@Dyobonbon: Kyungsoo says he’s Meokmul’s and Huchu’s older brother TTTTT he’s their older brother because his mom is raising them TTTTTTTTTTT I couldn’t ask him to draw a ring on a finger TTTTT it was so hot outside and I was so flustered
@luckyoneD12: I told Kyungsoo some of his nicknames are penguin, maltese, and peach and asked which of those three was his favorite. He said peach 😭😭 and drew me a heart that looks like a peach 😭😭❤️
@J21_J88: I asked Kyungsoo what film genres he liked and he replied that he likes movies indiscriminately. I also asked for a film recommendation so he asked me if I’ve watched Dunkirk, that I really should TTTTTTT
@__pocoapoco: Ah Kyungsoo turned the mini fan in front of him to the fans like he was trying to cool us. Even though its breeze didn’t reach at all, his heart was so lovely I got emotional..( ꈨຶ ˙̫̮ ꈨຶ )
RoyaltyAU: OC x Prince!Yoongi Length: 1.7K (lol barely a drabble but I’ll take it) Genre: Fluff. Just. Fluff Type: Disney Insp Drabbles ☞ REQUEST HERE ☜ Recommended OST: (x) Request By: @workofteaguk : how about “I’m right out here for you, just let me in” + your love aka min yoongi :“)
(a/n): warm up before I really get going with my other longer pieces! Ahh but this was so so fluffy I melted into a puddle 100x before I could coherently type all of it out TT please tell me what you think!! also this gif makes me cry many tears.. my prince TTTTTTT I LOVE YO(U)ONGI
“Would you please just open the door?”
Yoongi’s rasp drifts through the cool wood that is pressed into your back, the sheer tulle of your ball gown useless in its beauty to protect you against the nip of cold lingering in the early autumn air.
“No!” Your stubborn response travels through the barrier without fail, your childish pout and no doubt tear stained cheeks registering in Yoongi’s mind along with the clipped one word answer, despite his inability to see you.
“Princess…” He begins his magic spell, casting those minuscule syllables to make your heart to splutter with indignation in your ribcage to squeeze essences of rose onto your cheeks.
“Don’t call me that,” you counter, “everyone calls me that.”
“Am I not ‘everyone’ to you?” He questions, smile tugging their way across his cheeks, eyelashes kissing the taunt skin when he looks down to see you fidgeting on the other side of the door. His words are colored with underlying meanings.
How daring, questioning when he knows the answer, your mind chastises the boy, even if he can’t hear those thoughts.
Hello not to be annoying but im still gonna be annoying about this because cherry bomb got charted out on melon, naver and mnet again and they just dropped 24 ranks on genie!!! digital score is 45-55% of the total score for music show wins so let’s get their 2nd, 3rd, 4th and 1000000th win!
Sometimes when you’re asked to list down the number of
reasons why you’re in love with Min Yoongi, you’re very tempted to throw the papers given by the person who asks you
to do so. But then again, you do start to
wonder why you’re in love with him as you’re lazing on the sofa, staring at
him working his things on the laptop as he uses the basic necessities and
programs to form another beat and your eyes trail away from your book too many
seconds to long before your book closes.
Maybe it’s the way that he can be lazy—but it’s the cute kind of lazy. Those mornings where
when you try to get off bed and do
something productive, he’s trying to be the opposite because he wants his
sleep and you don’t want to laze around in bed all day. This guy admits on
broadcast that he sleeps for twenty hours sometimes and you agree and you will pledge to be the
witness because you’ve seen that happen
However, you can’t blame him because he’s always so busy
with composing new tracks, writing new lyrics, making new song, being a rapper,
being an idol, learning all sorts of choreography and it boggles your mind to
how he still returns in one piece at the end of the day—it amazes you to how many things Yoongi is good at, and it’s no
different when it comes to loving you.
But it’s moments
like these where you start to question how is that the same person as this
fellow lying on his stomach, buried in the sheets, his eyes fully shut and if you were to give him a
rough shake or shove him off the bed, you bet with all your life he’d still be
able to fall back to sleep be it on the floor or in bed. Once he clamps you in
his embrace, escaping it is very
difficult and it speaks for itself now when you’re trying to unlatch his arm
from your waist but it snaps back down heavily. You sigh and try to wake him
up, nudging his shoulder, poking his cheek, shaking his hand, anything but nothing works until a few
seconds later he mumbles into your ear that it’s a Saturday and there’s time to
sleep some more.
Then you argue that the sun is already up and he says, yeah, because that’s the Sun’s job and
you fake a laugh and call him smart but then you’re jabbing his lower torso
enough to make him wince, “C’mon, you know I have things to do…”
“And you know I like it when I get to have you in bed with
me,” He counters and you roll your eyes when he’s not even looking at you but
he says, “Don’t do that,”
“You’re not even looking,”
“Don’t need to,” He murmurs, coiling his arm around you
tighter to make you press your cheek against his chest, “Now just fall back
into sleep with me and we’ll go out for lunch later.”
Maybe it’s the way he casually shows his affections that makes
your heart flutter and it makes your heart stop a second after it happens—it’s always like that. Be it whether you’re
washing the dishes after a meal and he sneaks into the kitchen and the next
thing you know, you’re almost screaming your lungs out but then his warmth
soothes everything and it all melts away. He grins and kisses your cheek, apologizing
for giving you a fright but then he’s making things right when he works a kiss
on your lips that almost has you
dropping the plate.
Be it whether you’re back from a long day of work, closing
the door behind you before you turn around and place your forehead on the wood as
you exhale deeply. All the tension is building up on your shoulders from all
the projects, it’s weighing you down but before you can fall, Yoongi has you up
when his arms band around your waist and he whispers welcome home and all your worries are brushed away.
Be it whether you’re baking something sweet for him to munch
on as you stir the familiar looking batter in a bowl and his arms snake around
your waist after he smells the aroma that lingers in the air from the kitchen
to his working spot in the living room. He hooks his chin onto your shoulder
and his lips find their way to your neck and a sigh escapes when he kisses gently
before he mumbles, “Chocolate chip?” Then you’d answer with a shaky mhm… before you get yourself to focus
and you’re getting yourself together to finish the task before you get
sidetracked again because once is bad
“You smell good,” He whispers, sending the shivers down your
spine and you whine, “Yoongi, I really
want to get this done,”
“I’m not stopping you,” His tone is innocent.
“That’s what you said the last time,” You’re recalling the
past incident and he grins before he backs away, “Okay, okay,” He has his hands
up as reverses his way out whilst still keeping his gaze on you, “Just know
that when you’re done, you’re much
welcomed to the living room, on the sofa.”
Maybe it’s the way he’s being all discrete when it comes to his
work and you find out by entering his mini-like
studio in one of the small rooms by the corner of the apartment. That room was
initially meant for extra things, a storeroom to be exact but when Yoongi got
into all of this composing and such, you surprise him by turning it into a
studio and he almost bawls his eyes out when he sees what you’ve done with the
place. It may not be ideal—it’s not as huge and luxurious—but it’s everything
Yoongi is wishing for and it’s all he needs.
When you step through the door with a glass of warm water in
your hands, some cookies from the last batch you’ve managed to whip a week ago,
not even the aroma can wake him up when you see him slump over the keyboard and
the papers are a mess all over the desk. The pencils, some are broken, some are
not, some are not usable but he keeps
them there anyway. There are crushed up papers in the corner due to the number
of times the beats went wrong and his headphones are scattered onto the other
sofa by the wall. You sigh and place the tray down, on a vacant side table
before you roll up the sleeves of his your hoodie because you know you’re going
to be busy.
Within fifteen minutes, you’re almost done when all that’s left is compiling the pieces of paper
and some of them ended up on the floor despite having decent handwriting. You furrow your eyebrows and mumble about how
if you hide a gold bar in here, he won’t find it as you get down on your knees
to pick them up. As you’re collecting them and grumbling at the same time, it
all washes away when your eyes scan through the words and you’re deciphering whatever that means in your mind.
He writes about how life is beautiful when there’s the fourth
starting from the left is in it and you take less than two seconds to notice he’s
having a word play with you. He describes
of how things were from the beginning with just the line ‘if you hadn’t miss your bus, there wouldn’t be us,’ and you’re
well aware that the day you met him was the day you nearly got fired on your
first day—but you wouldn’t have it any other way. He explains of how
complicated life is, the tough times he’s been through and you’re guessing it’s
his own track, his own life story—his everything he’s pouring out into a song
and a verse is making your heart clench when he literally writes that if it wasn’t for a savior that came in a form
of a beautiful lady, he wouldn’t make it this far and it makes everything
harder to read because it’s you. Then
your eyes scan through the other papers you’ve picked up and it’s another
story, another scenario, another time in the past, some discussions of what can
happen in the future—all lyrics, everything you understand and bits of innuendo
here and there because this is all about
Maybe it’s the way his bottom lip juts out when he gets
concerned and it says so in his eyes as he waves a hand in front of you. Your
eyes take a strong blink, realizing that you’ve spaced out way back into time,
shifting through the days crossed out some time ago to see that he’s put his
laptop aside on the table, your book long discarded and he placed it on top of
his laptop as he scans you from head to toe. He sighs in relief when you’re
looking at him and he questions, “Are you okay?”
You’re able to nod with a small smile and it’s enough to
assure him, “You scared me,” He admits, shaking his head but he gladly accepts
any sort of apology you’re offering when you’re sneaking into his arms,
invading his side of the sofa and one of his leg props down onto the floor while
the other curls your figure in when your back settles against his chest.
“Sorry, I was just… thinking,” You’re whispering and you
have no idea why.
“You can always talk to me,” He’s whispering and he has no idea why either.
“No… no need for that, it’s nothing,”
He frowns and you know he’s still not buying it because he’s
not going to like it when you’re bottling things up and he knows it’s going to
bite him at night if he doesn’t confirm it now, “Are you really sure? There’s nothing to hide, you know that,”
“I know,” You smile, turning to look into his eyes and the
creases are nearly causing it to be
permanent at how hard he’s staring at you with the confusion bubbling from
within. A hand of yours manage to cup his cheek, your thumbs smoothen over his
skin as you say, “There’s nothing to worry about—really,”
He takes a second to lean forward, pressing his lips onto
yours and it’s everything you ever wanted to feel before he pulls away, giving
in with a soft okay and he tries to
lighten up the mood by telling you about a song he’s working on and he subconsciously
reveals what the subject is surprise, it’s
you and he tries to cover it up with a cough and he’s trying to direct the
topic away again but it’s not working and the same thing happens. But with all
of this going on, your eyes are staring into his and he’s staring back into
yours as he speaks, he occasionally trails away when he’s into his speech but
then they would always turn back to you because he knows you’ll be staring and
it’s that look in his eyes that just
screams, I’m the person you fell in love
with and you can’t get up.