"Where Did He Learn...? Based In @darklephise-art "Ship Dynamics Idea"Full Nsfw Version [HERE]

"Where did he learn...? 🐹🐨💘💌💋 based in @darklephise-art "Ship dynamics idea" Full nsfw version [HERE]

˶￣Ɛ￣˵

boyfriend things // spend the night

namjoon: waking up the next morning wearing your jeans and a sweater, covered by a thin blanket and nothing else. your neck aches from the uncomfortable position you slept in. “quite a bummer, don’t you think?” joon is leaning against the wall, carding fingers through damp hair, freshly showered. “what makes you say that?” “this was the first night you stayed over, and i didn’t get to say any of those cliche one-liners.” he moves across the room. your eyes locked on the suave of his steps. “well this is us we’re talking about. some cliche and cringe are inevitable… what’s your name again?” joon’s dimples appear and he chuckles softly. “very funny” “just giving you what you asked for, darling”

jin: “i’m trying to come up with more excuses to keep you here longer, but i might as well say i want you to stay the night.. if you want to.. if you don’t want to that’s ok too. i’ll kiss you good night, ask you to text me when you’re home, and i’ll stay up later than i should play—” you press your fingertips against his mouth gently. “maybe if you took a second to breathe i could tell you i would love to stay.” you had even packed a pair of sweats in your bag and your retainer with the hope of your boyfriend’s invitation. at this rate you probably would’ve invited yourself if he failed to ask. his ears turn red as you’re brought against his chest in a deep embrace. “you’re pretty cute when you’re flustered”

yoongi: you asked him directly if you could stay over because your bed is not as soft as his and after spending a lazy afternoon with him so close, you couldn’t imagine going home to spend the night alone. “you won’t know i’m missing if you’re asleep.” despite his monotone, he can’t hide the blossoming smile. “and what about you, min? you’re the one who sends me texts at 3am. are you lonely without me?” he reaches out for you, and before you can escape his hand tickling your side, lips meet yours, fingertips running across bare skin, your shirt lifted. “i’ll take that as a yes”

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Behind the Scenes with Jimin | VOGUEMEETS (4/10)

How fucking cute is this! Also, now I want fries.

HELLO YOU JUST WROTE ME AN AMAZING DRABBLE FOR MY ANGST PROMPT BUT I AM GREEDY GUTS AND AM BACK FOR MORE

PLZ DO you're the first person to ever ask AND I just feel stupid, okay? IN SOME KIND OF NAMJOON FLUFFY MUTUAL CRUSH SHIT 😚

(hello again miss rose i am so glad you're back~ this one kind of got away from me but i loved writing it so i hope u love reading it!! ♡)

"you're the first person to ever ask" / "i just feel stupid, okay?"

pairing: namjoon x reader

wc: 4k (what's a drabble never heard of it)

warnings: swearing, alcohol usage, mentions of sexual situations & content (nothing explicit in this fic but minors please dni regardless), side sope bc it's me and rose, i didn't edit this bc i'm lazy, ??? this is just a best friends who are idiots 2 lovers fic idk what else to say.

send me drabble requests!

“This is so weird.”

Namjoon looks over at you, his cheeks bulging like a hamster around a buttered dinner roll. Yoongi hadn’t been thrilled with their existence. He’d stressed the importance of serving authentic Korean food, said his grandparents would throw a fit if not, but that’d thrown the resort into chaos, so Hoseok had to step in, smooth out the wrinkles, tell them the five-star menu looked great, thank you so much—

“What is?”

“That,” you say. At the end of your pointer finger are Yoongi and Hoseok, heads knocked together as they speak in a code only they understand. Hoseok’s laughter rings out, prompting a gummy smile from Yoongi. Beside you, Namjoon sighs—a breathy, lovestruck sort of sound. “I can’t believe they’re married.”

Namjoon mirrors Yoongi’s smile. Looks at his two best friends like they hung the stars in the sky. Like they’re relationship goals, or whatever the kids are saying nowadays. “They’re perfect together.”

A choked sort of sound escapes you, prompting a sharp glare from Namjoon. “Don’t look at me like that,” you scold him, handing over another roll on a tiny, fancy dish.

Taehyung frowns, reaching for it back. “Hey! I was gonna—”

“No, you weren’t.” You slide it closer to Namjoon, not wanting to risk another lecture on your romance-based cynicism. Over the years you’ve heard them all, and the thought of enduring another—especially at Yoongi and Hoseok’s fucking wedding—nearly has you retching in your seat.

Because—okay, you can see where Namjoon’s coming from. Where he’s all flowers on the first date and proper courting methods and you don’t have to let me know you got home safe because I’m going to walk you there myself, you’re more… well, none of that. Dating app hookups, horror stories told over brunch about the guy you’d taken home from the bar who didn’t even bother to go down on you before trying to stick it in, months-long situationships that are more like a flashbang than any kind of real relationship.

Namjoon says you’ll have more luck if you’re more receptive. You say he needs to stop taking dating advice from Disney movies.

You sigh. Yoongi and Hoseok are cute. They spark a little bit of hope in your chest, a little bit of longing, but you swallow it down along with the rest of your drink. Something fruity and disgusting Jimin had handed you, claiming Taehyung didn’t want it because all the sugar would give him a migraine. Something definitely not strong enough if you have any hopes of lasting until the first dance.

“I’m going to the bar,” you announce. “Anyone want anything?”

Jimin and Taehyung immediately pipe up with their orders. Seokjin and Jeongguk don’t pay you any attention at all, too busy ripping off pieces of bread and rolling them into tiny balls, trying to toss them into each other’s mouths from across the table. Namjoon watches them, jaw slack with horror, and immediately announces he’s coming with you.

You immediately forget what you’re supposed to order the kids so you just order two more fruity things and something strong for yourself. Something from the top shelf that’ll burn as it goes down. Namjoon orders something boring your grandfather would drink and looks very pleased as he mixes it around with a little cocktail straw, ice clanking against the glass as it’s twirled around.

It’s at this exact moment that you realize, not for the first time, how attractive he is. How devastating his dimpled cheeks are—all the time, but especially when he smiles. How golden his skin looks under the amber lighting of this fancy hotel ballroom. How his eyes seem to twinkle when he looks at his two best friends so overwhelmed by love and happiness and the pure joy that accompanies a lifelong promise to love someone forever.

And this—this simply will not do, so you order another drink. Something stronger than the last one, which had been infinitely stronger than the first.

Namjoon doesn’t notice, too busy pointing out people you’d supposedly gone to school with that you wouldn’t be able to name with a gun to your head. He smiles at each one, whispering their names to you before they approach to say hello and you’re put in an awkward situation. But Namjoon’s just like that. Remembers all these little details about everyone—not because he has some crazy strong memory, but because he genuinely cares enough to learn.

It’s horribly endearing.

It makes your stomach hurt.

Because this is not the first time you’ve looked at Kim Namjoon and felt the world tilt. Sometimes you look at Kim Namjoon and you’re overcome with such fondness it feels like it’ll come spilling out of your ears. Sometimes you look at Kim Namjoon and you start to believe all those ridiculous poems he makes you read about destiny and love and soulmates. But sometimes you look at Kim Namjoon and you want to cry, because Kim Namjoon doesn’t look at you the same way.

Time for another drink.

Four turns into five turns into too many. By the time you return to your table, everyone else is gone, taking up space on the dance floor or mingling at other tables like socially well-adjusted adults do. Yoongi and Hoseok are making rounds of their own in between making heart eyes at each other and stealing little kisses that make everyone coo. Which is fine. You’re beyond buzzed, well on your way to full-on wasted, and seeing Yoongi and Hoseok kiss doesn’t fill you with existential dread the way it normally does.

Namjoon would be proud, you think. Maybe the secret to being more receptive to love had been at the bottom of a bottle the entire time.

A displeased scoff pulls you back into the moment. Namjoon’s beside you again, frowning at the empty bread basket. “I’m going to murder Jeongguk and Seokjin.”

“Why?” you ask, despite thinking it’s not a bad idea regardless of the reason.

Namjoon tilts the basket in your direction. “I’m fucking starving and there’s only little bread balls left.” Pure agony flashes across his face. “I’m fucking wasted, too. Drank too much on an empty stomach. Hey, did you know—”

As if by divine intervention, your stomach growls, too. “Yeah,” you say, cutting off whatever fun fact Namjoon was about to share with you. Probably something gross about ruminants and camelids. “Shit, I’m hungry, too. When’s dinner supposed to be?”

“No clue. Some fancy place like this, though? Probably late. Hobi said something about springing for the extended cocktail hour.”

You frown. “Not one person in a weird bow tie has offered me a bacon-wrapped scallop on a skewer or a tiny quiche. I feel ripped off.”

“I’m way too drunk to eat a quiche right now. I’d probably throw up.”

A snort escapes you. “Good, because there aren’t any.” You sigh, then, a wistful look on your face as you recall all the nights in university that you and Namjoon had gone to parties. Got too drunk and had to stumble back to your dorms, stopping every so often so he could groan and throw up in some poor bastard’s shrubbery. Sometimes you’d drink a lot but not too much and stumble into a McDonald’s instead, order way too much food, and eat it on a curb in the parking lot.

“Oh my god.” You moan in a way that’s not appropriate for a wedding reception. Namjoon chokes on a bread ball. “You know what I just thought about?”

“McDonald’s? Because that’s what I’m thinking about.”

Chicken nuggets dance at the edge of your vision. Greasy, soggy fries call to you like a siren song. You can feel the burn of that demonic Sprite in the hinges of your jaw, your lips puckering in anticipation. “Yeah,” you reply, tone a little dazed. “Fuck, I’m so fucking hungry.”

Namjoon looks around the room. Takes note of where everyone is, what they’re doing, how long it’ll take before they’re done doing it. “We couldn’t,” he says, but the wistful look in his eyes gives him away. “We shouldn’t.” A pause. “We shouldn’t?”

No, you probably shouldn’t. “No, we probably shouldn’t,” you agree, “but I know from experience we can bribe Taehyung to cover for us if we bring him back a McFlurry. And, really, if you think about it, Yoongi and Hobi can’t even be mad because who lets their wedding guests starve.”

Namjoon clicks his tongue. “That’s a good point.”

“You say that as if I don’t always have good points,” you quip, almost offended at the insinuation.

“You don’t.”

It’s full-blown offense, now. “Excuse you. What the hell does that mean?”

Namjoon looks ready to fight to the death over this, a PowerPoint presentation full of bulleted lists practically shining behind those eyes of his, but then his stomach rumbles embarrassingly loud and he flushes. “Do you wanna…?”

Those goddamn chicken nuggets are calling to you again. “Yeah,” you decide, no hesitation as you stand and hold your hand out to him. Well, you try to stand. All those drinks you’d thrown back are hitting you at once and you teeter a little on your feet, your hand missing Namjoon’s the first four times he tries to grab it. “Let’s go,” you say once there’s finally contact. Namjoon’s hand is warm, steadying.

You pluck a flute of champagne off the tray of a passing waiter, unable to cope.

For some reason, Namjoon does the same.

***

“I always told you I’d take you to dinner in Paris.”

You snort, choking on a piece of chicken nugget. The replica Eiffel Tower gleams behind you as you both sit on the sidewalk, too drunk to care about ruining your expensive clothes. “Not once have you ever said that.”

Namjoon frowns, looking far too serious for a discussion like this. “I definitely have.” Looking over at him, you shake your head as you fight off a smile. Namjoon has never told you he’d take you to dinner in Paris. That’s not something you’d forget. “Well, I’ve definitely thought about it, then.”

“I don’t think that counts,” you say, shoving a handful of fries in your mouth. Your lips are greasy when you smack them together, the salt making them burn a little. “What good does it do me if you just think about it and never do it.”

The words seem to strike a chord with him. He looks over at you, gaze sharp and stone cold sober. Not like he’s seeing you for the first time, but—there’s definitely something there. Something new.

You think he might say something. Feels like the time and place for a confession. Namjoon’s definitely antsy like he’s talking himself up to deliver one, but he just snaps his jaw shut each time he opens it. Shoves more food in his mouth each time you think he might finally do it. Then he’s reaching into his coat pocket to pull out two tiny bottles of liquor he’d nicked from the mini bar in his hotel room.

He offers you one and you take it, unable to wipe the disappointment off your face.

***

The inside of your mouth tastes like battery acid.

Not to mention the throbbing in your skull, the way your entire body protests as soon as you open your eyes to golden sunlight. Your brain seems to be protesting most of all, seemingly taking the day off from recalling everything that happened once you and Namjoon had left the reception the night before. Fast food seems to have been involved, judging from the way your stomach roils, but there’s only a Windows shutdown screen beyond that.

“Wow, I feel like shit.”

You startle, barely resisting the urge to scream. Whether it’s out of fear or the overwhelming sense of disappointment that you’d taken someone back to your room that was almost certainly subpar, you’re not sure. You’re far too hungover to deal with the awkward this was great, but I have places to be talk.

But that voice—you’d know that voice anywhere, and that overwhelming sense of disappointment turns into an overwhelming sense of dread. Having sex with Namjoon has always been at the very top of your list of No Good, Very Bad Ideas. A logistical nightmare, if you’re being honest and completely putting aside the two billion daydreams you’ve had about how it’d feel to get railed by your best friend. Not to mention you’d done it drunk, because now you know how it feels to get railed by your best friend and you can’t even remember.

You swallow, trying desperately to keep the nausea at bay. You’re never eating McDonald’s again. “Um. Did—did we…?”

Namjoon’s silent only as long as it takes for him to take stock of the situation. The gears are clearly whirring in that giant brain of his, and if you didn’t feel like your entire world was falling apart, you’d spare a moment to appreciate how fucking hot he looks when he’s thinking. “I don’t—” He takes a peek beneath the duvet and immediately looks less green. “Well, I’m still wearing my suit pants, so I don’t—I don’t think we did.”

“Oh.” You take a peek, too. “I'm still in my dress.”

Namjoon nods. “That’s… that’s good, right?”

“Yeah. Yes.”

“Do you remember anything after we left the reception?”

You stay planted on your back, refusing to meet his eye. The ceiling is nice. A great ceiling. Has probably seen lots of debauchery. “I vaguely recall choking on a chicken nugget.”

“Okay. That’s—it’s a start.”

“Yeah. Do you?” Namjoon shakes his head. “Okay. Well, I guess—maybe we just ate McDonald’s and went back to the reception?”

Namjoon nods again, but it’s very weak and not at all convincing. “Yeah, maybe. Hey—maybe we can try, uh, checking our phones? We promised Tae a McFlurry. He definitely would’ve thrown a fit if we forgot.”

“Good point.”

You can see Namjoon smile in your peripheral vision. “You say that as if I don’t always have good points,” he teases gently, parroting your words from the night before.

Despite the clusterfuck in which you’ve found yourselves, you smile, too.

And it’s immediately wiped off your face once you grab your phone and take a look at your lock screen.

Because there, set as your wallpaper, right below the time and the onslaught of text messages asking where you were, is a picture of you and Namjoon, clearly taken the night before.

Because you’re in your dress—the expensive one Jimin has insisted on, and thank god he did because you look incredible—and Namjoon’s in his suit.

Because there’s a man you’ve never seen before standing in between you, smiling at you both.

Because he’s dressed like Elvis.

Because you and Namjoon are kissing, each of you holding up one side of a sign that says JUST MARRIED!

“Oh no,” Namjoon wails. “Oh no, oh fuck, please no—”

You want to say something, maybe give him some kind of reassurance or comfort, but you can’t stop staring. Your life is in shambles and all you can think about is how good you look together. How it must’ve felt to finally kiss him, if those plush lips felt as good as you’ve concluded they must.

Namjoon holds his left hand in front of him. It’s shaking horribly, but not badly enough to obscure the thin gold band on his ring finger. “Please tell me we didn’t…” He takes in a deep breath, tries not to hyperventilate. “Oh my god. Oh my fucking god.”

He reaches for your hand, then. Finds it beneath the comforter and holds it up, face crumpling immediately as he sees a matching ring on your finger.

And it’s not really the point, all things considered, but Namjoon’s reaction makes you want to cry. Of course he doesn’t want to be married to you, but the obvious and enthusiastic rejection still stings. You’re not sure what other response you expected, but this one’s about as bad as it can get.

You roll onto your side. Pretend to be rifling through your things so Namjoon doesn’t see the swell of tears on your lash line. “I, um. I’m sure it wo-won’t be hard to get it annulled.” You thumb away the wetness beneath your eyes. “I’m sure there’s a million places. We’re—we’re not the first people to get drunk and wake up married, you know?”

Namjoon hears the thickness in your voice. There’s no way he doesn’t, because you can hear it too and it’s impossible to hide. And he just sighs, places his hand cautiously on the swell of your hip. “I’m sorry,” he says, and you’re not sure he’s ever sounded so small. “I shouldn’t have…” He trails off, clearly unsure what he’s apologizing for.

“Yeah. It’s—it’s fine. Maybe we should just… take some time. Come up with a plan. We can reconvene in a few hours once we’re thinking more clearly.”

Namjoon just nods. He doesn’t say another word as you gather your things and slink down the hall to your own room.

***

“You did WHAT?”

Sighing, you pinch the bridge of your nose and tell yourself not to cry. You’d done enough of that in the shower. Over all four cups of coffee, too. “Don’t—please don’t yell at me.”

“Why not?” Hoseok huffs on the other end of the phone. You can hear Yoongi asking stupid questions in the background.

“Because,” you argue weakly. “I—I just feel stupid, okay? You know I’ve had feelings for Namjoon forever, and maybe something could’ve come from that, once upon a time, but we just fucked up so bad there’s no coming back from it.” A shaky exhale.“He’s probably never going to speak to me again, so not only do I have to mourn a relationship that never was and never will be, I’m also going to lose my best friend. And get a divorce. All before noon.”

Hoseok scoffs. “First of all, I’m your best friend, so that part is clearly untrue. And secondly, you’re not getting a divorce, you’re getting an annulment.”

Let no man say Jung Hoseok isn’t comforting.

“Wow, thanks a lot, Hobi. You’re a real pal.”

He clicks his tongue. “Wow yourself! You’re the one who called me in a panic the day after my wedding! I was blissfully getting railed by my husband—”

“Okay,” you sigh. “I get it. I’m sorry, I’ll let you go.”

“Hey, no, that’s—I didn’t mean it like that. I’m sorry. I just… didn’t expect this. I’m sorry.”

“You and me both.”

Hoseok’s tone is impossibly soft when he speaks again. “What are you gonna do?”

“What choice do we have? We’ll obviously get it annulled and pretend this never happened.”

He hesitates. “Yeah, I—I guess that’s the best idea, huh?”

Before you can answer, there’s a knock on the door. You bid Hoseok a quick goodbye before you move to answer it, feet dragging the entire way. You’re not surprised to see Namjoon, but that doesn’t stop your hands from shaking. Doesn’t mean the sight of him doesn’t take your breath away.

“Hi,” you say, trying to offer up a smile. “Come in.”

You’re not sure what to do with all your nervous energy so you perch on the edge of the bed, run your sweaty hands up and down your thighs. Namjoon doesn’t seem to be faring much better. Can’t seem to leave his hair alone. Can’t keep his eyes off the floor.

Finally he sighs, sits next to you on the bed. Not close enough to touch, but close enough for you to feel his body heat. “I’m going to ask you a question, and I want you to be honest with me, okay? And I mean honest-honest. There’s no wrong answer here.”

You gulp. “Er, okay.”

Namjoon gulps, too, Adam’s apple bobbing obviously in his throat. “Doyouhavefeelingsforme?”

You blink. “What.”

“Doyouhavefeelingsforme,” he repeats.

“Joonie, can you slow down? I can’t understand a fucking thing you’re saying.”

He whimpers. Takes a deep breath. “Do. You. Have. Feelings. For me.”

Oh. Well, this certainly feels like a question that has a right or wrong answer. Feels like a question that’ll decide the fate of the universe, one that has an impossible amount of consequences.

“Uh,” you respond eloquently.

Eyes still locked on the floor, Namjoon grabs your hand. You try to ignore the feeling of his wedding band against your skin. “Honest-honest, remember?”

Of course you remember, but how can you possibly put years of feelings into words? How can you justify being in love with your best friend for so long and never telling him despite there being no secrets between you? How can you tell the truth and be selfish enough to ask him to stay, to fix the mess the two of you have made? Because you can be honest, you can deal with the repercussions, but you can’t stomach losing your best friend.

But, if nothing else, you can at least give him what he’s asking for.

“Yes.”

Namjoon slumps. Releases a very fractured breath, and this is it, you think. This is the part where he lets you down with a kindness only Namjoon possesses. This is the part where he regrets to inform you he doesn’t feel the same and extends a half-assed offer to still be friends because he feels obligated to.

Instead, this is the part where he says, “Thank fuck,” and laughs at your dumbfounded expression. Then he moves in to kiss it off your face entirely, and yes, those plush, pillowy lips of his do feel just as good as you’ve imagined. Better, even.

The two of you kiss for what feels like hours. He kisses you slowly and with intent. Kisses you until you feel all the love you have for him returned tenfold. Kisses you until you’re dizzy and drunk on him. Kisses you until you’re laughing until you cry that the first time the two of you are kissing is as husband and wife. Kisses you until you don’t care about the consequences. Kisses you until he’s pulling away to say—

“Maybe it’s too soon to ask, but do you want to, maybe, like… stay married?”

And then you’re laughing again, tears staining your cheeks that Namjoon thumbs away even though he doesn’t get it. Doesn’t know why you’re laughing, if it’s at him or with him or at the situation.

“Sorry,” you giggle, “it’s just—you’re the first person to ever ask me that.”

Namjoon’s smile is large and infectious. Has his dimples displayed prominently. “Oh, really?” He presses another kiss to your temple. “So this isn’t a habit of yours, getting drunk at weddings and waking up married?”

You press your no into his mouth. “Just this once.”

“And what’s the verdict?” he asks, tone teasing but there’s vulnerability beneath it. “No wrong answer again. I know this is really backwards.”

You go quiet. “You’d want to stay married? You, Kim Namjoon, the most traditional man on the face of the earth?”

He scoffs. “I am not—”

“Mr. House in the Suburbs With a White Picket Fence?”

“Come on—”

“Mr. Two Kids and a Dog? Mr. Five-Hundred Wedding Guests? Mr. One True Love? Mr. Wifeguy—”

Namjoon groans. “I want a divorce.”

“It’s an annulment, not a divorce.”

“Then I want that, too.”

You shriek with laughter, rolling onto your side to face him. Namjoon is gorgeous all the time, but he’s most gorgeous when he’s happy. That pure, untainted happiness you see on him now. “Do you really?”

“No,” he answers, whisper-soft. “Do you?”

Maybe it’s the dumbest idea you’ve ever had, or maybe it’s the smartest, but you press another no into his mouth.

Soft Spot - Min Yoongi

Synopsis: Yoongi closed himself to most of the world. He didn't want to risk anyone hurting him or the people that mean the most to him. That was until you came along, somehow having the golden key to his heart.

Pairing: Min Yoongi x reader

Genre: Fluff, mutual pining, strangers to friends to lovers

Word Count: 1.7k

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

Yoongi had spent over 30 minutes at the florist. His eyes bounced between all the different flowers, unsure what would be the best one to present to you. You would think that since Yoongi produces music, he felt a constant pressure for the next song to do better than the last.

However, his biggest worry was trying to impress you.

To him, not enough words could describe you. He has attempted to write at least one song to showcase his adoration for you. Yet, nothing seemed to fit. He could easily describe you as perfection. You were the one person who balanced him out amongst the chaos. The songs he produced with you in mind just didn't do you justice.

"Hyung, you ever going to make a selection?" Taehyung teased for him.

A sharp puff of air left Yoongi. He thought asking Taehyung to help him was the best idea, but he was starting to regret it.

"Would you shut up?" Yoongi murmured.

Taehyung went into a fit of chuckles before putting his hands up in defense. Seriously, he was here to provide insight?

Of course, Yoongi had an idea of the right ways to treat someone. He has experienced short flames of love in the past. But nothing like what you two had. It admittedly scared Yoongi at the intensity of emotions he felt within himself. He didn't mean to push people away, but he just often put all those emotions toward his career before another person. BTS counted on him to produce songs, to be a strong older brother. He didn't put another put through the wringer just because of his intense career.

But then he met you.

It started off innocent at first. You two just happened to bump into each other at the convenience store. He had been locked up at the studio, trying to lay tracks down for a new song when he needed a break. He figured going for a walk and grabbing an energy drink would help relax him.

Similarly, you had been crammed in your university's library working on a research paper. You were in the last semester of your graduate program, a step closer to becoming a Social Worker. Your fingers were starting to ache and you felt a bit restless after sitting at a work table. You decided you needed fresh air and an iced coffee before going to attempt to edit the paper.

You two had bumped into each other. Fatigue was written all over your faces that you hadn't noticed each other. That was until you bumped in as you tried to go to the register.

Seeing how tired you were, but also how beautiful you looked, Yoongi offered to pay for your beverage. When you tried to politely decline, he insisted after being in your way. Even though you were the one not watching where you were going.

As a way to show appreciation, you offered to give him your number. That way, you could repay him with a drink of his choosing whenever he wanted.

Since then, you two have been attached. Text messages were exchanged which then became FaceTime calls, particularly late at night due to both of your schedules. FaceTime calls quickly grew tiresome because all Yoongi wanted was to be in the same room as you, so you two began to hang out.

While Yoongi has not officially asked you to be his exclusively, he knew he wanted to be with you. You two practically saw each other twice a week. In his mind, you two were together.

That was until Taehyung pointed out that he hasn't actually asked you to be his, that you could be under the impression you two were just friends. Yoongi was doubtful, but his younger brother had a point. What if you saw him as only a friend? What if you were actually seeing someone else?

The thoughts made Yoongi both anxious but motivated to do something about it. Cue Taehyung coming in to help. Taehyung knew how to be romantic. He offered insight without Yoongi overthinking it.

"I'm telling you. She won't really care about the exact flowers. Just that you got them for her." "But they have to be perfect for her."

It brought Taehyung amusement to see how smitten his hyung was. Actually, all the boys were invested in Yoongi's love life. For the 10 years that they've known him, this was the first time that he was choosing something for himself rather than for other people. They all adored how dedicated Yoongi was to them and the group, but they always wanted Yoongi to be happy in all aspects of life. Including romantic.

They ever knew someone could be so happy over receiving a text message. At least, that was the case until they saw him grinning in his studio as he spun gently back and forth. He would re-read your texts to him, his smile getting wider and wider.

Or the way he thinks of you had random points. Having ramen for dinner? You like ramen. He would wonder if you had eaten, if you were happy, if you had a good day. See a squirrel while on a stroll? You were so energetic, so busy. What were you up to? Should he call you?

You were always on his mind. You meant everything to him and so much more.

It was why when he stood in front of your apartment door, his heart was racing. Yoongi was convinced that his heart was going to leap right out of his chest at this rate. He was practically shaking.

He sucked in a deep breath, looking down at the bouquet of flowers. Roses felt too intense for the occasion. He had selected an arrangement of blue hydrangea, blue delphinium, and white button poms. They reminded Yoongi of a clear, warm day and you were the sun. They were tied together by a pink bow, subtle but perfect.

Here goes nothing.

With his left hand firmly holding onto the stems of the bouquet, his right hand reached forward to ring the doorbell of your unit. It was a late Sunday morning. Sundays were your day to relax, to do self-care. He hoped he wasn't introducing, but he knew you'd be home.

From the other side of the black-painted door, he could hear shuffling. His heart fluttered knowing you were indeed inside. And about to open the door.

Did he get the right bouquet? Did you even like flowers? Should have have gotten a bigger bouquet for you?

He didn't have enough time to go through every scenario as soon the door opened. There you were. His angel.

Your hair was pulled back in a high ponytail with little strands framing your face. You wore a pair of black shorts but a large, oversized sweatshirt. All he wanted to do then was wrap you up in his arms and cuddle you. God, he was down bad.

You had a warm on your face, but quickly your eyes widened to see the flowers in his hand. You couldn't but hope they were for you, but you were convinced you and Yoongi were just friends. He was too kind to you to be anything more than that.

"Hi y/n," he said softly.

His voice sent your heart into palpitations. Nobody else sent you into such a spiral unlike he did so easily. It was just him greeting you but your knees were like jelly.

"Hi Yoongs," you spoke just as softly.

Yoongs. You were the only person who called him that. And he prayed you would be the only.

"What's going on? I figured you might be asleep still since you were at the studio until late." "Nothing can stop me from seeing you. I had a very important erran to run."

He was trying his best not to become a stuttering mess. But the way you were looking at him? The way you had a soft gaze yet lured him in, he was bound to crumble.

"These are for you, beautiful. Saw them and I thought of you."

Your cheeks turned bright pink. You were at a loss for words, and Yoongi noticed. He couldn't help but feel his ego rise. Maybe all the guys were right after all? Maybe you did like him?

He only got this confidence when he had a little bit of whiskey in his system. This was different, though. He didn't have liquid courage to fuel his delusions. He was stone-cold sober to see how you reacted to him. While non-verbal, your body language says everything.

"Oh Yoongi, they are so beautiful. You didn't have to do this." You took the flowers into your own hands to admire them up close. It warmed Yoongi's heart to see the way you took in their beauty, even though they weren't as beautiful as you are. He hoped you were seeing yourself just as positively, but he was ready to remind you constantly if need be.

"And I know what you're about to say." He began. "If you feel guilty for me spoiling you, why don't you accompany me for brunch? Going on an official date would make me happier than you buying me something."

Your head had never snapped up as quickly. Did you hear him correctly? Was he asking you out on a date? There was no room for interpretation when he said the words himself, but you weren't sure if you heard him correctly.

"Wait, you are actually asking me out?" "Well yeah, y/n. Isn't it obvious I like you?"

You opened your mouth to counter his statement, still in disbelief. However, you quickly closed it. Come on, y/n. Don't hesitate. You're so close to getting what you've always wanted.

"Can you give me 20 minutes to get ready and place these in water?" You asked. "Take all the time you need, angel. I'll be downstairs in my car, making sure it's all warm for you."

Feeling bold, Yoongi leaned into to press a lingering kiss to your cheek. "I've got nowhere else I'd want to be than spending time with you." Shivers ran down your spine from his tone and the way his words practically vibrated throughout your body.

He pulled back and winked before going towards the elevator. You gently closed the door before rushing to get ready.

Dreams can come true.