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btsgotjams27 · 2 years

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Hey, congrats on your milestone!!! If your requests are still open I’d love to ask for one 👀 Can I have Yoongi E2L with the suggestion of: "I'm not the villain. I'm not the villain."

yoongi is a grumpy old man who doesn’t want your help.

✨ title: simple, starving to be safe ✨ pairing: wood workshop owner!yoongi x f!reader ✨ genre: enemies to lovers, angst | ✨ rating: m/18+ | ✨ word count: 1.9k ✨ warnings: language, alcoholism, yoongi calls reader sweetheart, yoongi is a mean drunk, yoongi’s veiny hands/arms, kind of bratty reader(?) but deep down she cares for him, kissing, light breast play✨ prompt: i’m not the villain. i'm not the villain. ✨ a/n: rachel! thank you so much for requesting this. it was so much fun to write. i hope i was able to do e2l alright T_T i apologize, i'm not the best at this trope but i hope you like it!

It wasn't hard to miss the highlighter neon yellow sign amongst the sea of white. You usually walk past the handwritten ads outside your local grocery store, but what was written on there caught your attention.

The first line in bold lettering:

Hot guy needs your help.

The second and third lines:

Looking for a social media coordinator and content creator for a small business.

Call Kim Taehyung for more details. Will generously compensate.

"Fucking Kim Taehyung. I'm gonna kill him," Yoongi mumbled. He guessed Taehyung was the one who posted something about needing help with the shop.

Like other small businesses during the pandemic, MYG Studios took a hit. It was thriving with clients and customers, but Yoongi's studio struggled to stay open once companies closed. His savings account was depleting by the day, and there were plenty of days when he thought of letting his shop go, but he couldn’t; it was his baby.

"Um…what?"

"Don't need you, sweetheart. You can go," he waved you off before taking a swig of his bottle of whiskey. Since business was slow, he took up a new hobby while working - drinking.

Sweetheart? Ew. The two of you were practically the same age, and it bugged you when men freely called you pet names.

"Err…you probably shouldn't be drinking while operating heavy machinery," you pointed out, worried that he would become a liability.

You had already inquired with Taehyung about the job and happily accepted the position. You were a micro content creator on TikTok, and your audience was steadily growing, so you knew the ins and outs of what kind of content your followers wanted.

"Why are you still here, sweetheart? I'm sure you have better places to be," Yoongi grumbled.

You didn't have anywhere better to be. The beauty of being a content creator; you are free to set your schedule. "I'm right where I'm supposed to be. Yoongi, right? Look…give me two weeks, and if you don't see an increase in business, then I'll leave you alone."

His eyes flitted to yours, beginning to rake you in from head to toe and back up again. Yoongi snickered, shaking his head. Standing up from behind the machine, he walked towards you, leaning against a table, arms crossed. "How old are you?"

You silently scoffed, not understanding what your age had to do with anything. "Twenty-nine." You could see Yoongi perking up at your answer, like an oh…"Why? How old did you think I was?"

You were older than Yoongi thought you were. By the looks of what you were wearing, he would have guessed the mid-20s. He grumbled something indistinct under his breath. The only thing you could make out was Taehyung's name.

"So…can we start now?"

Even though Yoongi dismissed you several times since your first meeting, you were unrelenting, showing up every day at his studio.

“You’re cramping my style and my business, sweetheart. How many times do I have to tell you to leave?” Yoongi grumbled, taking another sip of his usual glass filled with whiskey. You told him to stop drinking during business hours, but he never listened. He didn’t care what you thought of him; he wondered why you were still around. But you told him to give you two weeks; if he didn’t see any results, you’d be out of his grumpy old hair in no time.

“Business? What business? I don’t see any customers.” You asked, looking around his studio. Everything was pristine because there hadn’t been any customers for weeks. “But after I post this video, I’m sure people will come running.”

You opened TikTok, going to the MYG Studio profile. You compiled a video edit of Yoongi cutting wood, sanding down the board, and staining it. You needed to add music before it was ready to go.

Yoongi didn’t even acknowledge you anymore; he could barely tolerate you if he were honest, a thorn in his side that he couldn’t reach to pull out. And your excitement and perkiness only fueled his hatred and annoyance towards you.

Taehyung, Yoongi’s friend, knocked on his studio door. “How’s everything going? Getting any business?”

“Get her outta here, Tae, before I throw her out.”

“Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning,” Taehyung teased, walking over to you.

“When does he not wake up on the wrong side of the bed?” You suggested, with arms crossed, leaning against the wall. It had only been a few minutes since you uploaded Yoongi’s video, but your phone notifications were buzzing noisily by the second.

Flipping your phone over, you had over twenty notifications, and it wasn’t under your TikTok profile; it was under MYG Studios. As you opened the app, there were over a hundred likes for Yoongi’s video edit and at least thirty to forty comments.

“Who is this guy? His hands–the things I’d want him to do to me.”

“Pls sir. Choke me with those hands.”

“Where is this? I need go here and have this guy help me make something.”

“Can you imagine those fingers pumping in and out of my—nvm.”

You couldn’t help but snicker at the comments underneath the video. Now you know precisely what kind of content to record for Yoongi’s TikToks. You handed your phone to Taehyung to show him the thirst over Yoongi’s hands.

Taehyung audibly gasped, covering his mouth. “Hyung—all these people want you to finger them.” The two of you laughed. “Who would’ve known that all it took was hand porn to save your business? Damn–I wonder if these hands will make me money?” Taehyung joked while twirling his hand and fingers.

Yoongi scowled at the two of you. “What the hell are you talking about?” He asked, continuing to sip on his last few drops of whiskey.

You never showed Yoongi the final video before posting it, so you walked to him, handing over your phone. The footage mostly showed cuts of Yoongi working in the studio and focusing on his hands, which were now your most prized possession.

“Take this shit off of the internet, sweetheart. No one wants to see that.”

Snatching your phone from him, you spat out, “No, and make me grumpy.” You found your niche for Yoongi and were excited to make more content.

A month had passed, and you were right; you found your niche with MYG Studios, and the outpour of love and support for Yoongi’s business was insane. It was crazy how one simple video goes viral, and everyone wants a piece of whatever it is; that’s the beauty of social media.

Business was booming for Yoongi, and there were times when you thought he was going soft on you, that maybe he stopped hating your guts for helping his business thrive. But as much as you wanted Yoongi to change, some things never did.

You looked over on a Friday afternoon and saw Yoongi passed out on his work desk, softly snoring in his white tee and the navy apron he was always found in. Shaking your head at him, you continued sweeping away at the mess on the ground.

You set your phone on the work table next to you, waiting for an important call from a buyer who found Yoongi’s video through TikTok. Not realizing how messy his studio was, you kept sweeping until you reached the back room. Unbeknownst to you, your phone started buzzing, an incoming call from an unknown number.

“Yah–” Yoongi softly croaked, clearing his throat. “Yah–” he tried again to get your attention. He poked his head up, wondering where you disappeared to.

Walking back with the broom in hand and confusion on your face, you made a face at Yoongi. “What? Grumpy?”

“Turn off your fucking phone, sweetheart. I’m trying to nap.”

Today was the first day where he had some time off from clients and making new products for vendors. You rolled your eyes at him and walked to grab your phone, setting down the broom to answer the call that was annoying him. “Hello? Yes, this is she,” as the call continued, you couldn’t contain your excitement; it was the buyer on the other end.

When you hung up the call and muffled a scream, jumping up and down in place, Yoongi scowled at you as the grumpy gramps he was. “Yoongi, you have a very important buyer coming to your studio in an hour! I need you to buckle up, put on your big boy pants, and put away your grumpy attitude.”

Yoongi stood up, slamming his hands on the table, making your eyes flutter shut for a moment. “Jeez, sweetheart. You’re such a pain in my ass. I don’t wanna meet them. I don’t care if I go viral on TikTok or make money or become successful,” Yoongi huffed. “Don’t give a shit if I die in this hellhole.”

He didn’t scare you, and he could never scare you. As much as he was annoyed with you or was mean to you, there was an inkling feeling that he did all these things so he wouldn’t become close to others, and a part of you was determined to break down that wall.

You took a stride towards him; this was the closest you’d been near him. And like you expected, he smelled earthy, warm, and reassuring. “Yoongs,” slightly shaking your head, you said, “I’m not the villain here.” You sighed, feeling defeated, "I'm not the villain. I just…I don’t know—I’m invested. I can’t turn my back on you now."

And you were serious about it. You weren’t going to abandon him; it wasn’t about success or fame. You didn’t care about that; you cared about him.

Your eyes darted to his, then down to his apron, noticing a small piece of a wood chip stuck to it; your hand automatically reached to pull it, but Yoongi held your wrist. "Why do you care so much?" He looked into your eyes, hoping to find an answer. He didn't understand why you'd go out of your way to help him.

You shrugged, gently pulling your wrist from his grasp. “What? I can’t care about you?”

“Trust me, sweetheart. You don’t want to. I’m a fucking mess,” Yoongi muttered, reaching for the bottle of whiskey, but you stopped him. Peering at you, he almost wanted to start an argument, but he resisted this time.

You slotted yourself between his legs, your index finger lifting his chin to make him look at you. Yoongi’s eyes were easy to read, and you could see their sadness and hurt. "There are other ways to ease the pain, you know..."

Yoongi gripped your wrist once again. “Yeah? Like what?” He tilted his head, sporting a grin. He knew what you were alluding to, but he wanted you to say it.

You scoffed at his cockiness. Fine, you thought. "Me."

You leaned in, cupping his face, lips crashing into his. It's as if he was trying to resist what he wanted, but he finally gave in. His whiskey breath was hot against yours as he opened his mouth, moaning at the simplest touch of your tongue. His kiss was carnal, animalistic and full of lust. His veiny hands gripped your waist, pulling you in closer against his growing erection.

You annoyed the fuck out of him, but he thought you were so fucking hot when you pushed his buttons. He hated and secretly loved it. His hands slid underneath your sweater, pushing it further to reveal your lace bra.

"Shit–baby." He tugged you closer, burying his face in your breasts, kissing the soft flesh, gently biting your nipple. Through a shaky breath, Yoongi muttered, "This is just sex, and that's it."

"Good—I wouldn't want anything else from you."

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