#Imamiya | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

werezmastarbucks · 5 months ago

Text

of those who found out

in which yoongi protects you

fluff, hurt/comfort

yoongi x nonKorean!f!reader x established relationship, husband!yoongi, protective!yoongi

word count: 5439

warnings / tags: violence, bodily harm, wound description, parasocial, mentions of hypothetic suicide, angry yoongi / angry jungkook, fuckboy jungkook, street fighting, married members

Newly married. When Yoongi told you he managed to claw not two, not three weeks for the honeymoon, but four, you spun about the room. The world tour after the reunion has been all kinds of unexpected, gruelling and exciting, and lonely, for an inexperienced you. Now, you got to marry the person you loved, and not have to share him with the rest of the world, for a full month. Osaka is unusually fresh and beautiful in early April: cherries in full bloom, blue skies, mild wind. And your dream boy would be with you this whole time; as you watched his preoccupied face, frowned by the pressures of his work, his second life, the need to pretend, the need to smile, change to relaxation; the weather outside the plane window changed as well. Osaka had the special kind of blue in its sky, the almost dream-like color, as if you weren't really there. Every time you happened in that city, it always seemed like you layered into parts and not all of you was present, but in a good way. People in Osaka didn't care about faces; Yoongi would always drop his shoulders comfortably, making his wide and tough frame a little softer. He didn't wear a mask in Osaka, and didn't pull his cap so far down that he couldn't see where he was going. Seeing him become nonchalant like that, looking around instead of straight ahead and down, swing his arms as he walked, and swing his head to look at buildings and trees; it was just happy. Your left hand was pleasantly and unusually heavy with the new ring; you would raise your palm against the bright sky to look how the sun sneaks in between your middle and ring finger; and catch Yoongi looking at you. You knew intuitively, as it always happens when you feel on top of the world, that it would only get better and better with time. As if nothing bad can ever happen to such people as you: young and happy and so strong. Whatever parts of him weren't healed yet, he was now at least okay with them, and was learning to embrace them. He wasn't screaming in his songs anymore. His voice acquired the soft murmur again. He smiled so much nowadays, showing his small delicate teeth, as if he finally learnt to click and switch, from Suga to Yoongi, and back again.

"You always looked kinda Tokyo to me", you noted, studying his face. Yoongi's eyes were narrowed as he watched the streets slowing down behind the window of the train.

"Shin-Imamiya", he hummed, as if he didn't hear you at first, seconds before the soft faceless voice announced the station. Yoongi's hand squeezed yours, and you ouched out of habit; he couldn't get used to the rings, either. Was accustomed to holding your hand very tightly, pushing the engagement ring with briar rose gemstone into your nearby fingers. His hold loosened immediately.

"Sorry", you got off the train, and your head snapped to look around at the unconventional urbanistic rundown architecture around.

"Japanese, huh?"

"About twelve per cent Japanese".

"People usually tell me, once I hit thirty, I started looking like a Chinese crook from a nineties movie", he confessed, with just not enough indifference.

"You would love to be one, huh?" you grinned. You could see it, too, now. Your thought adjusted. His high cheekbones and sharp, unforgiving slant of the eyes, and without makeup to smooth his face, he did look like he was capable of bad things. Yoongi nodded, quite content. He led you through the pedestrian tunnel into the wide sleepy street, with tall, dishevelled buildings, pieces of clothes hanging warily from the balconies, bright grey shining in the spring sun. In this weather, even the less attractive districts looked rather like locations from a video game, with its special greenpunk charm. Yoongi's short black hair moved lazily in the light wind; he cut his royal mane right after the wedding, elated like a puppy who caused mischied and knew about it. He did leave two wavy strands to frame his face though. Both you and his mother were glad.

You walked down the street looking at people living his life; someone adjusting a flower pot on their balcony, or thrashing a sheet furiously; some voices flew down from the top floors as the tall houses grew and grew on above your heads. Some kids left the building, hands in their jean pockets, caps, chains on their thighs. Yoongi checked the map on his phone:

"To the left at the end of the street".

He clocked them first; but you didn't even notice. The years living in safe Seoul all but killed your spacial awareness skills; and as far as you knew, Japan was even safer. Crime rates low on the ground, you always hopped like a butterfly on the Kyoto streets even when you were alone. So now, as you heard a whistle coming from one of the entrances, you attributed it to some internal conversation among a group of people.

"Oh, no way", Yoongi grumbled, and you finally paid attention. He was looking at the group of young people huddled together in between two broken up flower beds in front of the building. Your natural instinct finally kicked in: three men of moderate height but sick built. Wide shoulders, thick legs, they looked like people who were looking for trouble.

"It's not even evening", you mumbled, frustrated. Yoongi couldn't break the lock with them as he watched the group that gestured something towards you.

"Tourists?" you heard. One guy motioned his hand. The other two started babbling something in Japanese assuming Yoongi would understand them. One of the guys was looking at you the way drunk Itaewon men usually did. You pushed against his body but tried not to show your growing anxiety.

"Don't fuss", he advised, his fingers caressing the back of your palm reassuringly. Amidst the conversation the three peace breakers engaged in, you could make out something like 'pretty boy'. Sure your boy was pretty. But, as they set off from the flower beds and started cutting your way across the street, he also got angrier.

The thing about Yoongi was, he was like a battery that liked to snap. His large storage could contain a lot of annoyance, a lot of disrespect and exhaustion, but when the time and space was up, someone who tipped his peace at last would always get a handful. Yoongi used this internal fuel well in his work. Hooding his eyes, dangerous stare from behind the long locks falling onto his face, he would slouch his shoulders in a way that made him look much, much bigger than he really was. Perhaps he learnt this method from cats: the small, clawed and unpredictable carnivores that were unhinged enough to scare away bears. Yoongi was that kind of a person. You have never been scared when you were with him; it's the raging optimism of knowing that your fiancé, now husband, was ready to throw hands at anyone which could easily be read on his face. The years of neglect, condescending nods and underestimation helped him be spared of fear of bodily harm. You noticed this weird feature with every one of his six brothers, too. They were successful and beautiful, and still, they were desperate to prove themselves.

You tugged on his hand when Yoongi tensed towards the three people stopping you in your tracks. A short exchange in Japanese sounded hostile to you. You were half-through with your Korean, the language occupying all your attention, so you haven't thought of starting Japanese yet. Yoongi knew just enough of it to be able to tell people to fuck off.

The tallest, buff guy, undoubtedly, the leader of this pathetic, bored pack, stepped from side to side, and pointed his finger at you. Yoongi's left arm which was attached to you, pushed you slightly, and you read the cue to step back. The blank faces in front of you. Nothing behind the eyes, just sheer boredom of the Saturday afternoon. Someone yelled in Japanese from the above balcony, perhaps calling their nineteen-year old jobless son to leave tourists alone. He paid no attention. You felt your heart pumping blood in your chest. There's three of them after all, and this is not a dream anymore. You looked at their arms and shoulders; one, buff, the other kind of in the middle, and the third was totally thin, but still a fighting force. Yoongi said something, a bit louder, and you realized that your husband was crazy. His face was his asset, and it couldn't be broken. Instead of acting timid and saying you don't need trouble, he was stepping up and grilling them. You clutched his hand, poking him with your nails, but he didn't feel it at all.

The fallout was very quick. With that hand, he pushed you away, making you stumble a little, while with the other, he already aimed for the nose. From four steps away, you watched as his hair shone in the bright April sun; Yoongi ducked and punched the buff guy in the throat. The leader's friend stepped up to him from the side, grabbing his shoulder, and he kicked. Bam! It was over. One boy on the ground, the second, swaying in hesitation, the third decided to run. Yoongi turned around, his face relaxing as if he didn't just reenact his nineties movie dream, and grabbed your hand.

"We should get through another station", he panted, a little bit happy. You ran together, hand in hand, and by the end of the street, the fright was leaving your mouth in the form of breathless giggle.

Jungkook just had too much energy. The boy never ran out of it. He could do a two and a half hour concert and then go clubbing because the performance didn't drain him; on the opposite, it energized him. Seeing all these people, bouncing with them, dancing in synch, being in the spotlight - he was a natural. Where Jimin fainted after every fourth show, and Yoongi became unnaturally grumpy after outpouring all his might into it, Jin, retreating into the hotel room to ron in bed, Jungook would beam brighter than the sun. During the training, he was the one who would do twice as much as needed, straining his body to the extreme maximum, only to outperform himself every time. His mind wandered in all directions and his body moved, like he was a shark. He had love for everyone. He loved his members to death, and yet he loved to babble away, sometimes not listening to himself and what he's saying. He loved the crowds, his fans, and people around, and yet basked in their reciprocated love so self-indulgingly sometimes that it seemed like he thought he was the only one in the world. Jungkook loved the love, and he loved women, and it was obvious he needed them, because they were beautiful, and he was handsome, and young, and always needed to release his energy somewhere, or he would burst like a blood bubble. He was the golden maknae, everybody's favorite, and more often than not, he got away with things that weren't allowed for the others.

During the tour, the standard procedure was thus: in the morning, everybody got up almost always hungover and with wrinkled faces, Jin, usually with insane bed hair, and slowly set off for the airport. There, on the apron, you would all wait, the members and the team, while the crew was loading the luggage onto the plane. You all usually preferred to wait outside because the air was fresher, and most of you were afraid of flying.

You'd normally be enveloped around Yoongi as the flights were undertaken at ungodly hours. Wrapped in a hoodie, in the tight circle of his arms (he would actually lean onto you like onto a huge pillow and try to sleep upright for a minute), in the wicked wind, you peeked out and saw Jungkook's girl doing the same as you. She'd look better, dolled up even at seven or six am, with nice hair. They'd murmur to each other or kiss quietly. Almost every other city the girl would be new. You stopped the efforts to memorize the names when you realized Jungkook wasn't serious about it. Of course, there's beauty in consensual, situational one-night stands; he'd pick up a pretty and lively girl at a bar after the show and pull her along for a couple of days, sometimes she'd even fly to another city with the band. That's how he recharged. He was an adult now, and you caught it in the way Namjoon and Jin looked at him. They still couldn't believe he had slipped through their fingers, all the while being proud of their MVP Jungkook. They always let him be, and the others did, too. You had fun hanging out with his girlfriends while on tour as you soon got too anxious attending every show every other night. While they performed in a new city, you'd stay in a hotel and play boardgames, drink, or even wander around the city with the girl. Most of them were actually amazing. Always very beautiful, funny, effortlessly perfect with their appearance, and easy going. Of course, there were no conversations about 'our boys'. Jungkook belonged to everyone, he belonged to no one. And most of the girls understood that.

Parasocial was dangerous. It's a good thing that you, like your batshit husband, could put up a fight.

One of the girls, Laura, or Lara, was more complicated to get along with. Simply speaking, she wasn't interested in anything apart from Jungkook, and wouldn't leave him alone. The middle of the tour, you already forgot where he picked her up, and how long ago. Was it France? No, that one was Marie, and she got off in Rome. Then that was the next one, but she didn't speak Italian. You remembered because you tried to get her to teach you the hand gestures. She frankly paid no attention to you at all which was an okay break. You've been a little under the weather all week, and was happy to spend a quiet day at a hotel while everybody worked their backs off.

You were trying to figure out what time it was after the sharp knock dragged you out of a nap. The movie was still on the TV which showed you hadn't slept much. Swaying a little bit, you hiccuped once and looked into the peephole. Laura. You were under the impression she went to see the tonight's show, but okay. You opened the door and noticed she looked a little worn out, her face puffy from crying. Something dawned on you unpleasantly: they probably had had a fight. And her time was almost up.

"Y/N", she whined, letting herself into your room. There was no contiunation, so you closed the door and tried to assess her condition.

"How are you?"

"I think I love him", she slurred. Drunk. Crying and drinking and not attending the show.

"Why aren't you at the arena? I thought you wanted to see the concert", you offered. Laura shook her head and then ran the fingers of her right hand through the lush curly hair. She sniffed. She was a full mess. You were considering filling her a bath.

"He just doesn't take it seriously. Tell me the truth, Y/N, you think it's not serious? I asked him about what after the tour, and", she was messing up her words, "he just smiled at me and changed the subject, you know how it is..." her mouth formed a painful O and her eyes pierced you. Suddenly, Laura was angry for no reason. Well, there was a reason. Jungkook fucked up and took in a girl who was in love with him. In love panicking, desperate.

"He told me not to think about the future", she whispered. You just stood there, unmoving, not sure what to say. "But the thing is, he is my future. I need him".

"I think..." you faltered, "you should really talk about it with him, and not let him off the hook until he lets you know..."

"I already know!" she yelled. In the silence between, a character yelled from the TV. There it was, the cue to leave. As her eyes grew in size, beautiful green, but a little mad right now, you realized she was breaking down. You wanted to give her a hug, but instead, Laura shook and raised her other hand that you hadn't seen previously. It was conveniently behind her back and you failed to pay attention. There was no chance you could expect her holding a razor.

"I said, he is my future", she pressed. You quickly went from compassionate to annoyed.

"Give me that", you ordered. You were older. And was already used to the convenient Korean tradition of younger people doing what they're told. But she was European, drunk, and didn't give a shit. Your outstretched hand with the palm open was almost closing on the sharp elongated blade. Where did she even get a dangerous razor. On a private jet, you can bring all kind of shit with you nowadays.

"Laura, give me the razor. You're not killing yourself over Jungkook", you felt comical saying that. Laura's eyes went completely round.

"I am Lauren", she hissed, totally offended. "You don't even know my fucking name".

She probably wanted to throw her hands up, like, nobody here thinks anything of me! kind of way. But, several glasses of Jungkook's fine whiskey from the mini bar affecting her, she must have fogotten she's holding a sharp razor in her hand. God know what she was intending to do with that; probably practice threatening suicide so that you could tell her if the peformance was convincing enough. Now the weapon of the naive was slashing your forearm which you put out instinctively in front of your face. Sharp pain downed the yelp inside of you as the rage kicked in. You straightened the arm which was yet to be engulfed in burning ache, and threw a fist towards her face. Lauren produced a gentle 'ah!' and stumbled back, but stayed on her feet. Hissing with the coming sensation, you knew that you had to disarm her before you collapse. Bright narrow stream of your blood was flying as you moved your arm. The hotel room spun due to adrenaline shaking you completely awake. You stepped to Lauren carefully, trying not to give her time to undestand what's happening, and grabbed her hand with the razor.

"Let go!" you yelled. You had to bash her palm onto the wall to make her sturdy fingers uncurl, and, as the weapon fell on the carpet with a thud, you slapped her across the face again. Then, took her by the neck, making her bow and walk. Lauren was bawling. You opened the door, already moaning with pain, and screamed into the corridor:

"Help, please!"

Jungkook's rabbit eyes were staring into the designated spot on the tip of Jin's shoe. He always had this astounded look when he was uncomfortable; a natural manipulative trick which made him look like an adorable owl baby, making you want to protect him. One gaze at this face, his jaws clenched, the rings in his lower lip giving him the doll shine, eyes transfixed, and you already forgave him. You weren't mad anymore, but you were, indeed, in pain. The razor cut the exact spot on your arm which you offered; the amount of skin and fat there covering the bone was laughable, so it cut until it got stuck on that. As the medics were wrapping up the arm, you could actually see your own bone which you didn't think you'd ever get to. The pain was phenomenal: going into the wrist, to the tips of fingers, and up, until the very neck, at first you worried that you were somehow mortally wounded. But no, it was just how it was: deep cut.

Yoongi was livid. Jungkook was terrified, and yet, his pride wouldn't let him budge in front of everyone. You all grouped into logical units. Yoongi stood with his back to the door, making it impossible for the youngest to escape. Behind him, Namjoon and Jin paced and nibbled on their fingers. You were propped against the wall on the side, head low as if you were the one who fucked up. Jimin, the pacifier, was at your side, his silent support making you not feel alone. While you just needed Suga to take off his stage clothes and comfort you, he was busy fuming at Jungkook, seemingly releasing the built-up annoyance with his affairs. Taehyung and Hoseok were judging silently on Jungkook's side; nobody wanted to join, scared that Yoongi will blow up and start screaming.

You could understand about 70% of what they were saying already. Yoongi was scolding Jungkook for being reckless, and interrogating him about the girl. Jungkook was replying that no, he had no idea she'd be so broken up about the casualty of the relationship. Yoongi was being sarcastic, calling Jungkook to admit it was stupid to begin with, to expect that a new girl every fourth night would cause no drama sooner or later. Then he dragged you into this, pointing his finger at you, saying something like,

"And now Y/N is hurt, someone who is actually supposed to stay".

You checked the wedding band on your finger. That was correct. Jimin sighed. He was anxious about the moment when the management barges into here, with penalties, insults and things to say. They all knew they had to sort this out quickly, and then reform and protect Jungkook together, no matter what each of them thinks.

Jin said something quietly, and Yoongi started speaking so quickly that finally you stopped understanding. His finger pointing accusingly at Jungkook who seemed to grow, hurt by the resentment his ever protecting hyung was now directing. He chewed on his rings, eyes targeting Yoongi, his brow lowering. Soon, it was an exchange. Don't you think you are being a little too dramatic about this? Is there anything deeper that you want to tell me?

Yes, I wanna tell you that your fuckery now led to my wife being slashed to the bone by your psychotic one night stand, you're behaving like a baby, you're losing your caution and act with no regard for people around you, and so on, and on, like an old man scolding a youngster at a fish market for shoplifting. You were breathing heavily because it was hard; you craved a painkiller of some sort, and only Jimin noticed. But he was quiet, frightened of getting in the middle of it. Taehyung rolled his eyes and covered his face with his hands. Hoseok seemed struck on the head, his eyes resting on the carpet. Everybody was hesitant to look at you, as if you could shout at them, as if it was their collective fault. The blood on the carpet was washed out by the time they returned after the show, and even the medics left; Lauren was locked up in Jungkook's room with the hotel staff, and this overdue outburst was tiring.

But of course there was something warm about Yoongi not being able to shut up about this. He's never seen you wounded like this and was probably in shock. Thought of what could've happened if you failed to outpower her. Pictured coming to the hotel to find your body with throat slashed. All due to this unhappy coincidence, because of Jungkook's carelessness. He was wiser and more paranoid naturally, he knew how small things led to big tragedies. He was the one stopping at the intersection for a fraction of a second only to then be chewed by the wheels of a car. He was scared.

What if she stayed in the room and waited for you? With the razor? What if she killed you while you slept? What if she killed herself in your room?

Namjoon winced painfully, trying to stop him from spinning this further and further. He tried to intervene by saying:

"It's generally not a good idea to date so many girls all the time".

You noted how rough he formulated this, trying not to sound too judgemental, but to express the firm desire to ban groupies.

"Not my fault Yoongi managed to only pull one", Jungkook spat, still looking like he was about to faint, like he was surrounded by wolves, and not by friends. Your brows flew up, as Jimin facepalmed, while Yoongi would've jumped him across the room. Would have, but the older ones caught him by the shoulders, visibly having been prepared for something like that.

"Aahh", Hobi added, sounding like he was being tortured.

The room was jumping in your vision field as pain quickly drained you of energy. You managed to see Taehyung push Jungkook in the shoulder, distraught.

"Don't listen to him", Jimin mumbled, "sometimes he says things just to say something".

"I am also married, so what are you gonna say to me?" Taehyung demanded. You loudly moaned with pain in order to pull the teeth from this fight. It worked. Yoongi deflated immediately, his eyes snapping to you, and before you knew it, you were in his arms. His breathing was in his chest, still agitated, and he led you out of the quietened room. You managed to steal one last look at Jungkook who looked like the sweet baby he was; you couldn't fight the maternal instinct this twenty-nine year old guy awoke in you. He was seemingly about to cry.

"It's been three hours, right?" Yoongi was preoccupied. His lips were pressed together firmly even when he was speaking. His face was very pale, and you, dizzy with pain, almost drunk-like, touched it to see if he still had makeup on. This gesture, taken by Yoongi as a distress sign, made him look at you intently. And you knew you loved his eyes and everything about him; when he was fussy and angry like this, as well. Simply because he was never angry with you. It was abnormal; he tended to always put you on a special place and act like a rabid dog if someone crossed you, even if it was in his imagination. You could never make him angry, and you tried. But he was too collected for that, only allowing himself to crumble on the moments like this. He had a good outlet for emotions in the shape of music. That was his sewage drain.

"You okay? We need to change the band, right? The doctors told me to change this every three hours".

You winced, expecting immense pain again. The wound just barely seized torturing you just now, when you held your forearm bent, and you had to bother it again.

"Why don't you take a painkiller?" he murmured. You nodded, unable to speak. He left the bathroom for less than a minute and returned with a pill and a glass of water. While you drank, he studied your face.

"Okay?" for the eighth time in ten minutes. You nodded yes and put your head on his shoulder to feel his warmth and feel his breathing. He was probably very tired, he is always sleepy after the shows. The tips of his hair tickled your face, and it smelt wonderful. Like hairspray and perfume. You realized you weren't really shaken by the altercation. It ended relatively well, you weren't scared. Rather,

"I am a bit heartbroken for her".

Yoongi chuckled ironically.

"I would've probably broken her fucking arm if I was there", he replied grumpily. "I know I would've regretted it, but still".

"I mean, I understand a little", you continued, as if not hearing him, "she is very in love with Jungkook and I wish he hadn't hurt her like that".

"You are too kind to some people".

Perhaps by 'some people' he also meant his youngest, for tonight.

He said nothing else and got to the procedure, whispering to you when you whimpered with pain. Yoongi hissed when he looked a the open wound; stitching it was impossible as skin was so tightly wrapped around this spot that it simply tore and pulled away after the cut. He had to wrap it up tightly, to make skin connect again, which meant he had to make you scream. Painkiller wouldn't help here. You rested on his chest after, panting and greatful, as his hands held your head. His big palm on the back of your head, and the violent beast of pain, still playing your bones like a guitar, had to retreat a little. The relief of being with him every day was powerful.

Someone knocked on the door. You smiled madly at the thought of round two, now, with an axe. Yoongi sighed and looked at you, asking silently if he should get the door.

"You aren't going to faint, are you?" he asked, bewildered.

"No, it just hurts".

He pressed a kiss on your forehead and went, dragging his feet, one hand in his long hair. It was too late by the time you realized that, if it's Jungkook, he might get punched as soon as the door opens. You pushed yourself off the bathtub edge and walked behind him to see. He stood, his head in the slit between the door and the frame, low voice saying something.

Then, a dispassionate, evaluating look at you, the look of a bodyguard. Do you wanna see him? Sometimes you could read his mind. Then Yoongi finally gave in and moved slowly away from the door and stood by the bed, observing. Jungkook appeared, the old version, sincere regret in his eyes, angel face concerned. Even his frame looked younger again.

"Y/N, I am so sorry", he started immediately, "I never meant for you to get hurt, I never thought it would happen. If I had known she'd do anything like that, I... I never, never wanted you to be hurt..."

He was apologizing feverishly, like a child, like he thought he only had thirty seconds before the door shuts on him, and it made your eyes water. You blinked the unwanted tears of tenderness. Yoongi was darker than night, his hands crossed on his chest. He wouldn't let it go that easily, and it scared you. It was Jungkook, his boy. The boy he protected all these years, that he watched grow, that he taught to cook. The boy he comforted when he got homesick and missed his mum, when he fell sick on tour and wasn't allowed even one day off, so he had to train with fever, and faint; the boy who Yoongi used to rage for like he raged tonight. Something changed. Yoongi was prone to tough love. The child wasn't a child anymore, and they all had to get used to it.

"It's okay", you whispered, moving quickly to Jungkook, and wrapping your good arm around his bent neck.

"It's alright, it's not your fault", you said quietly so that Yoongi wouldn't hear, but he did.

"It is", your husband barked from behind you. Jingkook sighed with an animalistic tremble, like a dog shaking off water. You knew he was looking at his hyung.

"I'm sorry", he repeated, and you tried to console him by stroking his head. The soft uncombed hair tickled your palm,

"I know you are also shaken".

"I am mortified. Are you in a lot of pain? How bad is it, really? Will you be okay?"

"Of course. It's just a big cut".

"I could see her bone", Yoongi intervened again, and you had to turn around to give him a look. He didn't budge.

"I'm sorry", Jungkook buried his face in your shoulder, "I didn't mean any of it", he said, his voice muffled.

A little more patting on the back and convincing him he was okay, and you were okay, and everything was okay, and he retreated, completely devastated. As soon as the door closed behind him, you turned to Yoongi again.

"I hate to see him sad".

He wanted to say something, but just rolled his eyes instead.

The cut left an elongated half-moon scar and became a reminder of three things:

you can throw a punch;

always protect your face;

Yoongi loved you the same way he loved his skin and bone.

#yoongi imagine #yoongi x reader #suga x reader #bts x reader #bts imagine #jungkook #husband yoongi

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