#i know some ppl think ot7 fics are cringe but i have a mighty need

[baepsaets]

eight’s a crowd ~ bts

pairing: ot7 x reader

rating: sfw

word count: 5.1k

summary: you’re a bighit staff member in charge of stage set-up when you find yourself inexplicably drawn to the very seven men you’re setting stage for. soulmate au!

part 01 02 03 04 05

“(Y/N),” your manager called. “Did you—?”

“Unpack the lighting equipment?” you finished. “It’s over there.”

“What about the—?”

“Surround sound? It’s already in the pit.”

“And the—?”

“Camera stand? I’ve already got it set up, sir,” you said, laughing at his relieved expression. It wasn’t that people in your department didn’t do their job—just that they hardly ever did it on time.

Your manager scribbled on his clipboard before looking up you. “I don’t know what we would do without you, (Y/N).”

“Probably replace me and suffer,” you shrugged.

He shot you an amused look before walking away to check with the rest of the set-up crew, to confirm that the venue was ready for the upcoming concert. He called over his shoulder, “Could you help Wonpil in the pit for a second?”

“Yeah, let me use the bathroom first.”

It took you a second to find the bathroom, just because the venue was big, and everything was in a different language. Luckily the symbol for the bathroom seemed to be universal, and because the venue wasn’t crowded yet, the bathroom was empty.

Other than the venue not being crowded, there also weren’t many women there in the first place. You were the only woman in a set-up crew composed mainly of middle-aged men, not that you minded. Most of the men handled the stage while you handled lighting, sound system, or camera set-up. Many of the men liked you because you’d proven yourself to be hardworking, with most of them even looking to you as a leader figure whenever a manager wasn’t available.

Once you were finished with your business, you moved to the sink. You scrubbed the black oil and dirt from your skin, too rushed to properly clean your nailbed. It wasn’t pretty, but it wasn’t your job to look pretty. Raising your head, you took a moment to examine your face in the mirror—light sheen of sweat, dirt smudged across your forehead, hair pulled away from your face in a tight ponytail. You grimaced at your less-than-glamorous reflection and dried your hands, hurriedly wiping your face before exiting the bathroom.

Being in the set-up crew was nice because you got to operate before the people showed up, before the craziness started. It may not have been the best paying job, or the easiest, but you loved it anyway, because it gave you the one thing you’d always longed for—freedom.

Growing up in your household, you’d felt stifled. You knew the life your family wanted for you, but didn’t have any idea about who you were or what you wanted for yourself. The only thing you had was an ever-growing hole in your chest that called for action, travel, and experience.

Instead of enrolling in college, you’d taken your high school diploma straight to an employment agency and considered your best option. Being a part of an event set-up crew didn’t sound appealing to many, but that wasn’t what you’d been focused on while filling out the job application—where most people saw a dead-end and laborious job, you saw an opportunity.

Being in the set-up crew for a group that performed internationally allowed you to travel more than any other option you’d researched before applying. Although the time you spent in each country was limited, just seeing the scenery pass by through the van window was enough to make your heart flutter. You documented every place you went, kept track of the ones you liked the most, and got paid for it. All while planning which places you’d like to revisit in the future, on your own time.

It had been over a year, but your family still didn’t speak to you much. You didn’t mind, too preoccupied to give it much focus. You were out creating your own life from the ground up, and you’d be damned before letting them ruin it. You were antsy as a person, and dreamy at heart—you wanted to fly. You wanted to see and experience the world.

It had been an act of fate that you were somehow assigned to Bangtan’s set-up crew.

You’d heard of BTS. You’d liked their music because they spoke to you—the confused generation, the disjointed generation, the generation the world was trying to leave behind. You’d admired them for their tenacity and talent, but it hadn’t been your plan to work for them. Signing up through an organization that assigned people to companies, it wasn’t until your second background check that you realized they must be sending you somewhere serious. It wasn’t until you were fingerprinted that you realized you should be nervous, and by the time you got BigHit’s job offer, you were thunderstruck.

Of course, you’d accepted immediately, and it felt worth it. You felt like whatever God or Greater Being there was in the world had finally listened to you, curled up in your bed in the middle of the night, dreaming of something bigger. Something big enough to encompass you. When you’d applied to be a set-up crewmember, you had expected to piddle around your home country for years before being allowed to venture the world. You had been prepared to be patient. But this? It felt like a reward for a race you hadn’t run, or maybe a reward for a race you hadn’t realized you were running until you’d won.

Since working for BigHit, you hadn’t seen Bangtan, and probably never would—but you’d known that when you’d taken the job. You weren’t production crew, couldn’t film, weren’t a manager, and could barely do your own make-up on a good day. You had no real reason to ever be around them, not like the rest of the staff. BigHit was a wonderful company to work for and was much more tightknit that any other entertainment company you’d researched, but with Bangtan’s growing success, it had only gotten bigger and bigger. As set-up crew, you were at the bottom of the totem pole. You were lucky to even catch a glimpse of them on stage.

Because it was during the performance that set-up crew left. BigHit liked to move in waves; set-up crew moved first, in order to get a jump on preparing the venue. Then Bangtan would move, after their performance, giving them optimal time to rest. Then break-down crew would stay late deconstructing the set, delivering the equipment to the set-up crew at the next venue, where the process would start all over again.

It was harsh and viscous, never getting to rest, fighting to stay on your feet. You had a newfound respect for Bangtan for being able to do it, especially while being in the public eye. The only eyes you had to worry about were the eyes of your supervisor, and even then, sometimes you could barely handle it.

You entered the pit and found Wonpil tangled from head to toe in wiring. He looked as though he’d been trying to plug in the sound system, but had somehow gotten lost on the way. When he heard you approach, he ducked his head sheepishly. “Oh hey, (Y/N).”

Holding in a grin, you said, “I’m assuming you’re behind.”

He had enough decency to grimace. “What gave it away?”

“You look like a tangled pair of headphones,” you told him. “Or someone with a very specific fetish in a porno.”

Wonpil made an insulted sound in the back of his throat before tripping, landing in an even worse tangled lump at your feet. “Ow, ow!” He looked up at you, pathetically. “Help me?”

Bending down, you started to pick gently at the wiring covering him. “You’re lucky you’re my favorite. Don’t tell Jae I said that.”

“Don’t tell Jae you said what?” Jae called, from across the stage, and you cursed because you hadn’t realized he was that close.

“That you look better in wire-framed glasses,” you replied, immediately. “Thick-rimmed glasses make your eyes look smaller.”

Jae gasped in offense, pushing his thick-rimmed glasses further up his nose. “How dare you.”

“How dare I?” you asked, gesturing to the mess at your feet. “You’re the one that let Wonpil turn himself into an electrical mummy!”

“I let him run wild,” Jae replied, flicking his wrist in dismissal. “Talk to Sungjin if you want discipline.”

You pointed a warning finger at him. “I’ll show you discipline if you don’t get the lighting set up in the next hour.”

Jae held up his hands in mock surrender. “Whatever you say.”

It took twenty minutes and five people to get Wonpil untangled. By the time that was finished, you had to work twice as fast to get the sounding finished it time. Your job wasn’t always glamorous, or relaxing, but you could say this—it was always entertaining.

People were starting to line up outside by the time you were finished, and you hurried to avoid them. Masses of people made you nervous. You busied yourself with helping the rest of your crew until show time. You were already packed, your bag in the travel van, and were just looking to preoccupy yourself until it was time to leave.

Your crewmember Brian found you waiting idle and decided to approach you. “Hey, a few of us are gonna try to catch the beginning of the show on the balcony, you in?”

He gestured up to a balcony that was too far back to provide a good view of the show, but you weren’t interested in the view. You just wanted to hear the music.

“Yeah, that’s cool,” you replied, and he smiled. You had to admit Brian was handsome, but you weren’t interested. Working in such a tumultuous environment didn’t make for good dating, and even though a few of your fellow set-up crewmembers were good-looking, nothing had prompted you to indulge. Maybe getting a chance to see BTS in their glory was ruining your appetite for normal men.

On the balcony you found Wonpil with Jae, along with Sungjin. Brian joined a little bit later, right before the concert was about to start. The later it got the more you looked around, wondering about the absence of one crewmember in particular.

“Where’s Dowoon?” you asked. The six of you were the youngest overall, but Dowoon held a special place in your heart.

Sungjin snorted. “Still packing.”

The five of you joked around and laughed until the crowd started to writhe, signaling their growing impatience for the concert to start. The lighting lowered, and you couldn’t help but tap your leg in anticipation as the crowd went wild. Jae noticed your excitement and laughed at you.

“You’re not secretly a fangirl, are you?” he teased, and you punched him in the shoulder.

“Be careful,” you warned. “You’re built like a noodle and I could take you in a fight.”

He smacked your thigh playfully. “You’re mean.”

Wonpil shushed the both of you by smacking the railing. You fell quiet and let the concert take you away, screaming and clapping as BTS stepped out on the stage.

You wished you could get closer, but you noticed how Sungjin kept checking his watch—you didn’t have the time. Bangtan went into their first song and you and Jae danced to it, terribly. Watching them perform, even from a distance, was invigorating.

Sungjin was the first to leave, taking Brian with him. You, Jae, and Wonpil lingered but then even they retired to get a good seat in the van. You loitered just a bit longer, perched on the balcony, unseen by the audience, taking in the show. You couldn’t help but think about how talented they were, how hardworking. Sometimes, whenever you watched them like this, you felt like you knew them. Not like how a fan knew an idol, but how a soul could recognize a similar soul—something thudding, reverent in your bones.

You couldn’t pick a bias. Picking a bias felt like asking a mother to choose between her children. Watching them together on stage, you couldn’t help but swallow a kernel of something dangerously close to desire, but for which member, you could never decipher. They looked right, standing in a line, the seven of them. Like seven puzzle pieces snapped together, forming a handsome picture.

“We’re about to leave, (Y/N),” Sungjin called from the bottom of the staircase. “Do you have everything?”

“I’m already packed,” you informed him. After a heavy moment you turned away from the stage, although it hurt you. You wished, for a split second, just to be their fan, and to watch them without being weighed down with responsibility.

“Cool, we’re pulling out in fifteen. Have you seen Dowoon? He forgot his headset.”

“I have mine, want me to go look for him?”

“Please, if you can,” he grimaced. “Manager told me that if we pull out late one more time, he’s making us do break-down next concert.”

Your lip curled in horror. None of you had the time to do break-down, and break-down sucked because everything was dirty and needed to be cleaned. “I’ll be back soon.”

Putting on your headset, you maneuvered backstage. You had to flash your pass to several security personnel for protocol, despite them already knowing you. By the time you made it backstage, you were jumpy and nervous to find Dowoon.

The music was deafening loud, and so was the crowd. The crowd made you the most nervous, and you hoped he hadn’t been accidentally sucked in and torn to pieces by the obsessive fingers of a thousand fangirls.

“(Y/N)! (Y/N)!” you heard, turning to see Dowoon running up behind you. You grinned in relief, but he looked anything but relieved when he stopped in front of you, panting.

“What’s wrong?” you asked.

“I didn’t—,” he tried to say, before gulping. “I didn’t get the extra camera stand, in the back. I was running late and Sungjin was yelling at me and I forgot my headset and I just, forgot it. I’m so sorry. And I still haven’t packed yet and we’re about to pull out, if I don’t get the stand then—,”

“Do you want me to grab it?” you asked. “It wouldn’t be a problem.”

Dowoon looked ready to bow at your feet. “Thank you so much! It’s in the store closet, by the make-up room. I owe you after this.”

“Buy my dinner and we’ll be even,” you laughed. “Now, go! Unless you want to pick gum out of the safety gates for the next week.”

He didn’t even reply as he ran away, assumingly to pack. You shook your head fondly and turned, intending to follow his path. It wasn’t until you were halfway there you realized that you were going to walk right by the stage. Like, right next to it, where BTS was performing mere feet away. While walking you turned your head, disappointed to realize that the side of the stage was covered by a curtain. Production crew went in and out of it regularly, indicating that they had their own little station set up right by the edge of the stage.

Curiosity bubbled in your chest, and you paused. One peek, you told yourself. One peek isn’t going to hurt. You knew the production manager wouldn’t mind, if you just stuck your head through. Just to catch the smallest glimpse. You’d been touring with them for over a year now. Certainly you deserved it.

You’d never been backstage during a concert before. You’d probably never be backstage during a concert again, and who were you if not a woman willing to take a risk? It was how you’d gotten the job in the first place.

Any concern about time faded as you creeped closer. The tiniest peek. The littlest look. That would be it. Sungjin would never even miss you.

Finding the edge of the curtain, you peeled it back and instantly stood transfixed. You could see Jimin on stage, performing his solo. He was otherworldly. Everything from the grace of his body to the tone of his voice conveyed perfection, and to see it up-close felt like it was worth the risk. You’d do break-down a hundred times just for an opportunity to stay and watch Jimin move like that.

But it wasn’t just you that would be punished if you were late. With the fate of the whole set-up crew on your shoulders, you needed to move, and you needed to do it quickly. Hopefully the camera stand would be exactly where Dowoon said it was, and you could be out of there in less than a minute. Your tiniest peek was over, and now it was back to business.

Turning away from the stage, fate had a different plan for you. You ran face-first into somebody’s hard chest, knocking your forehead against their chin. The impact was hard enough to knock your headset off, and you tried to grab it before it fell.

“Oh, shit,” you cursed, dropping your headset. Your forehead hurt and you rubbed it, trying to sooth the ache. You looked up prepared to apologize but were shocked to find yourself face-to-face with Jeon Jeongguk. “Oh, shit.”

Gasping, you clasped your hand over your mouth. The only thing you could do was stare. He was ridiculously handsome in person, in his stage make-up, and his stage outfit, looking like every wet dream you’d ever had. It was one thing seeing him look superhuman in photos, or on stage—but seeing him in front of you, looking like that? It wasn’t fair.

Jeongguk had reached out to steady you, and his hand was resting on your bare arm. It was burning hot, but you chalked it up to him being overheated from the performance as he stared, stared, stared at you, too long not to be awkward. Dumbstruck and starstruck and struggling to breath, you stepped away and dropped into a low bow.

“I’m so, so sorry,” you apologized. “I wasn’t paying attention and I’m sorry.”

Without looking at him, you gathered your headset. You could feel his gaze burning a hole into the back of your neck until you rose. You expected him to say something, but he just kept staring, seeming just as thunderstruck as you were. Wrapping the headset around your arm, you touched the side of your face self-consciously, wondering if you looked as bad as you thought you did. You weren’t wearing make-up and your face was no doubt smudged with dirt and shining with sweat.

When the silence became unbearable, you bowed briefly again and said, “If you’ll excuse me, I’m in a hurry. I’m sorry!”

Turning to leave, you rounded the corner and mentally kicked yourself. It wasn’t enough, seeing them on stage briefly once a week. It wasn’t enough, catching glimpses of them every day as they were bustled back and forth from stage to stage. You just had to try to see them up-close, and look where it had gotten you—embarrassed in front of one of the very men you were trying desperately to see.

“Wait,” he said, breaking out of his daze. “Wait!”

“I’m sorry,” you kept apologizing, over your shoulder. “But I need to go—,”

Jeongguk followed you around the corner, grabbing your elbow. It sent a bolt of heat through you and you skidded to a halt. He pressed that to his advantage, spinning you around before stepping away, jittery like he was afraid to touch you.

“What’s your name?” he asked. “Are you a fan?”

You were mildly offended, but not surprised. “I’m an employee and I’m late.”

You moved to turn, but he just circled you, dipping his head to maintain eye contact. “What’s your name?”

“(Y/N),” you told him, caught up in the way the fluorescent lighting turned his eyes into galaxies. The second you told him your name, you wanted to take it back. What if he thought you were a sasaeng and reported you to your manager? Before you could explain yourself, Jeongguk repeated your name like it was a prayer, making you blush.

“Are you new? I haven’t seen you before.”

Despite knowing you were running out of time, you were compelled to tell him. Before you could open your mouth, an exasperated groan interrupted you. A manager rounded the corner and visibly sagged in relief. “Jeongguk-ah, we’ve been looking everywhere for you!”

“Get back on stage,” you told him. “You’re late and I still haven’t gotten the damn camera stand, we’re leaving in ten minutes—,”

“Jeongguk-ah, come on!”

“Give me a second,” Jeongguk snapped at his manager, but you took the opportunity to skirt around him until you were fast-walking away, almost in a run. “Wait! (Y/N)!”

You turned and saw that the manager had Jeongguk by the back of his t-shirt, looking like that was the only thing keeping him from chasing you down the hallway. You heard Jeongguk curse to himself before you turned, leaving the two of them in the dust.

~~~

You sat down in your seat with one minute to spare, under the shrewd eye of the manager. You shot him a quick grin and tried to hide your heavy breathing. You had the camera stand with you, balanced awkwardly between you and your seat. Shooting a quick look over your shoulder, you caught Dowoon’s sheepish gaze and Sungjin’s sharp one, considering you had almost gotten them break-down duty. After a quick roll call, the van was in motion and the set-up crew was on their way to the next venue before Bangtan was even finished with their concert.

With most of the people you chatted with too far away to talk, you decided to doze during the drive. It was only a couple hours long, nothing too tedious. You were lucky their next concert was within driving distance, because nothing was worse than having to put up with airport traffic. Despite trying your hardest to sleep, your mind was preoccupied with thoughts of Jeongguk.

Your face colored just remembering the encounter. You shouldn’t have peeked—it may have been a public concert, but you were far from a regular fan and the curtain was there for a reason. To keep the prying eyes of other employees away. And then actually speaking to him, dashing down the hallway before he could get a word in edgewise. You buried your face in the crook of your elbow. Despite the embarrassment, seeing him up-close, being able to touch him. . . was a memory that would stay with you until the day you died.

When you reached the hotel sometime in the early hours of the morning, you went to your room and fell asleep immediately. The greatest perk of being the only female set-up crewmember was definitely having your own room, meaning you didn’t have to deal with an interrogation until breakfast.

Huddled on Jae and Wonpil’s bed, breakfast perched on your lap, you withered under Sungjin’s glare as he shoveled food into his mouth.

“Where were you last night?” he asked. “One minute to spare. One minute.”

You grimaced in apology. “I’m sorry, I had trouble finding Dowoon.”

You and Dowoon exchanged a look. You weren’t going to rat on him and admit it was his fault you’d been late, but you could tell he felt guilty. It wasn’t a lie; you had had trouble finding him, just maybe not the trouble Sungjin assumed you’d had.

“I tried talking to you over the headset but you never replied!”

“I dropped it,” you admitted, wincing at his horrified face. “I’m sorry! I made it, didn’t I? When have I ever let you down?”

He grumbled, “There’s a first time for everything.”

You patted him on the shoulder. “Cheer up, will you? It’ll be another hour before BTS is here, and then the real craziness will start.”

It was true that chaos seemed to follow the group everywhere, but the true reason you were nervous about Bangtan’s arrival was because you didn’t want Jeongguk to talk to your manager. Seeking him out to apologize for your behavior would just further convince him that you were a sasaeng desperate for an excuse to see him, but it didn’t sit right with you not to say anything at all. You wanted to apologize for so hastily running away.

You had been thinking obsessively about it—the heat of his hand on your shoulder, the way he’d said your name, the look in his eyes watching you walk away. It felt intimate, like he’d known you. Like he’d recognized you the second he saw you.

“Next time!” Jae said, jerking you from your memory and pointing his spoon at you, threateningly. “Don’t lollygag!”

You stared down your nose at him. “Aye-aye, captain.”

He whacked your knee with the flat of his spoon. “No backtalk, either.”

Instead of replying, you flicked a blueberry at him, which he tried and failed to catch in his mouth. Laughing, you tried again, until a growing pile of blueberries was on the floor and Jae was just as hungry as he’d been when he’d tried catching one in the first place.

After breakfast, you were assigned to case the venue until further equipment arrived. Security had already cased the building, but you were required to go through seating to check for anything suspicious. You were paired with Dowoon to examine the left side, and the two of you went aisle to aisle without speaking.

Finally, Dowoon stopped in front of you, not for a hug, but to rest his chin on top of your head. You patted his arm soothingly, forehead leaning on his chest.

“I’m sorry for getting you in trouble,” Dowoon mumbled, and you shrugged. Pulling away, you smiled at him.

“It’s no big deal,” you replied. “No harm, no foul. You still owe me dinner, though.”

He smiled back, and the two of you continued preparing the venue until the break-down crew arrived, delivering the equipment you’d be unpacking until the concert tomorrow night.

~~~

Namjoon was pacing the length of the travel bus, one hand rubbing his forehead. Jeongguk sat on the couch, surrounded by everyone, but it was Namjoon that was doing the talking. It was while they were on their way to the next venue that Jeongguk had finally told them about meeting you. The bus had exploded into chaos so thick the driver had to pull over, questioning the ruckus in the back.

After assuring her that nothing was wrong, Namjoon had turned back to Jeongguk, seating him on the couch while the rest of Bangtan formed a half-circle around him. If he were being honest, he felt rather interrogated. Even Jin, who’d stepped outside to make a call after hearing what he had to say, was scowling at him in the corner.

“And you didn’t stop her?” Namjoon asked, breath hissing through his teeth.

“She ran away!” he cried. “And Guk-hyung wouldn’t let me go after her, they needed me on stage—,”

“As your leader,” Namjoon interrupted. “You have my explicit permission to miss every concert from now until the end of the year if you miss them chasing after our soulmate.”

Yoongi snorted. “You don’t mean that, quit bluffing.”

Namjoon shot him an annoyed look, partly because he was right. “We could have handled Jeongguk being a minute late.”

“He wouldn’t have been a minute late,” Yoongi replied. “He would have gotten carried away and missed the entire concert, and you know it.”

Jeongguk made a sound of protest, but Jimin said, “It wouldn’t have been fair to ARMY.”

The seven of them looked down at their feet and realized it was true, but were still left unsatisfied with the realization.

“It doesn’t matter what we should or shouldn’t have done,” Namjoon declared. “What are we going to do now?”

“We need to find her,” Hoseok said, immediately. “What her name?”

“(Y/N),” Jeongguk sighed. “She’s gorgeous.”

Taehyung asked, “What does she look like?”

“She has (Y/H/C) and (Y/E/C),” he replied. “But that doesn’t matter. She just had this aura, hyung. I touched her and it was everything I’ve ever wanted.”

“I’m jealous,” Jimin said, steaming. “We need to find her now.”

“I’ve already talked to BangPD,” Jin said. “He said he’s not allowed to release employee information.”

Namjoon turned his head in surprise and asked, “Is that what your call was about?” At the same time, Yoongi groaned, “But it’s us.”

Jin shrugged. “It doesn’t matter. Don’t you remember what he told us, when we first told him about our soulmate situation?”

Yoongi glared but didn’t reply, until Hoseok piped up, “He said he had no problem with it, but when it came to finding her, we were on our own.”

“Exactly,” Namjoon sighed. “We’re on our own.”

“I say we’re lucky,” Taehyung said. “She could have been a fan. She could have been a stranger in a coffee shop. The fact that she’s an employee means that she’s accessible.”

“BigHit has a thousand employees!” Jeongguk cried. “We’ve been debuted for over five years and this is our first time seeing her.”

“She could be new,” Jimin suggested. “Was she young?”

Jungkook nodded. “She was closer to my age.”

“And how many young women do we employee, really?” Jin supplied. “Not many, if you take out the women we know and see daily.”

“Maybe she’s a member of production crew and we just haven’t seen her,” Namjoon offered.

“Maybe she’s in set-up or break-down?” Hoseok guessed.

Yoongi scoffed. “Set-up and break-down don’t have women in their crew, it’s manual labor.”

“Don’t be sexist,” Jimin called.

“It’s not sexist, it’s reality,” Yoongi replied. “I just don’t want to waste my time looking in the wrong place.”

“I’ll check set-up,” Taehyung said. “Jeongguk, take break-down? If we split up and examine the different staff on tour with us, we’ll find her sooner or later.”

Jeongguk whined, “Why do I have to check the place she’s most likely not gonna be?”

“Because you’ve already met her once, brat,” Yoongi told him. “Quit being greedy.”

“I’ll take production,” Namjoon interrupted, before an argument could breakout.

“I’ll check make-up.”

“Wardrobe!”

“Sound and lighting.”

Jin finished, “And I can take PR.”

“We’ll find her,” Namjoon assured them, feeling much more confident now that they had a plan. “And once we do, we’ll never let her go.”