his seat, his smile lingering. "Alright, alright, I'll behave," he promises, though the mischievous twinkle in his eye suggests he's already plotting his next playful remark.

As you and Taehyung re-enter HYBE, his playful shadowing doesn't cease. "Where are you off to in such a hurry?" he teases, keeping pace with your brisk walk.

"Just back to work, unlike some people who seem to have too much free time," you retort, dodging his attempt to 'accidently' walk into you.

The banter continues, light and easy, as you navigate the corridors back to Yoongi's studio. Taehyung's presence is like a persistent, albeit welcome, breeze, keeping the atmosphere around you lively.

Upon reaching the studio, you're immediately drawn into a more serious setting. Namjoon and Yoongi are huddled over a tablet, deep in discussion. The atmosphere is charged with a sense of purpose, a stark contrast to the playful tension between you and Taehyung just moments ago.

Curiosity piqued, you edge closer, trying to catch a glimpse of what's captured their attention so fully. Taehyung, ever curious, joins you, peering over your shoulder.

The name "Kim Alex" stands out on the document they're reviewing, accompanied by a photo and brief profile. She's a trainee, fresh yet already making waves within the industry. The notion that she'll be the face associated with your voice is both strange and intriguing.

"You're choosing her to lip-sync my parts?" you inquire, seeking confirmation, your eyes scanning the information before you.

Namjoon looks up, his expression thoughtful. "Yes, she's shown a lot of potentials, and her visuals align with the image we're aiming for with the OST."

As you study Alex's photo, a nagging sense of familiarity tugs at your memory. Her photo showcases a tall, model-like figure, her brunette hair falling in soft waves over her shoulders, framing a pale face with striking hazel eyes—there's something about her that resonates with a distant recollection, but you can't quite place it.

Taehyung, noticing your fixed gaze on the profile, nudges you gently. "You know her?" he asks, a hint of curiosity lacing his tone.

Shaking your head, you dismiss the feeling. "No, she just seems... familiar, somehow." You turn your attention back to Yoongi and Namjoon, ready to refocus on the task at hand, but a part of your mind remains preoccupied with the enigmatic trainee who's about to become the face of your unseen presence in the music world.

***Le gasp... ALEX!?!

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winxanity-ii · 25 days

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⌜No Hoods Attached | Chapter 15 Chapter 15 | first day⌟

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❘ prev. chapter ❘༻✦༺❘ next chapter ❘

You step into the HYBE building, your heart racing with a mix of nerves and excitement. Dressed in a denim romper paired with a black and white crocheted bunny-ear beanie, you're keenly aware of the transformation from an intruder to an insider.

The correct name tag around your neck feels like a shield, offering a semblance of belonging in this new world you're about to navigate.

As you make your way through the bustling corridors, the vibrant energy of the place is palpable, a stark contrast to the last time you were here.

Your eyes dart around, soaking in the details, from the diligent staff moving with purpose to the snippets of music that escape from half-open doors, each note a reminder of the creativity pulsating through the building.

Eventually, you reach a floor dedicated to the personal assistants of the idols—a stark testament to the hierarchy and glamour of the entertainment industry.

The hallway, lined with plaques, silently boasts the names of prominent assistants linked to their respective idols, the sheen on the brass plaques reflecting not just light but the prestige attached to their roles.

You pause in front of a door engraved with the name Jinji on a plaque shimmering under the bright hallway lights, indicating his association with Taehyung. With a steadying breath, you knock gently before stepping inside.

The office is a cozy, well-organized space, a stark contrast to the bustling hallway outside. Jinji, a man with a warm tan complexion that speaks of a rich mixed heritage, looks up from his desk, his grey hair a striking feature that adds to his youthful demeanor. He greets you with a friendly smile, his eyes crinkling in a way that immediately puts you at ease.

"Hello, you must be the new assistant I've heard about. I'm Jinji," he introduces himself, standing to shake your hand, his grip firm yet welcoming. "For the next week, I'll be showing you the ropes—everything from managing schedules to ensuring Taehyung's day runs smoothly."

He gestures to the organized chaos of his desk, where calendars, sticky notes, and multiple screens paint a picture of meticulous planning. "You'll learn to juggle these tasks," he explains, his grey eyes reflecting a mix of seriousness and approachability. "It's about staying two steps ahead, anticipating needs, and adapting on the fly."

As he outlines the training process, his words underline the transient nature of your role—temporary yet pivotal. "Once you're up to speed, you'll step in as Taehyung's public assistant. I'll be managing things from a more strategic angle, working remotely."

This revelation brings a new layer of understanding to your position. While you'll be the face associated with Taehyung in the public eye, Jinji remains the guiding hand behind the scenes, ensuring continuity and stability in the idol's professional life.

"Think of it as a partnership," Jinji concludes, offering a smile that bridges the gap between mentor and mentee. "We're here to make sure Taehyung can focus on what he does best. And starting today, that's partly in your hands. So, ready to get started?"

☆

As you stride through the corridor beside Jinji, you clutch the schedule handed over by Shihyuk's PA, your mind buzzing with the new information and tasks at hand. Jinji, ever so efficient and brisk, briefs you on the finer points of Taehyung's daily routine, specifically noting his cholinergic urticaria.

"So, if you notice him starting to scratch or developing hives, especially after a performance or practice, it's essential to intervene quickly," Jinji explains, his tone serious yet informative. "Make sure he cools down and stays hydrated. It can flare up with excessive heat or stress."

You nod, absorbing every detail, understanding the importance of these instructions for Taehyung's well-being. Just as you're about to ask a follow-up question, Jinji's watch emits a sharp beep, drawing his attention.

"Ah, that's my cue," Jinji announces, glancing at his watch with a resigned smile. "Lunch break for me. But before I forget," he turns to you with a sudden snap of his fingers, "please gather Taehyung-ssi from his dance practice and take him to the van downstairs. He has a photoshoot with a well-known makeup and fashion brand today."

"Got it. But what should I do after I take him to the van?" you ask, eager to ensure you understand every aspect of your new role.

Jinji pauses, half-turning as he walks away, and calls back with a nonchalant wave, "Oh, you'll be his chaperone at the photoshoot. Just make sure he's on time and prepared. And, you know, have fun!"

With that, Jinji disappears around a corner, leaving you with a mix of trepidation and excitement. You take a deep breath, steeling yourself for the task ahead, aware that your first significant solo responsibility is about to begin.

Arriving at the dance practice room, you're momentarily halted at the threshold by the scene unfolding before you. The room pulses with energy, the air thick with the intensity of a session nearing its climax. Taehyung is there, in the center, a vision of focus and physicality.

His white t-shirt clings onto his body, outlined by sweat that tracks down his defined neck and jawline. The black sweats he wears hang loosely, adding a casual grace to his every move. His blue hair, damp from the exertion, frames his face in a way that accentuates his sharp features and the concentrated look in his piercing eyes as he nails the final steps of the choreography.

The music fades, replaced by the sound of their heavy breathing and light chuckles, a testament to the intensity of their practice.

Taehyung's presence is magnetic, drawing you in, and when your gazes lock—the raw intensity of the practice session lingers in his eyes—robs you of breath and leaves your heart fluttering.

The sound of the door clicking shut behind you catches remaining three's attention, shifting the entire room's focus onto you. Jimin, Jungkook, and Hoseok turn towards the sound, their expressions shifting from exhaustion to curiosity; Taehyung, however, holds your gaze, his expression unreadable, adding an unexpected intensity to the moment.

"Uh, Taehyung-nim, you're needed downstairs for the photoshoot," you manage to say, your voice slightly quivering under the weight of their collective attention.

Hoseok, with his black hair slightly tousled from the dance, is the first to approach you, his warm smile cutting through the room's lingering intensity. "Hey there," he greets, "how's your first day going as Taehyung's PA?"

You're momentarily caught off guard by his kindness, a stark contrast to the whirlwind of your recent experiences. "It's been... interesting," you admit, offering a tentative smile in return. "Definitely a lot to take in."

Hoseok chuckles, nodding understandingly. "I bet it is. Just remember, we're all pretty laid back here. No need to worry or overthink," he advises, his tone reassuring.

You nod, grateful for the encouragement. "Thanks, Hoseok-nim. That actually means a lot," you respond, feeling a bit more at ease.

"Please, call me, Hobi-ssi. Don't let the formalities scare you too much."

Meanwhile, Jimin and Jungkook are by Taehyung's side, assisting him with his belongings, their voices low but tinged with laughter. Their camaraderie is palpable, even from a distance.

After a moment, Jimin, his lavender hair shimmering under the room's lights, glances your way, a curious smile on his face. He exchanges a few whispered words with Jungkook before they both make their way over to you.

Jungkook can't contain his playful spirit. "So, I hear you've had quite the adventure with Tae-Hyung already," he teases, referencing the club incident with a mischievous raise of his eyebrows.

Your cheeks flush with embarrassment, and you stammer, "I, uh, it wasn't quite how it looked—"

Jimin, sensing your discomfort, steps in, gently nudging Jungkook, signaling it's time to give you a break. "Okay, let's not give our new PA a hard time on her first day," he says, directing a reassuring glance at you.

Just then, Taehyung, now ready, approaches the group with an unreadable expression. His striking blue hair seems even more vibrant against the backdrop of the practice room's mirrored walls. "Alright, let's go," he says, his voice steady, betraying none of the earlier intensity as he gestures for you to lead the way.

As Taehyung signals it's time to leave, you turn towards the other members to bid them farewell. Hoseok, still with that friendly smile, offers you a reassuring nod. "Good luck with the photoshoot," he says, his tone supportive.

You bow slightly, feeling a blend of appreciation and nervousness. "Thank you, Hobi-ssi," you respond, managing to keep your voice steady despite the butterflies in your stomach; you turn to give the other two males a bow as well. "It was nice meeting you, all."

With the farewells exchanged, you follow Taehyung out of the room, casting one last glance over your shoulder at the trio who now resume their banter, the energy in the room shifting back to its default state of friendly chaos.

As Taehyung leads the way to the van, you trail slightly behind, the previous conversation with Hoseok, Jimin, and Jungkook still playing in your mind. The elevator's ding signals your descent, and as the doors slide open, you brace yourself for the inevitable interaction with Taehyung.

"Thanks for not making a scene back there," you begin, trying to break the ice as you both step into the elevator.

Taehyung glances at you, a hint of amusement in his eyes. "Well, I figured I'd save the drama for the photoshoot. Wouldn't want to steal the spotlight with our... colorful history," he replies, his tone laced with a playful sarcasm.

You chuckle, despite yourself. "Yeah, about that—sorry for the whole... you know, club incident. And the closet thing."

He shrugs, the corners of his mouth twitching upwards. "I guess it's not every day I get attacked by a fan and then find them hiding in a closet with me. Makes for an interesting week."

The elevator doors open, and you both step out, heading towards the waiting van. The air between you feels lighter, the banter easing the tension.

"So, do you always tackle your problems head-on, or is it just with international pop stars?" Taehyung asks as you both settle into the van.

You smirk, meeting his gaze. "Only when they steal my hoodie. Or when they're particularly stubborn pop stars."

Taehyung laughs, a genuine sound that fills the space. "Fair enough. I'll have to remember not to get on your bad side then."

The van starts to move, whisking you both towards the photoshoot. The conversation flows more easily now, the initial awkwardness giving way to a mutual understanding, tinged with humor.

As the buildings pass by outside the window, you realize that maybe, just maybe, this unusual situation might turn out okay after all.

***ohh, not the attraction growing..

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winxanity-ii · 1 month

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⌜No Hoods Attached | Chapter 06 Chapter 06 | memrobalia⌟

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As you shuffled to the kitchen in search of something to eat, a yawn escaped your lips. You weren't surprised to find Seora hunched over the kitchen table, completely engrossed in her game of Sims, despite her sleep-deprived state. However, you couldn't help but smile at her dedication to the game.

True to Seora's word, as soon as the two of you got home, an email was sent to the venue about your hoodie before the both of you crashed for the night.

You could still feel the weight of exhaustion dragging your limbs down from the previous day's events. The memory of your lost hoodie continued to haunt you, and the fact that it was a gift from your deceased brother, Yuuji, made it all the more painful.

As you started cooking some eggs, Seora suddenly yelped, causing you to turn around in alarm. "What happened?" you asked, concerned.

Seora stood up frantically typing on her screen. "Look at this email! The venue got back to us, and they said we can come back and check the Lost and Found!"

Your heart leaped with hope at the news. You quickly finished up your shopping and headed out to the venue.

You and Seora walked towards the building, the weight of your hopelessness palpable in the air. The possibility of finding your hoodie was slim, but the thought of never seeing it again was too painful to bear. The email gave you a glimmer of hope, and you clung to it like a lifeline.

As you stepped inside the venue, the atmosphere was different from the last time you were there. It was no longer filled with the screams and excitement of fans. Instead, it was quiet and somber. The contrast only added to your feelings of sadness.

The two of you made your way to the Lost and Found area, hoping to find your hoodie amidst the sea of items.

As you opened the door to the closet, the sight of it made your heart sink. Each corner seemed to be filled with memories of different people; lost umbrellas hinting at unexpected rains, scarves forgotten in moments of warmth, wallets probably lost in moments of haste.

Your heart sank as you realized just how difficult finding your hoodie would be in such a jumbled mess. You began to search through the items methodically, but Seora was having a completely different experience.

Seora let out a breathy "I'm in heaven~" as she took in the disorganized room. Her eyes were wide with excitement as she began to explore the different items, barely containing her enthusiasm.

"Y/N, look at this!" she exclaimed, holding up a brown cookie-shaped backpack with the words 'Shooky' written across it. "This is so cute! I might have to take this home with me, I needed a new backpack for work anyways!"

You couldn't help but smile at her infectious energy. Despite feeling devastated by the potential loss of your hoodie, Seora's excitement brought a small bit of joy to the situation.

"Let's keep an eye out for my hoodie, okay?" you reminded her, trying to suppress your growing frustration.

Seora nodded, still beaming with excitement as she continued to explore the Lost and Found.

You, on the other hand, felt a wave of frustration as you searched through the items, trying to find your hoodie. You felt like you were looking for a needle in a haystack, and your patience was wearing thin.

Seora noticed your frustration and tried to lift your spirits. "Don't worry, we'll find it eventually. Let's just keep looking," she said, flashing you a reassuring smile.

After some time, you still hadn't found your hoodie, and you were starting to lose hope. You felt a sense of disappointment and sadness wash over you, knowing that you might never see the special gift from your brother again.

"No worries, it'll pop up, okay?" Seora said, rubbing your back in an attempt to console you.

A hint of tears welled up in your eyes. "I don't think it is, Seora. We've checked everywhere in this mess...it's gone."

Seora said nothing, her eyes downcasted as her previous enthusiasm dimmed before pulling you into a comforting hug.

The two of you stood there for a moment, wrapped in the warmth of the embrace, before you finally pulled away and wiped away your tears. "Thanks for being here."

"Always."

After one last glance at the Lost and Found, the two of you began to make your way back home, the weight of the situation heavy in the air. The drive home was silent, with only the soft hum of the car engine filling the space.

☆

The following day at the library, the stillness of the room seemed to echo your own quiet despair.

Rows of books, usually a sight of solace, now seemed to mock you with their silent permanence. While arranging some old manuscripts, your hands shook ever so slightly, a manifestation of the inner turmoil that you felt.

Seora tried her best to lift your spirits, but you couldn't shake off the disappointment; your usual demeanor of laughter and smiles were obsolete, replaced with a lingering cloud of sadness throughout the work day.

Tzuyu, a co-worker who you'd known for years and with whom you shared many lunch breaks, immediately noticed the difference in your demeanor.

During lunch break, you found a quiet corner to yourself, but Tzuyu's perceptive eyes followed you. She approached Seora, her voice dripping with concern. "What happened to Y/N? They seem off today."

Seora looked down, her expression conflicted. She was torn between wanting to protect your privacy and acknowledging Tzuyu's genuine concern. After a moment's hesitation, she finally said, "Y/N is going through something personal. It's not my place to share." The weight of unspoken words hung heavily between them.

Tzuyu nodded in understanding, her gaze drifting to where you sat. "I hope things get better."

As Seora responded with a soft "Me too," the world around them began to blur, leading into a memory.

flashback:

The sun streamed through the large windows of the library, illuminating the rows upon rows of books. Seora was immersed in cataloging the new arrivals when she noticed something unusual. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw you pacing anxiously between the aisles, eyes scanning every corner, occasionally stooping to peer beneath tables and chairs. This wasn't the composed, always-in-control individual she knew.

She tried to shrug off the feeling at first, attributing your anxiety to a long day. But when she saw you hurriedly questioning a group of students studying at a table, pointing at your own chest as if describing something you were wearing, her curiosity got the better of her.

Seora approached you slowly, "Y/N, what's going on? Why are you so frantic?"

You halted in your tracks, a desperate look in your eyes, "Have you seen my hoodie? The red one?"

"I haven't," she responded, puzzled. "But it's just a hoodie, right? We can check the lost and found or ask the janitor later."

"It's not 'just a hoodie', Seora," you snapped, more harshly than you intended, your voice catching at the end.

Seeing you like this, so vulnerable and distraught, was unsettling for Seora. She had never seen this side of you. She followed as you frantically approached the library's front desk, asking the librarian about lost items.

The librarian, Mrs. Thompson, a stern-looking woman with spectacles perched on her nose, looked up from her work, "We did find a couple of jackets today, but no hoodie matching that description. Are you sure you left it here?"

You nodded vigorously, running a hand through your hair in frustration.

Seora, desperate to help, started brainstorming, "Okay, where were you sitting? Maybe you forgot it at a table or it got mixed up with someone else's stuff?"

The two of you combed through the library, retracing your steps, asking anyone and everyone if they had seen the hoodie. But with each passing moment and every negative response, the weight of hopelessness grew heavier.

In a quieter section of the library, away from prying eyes, you finally broke down, burying your face in your hands. The muffled sobs felt like a punch to Seora's gut.

"Why is this affecting you so much? You usually don't care for things like this," she asked softly, her voice filled with concern.

Through watery eyes, you looked up, the pain evident. "That hoodie... it was the last gift my brother Yuuji gave me before he... before he passed away."

Seora's heart sank. The pieces clicked into place – it wasn't just a piece of cloth, it was a part of your brother, a tangible link to a person no longer with you.

Seora gently led you to one of the nearby study booths, pulling a chair up close so she could be by your side. You sat, hunched over, hands clenched tightly in your lap.

"It wasn't just any hoodie," you murmured, voice shaky. "It used to belong to our mother. She died giving birth to me." You hesitated, tears forming again. "It was the one physical reminder of her that Yuuji had... and he gave it to me."

Seora's eyes widened in realization, her hand instinctively reaching out to hold yours. She squeezed it reassuringly, urging you to continue.

You took a deep, shuddering breath. "Yuuji was older by eight years. He always looked out for me, especially after mom passed away. Growing up, I'd often see him wearing that hoodie whenever he felt down or just needed some comfort. I never knew its significance until he gifted it to me on my 15th birthday."

Your voice was barely a whisper as you continued, "He told me how our mom had bought it for him just a few months before she passed. It was meant to be a birthday gift. After she was gone, it became his safe haven. And when he was diagnosed with cancer, he said he wanted me to have it, to always remember not just him, but the love our mother had for both of us."

The weight of the sentiment hung heavy in the silence that followed. The library around you both seemed to fade away, with only the two of you in that small space, bound together by the pain of your revelations.

Seora, swallowing the lump in her throat, whispered, "I can't even begin to imagine how much that hoodie means to you, Y/N. I'm so sorry."

You nodded, wiping away your tears. "It's a reminder of their love, Seora. I've tried to move past the pain of their loss by clinging to that hoodie. Every thread, every stitch feels like a memory. And now... now I feel like I've lost them all over again."

Seora held onto you, comforting as best she could.

While you and Seora were still in that quiet, comforting bubble, a familiar voice interrupted the stillness. "Is this what you've been looking for?" Ms. Thompson, the senior librarian, approached holding the familiar hoodie in her hands, a gentle smile on her face.

You looked up, tears instantly reforming, but this time, tears of relief. "Ms. Thompson!" you exclaimed, reaching out for the cherished item. You held the hoodie close, feeling its comforting familiarity against your face.

"I found it in the children's reading section," Ms. Thompson explained, her eyes soft with understanding. "It seemed out of place among the tiny chairs and 'Goodnight Moon' copies."

Seora looked over at you with a curious expression. "Didn't you have story time duty there last week?"

You nodded slowly, piecing it all together. "I remember now. There was this toddler, Minhee. He seemed cold, so I let him wear my hoodie during the story session. After the story, he dozed off, and I got caught up with helping other kids. I must have forgotten it."

Ms. Thompson chuckled lightly, "I was wondering why such a large hoodie was there. Now it all makes sense."

Seora hugged you, laughing with relief. "Talk about a roller-coaster of emotions. I'm just glad you got it back."

In that moment, as she held you in her arms, a silent promise formed in Seora's heart. She vowed to herself that she'd always ensure that you and that precious hoodie never parted ways again. Because she understood, more than ever, just how much it meant to you — and she'd always be there to protect both.

☆

As the two of reached home after work, you decided to make yourself some tea to calm your nerves. You went to the kitchen and started preparing it, trying to push the thoughts of your lost hoodie out of your mind.

However, the pain of losing something so significant continued to haunt you. You couldn't help but be reminded of the moments you spent with Yuuji, laughing, joking, and making memories that you would cherish forever.

The weight of the loss was almost too much to bear, and you felt yourself becoming overwhelmed by the emotions.

As you took a sip of your tea, you tried to find some comfort in the warmth of the liquid, hoping it would help soothe the pain.

Seora, sensing your distress, came over and wrapped her arm around your shoulder. "I'm so sorry, Y/N," she whispered, tears forming in her eyes as well.

You took a deep breath, trying to hold back your own tears. "It's okay, Seora. It's just... it was a piece of Yuuji that I had with me all the time. And now it's gone."

Seora nodded, understanding the pain you were going through. "I know how much it meant to you," she said, gently rubbing your back.

The two of you sat there in silence for a moment, finding comfort in each other's presence. Despite the pain of the situation, you couldn't help but feel grateful for the bond you shared with Seora and the memories you had with Yuuji.

As you finished your tea, you looked up at Seora and gave her a small smile. "Thanks for being here with me," you said, feeling a sense of warmth and comfort despite the pain.

Seora smiled back, squeezing your hand. "Always," before heading into her room for the night.

With the remnants of warmth from the tea still lingering on your fingers and Seora's comforting presence just a room away, you took a moment for yourself.

Heading to your room, you sat down, pulling out your phone to call your father. You needed his wisdom, his comforting words; he always knew how to heal the wounds of your heart, even if just a little.

The phone rang for a bit before his familiar voice answered, "Hey there, kiddo. How's everything?"

"Dad..." you started, voice quivering, trying to hold back the tears. "I lost the hoodie. Yuuji's hoodie."

Silence filled the line for a moment, the weight of your words settling in. When he finally spoke, his voice was gentle, "I'm so sorry, sweetheart."

You could hear the genuine pain in his voice, mirroring your own, "It was more than just a hoodie, dad. It was a piece of Yuuji, a memory of him, and of mom. It was... special."

He took a deep breath, "I know, dear. But remember what I've always told you. It's not the material things that matter, but the memories and love behind them. You carry Yuuji in your heart, not in a piece of fabric."

Listening to your father, you realized he was right. The hoodie was a cherished item, but it was the memories and moments shared with Yuuji that truly mattered.

"Yuuji wouldn't want to see you this upset over it," your father continued, "He'd want you to remember the good times, the laughs, the jokes, and the moments shared. And as for the hoodie, he'd want you to remember the love and the bond it symbolized, not the object itself."

Closing your eyes, you took in his words, letting them wash over you, offering some solace in the whirlwind of emotions you were feeling. "Thank you, Dad," you whispered, feeling a tad lighter, "I needed to hear that."

He chuckled softly, "That's what I'm here for. Always remember the love and the memories, darling. They are eternal."

You nodded, even though he couldn't see it, "I'll try, Dad."

After a few more minutes of chatting, you said your goodbyes and hung up. Resting your head back, you took a deep, grounding breath. Though the loss of the hoodie still stung, you began to feel a gradual shift in perspective.

The memories you shared with Yuuji were far more important than any material object. And while the pain might never completely go away, you found solace in the idea that the bond and love between you and Yuuji would always remain intact.

***wow, that turned out sadder than i planned 💀💀

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winxanity-ii · 1 month

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⌜No Hoods Attached | Chapter 05 Chapter 05 | finders keepers⌟

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❘ prev. chapter ❘༻✦༺❘ next chapter ❘

Steam flowed out of the bathroom as Taehyung opened the door, a towel wrapped loosely around his hips.

It was nearly one o'clock in the morning when he and his bandmates were allowed to travel back to their hotel rooms to rest, exhausted from the concert and surprise fan-meeting.

Even if he felt like collapsing onto the ground, he couldn't find it within himself to go straight to sleep without getting into the shower.

Rubbing away water droplets that clung to the ends of his blue hair, Taehyung found himself distracted as he looked at photos taken by fans from that day's activities; though it felt kind of weird to see himself being held so highly by thousands around the world, Taehyung couldn't help the smile or chuckle that left his body as he read the paragraphs from the group's adoring fan base.

Sometimes, he wanted to comment and interact under ARMY's posts or even upload a video showing his gratitude, but it's a long and tiring process.

First, if any one of them wanted to go through with it, they'd have to bring it up to their managers, who'd then have to get permission from their company.

If approval was given, they'd have to practice and go over what's allowed to be posted, which, in Taehyung's opinion, loses the glamor of being genuine, so he'd rather stick with using a fake account to lurk around and type things.

Just as Taehyung was about to follow an account that was dedicated to fan-cam videos of all of their events, there was a knock at his hotel door. "Who is it?" he replied, halting all movement.

"It's Jimin."

Standing up, Taehyung moved to open the door, watching as his best friend leaned lazily across the threshold. "What's up, Chim? Need anything?"

Jimin stood up straight with a boyish grin and said, "Everyone's gathered in Jungkook's room to chill, and I just stopped by to see if you'd want to tag along."

"Sure, just let me throw on some clothes." After donning his body in a white t-shirt and a loose pair of black sweats, Taehyung followed his best friend to their bandmate's hotel room.

By the time they made it to the hotel room, the loud bickering voices of Jin and Jungkook could be heard through the door.

Before Taehyung could reach forward to knock, Jimin held up a hand to half him, reaching in his pocket to take out the room key card. "No need, I managed to flirt a copy of the room key away from the secretary." Swiping the card, a small green beep follows.

As soon as Jimin opened the door, they were met with chaos. "Hey, back the fuck up, Jungkook! I told you, it's my turn to play Mario Carts!" Jin hissed as he held a blue Wii controller out of the reach of a black-haired male.

Jungkook could be seen basically draped over the elder's form as he kneed his back. "I don't care! You're currently in my hotel room playing a game my fan gave me, so I can go again if I want. Now give it back, old man."

"Old?!" Jin's mouth dropped open in a mixture of horror and shock.

A cackle left Jungkook's lips at the brunet's face. "Yeah, old like I said. You didn't think you were getting any younger, did you? You're practically ancient compared to me."

"Boy, please! With looks like this, age will always be just a number, 'cause my appearance will never match it!" Jin stood up, scoffing loudly at the younger's words. "Take a good, long look at the epitome of worldwide handsomeness.

"More like Worldwide Averageness. Your looks are no different than a stranger walking down the street."

"Take that back. Take that back right now, Jeon Jungkook!"

"Or what? You're gonna fall over and die? Gonna hunt me from your grave?"

Jimin and Taehyung could only just watch as the eldest member of their group leaned back to tackle Jungkook over a childish comeback.

Taehyung turned to face his best friend once he realized the two weren't going to stop anytime soon. "Do you wanna head over to Hobi's room to see what he's up to?"

"Yeah, let's go." The two quickly backed out of the room, closing the door behind them to get as far away from the brewing chaos as possible. As soon as they turned the corner of the hall, they found themselves nearly crashing into Namjoon.

"Are you guys alright?" The white-haired male asked, shifting his hold on a cardboard box due to an almost run-in.

"We're good, just leaving the two kids to play." Jimin nodded his head behind him, a loud bang and a scream immediately following his words.

"Understandable."

"So what are you up to?" Taehyung ran a hand through his hair, a small grimace filling his lips as he felt how they were damp.

"Apparently, there were a few things gifted to us at the fan-meeting. I was just coming to see whether or not Kook wanted to keep what was left for him."

"What? I thought we weren't able to take presents from fans?" Jimin's lips pulled down, recalling how the company made an announcement that they would no longer be accepting things due to the sheer number of things being sent in on a daily basis.

"I know, but apparently an exception was made due to this not only being our last concert of the tour but because there weren't that many sent in today," Namjoon explained, reaching his hand inside to pull out one of the gifts. "Plus, these look like they cost a pretty penny."

Taehyung let out a sharp whistle, staring down at what looked to be a customized BT21 Cooky Rolex watch. "Did we get one too?"

"Yeah, yours should already be dropped off at your rooms."

"Awesome~"

"Wait, was this one of the gifts too?" Holding up an oversized red piece of material, Jimin interrupted his best friend's excited bubble.

"Um, actually no," Namjoon hummed, shifting the box into one of his arms. "My manager told me that it was left at the table we were at, so he put it in the box. Is it one of yours?"

Jimin shook his head no as Taehyung leaned over to grab one of the sleeves, "No, but I think it's Yoongi hyung's. I remember him wearing something red."

"Well here, be sure to give it to him since his room is across from yours, I'm going to go give Jungkook his things. Goodnight."

"Bye, Joon-hyung." "See you tomorrow, hyung." The two called out at once, waving to the older as they resumed their trek back to their respective rooms.

"Damn, I can't believe one of our fans really gifted us customized Rolex watches," Jimin said, shaking his head, the pink strands jolting at the movement.

"Right? Still, I can't wait to see what mine looks like, but seeing as Kook's was Cooky, ours most likely are our BT21 characters." Taehyung hummed, shifting the hoodie over his shoulder as he placed his free hand into his pocket.

Just as they were about to enter the elevator, Taehyung remembered something. "Hey, I'm about to drop off Hyung's hoodie. I'll meet up with you when I'm finished."

Jimin nodded his head, "Alright, see you in a bit."

Taehyung turned around and walked back to his room, giving firm knocks on the door across from his own. "Hyung! Yoongi hyung! Can you open the door? I have something for you!" After several minutes of waiting, only silence was returned.

Blowing out a large puff of hair, the bluenet decided to turn around and go back into his own hotel room. "I guess I'll give it to him later," he mumbled, throwing the jacket carelessly into a small pile of clothes at the foot of his bed before leaving to join his bandmates.

***I legit didn't know how to end this, but oh well. See you guys next update.

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winxanity-ii · 1 month

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⌜No Hoods Attached | Chapter 03 Chapter 03 | unfortunate⌟

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You gripped the sides of your head in panic as you stared at the legs in front of you.

Shit.

SHIT!

You were currently stuck underneath the table of the famous boy band, BTS; if your existence were revealed, it'd be over for you.

I'm too pretty to go to jail, you thought, shivering in terror at the thought of getting arrested because of a stupid mistake.

"Okay, Y/N. Don't panic," you mumbled to yourself, clenching and unclenching your hands in a rhythmic beat to calm yourself.

After successfully calming down, you reached into your back pocket and fetched out your phone.

A small bit of terror mixed with frustration ran through your veins when you saw that it was down to ten percent.

With no time to waste, you hurried to your contacts, shooting Seora a quick text.

𝐘/𝐍 Seora!

Not even a second later, you saw her typing back.

𝐒𝐄𝐎𝐑𝐀 Girl, where are you? I'm waiting out at the front, did you get the jacket?

𝐘/𝐍 Yes and I'm fucking stuck!

𝐒𝐄𝐎𝐑𝐀 Stuck? Where?

𝐘/𝐍 Under the fucking table of BTS!

𝐒𝐄𝐎𝐑𝐀 I- Say sike rn

𝐘/𝐍 I'm deadass!

𝐒𝐄𝐎𝐑𝐀 Receipts or it didn't happen

𝐘/𝐍 Seora!

𝐒𝐄𝐎𝐑𝐀 Okok, I'll stop playing How the fuck did you get stuck there?

𝐘/𝐍 Because YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO FUCKING WARN ME IF SOMEONE WAS COMING AND YOU DIDN'T!

𝐒𝐄𝐎𝐑𝐀 OK First of all, plz don't yell, I'm sensitive ;-; But seriously, I literally sent a text saying someone was coming and how I got caught and had to be escorted out Btw I'm blacklisted from volunteering or coming close to that venue Dreams crushed of seeing ATEEZs upcoming tour 💔😔🤧

True to her word, you scrolled up only to come face-to-face with a few texts saying exactly what she said they would.

𝐘/𝐍 Shit I'm fucked

𝐒𝐄𝐎𝐑𝐀 Yeah U kinda fucked bestie

𝐘/𝐍 I'm finna go to jail 😭

𝐒𝐄𝐎𝐑𝐀 Send pics of RM's ankles first I have a bet going on with this boy that RM is blasian, if his ankles ashy, then we have our answer

𝐘/𝐍 😐😑😐

𝐒𝐄𝐎𝐑𝐀 Can't you just idk wait and crawl out when it's over?

You sat for a few seconds, thinking it over; it sounded like a good idea, but the flaws were immediately pointed out to you.

𝐘/𝐍 There might be people coming to clean up after What if they catch me?

𝐒𝐄𝐎𝐑𝐀 Wait a sec I think I have an idea

As typing bubbles popped up from Seora's, most likely, long paragraph, your phone began powering down before completely cutting off.

The panic you felt earlier returned ten-fold. "No. No. No. No," you whispered as you repeatedly pressed the power button; the screen cut back on shortly only to show that it was currently on zero percent before cutting back off.

You pressed your face into your hands in defeat, allowing your dead phone to fall into your lap; you were doomed.

The excited giggles and deep chuckles brought you back from your mini-self-pitying fest.

Right.

You were stuck under the table of BTS during their fan-meeting with no means of communication.

At this point, all you could do was wait.

☆

For the past two hours, you've been stuck in the same position: sitting, legs crossed, with your hands buried deep into your lap.

Your mind had been in shambles since your phone died, leaving you stranded and at the mercy of fate. At this point, anything could happen, whether it be you getting caught or actually making it out without consequences.

Every time you felt yourself slipping into a trance, thinking that you were just dreaming, a sharp squeal of happiness would tear you away as a fan got a brief moment to speak with the famous idols.

Though, occasionally, you'd move sideways when one of them stretched their legs a little too close to you.

You didn't think you'd last if you had to wait another hour.

Fortunately, your prayers must have been answered because not even ten minutes later, the announcer went on to thank everyone for coming out to support BTS.

As the idol group stood up from the table, giving the audience an in-sync bow, you could hear the whining of the fans wanting the fan-meeting to last longer; soon enough, BTS exited the room, leaving you to sigh and breathe in relief.

Shots of nerves left your frame as you heard the sound of the audience dwindle. The room was as empty as it was when you and the volunteers left to take group pictures.

This was your chance to leave before the cleaning crew came.

Heaving yourself up onto your knees, you began crawling toward the end of the table. Just as you reached the end, you were stopped by something holding onto your shoe.

You wanted to turn around to see what was holding you back, but the sound of the metal door, that led you to your doom, opening filled your ears followed by a male's voice, "The room's empty now, so I'll go fetch a few staff members to help me gather the chairs before mopping. We should be done in less than two hours."

You have to hurry!

Tugging harder, you snatched and kicked your foot until it was set free; you allowed a relief-filled sigh to exit your body.

But relief immediately turned into shock when a loud crash echoed all around you.

Looking over your shoulder to find the source of the noise, you were met with the other end of the table broken down onto the floor.

The voice from earlier spoke out, causing your heart to stutter in fear within your chest. "What the hell was that?" The sound of footsteps grew nearer as the man came towards you.

Panic filled your body for the umpteenth time that day.

You were going to get caught!

With no time to think, you did the first thing that entered your mind: you reached for your foot, yanked off your shoe, and threw it as far as you could from underneath the table.

The sound of the shoe meeting one of the chairs caused a bigger crash to fill the room as it knocked over neighboring chairs.

You nearly shed tears as the direction of the man's footsteps drifted away from your direction towards the fallen chairs.

Peeking underneath the purple cloth, you watched as the man stared down at your flame-decorated Converse in confusion before picking up the chairs. Taking the chance, you rolled out from underneath the table before scurrying towards the door like a bug.

You cracked open the door wide enough for your body to slip through, nearly sobbing when you made it outside.

Raising yourself onto shaky legs, you allowed tears of relief to well up inside of your eyes. You couldn't believe you made it.

Your moment of serenity didn't last too long due to the sound of incoming footsteps.

Looking over, you were met with the face of the teller from earlier that day. "Ms. Han? Where is your shoe and what are you still doing here? Volunteers were dismissed nearly four hours ago."

Your mouth opened and closed several times. "I-I..." Shit. You didn't think you'd run into someone so soon; you'd hoped you'd make it to the nearest restroom and pretend that you had massive diarrhea or something.

Think, Y/N! Think! Your mind screamed as the teller stared down at you, waiting for an answer.

"My shoe mysteriously disappeared while I was in the restroom. I spent the last three hours searching for them before giving up," you stated in the best ditzy impression you could muster. "I suspect the Nargles are behind it."

The teller was quiet for a few seconds, trying to understand your sentence. "The...Nargles?"

"Yes, the Nargles. Mischievous creatures they are. But I suppose they're far away now, celebrating their haul." You smiled, swaying gently side-to-side.

On the inside, you were crying tears of embarrassment, but you knew this would be the only way to get out without having to really explain what happened.

The look on the teller's face was priceless at the act you put on. Before he could say anything, you began walking away in a dream-like daze. "I best get home before it gets too late. I hear that the Wrackspurts love to come out around midnight." And as soon as you were out of the teller's sight, you sprinted out of the building as fast as you could go.

***Lol, hope you enjoyed this. P.S. if you get the reference, I immediately love you ❤

~𝐄𝐱𝐭𝐫𝐚~

The teller had a confused and disturbed look on his face as he watched you walk away with one shoe on foot.

He couldn't help but repeat the names of the strange creatures you brought up in the midst of his questioning you; so into his thoughts, he didn't notice the door opening, allowing the body of the man that almost caught you earlier to come out.

"Hey Ken, you won't believe this," the man spoke, breaking the teller away from his thoughts.

"Huh?" Ken asked, looking over to his friend. "What is it, Nathan?"

"I think one of the members left their hoodie behind, I found it underneath the table," the man said, lifting an oversized red hoodie before holding up a flame-decorated shoe. "Oh, I also found this shoe sitting in the middle of the room."

Ken's eyes widened at the shoe, he recognized it: it was the missing shoe you were looking for. "The Nargles," he gasped, his mouth falling open in awe.

Looking from Nathan to the shoe, Ken snatched the shoe away from him before sprinting down the hall, calling for you, "Ms. Han! Here's your shoe! The Nargles left behind in the fan-meeting room!"

Nathan was taken aback by this. "Nargles? What the fuck are Nargles?"

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winxanity-ii · 22 days

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⌜No Hoods Attached | Chapter 16 Chapter 16 | bonded⌟

╰ ⌞🇨‌🇭‌🇦‌🇵‌🇹‌🇪‌🇷‌ 🇮‌🇳‌🇩‌🇪‌🇽‌⌝

❘ prev. chapter ❘༻✦༺❘ next chapter ❘

A week into your new role at HYBE, you've started to settle into the rhythm of your responsibilities. With Jinji working from home, you're now stationed in his office, a space that's gradually becoming more familiar each day.

Today's agenda begins with a task that seems straightforward enough: delivering scripts to Yoongi for his upcoming press conference.

As you approach Yoongi's studio, the door slightly ajar, the distinct sound of a beat being crafted flows out into the hallway, drawing you in. It's the background music for the OST he's working on, a project that's been the buzz of the building.

Pausing at the threshold, you listen for a moment, the complexity and depth of the composition striking a chord within you.

Knocking lightly before entering, you find Yoongi immersed in his work, headphones on, his focus evident in his furrowed brow and the way his fingers dance over the mixing board. He looks up, a bit startled, as you step inside, the scripts in hand.

"I've got the scripts for the upcoming press conference," you announce, placing them on a nearby surface.

Yoongi nods, offering a brief "Thanks," before his attention returns to the music. But as you're about to leave, something in the melody catches your ear—a minor discord that seems to beg for resolution.

Hesitating, you turn back to Yoongi, noticing a hint of frustration in his demeanor, a sign he's been grappling with this very section.

"Um, Yoongi-ssi," you begin, hesitating for just a moment. "The track is incredible, but there's a section where maybe...," you trail off, not wanting to overstep but feeling compelled to share your thought.

Seeing his intrigued yet cautious expression, you take a small step forward. "May I?" you ask, gesturing toward the headphones. With a nod from Yoongi, you slip them on, the music enveloping you, its details even more pronounced now.

"It's just here," you say, pointing to a segment on the screen. "Maybe it could go something like this?" Without thinking, you hum out a melody, a bridge that could seamlessly connect the disjointed verse, your voice steady and clear.

Yoongi's expression shifts from skepticism to consideration, his eyes narrowing as he replays the section, then listens to your suggestion again. A moment of silence hangs in the air, heavy with anticipation, and after observing Yoongi's contemplative expression, you immediately take it as disapproval.

Your mind races with thoughts of having overstepped your boundaries, and you can't help but feel a surge of panic at the thought of making a misstep so early in your role.

With a wave of anxiety washing over you, you instantly regret voicing your suggestion. "I-I'm sorry, I didn't mean to overstep. Please ignore me," you stammer, your confidence evaporating as quickly as it arrived.

With a flurry of bows, more awkward than respectful, you mumble a string of apologies. "I just thought—sorry, it won't happen again," you add, your voice laced with embarrassment. Placing the folder containing the scripts beside Yoongi with a little too much haste, you make a beeline for the door, eager to escape what you perceive as an uncomfortable situation.

Once outside, you take a deep breath, mentally chastising yourself for the impromptu input. "You're doing too much, Y/N, calm down..." you mutter under your breath, a reminder to keep your observations to yourself in the future.

Meanwhile, back in the studio, Yoongi watches your hasty retreat with a hint of amusement in his eyes. Despite your apparent nervousness, the melody you hummed lingered in his mind, a curious and unexpected interjection that sparked his interest.

After a moment's hesitation, curiosity wins out, and he decides to give your suggestion a try.

Adjusting the track, Yoongi integrates your hummed melody into the section, his skilled fingers working the controls with ease. As the new bridge fills the studio, blending seamlessly with the surrounding verses, a surprised smile creases his lips.

It works—better than he'd anticipated. The track now flows with a newfound cohesion, the awkward jump smoothed over by the melody you provided.

Leaning back in his chair, Yoongi allows himself a moment of appreciation for the serendipitous contribution. "Not bad," he murmurs, a nod to your unexpected talent and a mental note that perhaps, just perhaps, there's more to you than meets the eye.

☆

The next day, while engrossed in your tasks, you're startled when Yoongi's personal assistant approaches your desk, a serious yet gentle expression on her face. "Yoongi-ssi would like to see you in his studio," she informs you, an undercurrent of something unspoken in her voice that piques your curiosity.

As you enter Yoongi's studio, the air is filled with a different kind of energy, quieter and more introspective. Yoongi greets you with a nod, motioning for you to take a seat.

You sit, nervously fidgeting under his scrutinizing gaze. The room feels heavy with unspoken expectations, making your heart race.

Yoongi breaks the silence, his voice steady. "Have you ever considered producing?" he asks, eyes locked on yours.

You're caught off guard, a flurry of thoughts racing through your mind. "P-Producing? Me? No, I've never really thought about it," you stutter out, your voice trailing off as you avert your gaze, feeling out of your depth.

Yoongi huffs lightly, a hint of impatience or perhaps curiosity in his tone. He leans over, pressing a button on his console.

Suddenly, the familiar tune from the previous day fills the room, but now there's an additional layer—a subtle melody that you recognize as your own humming from yesterday. The integration is seamless, adding a new depth to the piece.

Your eyes widen in surprise, a mix of pride and disbelief washing over you. "That's... that's the melody I hummed," you murmur, almost to yourself, amazed at how your casual hum has been transformed into a part of this beautiful composition.

Seeing your surprise, Yoongi leans back, a slight smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "See? You have a good ear. It's not just about playing instruments or knowing music theory. It's about feeling the music, understanding it. You did that instinctively."

His words resonate with you, stirring a newfound confidence. Perhaps there's more to your connection with music than you've allowed yourself to acknowledge.

Yoongi's expression softens, his demeanor shifting as he shares a piece of his own story. "At first, I was skeptical about Bang PD-nim's plan," he admits, "thinking it was just about appeasing some rich man's daughter. But then I learned you're Yuuji's sister."

"Your brother, was someone I admired," Yoongi continues, his voice tinged with a mix of nostalgia and admiration. "His passion, his music, his fight with cancer—I respected him greatly. It inspired me, especially when I was just starting out. So knowing you're his sister... it feels like fate's way of connecting dots."

After a moment of silence, Yoongi extends an unexpected offer. "How about you try your hand at this? Help me with some lyrics or beats for the OST. No pressure, just explore and see where it takes you."

The offer feels like a lifeline, an opportunity to delve into the world Yuuji loved, to contribute in a way you'd never imagined. Nodding, you reply, a mixture of excitement and determination in your voice. "I'd...I'd like to try. Thank you, Yoongi-ssi."

***why does yoongi give off big-brother protective vibes???? wish i had a brother waaahhh...

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winxanity-ii · 29 days

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⌜No Hoods Attached | Chapter 13 Chapter 13 | contracts and consequences⌟

╰ ⌞🇨‌🇭‌🇦‌🇵‌🇹‌🇪‌🇷‌ 🇮‌🇳‌🇩‌🇪‌🇽‌⌝

❘ prev. chapter ❘༻✦༺❘ next chapter ❘

"I gave a second chance to Cupid..."

Your eyes fluttered open to find Seora, her face a mix of concern and relief, your head resting in her lap as she hummed the gentle melody of FIFTY FIFTY's "Cupid (Twin Ver.)", her fingers gently stroking your hair.

Confusion knotted your brow as you absorbed your surroundings, the unfamiliar room spinning slightly as you propped yourself up on your elbows. "Seora, where... where are we?"

Seora paused her humming, offering a weak smile. "We're in a room at HYBE," she explained, her hand pausing in your hair, gaze meeting yours.

Your mind raced, trying to piece together the events leading to this moment. "Is this real? Or am I just dreaming?"

"Oh, it's real, alright. After your little escapade and you passed out, they brought us here. Well, more like dragged, in my case."

You blinked, the memories of the previous night starting to resurface—the club, the confrontation, the chase. "What... what happened after I passed out?"

Seora's expression darkened, a shadow crossing her features. "Well, after you decided to take a little nap courtesy of those taser-happy guards, I had my own... encounter." Her tone carried a mix of pride and frustration. "One of the guards made a disgusting comment about me being black, suggesting that 'Of course I'd be here trespassing.' So, I did what any self-respecting person would do."

You sat up fully now, your interest piqued despite the throbbing in your head. "What did you do?"

"I headbutted him—broke his nose," she said nonchalantly, as if discussing the weather. "His partner wasn't too pleased, tried to grab me, but let's just say he won't be chewing solid food for a while."

Your eyes widened, a mix of admiration and shock at her fearlessness. "Seora, you're... incredible. But now what? Are we just stuck here?"

She shrugged, a mischievous glint in her eye. "For now, yes. But don't worry, they can't keep us here forever." Her voice trailed off as she averted her gaze, a sudden shift in her demeanor hinting at something left unsaid.

You pressed her, noticing the change. "Seora, what else happened? There's more, isn't there?"

After a brief pause, she glanced back at you, her expression a mix of defiance and sheepish guilt. "Well, I may or may not have had a... slight altercation with an idol," she admitted, the words tumbling out reluctantly.

"Seora!" Your exclamation was a mix of disbelief and concern. The idea of her confronting a security guard was one thing, but an idol? That was an entirely different level of trouble. "What do you mean by 'altercation'?"

She winced, raising her hands defensively, her expression morphing into one of awkward justification. "It's not as bad as it sounds, I promise. Things just got a bit... heated. But hey, in my defense, he was really provoking me!"

The thought of Seora, fearless as she was, in a scuffle with a pop idol was both alarming and bizarrely fitting given the night's escalating events. "Heated enough to get us locked up," you pointed out, the gravity of the situation sinking in amidst the absurdity of it all.

Seora shot you a look that was both accusatory and playful. "Hey! I heard you were no better! Kidnapping a grown man can never top choking one, and that's a hill I'll die on."

You opened your mouth to argue, to defend your actions, but no words came out. Deep down, you knew she was right. The situations you both found yourselves in, though drastically different in context, were equally serious. With a heavy sigh, you admitted defeat. "Yeah, you're right. We may have gone a little too far..."

"Yeah, about that..." She trailed off, her attempt at a casual shrug doing little to mask the underlying tension. "Let's just say, our 'little too far' might have escalated quicker than a BTS track climbing the charts."

As you're still trying to wrap your head around Seora's latest revelation, the door abruptly swung open. Bang PD entered first, his presence commanding yet somber, followed closely by a distinguished middle-aged man whose aura commanded attention, altering the room's atmosphere.

Dressed in a crisply ironed suit, his locs styled into a professional ponytail, and he clutched a briefcase; his face was stern, his eyes scanning the room before settling on his visibly stunned daughter.

Seora's eyes widened in shock, her body tensing as she scrambled to her feet, stammering, "P-Papa?? What are you doing here??"

The man's gaze lingered on his daughter, a mix of disappointment and concern etched on his features. "Really, Seora? Assaulting an idol?" he chided, his voice steady but laced with a tinge of disbelief.

Seora, her initial shock fading, tried to muster a defense. "But Papa, it wasn't how—"

Her father raised a hand, forestalling her attempts. "Seora, I understand there are always two sides to a story, but the facts are hard to ignore." His gaze softened slightly. "We'll discuss this further, but for now, know that I'm here to ensure you both receive fair representation."

He stepped further into the room, his eyes then finding yours. With a respectful nod, he acknowledged you. "Miss L/N," he said, his tone serious yet comforting, as if to ease the tension that hung palpably in the air.

He then placed his briefcase on the table, clicking it open to reveal an array of documents. "I've been briefed on the situation, and rest assured, we'll navigate this together." His voice, firm yet reassuring, seemed to anchor the room, providing a semblance of stability amidst the chaos.

The room fell silent for a moment, the gravity of the situation settling over you like a heavy cloak. Seora's father, one of the world's most renowned lawyers, was here, a testament to the seriousness of the events that had transpired. As you processed this new reality, questions swirled in your mind, each one echoing the uncertainty and trepidation that this unexpected turn of events had ushered in.

Clearing his throat, Bang PD reached for his bag and extracted several sheets of paper. He extended a hand to Seora's father, suggesting a less formal address. "Please, call me Shihyuk," he said, shaking hands firmly.

"And me, Michael," Seora's father replied, accepting the handshake.

With the papers spread out on the table, Shihyuk addressed Seora. "This contract mandates that you cannot disclose any details of today's events. Breach it, and you face a substantial fine and possible prison time," he said, his voice even but the implications clear.

The contract was in Korean, and while Seora had a grasp of the language, legal jargon was another beast entirely. Sensing her confusion, her father flipped the document, revealing an English version on the back.

"Thanks, Papa," she whispered before scanning her eyes over the document. "Wait. So... I'm not going jail?" she asked with wide eyes, her voice tinged with a mixture of relief and lingering doubt.

"Correct. It appears Mr. Min Yoongi instigated the altercation, not you," Shihyuk clarified, retrieving his phone to provide evidence.

"How did you come up with that? Wouldn't you naturally side with Yoongi seeing as it's basically my word against his?"

"You're right about that, I'd believe my boys because I trust them, but not when there's evidence that shows me what happened," Shihyuk said, pressing the play button on the video, dispelling any doubts. And sure enough not even five seconds into the video, Yoongi was seen tackling Seora onto the ground before they began rolling around.

Shihyuk paused the video once it got to the part where Seora was seen putting Yoongi in a headlock, choking him.

Michael leaned over to give his daughter a firm pat on the shouder. "This video indicates that Mr. Yoongi's role in this altercation was as an instigator. So while your actions, while extreme, can be seen as self-defense."

Upon viewing her own reaction in the video, Seora cleared her throat, face heating up in embarrassment. "Yeah, about that. I'm sorry for, you know, choking him and everything," she mumbled, sheepishly rubbing the back of her neck, awkwardly apologizing for her aggressive defense.

Shihyuk, suppressing a chuckle at the stark contrast between Seora's live demeanor and her combative display on screen, reassured her. "It's alright, you'll have the chance to extend your apologies in person," he informed her.

Seora sputtered, eyes blown wide. "I-I have to see him again?"

"Not yet, I haven't exactly broken the news to him to him yet," Shihyuk conceded, imagining Yoongi's likely reaction upon learning the news.

The conversation turned back to the contract. Seora pondered her options: signing meant facing an uncomfortable reconciliation with Yoongi; refusing would lead to her receiving serious criminal charges.

Seora sat up in thought, gnawing on her bottom lip as she took in her options: signing it meant she'd get away with all charges—Yoongi, security guards, trespassing, etc.—scott-free, but she'd have to cough up an apology to Yoongi; refusing to sign meant she'd go to jail...but, she wouldn't have to see Yoongi again.

For a second, she thought going back to jail and living out the rest of her youth in the pent was just beautiful compared to apologizing for something that wasn't her fault—but it wasn't worth losing the bond she shared with you. She'd rather bruise her ego than lose the best things she has going right now.

Sighing, Seora held out her hand—"Alright, I'll sign it,"—accepting the pen from Shihyuk.

After she scribbled her name, her father collected the papers, his expression softening slightly. "Remember, you'll have to apologize to him later," he reminded, referring to Yoongi, adding another layer of dread to Seora's already tumultuous emotions.

"I know..." she mumbled, eyes downcasted as she watched Shihyuk gather his belongings and leave.

After a brief moment, Seora's father shifted his attention to his daughter, his demeanor changing as he faced her. "Seora," he began, his voice adopting a firmer tone, "when I arranged for you to stay with the chairman's daughter, it wasn't a green light for mischief or to influence her into risky situations." His words, though stern, carried an undercurrent of care, a father's desire to see his child make choices that led to growth, not regret.

Seora shifted uncomfortably under her father's gaze, her usual bravado dimming in the face of his disappointment. "I know, Papa. It just... things got out of hand," she mumbled, her voice barely above a whisper, before pushing herself to meet his gaze. "I'll do better, Papa. I promise," she said, her voice stronger now, a mix of regret and resolve flickering in her eyes.

Her father sighed, the slightest hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, his expression softening as he took a moment to look at her—not just as a lawyer or a father, but as someone deeply concerned about her well-being. "I understand that you're young and eager to experience life, but remember, your actions don't just affect you. They ripple out, touching the lives of those around you, for better or for worse."

With that, he turned to you. "Your father will be in touch soon," he said, offering a fatherly look that conveyed a blend of reassurance and seriousness. "Remember, every action has its consequences. Make sure yours are ones you can live with." The weight of his words hung in the air, a reminder of the far-reaching implications of today's events.

"Sooo... how did you guys manage to get us off without any charges?" Seora's question hung in the air, her eyes searching her father's for an explanation of their unexpected exoneration.

Her father took a deep breath before revealing the intricacies of the negotiations that had unfolded behind the scenes. "Your father and I, along with Bang PD-nim and other executives at HYBE, had quite a lengthy discussion on how to resolve this situation. It was a delicate balance to maintain, considering the potential for negative publicity and legal complications," he began, his voice measured and calm.

"The solution we've come to involves you," he said, turning his gaze to you. "In exchange for dropping all charges and the return of the hoodie, you're expected to collaborate with Taehyung on a duet for an upcoming K-drama soundtrack."

Your initial reaction was one of disbelief, followed quickly by indignation. "Excuse me, sorry, what?" you exclaimed, your voice echoing a mix of shock and resistance. "You want me to sing? With him?"

Seora's father held up a hand, signaling for patience. "I understand your apprehension, but allow me to explain," he continued. "Your father played a crucial role in reaching this resolution. He was the one to suggest that the duet, along with the story of the hoodie, will serve as a creative promotional strategy for the drama's OST."

Seeing your hesitant expression, he added, "The best part is, you won't be required to make a public appearance. Your voice is all that's needed. It's no secret within your family that you've inherited your mother's vocal talents. This is an opportunity to showcase that gift, albeit anonymously."

Your mind was a tempest of emotions, each thought interweaving with the next, creating a tapestry rich with sentiment and memory. The mention of your mother's and brother's dreams illuminated the situation with a newfound significance, transforming what felt like an imposed duty into a heartfelt opportunity to connect with your past.

Your mother, blessed with a voice that resonated with the depth of her soul, had willingly set aside her dreams, choosing instead the nurturing path of motherhood and the selfless love of family. And your brother, a beacon of aspiration and talent, had his journey abruptly halted by the same cruel fate that took your mother—the relentless grip of cancer.

His aspirations, once vibrant and full of promise, were left unfulfilled when he passed at the tender age of 23, leaving you, then only 15, grappling with the weight of another profound loss.

Now, at the cusp of your early twenties, the idea of singing, a talent you rarely shared, suddenly felt like a connection to them—a way to honor their memories and dreams.

The notion of working undercover as an intern to facilitate the recording sessions added another layer to the unfolding drama. "You'll also be Taehyung's personal assistant in disguise," he explained. "It's the perfect cover to keep your involvement confidential while fulfilling the agreement."

Seora's father watched as you processed the information, giving you the space to consider the proposition. After a moment of contemplation, you nodded slowly, the weight of the decision evident in your expression. "Okay," you said quietly. "I'll do it."

Just then, the door opened, and Izu, the green-haired personal assistant, entered the room, carrying the red hoodie. His friendly smile seemed incongruent with the gravity of the situation, yet it offered a moment of normalcy amid the whirlwind of events.

"Here's your jacket," Izu said, handing it over with a casual ease that belied the turmoil that had surrounded the garment just hours earlier. "See you Monday," he added, his words a gentle reminder of the new role you were about to undertake.

Holding the hoodie in your hands, the fabric seemed to carry the weight of the day's events, each thread woven with the chaos, fear, and eventual resolution that had transpired.

As Izu exited, you were left to contemplate the path ahead, the unexpected turn your life had taken, and the silent promise of a new beginning, hidden within the folds of a seemingly ordinary red hoodie.

***finally, the hoodie finally has been returned ❤️❤️ sorry for the late update btw

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winxanity-ii · 4 days

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⌜No Hoods Attached | Chapter 24 Chapter 24 | fractured delusions⌟

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As the backstage area becomes a blur around you, Taehyung's arms tighten, lifting you off the ground in a celebratory spin, your laughter mingling with his in a shared bubble of joy. His voice is warm, a melodic whisper close to your ear, "I knew you could do it," he says, his laughter vibrating through you. As the spinning slows, you find yourselves locked in a gaze, the world around fading to a distant hum.

Your feet touch the ground again, but you hardly notice, caught in the gravity of Taehyung's gaze. The space between you narrows, each breath you take seems to draw him closer. His breath, a warm caress against your face, sends shivers down your spine. Your heart pounds so loudly you're convinced he can hear it, its rhythm syncing with the lingering notes of your shared performance.

Just a breath away, his gaze drops to your lips, then back to your eyes, a silent question hanging in the air. Before the two of you can kiss, you instinctively turn your head, his lips brushing against your cheek instead.

The moment is suspended, a mix of surprise and bashfulness enveloping you both. Putting space between you, Taehyung and you share a moment of awkward laughter, the tension dissipating into the air.

"Uh, I should probably go get changed... and get back to the crowd," Taehyung stammers, a flush creeping onto his cheeks, mirroring your own.

You nod, words jumbling out in a clumsy rush, "Yeah, yeah, good idea, go... do that."

He lingers for a heartbeat longer, his eyes flitting to yours again, laden with unsaid words, before he turns to leave. As he walks away, you catch him throwing glances over his shoulder, each look sending a flurry of butterflies through your stomach.

Standing alone now, you touch the spot on your cheek, the warmth of his breath still lingering on your skin. The mixed feelings of relief and disappointment tangle inside you, leaving you to wonder about the 'what ifs' as the backstage area slowly empties, and the echoes of applause fade into a distant memory.

Still basking in the afterglow of everything, your solitude is shattered as Alex approaches you. Her expression is a mix of contrition and unease. "Hey, I... I just, uh, wanted to say congratulations," she begins, her voice tinged with a forced cheerfulness that doesn't quite reach her eyes.

You nod, wary but polite, as she steps closer. "Thank you, Alex," you reply, maintaining a cautious distance. After a brief pause, a pang of empathy nudges you to add, "And I'm sorry that things didn't turn out as you hoped with the YaNi role. I know you were really excited about it."

Alex's demeanor shifts, a playful squeal escaping her as she waves off your apology. "Oh, don't worry about that! I'm just glad to have been part of the journey, you know? Plus, you were absolutely amazing out there!" Her excitement seems genuine, but there's a flicker of something else in her eyes; she leans in, a mischievous grin spreading across her face, her voice a mix of admiration and something darker, more sinister. "Really, I mean it. And that little moment between you and Taehyung," she teases, nudging you playfully. "...it was something out of a fairy tale."

Before you can react, she envelops you in a hug, but the warmth you'd expect is missing. "...Still... That should have been me," she murmurs as she she clings to you, her voice turning cold, venom laced with every word.

You stiffen, taken aback by the sudden shift.

She pulls back, her eyes locking with yours, and the mask falls away, revealing the raw, unfiltered jealousy and bitterness. "I recognized that jacket, you know, from the fan-meeting," she confesses, her voice laced with resentment. "I knew it was yours the moment I saw Taehyung wearing it on one of his Twitter posts. I couldn't believe it... that you, of all people, were connected to him."

Your heart begins to race, a sense of dread washing over you as Alex's revelations unfold.

"I couldn't stand it," she continues, her words coming out faster and her voice rising, fueled by a festering anger. "At first, I refused to believe that you two could be dating, clinging to the hope that maybe, just maybe, you weren't together. But then the email leak happened. And just the thought of you, so close to him, to all of this... I knew I had to do something."

You're speechless, your mind racing to piece together her words.

"I was the one pushing Han-jiyoo to go to HYBE. I was the one to suggest that they tighten security, hoping it would trip you up, make things harder for you. I even nudged those... those stupid fucking fans, hinting about the connection to the jacket, hoping to stir the pot... I wanted to see you fall, to take your place beside Taehyung."

"And it almost worked," she snarled with piercing eyes, stepping back as her mask completely sheds. "But somehow, you still ended up here, in the spotlight, with him. You still got your fairy tale ending, while I'm left with nothing." Her voice cracks, a mix of fury and defeat. "I refuse to let this stand, you know. Your little fairy tale... it won't last. I'll make sure of it," Alex hisses, venom in her voice as she turns to storm off.

But before she can leave, a sharp voice stops her in her tracks. "What did you just say?" Yoongi's voice, icy and filled with barely contained fury, echoes in the otherwise quiet backstage area.You turn to see Yoongi stepping from the shadows, his eyes fixed on Alex with a glare that could freeze fire. "I knew there was something off about you," he spits out, advancing toward her with a determined stride.

Alex's composure breaks, her voice sharp with desperation. "Stay out of this, Yoongi! It's none of your business!" she snaps.

Yoongi's eyes narrow, and he steps closer, his presence commanding. "When it involves my family, it becomes my business," he retorts, glancing at you, emphasizing the word 'family' with a protective edge.

He doesn't hold back, his voice tinged with disdain. "Desperate, aren't you? All that scheming, all that plotting, and for what? To fail miserably in the end?" He shakes his head, a mix of anger and pity in his eyes.

Alex's eyes flash with a mix of defiance and desperation as she scrambles for some semblance of dignity, facade beginning to crack. "I did what I had to do! You don't understand what it's like, always being the second choice, always in the background!" she spits out, her voice quivering with a cocktail of emotions.

With a venomous glare directed at you, she hisses, "And you! You just waltz in and steal the spotlight without even trying. What makes you so special, huh?"

Yoongi steps between you and Alex, his posture radiating protectiveness. "Enough," he commands, his voice brooking no argument. "Don't make this about her. I've seen a lot in this industry, but you..." He trails off, shaking his head with a scoff. "You're a new low," he continues, his voice dropping to a low, menacing growl.

Yoongi leans in closer, his gaze fixed on Alex. "You orchestrated this entire thing. Planned it all out, only to end up humiliating yourself in front of everyone. Pathetic." He sneers, letting out a humorless chuckle. "The delusion is strong with you. Taehyung wouldn't never even touch someone as desperate and manipulative as you with a ten-foot pole."

Yoongi's words hit a nerve; at the mention of Taehyung, something snaps within Alex. Face contorted with rage, she lets out a banshee shriek and lunges at him, nails bared. Before she could actually land a hit, security guards materialized seemingly out of thin air, alerted by the commotion. They move with practiced efficiency, quickly restraining a thrashing and screeching Alex.

They grasp her arms, restraining her as she continues to hurl insults and threats, her eyes locked on you. "This isn't over! It's not fair! He should be mine!" she screeches, struggling against the security's firm grip.

Yoongi watches coldly as she's escorted away, her desperate cries echoing off the walls. Once she's out of sight, he turns to you, his expression softening. "Are you okay?" he asks, his concern genuine; Yoongi's hand is warm on your shoulder, grounding you as you try to process the rapid unraveling of events. "It's over now," he assures you, his voice steady and calm. "She won't be able to harm you or anyone else." You nod, feeling a mix of relief and residual shock. "I just... I never saw it coming," you admit, your voice a mere whisper. He gives your shoulder a gentle squeeze. "People like her are good at hiding their true intentions. But remember, you're not alone. We're all here for you," Yoongi says, his gaze sincere. The backstage area slowly regains its usual controlled chaos. The earlier tension dissipates, replaced by the quiet hum of roadies dismantling equipment. Suddenly, a familiar voice pierces the newfound calm, "Y/N!" You look up to see Seora barreling towards you, her face etched with worry. Your father follows close behind, his expression uncharacteristically grim. Relief washes over you as you throw your arms around Seora in a tight hug. She holds you for a long moment, her hold a silent expression of comfort and support. Finally, you pull back, tears welling up in your eyes. "Seora, you won't believe what just happened," you stammer, the events of the past few minutes tumbling out in a rush. As you recount the entire ordeal to them, every word of Alex's demented plan, Seora's face contorts with rage. Her eyes narrow into slits, and she clenches her fist so tightly her knuckles turn white. "Oh, on God and on my mama, I'm about to fuck Ji-yoo up! Fucking sell-out," she hisses, her voice barely a whisper. Just as quickly, the fire in her eyes softens, replaced by a wave of protectiveness; she pulls you into another hug, burying her face in your hair. "I can't believe you had to go through all that," she mutters, her voice thick with emotion. "Just ridiculous." Your father steps forward, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder. His expression is a mask of steely resolve. "Don't worry, Y/N," he says, his voice firm. "We'll handle this. Alex will not get away with this." He cups your face, his touch gentle yet firm. He leans down and presses a kiss to your forehead, his eyes filled with a father's unwavering love and protectiveness. "We'll make sure she's held accountable," he continues, his voice leaving no room for argument. "This isn't over." "Thank you guys, for being here." In that moment, surrounded by the people who matter most, you feel a surge of gratitude. Despite the chaos, you're reminded that you're not alone, bolstered by the support of your loved ones, ready to face whatever comes next with them by your side.

***not alex being the bad guy...whaaa??? DUN DUN DUUUNNNNNNN!

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