#[slams fists on table] chubby holly!!!

[leviackermanscleaningbuddy]

BTS DRABBLE

Anon Request; You and your kids are mobbed by fans/antis

A/N: Imma be honest with you all. I worked on this request for 2 hours last night and was almost finished, and then it got deleted somehow. :( SO. This is a watered down and not as well done retype of my previous ideas. So i apologize. 

Tags: BTS, Bangtan Boys, Bangtan Seonyendan, Bulletproof boyscouts, Beyond the Scene, BTS Drabble, Anon Request, Anon Ask, Angst, Husband Au, Dad Au, Seokjin x you, Yoongi x you, Hoseok x you, Namjoon x you, Jimin x you, Taehyung x you, Jungkook x you

Genre: Angst

Warnings: There’s not many, and they’re brief, but some hateful things are said to idols and their families. 

TItle: Maddening Crowd

KIM SEOKJIN

Your phone begins to ring shrilly as you pull back down your shirt and slide from the exam table. You mouth an apology to your doctor as you begin to dig through your purse for the cell phone, while Mishil eagerly takes the line of ultrasound pictures and begins to ask the doctor a million questions. 

“Hyo, is everything okay?” You ask when you pick up, slightly surprised that your eldest daughter is calling. She had decided to skip the ultrasound in favor of going to the mall with her friends, and it was odd for her to call you when she was out and about. 

“Mom?” Her voice sounds wobbly, and you are instantly on the defensive. 

“Hyo, honey, is everything okay?” You repeat again, reaching for your purse as you ready to leave the doctor’s office. 

“No.” She sniffs, the sound loud through the speaker, and then continues, voice thick with tears. “Some of dad’s haters saw me at lunch…...and they…..said really horrible things.” 

Anger immediately fills your stomach at her words, and you pause, pinching the phone between your ear and shoulder, taking a deep breath in to keep calm for your daughter, who still sounds terrified and shook up on the other end of the phone. “Okay. Hyo, honey.” You grab Mishil, and with another mouthed thank you at the doctor, pull her behind you down the hallway and out of the doctor’s office as you ask, “Where are you right now?” 

“In the bathroom.” Hyo replies, and she sniffles again, and you can tell that she is on the verge of tears. 

“Okay, honey.” You push through the doors of the office and out into the parking lot. “Stay where you are. I’m going to call dad and he’s going to come and get you, okay?” 

There is a brief moment of silence, and then Hyo’s voice, trembling, replies on a shaky breath, “Okay.” 

Hanging up, the rage still boiling in your stomach, you punch in Jin’s number. 

*********

Jin sees your number come up on his phone, and brief anxiety clenches his stomach as he waves to the other boys, excusing himself to the silence of the hallway. “Hey, jagi, what’s up?” He wonders, only momentarily, if something is wrong with the baby. 

“Jin.” Your voice is gravely serious as it comes through the speaker of his phone, and once again, his stomach clenches in worry. 

“Is everything okay?” He asks softly, waiting for your response, as he hears the car start in the background of your phone call. 

“No.” You reply, and he hears the car door slam before you continue, voice tight with anger. “Hyo was at the mall and some of your haters cornered her.” 

“What?” The word tumbles from Jin’s mouth in shock, and then immediately, he is on the defensive, as he demands, “What the hell happened?” 

“She’s hiding in the bathroom.” You say with a sigh. “I told her you’d go and pick her up.” 

“I’m on my way.” Jin says, already pulling his car keys from his pocket, vision hazy with anger as he heads toward the elevator. 

“Thanks, Jin.” You respond, before he ends the phone call, already on the way to pick up his daughter. 

*******

“Hyo, honey?” Jin calls through the doorway into the empty bathroom, the door held cracked open as he peers through to try and catch sight of his daughter. 

When there is no response, he barges in without a second thought, and making his way down the aisle of stalls, he pauses outside one where a pair of checkered converse with bright pink laces are peeping below the door, and sniffles can be heard from inside. 

“Hyo, I’m coming in.” Jin says, before slowly pushing open the door of the stall to see his daughter sitting on the lid of the toilet, eyes red, as she wipes at her nose with the sleeve of her sweatshirt. 

“Are you okay?” Jin asks softly, crouching down in front of her, as he rests his hands on her knees, and hands her a wad of toilet paper. 

“No.” Hyo replies, her voice shaky, as she wipes her eyes with trembling hands and takes in a deep breath. “Those people. They said really horrible things about you and mom and me and Mishil….” She trails off, her voice catching, as tears begin to gather in her eyes once more. 

“Hyo.” Jin states firmly, seriously, as he meets the watery gaze of his daughter, pushing the anger down in his stomach in favor of fervence. “Don’t listen to anything they say. They’re jealous and hateful and spiteful, and nothing they say is true. And they don’t matter.” 

She sits in silence for a brief moment, still sniffling, thinking over his words, and then she nods, just barely, as she whispers, “Okay.” 

“Good. Now come on. I’m here to take you home.” 

MIN YOONGI

“Shit.” You swear under your breath as you round the corner and see the crowd outside the BigHit building. 

Making sure Jag-Eun is still asleep in her stroller, chubby fist in her mouth, dark pigtails falling over her forehead as the toddler sleeps soundly, you bend down, placing Holly into the stroller beside your sleeping daughter, as you say softly, patting the miniature poodle’s soft head, “Stay in here, buddy. I don’t want you to get stepped on.” 

Sighing heavily, you pull down the ball cap that you wear to cover more of your face, before adjusting the mask higher on your nose and ducking your head as you begin to walk once more. 

You know, if you can get through the first layer of fans, that the security guards at the door will recognize you and help you inside. It’s just making it through on your own until then. 

You manage to walk past the first couple of fans littering the sidewalk, pushing your stroller, head down, without much trouble, but then, someone recognizes you, and chaos ensues. 

“Holy shit, is that Min (Y/N)??” 

“It is! And she has Jag-Eun with her!” 

“Excuse me.” You say loudly, firmly, as people begin to close in around you and the stroller, jostling you as you try to stay your course toward the front door of the building. 

The press of bodies around you is closing in, and you feel claustrophobic, as hands grasp at the material of your jacket, gripping, grabbing, touching. 

“Please let us through.” You repeat, louder this time, over the babble of the crowd, as more voices join in with exclamations. 

“Noona, how’s Yoongi??” 

“I swear to God, Jag-Eun is a carbon copy of Suga-oppa!” 

“And she has Min Holly too!!” 

You manage, with white knuckles and caught breath, to push through the last of the fans, and finally, you are at the doors, as the security guards rush to assist you, pushing back the crowd, as one of them ushers you quickly inside the building. 

Once inside the quiet, empty foyer of BigHIt, you catch your breath, leaning over the stroller to see that Jag-Eun is still soundly asleep with a sigh of relief. 

Assuring the worried security guards that you all are fine, you take the elevator up to the floor where the Genius lab is located, taking the time to regain your breath from the press of the chaotic crowd outside. 

You’re just thankful your daughter managed to sleep through it all. 

Reaching the floor, the elevator doors open, and you step out, only to run directly into Yoongi. 

“Y/N?” He asks with surprise, and then his eyes darken slightly, as a frown furrows his brow. “What the hell are you doing here?” He glances into the stroller for a moment, making sure his daughter is all right. “I thought we agreed you two wouldn’t come to the studio anymore!” 

“I know.” you breathe out, running a hand through your mussed hair, suddenly realizing that your hat had somehow been snatched in the fray outside. “I know.” you repeat with a slight smile, before saying, “And now I remember why.” 

Yoongi’s face softens slightly, and he once again glances in at Jag-Eun, before scanning his gaze over you. “Are you all right? Did they hurt you?” 

“No.” you shake your head, reaching down to pat Holly. “We’re all okay. Although, I did lose my favorite ball cap in the rush.” 

Yoongi snorts, a sound between a scoff and something of amusement, and then he pulls you to him, pressing a brief kiss to your lips, his own soft and warm against your own, before he pulls back and says with slight humor, “Don’t worry. I’ll get you another one.” 

JUNG HOSEOK

“Okay, boys, remember.” you warn as you step into the airport terminal, the twins’ hands held tightly between your own. “Take care of your own backpacks, and please don’t let go of my hands.” 

“Okay, mama.” Korain looks up at you with a smile, cap pulled low over his eyes, his ears sticking out much like his fathers, as he grasps the straps of his backpack. 

“Kyong?” You question, glancing down at the other boy, who stands on your other side. 

“Yes, mommy.” Kyong replies, glancing up at you with bright eyes, as he adjusts his own backpack on his shoulders. 

Making your way over to the front desk, a flight attendant smiles at you largely, as she asks cheerfully, “Tickets please?” 

“Stay right here, boys.” You say firmly, as you release their hands to hand the woman the tickets. 

“Thank you!” She hands them back after a moment, giving you another overly cheerful smile, as she motions down the long corridor toward the gates. “You’ll be at Gate FA. Have a nice flight!” 

Taking the boys hands once again, you hoist the bags higher on your shoulder, as you pull them along with you toward your gate, suddenly regretting attempting to take them alone to your parents’ this weekend. 

And then, out of nowhere, all hell breaks loose. 

“There they are! Get the cameras!” 

Suddenly, a throng of press and reporters is closing in, surrounding the three of you with flashing lights and the click of recording, as voices pour over one another, shouting questions in your direction. 

“Mrs. Jung, where are you headed? Why isnt your husband with you?” 

“How is your relationship with J-Hope?” 

You blink, trying to see through the wave of lights from the cameras and video recorders, stumbling over your words as you get out, “I’m not answering questions. Please let us through.” 

A microphone is shoved in your face, as a reporter asks hurriedly, “Mrs. Jung, why are you at the airport without J-Hope? Are you running from something? Where are you going?” 

You blink again, as more microphones are pushed in your direction, trying to collect your thoughts, but when you look down and see the twins clinging to your sides, eyes wide with fear and distress, suddenly, your mind clears, and you yell out, pushing forward through the crowd, “Let. Us. Through!” 

The twins’ fingers clenched tightly between your own, you shove through the throng, and one of the reporters knocks the bag on your shoulder loose, and while you struggle to right yourself, and keep hold on the scared twins, you feel tears start to threaten behind your vision. 

Suddenly, airport security is there, pushing back the crowd and ushering you all forward, and as you hurry toward the safety of the gates, the tears finally begin to fall.

*******

“We called your husband, Mrs. Jung. He should be here momentarily.” The attendant says with a soft smile and a sympathetic look in your direction, as she hands you a water bottle. 

You nod, taking a hard swallow of the water, before you sigh into the silence of the back room, glancing over at the twins, who seemed to have forgotten about their harrowing experience moments before, now that they had the lure of free movies and snacks to keep them occupied. 

“Baby!” Hobi barrels into the room, eyes wide and dark, coat flapping around his tall frame, hair messy and falling over his forehead. 

“Thank god.” you breathe out at the sight of him, getting up from your seat and running directly into his arms. 

“Shit. Are you okay?” Hobi asks as you bury your face in his chest, his familiar smell and sound of his heartbeat comforting enough that it manages to regulate your breathing. “I can’t believe those assholes….” 

You pull back from him slightly, giving him a warning glare, as you look pointedly over at your sons in the corner of the room, watching something on an iPad intently. 

“Sorry.” he winces, apologizing for his swearing, before he glances over you. “But are you sure you’re okay?” 

“Yeah, we’re okay. Just shook up.” you reply truthfully, still not letting him go, your fingers digging into the fabric of his coat sleeves. “How did they know we’d be here?” 

“I don’t know.” Hobi replies, eyes darkening, as his voice fills with weary anger. “However, I do know that you three aren’t going to your parents’ alone now. I’m not letting you out of my sight.” 

You nod, grateful for his decision, as he presses a soft kiss to your lips, before reluctantly letting you go and crossing the room to his sons, crouching before them as he prepares to tell them that daddy is going on their trip.

KIM NAMJOON

Stepping out of the car, you are thankful that you left Moon-soo and Hana home with Namjoon’s parents tonight, as you scan your gaze over the crush of people pressed against the barriers on either side of the carpet leading to the award’s show. 

You know, judging by the lightsticks and banners and screaming, that most of the crowd is fans of your husband, but at every large event, there are always haters, waiting in the background to ruin the evening. 

“Breathe, baby. And smile.” Namjoon’s voice is low in your ear, his breath warm against your cheek, as he chuckles, feeling how tense you are beside him. “You’ve done this a million times.” 

“I know. I know.” you grumble out between your teeth, trying to do your best to plaster a fake smile across your overly lipsticked lips, as your fingers curl around Namjoon’s elbow. 

He leads you forward down the carpet, and you wave politely to the fans, as cameras flash, and your fingers clench tightly into the material of his suit, as you focus on walking and not tripping over your high heels or the long length of your ridiculous evening gown. 

And then, you hear it. 

“Go back to Ilsan, you wannabe idol!” 

“Who let someone so ugly on the stage??” 

You clench your teeth at the voices wafting above the cheers from the rest of the crowd, and Namjoon, sensing your sudden tenseness, murmurs below his breath to you, smile still on his lips, “Baby. Don’t.” 

You heed his warning, trying to ignore the voice in the back of your mind that is begging you to confront them, as you walk forward another step. 

“Why do we even have idol beauty standards if they’re not followed? Who hired this guy? They should be fired!” 

“That’s it.” You say, teeth clenched, as red rage fills your vision. 

Namjoon was used to the haters, he viewed their comments philosophically, as a platform to grow and prove them wrong. 

But you were not so inclined. 

“Hey!” You whirl on your heel before Namjoon can stop you, pointing through the crowd toward the boy who had just yelled, surrounded by his friends, as they giggle over their insults at the back of the fans. When they look up at your cry, you fix them with a glare. “Yeah, you.” 

The boy who had spoken stares at you, eyes wide, as you approach the barrier, and you realize that the crowd has quieted, all eyes on you, as your knuckles grow white from gripping the edge of the walkway. 

“Are you aware that you’re spewing shit from your mouth like an overflowing toilet?” You ask hotly, glancing between the group of teenage boys, who in the face of what they’ve done, suddenly look slightly frightened. “I swear to god, if I hear one more word of your bullshit, I’ll come over this barrier and beat your asses into the ground, so hard, in fact, that you sons of bitches won’t be able to sit on said toilet in the morning.” They look sufficiently cowed in the face of your anger, and the rest of the crowd is silent, watching you with open mouths as cameras click furiously. “Do I make myself clear?” 

And then, Namjoon is there, saying something indiscernible into your ear, and pulling you away from the barrier and toward the building. 

Stumbling over your feet behind him, you yell out over your shoulder in the direction of the boys, now lost in the crowd, “You wish you were this famous, you son of a bitch!” 

Namjoon pushes you into the cool, darkened interior of the building, into an empty back hallway, and you take a moment to catch your breath, smoothing your hair, before you glance toward him through the darkness. His face is unreadable in the dim lighting, and so you say softly, “I’m sorry, Joonie. I’m sorry that I made a scene and might have made you look bad.” You pause, before straightening and saying firmly, “But I’m not sorry I stood up for you.” 

You wait in the silence, wait for him to come forward and tell you how bad the stories will be in the morning, how you’ve ruined his image, how you need to control yourself better. 

But instead, he steps toward you, and catching you off guard, meets your lips with his own. The kiss is impassioned and rough and ends all too soon, and as Namjoon creates space between the two of you, breath hot on your face, he smiles, just barely, dimples marking his cheeks, as he reaches up to press some hair behind your ear, before saying two, fervent, firm words. 

“Me neither.” 

PARK JIMIN

“Hey Chim, I’m going to run to the corner store, okay? You call out to your husband, as you slip on your sneakers beside the door. 

There is a brief moment of silence, and then Jimin appears in the doorway, Yun Hee held on his hip, her favorite dolls clutched to her chest. “Okay, baby. We’re fine here. I just got Eun-Ha down for her nap.” 

“You’re a god, I swear.” You say gratefully, crossing the room to press a swift kiss to Jimin’s full lips, and then another against the crown of your toddler’s head. “Be back in just a minute.” 

With a wave, you head out from the apartment, breathing in the crisp Seoul air as you walk down the block to the corner store, your coat pulled tightly around your body for warmth. 

Entering the store, you greet the cashier, before heading toward the back corner, but not before taking a few detours. 

Stashing another bag of crisps into the bottom of the basket held in the crook of your arm, you are startled slightly when you almost bump into someone at the end of the aisle, glancing up as you blurt out, “Oh shit, I’m sorry! I didn’t see you.” 

Your heart drops into your stomach, at the sight of a group of teenage girls standing before you, circling and blocking off the end of the aisle, eyes bright above their face masks, hands holding cell phones and notepads, all covered in one face that you know incredibly well. 

Park Jimin. 

Jimin Stans. 

“Mrs. Park? Can we ask you some questions?” One of the girls, seeming to be the leader of the group, asks, pulling down her mask slightly to reveal berry pink lips against white gleaming teeth. 

“Umm….” You start to say, shuffling your basket full of snacks awkwardly to your other arm as you shift on your feet. 

“It’s just, we LOVE your husband SO much.” One of the girls giggles out from behind your mask, the Chimmy headband she wears bright yellow against her dark ponytail. 

“Who doesn’t, right?” You try to chuckle, though the sound comes out humorless, as you begin to inch to one side of the aisle to squeeze past the overly excited group. 

The girls giggle loudly at your joke, as if you are the funniest person in the world, and then another speaks up, eyes comically wide as she gasps out, “Mrs. Park, is Jimin as sexy in person as he is on stage?” 

“Oh yes!” Another girl chimes in dreamily before you can get a word in edgewise, hands clasping to her chest in an expression of comic wonder. “Jimin is sooooo dreamy.” 

You are growing antsy. You want to get home, eat your snacks, and cuddle with said man that the girls are talking about with stars in their eyes. 

Not to mention, the main reason you came to the store in the first place. 

“Yeah, look, girls….” You start to say once again, managing to squeeze past a few of them as you try to reach your original destination. 

“Mrs. Park.” The leader speaks up again, eyeing you as you creep your way through, her voice suddenly serious. “No offense, but if Jimin ever leaves you for a fan, someone younger, I hope you’ll realize that he’s only doing what’s best for him, and try not to be angry.

You stop in your tracks at her words, disgust and annoyance welling up inside of you, and before you can rein yourself in, you turn to face her with a tight smile, saying through suddenly clenched teeth, “You know what, honey?” You offer her a saccharine smile. “You’re absolutely right. If Jimin ever leaves me for someone younger, I would have no reason to be angry. Do you know why?” At her blank stare, you continue softly, stepping closer to her, “Because, I know sure as hell, for a fact, that this ‘fan,’ this ‘younger girl,’ would never be you. You’re not Jimin’s type.” 

Her mouth drops open, and the other girls gasp at your statement. 

Fixing the smile once again on your lips, you straighten, clearing your throat as you motion toward the back corner of the store. “Now, if you all don’t mind, I just had a baby, and my vagina feels like it’s going to fall out of my body, not to mention, I’m bleeding like the Crimson Tide down there. So I’d really like to get my pads, if that’s okay with you.” 

Without a word, the girls part to let you through, mouths agape, and you don’t bother to hide the smug smile on your face as you leave the aisle. 

KIM TAEHYUNG

“Oh my gosh, can you believe that this is Taehyung’s favorite flavor of ice cream?” 

Ara rolls her eyes beside you from the back of the line, looking up from her phone at the teenage fan’s fervently spoken words. 

You look over at her in amusement, stepping forward as the line moves closer to the window. “What?” 

“I dunno, just….” she sighs, sticking her phone into the pocket of her jeans as she crosses her arms over her chest with a scowl. “It’s dad, you know? It weirds me out that people care about this stuff. Like, what ice cream flavor he likes.” 

“He’s an idol, honey.” you reply, shrugging slightly. “It’s always been like this, even since before you were born.” 

“I know, I know.” She replies with agitation, moving closer to the ice cream truck. “It’s just weird, mom. Like, we see him at home, where he’s just dad, and then there’s stuff like this.” She motions with a wave of her hand to the sign on the side of the truck, a picture of her father’s face from one of his shoots blown up, next to the name of his favorite flavor of ice cream. 

“I know, babe.” you laugh slightly, as the group of girls from earlier pass by you on their way over to the park. 

“Oh my gosh.” one of the girls stops, her mouth wide, ice cream momentarily forgotten, as she catches sight of you and Ara, elbowing her friends slightly before she says excitedly, “You’re Taehyung’s family!” 

Ara rolls her eyes again, stuffing her hands into the pockets of her coat. “Yup. That would be us.” 

“Your dad is like, so cool.” one of the other girls chimes in, clutching her cone in her hand, as she grins brightly at Ara. 

You glance over at your daughter, who seems to be softening, just a bit, underneath the attention of the girls, and eager to help her along, you glance over at the group, saying brightly, with a smile in their direction, “I’m sure Ara would be more than happy to tell you some more about her dad, girls.” 

Ara shoots you a sharp look and you shrug, as the first girl speaks up, excitement clear in her tone, as she bounces on the balls of her feet, “That would be so cool!” She glances at the other girls, and they all nod. “Would you want to come to the mall with us?” 

Ara hesitates, and you hold your breath, waiting for her response. 

She scuffs the sole of her sneakers on the concrete, before saying softly, “I mean, after I get my ice cream, sure.” She pushes hair back from her forehead. “Although, i really don’t want to talk about my dad all the time.” 

“Oh no!’ The girl waves her hand with a laugh, and your daughter almost smiles as she says, “Just a few questions. And then our lips are sealed, okay??” 

Another hesitation, and then Ara smiles fully. “Okay.

JEON JUNGKOOK

“I’m really nervous about this, Kook.” you say, as you jiggle your knee in the backseat of the car, hand resting on the lip of your son’s car seat as you stare blindly out the window at passing Seoul. 

“I know, baby, but try to relax.” Jungkook reaches over to rest his hand on your knee, stopping your agitated movements as he flashes you his bright smile, teeth biting into his bottom lip with the motion. “Our security is really good. They’ll keep us safe.” 

“I know, I know.” You sigh out, once again resuming your knee bouncing beneath his large palm, as the airport draws into view. “This is just our first time traveling with you since Daeseok was born.” 

“Baby.” jungkook says, slight amusement in his tone, as the car pulls to the curb. He unbuckles his seatbelt and turns to face you fully, a slight smile still crossing his lips as he leans over to kiss your cheek. “Trust me, okay?” 

“Okay.” you nod, once as Jungkook gets out of his side of the car, crossing around to open the other door, as he begins to unbuckle the car seat from the car, your son still sound asleep inside. 

Grabbing your purse from the seat, you thank the driver and exit the vehicle, your hand finding Jungkook’s, as you walk into the Inchan airport. 

It is just how you had imagined. 

Throngs of fans have gotten word of Jungkook’s departure from the airport, and the walkway to security is lined with screaming people, waving signs with your husband’s face on them, yelling out your names, hands reaching across the barrier, only to be pushed back unceremoniously by airport security. 

Moving tighter against Jungkook’s side as you begin to walk down the line of fans, your fingers dig into his forearm and he glances down at you, Daeseok’s car seat slung over his over hooked elbow. “Are you okay?” He asks, bucket hat pulled low over his eyes, although they are dark with worry as he looks at you. 

“Yeah, yeah.” you choke out, waving your free hand at him, as you dodge a fan’s reaching arm and fingers. 

Jungkook’s name is being chanted over and over as you make way down the walkway, surrounded by the security detail, dressed in black, earpieces firmly in their ears, as they usher the three of you hurriedly toward the safety of the inner airport. 

Glancing across Jungkook to check on Daeseok, who is now awake, watching the bright overhead lights with large, glistening eyes, your movement is halted, as someone calls out over the roar of the crowd, “Mrs. Jeon! Wait!” 

You glance over your shoulder, pulling a confused Jungkook to a halt beside you, as your eyes come to rest on the girl pressed against the barrier by the crowd, her arm outstretched toward you. 

The security pushes her back, uttering warning words to her, but you call out to them, “Wait! Let her be.” 

Leaving Jungkook’s side, you thread between the men, who are watching you closely, and approach the fan, who is now back at the barrier, her hand once again outstretched, and in between her fingers, is Daeseok’s rubber binky. 

Taking the binky from the fan’s hand, you smile at her, thanking her sincerely as she withdraws her arm respectfully, careful not to touch you. “Thank you so much for noticing this. It would have been a long flight if we didn’t have it.” 

She bows politely, and you are once again being whisked away from the crowd and back toward your waiting husband by security. 

“Everything okay?” Jungkook asks when you are back safely at his side. 

“Yeah.” You nod, searching for the girl, without result, in the throng of people still calling your names. “Everything’s okay.”