chip coffee

Vow

*swamped with homework and feelings and managed to shell this out a month late…I’m a mess™*

Request:  Hii can i have a drabble thingy game with jimin?TY😙😉 12,23 by  rebelliousjvmin

Word Count: 8.6k

Originally posted by bwipsul

He’s a literal angel


You were immersed in a deep sleep, tired from working on a large project that was worth half your grade. In you attempt to disconnect from the world around and sleep peacefully, you blocked out the sounds and all touch with reality. The sudden dip in your bed didn’t bother you, the presence of another body and an arm haphazardly wrapping around you, these were things you were blocking out. Until you felt a finger on your cheek.

“Hey, roomie.”

“I hate you.”

“You know you love me.”

“Kiss my ass, Jimin.” You used to think you were lucky to be paired up with your best friend in the dorms of your university. Until you realized he was a clingy, sassy and messy guy that never failed to annoy you. His leisure attitude towards school was opposite to your dedication to reading every word of your textbook. He was a jock, baseball being the reason he was here in your room and cheekily smiling at you.  

“I wouldn’t mind doing that.” You whacked him in the face with your pillow, wanting him to leave your room but he instead pulled you closer against his chest.

“Let go of me, you pervert.”

“You told me to kiss your ass, now…”

“I swear to god, Jimin, I’ll suffocate you in your sleep.”

“Kinky. I always wanted to test out breath play.”

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47. Metal Arm Kink

Word Count: 3,139
A/N: I got super carried away with this and I really hope I didn’t ramble and it comes off the way I want it to. Hope you enjoy it!
Summary: Bucky overhears Y/N talking with Natasha and Wanda about the things she wants him to do to her with his metal fingers. He’s happy to oblige. 
Written by: @mrssgtjamesbuckybarnes

Originally posted by retardell

As you walked into the compound, a bottle of wine in each hand, you couldn’t help the excitement bubbling in your chest. When you entered the common room, you were happy to see Natasha and Wanda already there, pizza and chips on the coffee table, and wine glasses ready to be filled. They looked up when you entered, cheering when they saw the alcohol in your hand. You sat on the floor with the couch to your back and handed Nat one of the bottles.

 “I’m so glad we’re doing this.” Wanda said as you opened the bottle of white wine and poured yourself a glass. “It feels like there’s so much testosterone in this place. It’ll be nice to be just us girls for a few hours.” You kicked your shoes off and leaned back, drink in hand. The guys had all decided that they needed a night out to relieve some stress. We had decided that a night involving sweaty, drunken strangers wasn’t something we were feeling so we decided to enjoy the quiet and have a girls’ night in.

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Poker

A/N: so this was supposed to go up on Friday in honour of our super soldier’s 100th birthday but I was away for a wedding and had no time to put this up. Hope you enjoy this fluffy piece I put together xx

Summary: It’s Bucky’s 100th, there’s a poker game going on, and you’re stuck in Spain with a marmot. 

Word count: 2,242

Warnings: a couple swear words

You were late. You  were so late. You planned to be back at the compound almost five hours ago now, but a storm had ripped your plans to shreds and you had been forced to wait in the quinjet in the midst of the Pyrenees mountains along the border of Spain and France. You were alone except for the marmot that seemed to be following you around but niether you nor the marmot were enough of an expert pilot to navigate the jet through a storm this sizable. With a dying phone, you had managed to contact Clint and let him  know that you were safe but also forced to wait out the heavy wind and rain. 

You were lucky that your mission hadn’t resulted in you getting too scuffed up; after some file retrieval, you simply had some difficulty getting back to the quinjet thanks to the start of the storm so the only damage was that you were starting to sweat despite the cold temperature of the mountain. 

You were beyond pissed at yourself and this weather - tonight was poker night. You usually played on Thursdays but since Bucky loved it and today was his birthday, there was a huge poker session going on at the compound. 

Right.

It was also your boyfriend’s birthday. 


Tony sighed sharply as he tossed the watch that evolved into the protective glove onto the growing pile of poker chips in the centre of the coffee table. He was met with confused eyes.

‘I’m out of chips,’ he argued and Clint and Steve snickered at the emptiness in front of him.

‘That means you’re out of the game,’ Natasha corrected. ‘You can’t even call, Stark.’

‘Let him play,’ Bucky smirked, meeting Tony’s eye. ‘That watch’ll come in handy. Maybe I’ll have Steve hit it around a little with his shield.’

Tony glared at him. ‘You’re pretty confident, Robocop.’

‘Says the man with no chips left,’ Bucky countered, and Tony’s eyes drifted to the columns of colourful poker chips that surrounded the soldier like a small fortress. 

‘Why does everyone think it’s a good idea to give shit to the man who shelters you?’

Sam reached behind him to the bookshelf; he brought and held out a glass jar to Tony who sighed and dug around in his pockets, only to pull out an expensive fountain pen which he then put into the jar.

‘You guys think I just carry around cash?’

‘We use the swear jar to pay for our annual dinner at Masa. We can’t pay with a pen,’ Steve argued. 

‘Someone remind me why Steve’s even part of that?’ Clint piped up. ‘’s far as I’m aware, it’s only Sam, Nat, Tony, Barnes and I who even contribute enough to earn that dinner.’

‘Cap’s put in more than you think,’ Nat reasoned, a taunting smile playing across her lips as she tossed twenty dollars worth of chips on the coffee table to stay in the game. ‘First time, he put ten bucks instead of one, he felt so bad.’

How do you know that?’ Steve cried, as Clint fell back cackling. 

Bucky watched with bright eyes the people around him, taking the scene in as a break from the game. The remnants of his birthday cake (which were the parts that had been covered in candle wax thanks to Natasha’s brilliant idea of stuffing exactly one hundred candles on the surface) lay forgotten in the kitchen. Packaging from the take out from Bucky’s favourite diner lay scattered around them as they played. The lights were dim, the background music was nostalgic, the food was good (there was still another bag of burgers left to get through) and Bucky was holding a full house (three queens, two jacks) in his hand. Plus, this June would mark his first ever Swear Jar Dinner at New York’s most expensive restaurant, a tradition that had only started two years ago.

When Bucky had first come back into the world, his birthday was the last thing on his mind. He had confronted his mortality in many ways other than celebrating a year past. And then, to his surprise, this was the night he was met with. For some reason, he hadn’t thought birthdays were on the Avengers’ agendas but he realised that he appreciated the sentiment. After a moment of bashfulness when the cake was presented to him with Sam recording his reaction, Bucky found himself melting into the custom.

There was no existential crisis; there was no breakdown. Bucky knew he was older than time should have allowed, in a world much different to the one he used to be rooted in, but he had confronted these worries and discomforts on so many other occasions.

It should have been perfect. Poker, food, the prospect of winning Tony’s mechanical glove. Except you were missing. The last contact he had had with you was before you had left on your mission; the last word he heard was from Clint who said you were waiting out a storm. Bucky knew you would be alright - at least, he hoped and convinced himself - but in simple terms, he wished you were with him.

‘I checked the forecast,’ Steve muttered, as if reading Bucky’s mind. ‘The storm’s clearing, I’m sure she’s left by now.’ 

After another twenty minutes of game play (Tony having thrown in another watch and his glasses), the round had come to an end when Clint lay down his hand, showing four aces and a king.

Sam groaned loudly, almost like a battle cry, and threw his arm through the bettings, making them scatter all over the table. 

‘This fucking close,’ he grumbled, throwing his cards down to show a full house with tens and jacks. 

Bucky grinned sheepishly, completely unwavered by Clint’s win, or Sam’s frustration. ‘Not quite, Pigeon Toes,’ he smirked, laying his own cards down for him to see. The icing on the cake had been Tony’s junk of a hand - a melting pot of threes, twos, and fives. 

‘There you go, birthday boy,’ Clint succumbed, sloppily tossing Tony’s mechanical watch to Bucky, who smoothly caught it and grinned, as Sam stuffed a dollar bill into the jar. ‘I’ll let you keep that. Give ‘im hell.’

Bucky held the watch up as if toasting him. 


By the time you reached the compound, it was nearing two o’clock in the morning and you had managed to leave the marmot behind in the mountains. A heavy weight rested in your stomach; this was Bucky’s first birthday he would actually celebrate since before the Second World War and you missed it. You knew Bucky was in good hands while you were away and you knew that Bucky wouldn’t actually be upset with you because it wasn’t like him to get upset over something like this. But that only made you want to be there more because Bucky deserved the small pockets of happiness amongst the big ones. 

You landed the quinjet in the hangar; your tactical suit was unzipped halfway so that its torso hung around your hips revealing the full-sleeved black t-shirt you wore underneath. Your boots were caked in melting snow-covered mud; consciously, you ran your fingers through your hair to tame it after having it attacked by the rough winds and went to see if Bucky was still awake.

Poker tournaments tended to last a while so you figured he was. 

When you exited the lift, however, you were met with minimal sound. You walked through the corridor and saw Steve leave the kitchen; he turned when he heard your footsteps.

‘Nice to see you in once piece,’ he grinned amusingly, but you could see relief in his eyes. The guy had so worried about you while you were gone. 

‘You guys finished?’ you asked quietly. 

‘Yeah, not long ago.’ Steve didn’t look pissed; his eyebrows weren’t creasing in the disappointed father style they tended to do. Good signs. 

You groaned. ‘I can’t believe I missed it,’ you grumbled self-deprecatingly. ‘How was it?’

‘Tony went bankrupt and then started using his actual possessions to stay in the game; he was bluffing the whole time and lost anyway. Sam threw a tantrum.’

‘Sounds like the best time,’ you smirked. ‘Did Bucky have fun?’

‘He did,’ Steve replied. ‘It was nice to see actually. He’s still awake I think, he’ll be happy you’re back.’

You smiled at him, making your way to Bucky’s room; you caught a glimpse of the living room - leftover poker chips and a deck of cards messily packed up and the scent of burgers from the diner you had been to a few times with Bucky lingered in the air. You could tell you missed a good night. 

Bucky’s door was ajar, you pushed it open further and knocked on the door frame, standing in the entrance to his room. 

‘Hey, Soldier.’ 

Bucky, who had been sitting on the edge of his bed reading a book, looked up, seeming thrown for a moment before he regarded you with the same warmth he always had done. Light blue eyes blanketed in familiar comfort. 

He smiled and stood up, walking towards you and wrapping his arms around you, pulling you close to him despite the dirt on your clothes. You instinctively reciprocated, your arms going around his waist and head buried in his chest, the material of his t-shirt soft (much softer than the tree trunk you had fallen into earlier in the mountains, but that was another story). 

It was quiet for a moment, Bucky’s face buried in your hair before he spoke.

‘Hey,’ he murmured, the simplicity making you snicker.  

‘Happy -’ You glanced at the clock on his wall ‘- belated birthday, Bucky.’

He kissed your forehead and lead you to sit down on his bed with him. 

‘Are you okay?’ he asked, hands running over you arms like he was checking for wounds. 

You smirked at his worry. ‘I’m fine, Bucky, I promise.’

‘I missed you,’ he said just as quietly but you detected no disappointment in his voice. 

You nuzzled his neck and pulled his arm around your shoulders, completely unable to tear yourself away form him. He was so warm and soft. 

‘I would say the same but,’ you sighed, ‘the marmot I ran into was much more interesting so …’ 

Bucky nudged your ribs making you squeal lightly and jolt in his arms at the contact. 

‘Bucky, ‘m so sorry I wasn’t here,’ you groaned quietly. 

‘’s okay, I’m not mad,’ he murmured back. ‘I knew you wanted to be here; I get the job, doll, I do the same one,’ he joked. 

You leaned down to untie your boots. 

‘Steve said you all had a good time. You owe me a game, Solider.’

‘Clint kicked our asses and we didn’t even see it coming. Sam took it hard.’

‘He can be such a brat when he loses,’ you giggled, already coming up with ways to tease him for when you saw him next. ‘He’s great though.’

‘Is Sam as great as the marmot?’

‘Nothing will ever be as great as the marmot.’

You rested a hand on the back of Bucky’s neck, toying softly with his hair. He hummed appreciatively, leaning into your touch.

‘Tony put a pen in the Swear Jar.’

‘Doesn’t he just carry out cash at all times?’

‘Apparently not. We’ll treat it like a placeholder, I guess.’

‘Was it one of his fountain pens? Those things can be like two hundred dollars a piece.’ 

Bucky traced patterns along your shoulder, playing with your hair and brushing it aside, making goosebumps rise all over your skin. 

‘I can’t believe you’re a hundred years old,’ you admitted. ‘We joked about it but now it’s actually true.’

can’t believe I’m a hundred years old,’ Bucky murmured. ‘It’s kind of the same feeling I got when I turned twenty-five - that I was finally getting old. Now I am old.’

‘Did you have an existential crisis over the passing of time and age?’ you asked, your tone slightly teasing. 

‘I actually didn’t,’ Bucky admitted. ‘I just … I’m one hundred years old.’ 

You snickered at the tone of wonder in his voice. 

Bucky was quiet for a while, fingers still tracing patterns on your skin; leaning into his chest, you could feel him relaxing into your touch.

‘You know, when I was in college, I said that the maximum age gap I would accept between me and the guy I would end up with would be, like, four years or something.’

‘I think I’ve exceeded that, doll.’

‘Only a little,’ you reasoned humorously.

‘A couple years,’ Bucky bargained, pretending to be completely serious. ‘’m glad you could make an exception for me,’ he snickered.

‘A couple years,’ you agreed fondly. ‘For what it’s worth, you don’t look a day over eighty-four.’

Doll,’ Bucky sighed with feigned sentiment, ‘that’s all I’ve ever wanted to be.’

You chuckled at him. ‘You’re such a loser,’ you muttered. ‘But before I forget, I need to give you your birthday present.’

‘[Y/N], you di-’

‘I swear, James, I will ban you from our Masa dinners.’

‘Okay, okay,’ Bucky chuckled, still not letting go of your hand. ‘Just, later, yeah?’

You smiled questioningly at him but allowed him to pull you back onto the bed anyway. 

‘What are you doing, Buchanan?’ 

‘I love you,’ he murmured as though that offered an explanation, pulling you to his chest where you nuzzled comfortably. ‘Just wanna lie here.’

‘Bucky, I smell like a forest,’ you groaned tiredly. 

‘Shh, ‘s fine.’

You felt him draw the blanket at the foot of his bed over you, the two of you getting lost in the hazy warmth of his room and each other’s comfortable body heat. Bucky’s fingers were trailing through your hair.  

‘What even is a marmot?’ he asked after some time.

You blinked. ‘’m not even sure. It kind of looked like a beaver. Maybe they’re snow beavers.’ 

‘You must be a scientist or somethin’, doll,’ Bucky murmured sardonically, snickering when you flicked the back of his head sharply. 

‘For all you know, I could be. Part of day I’m an Avenger. Other part of day, I’m a  zoologist.’

He smirked lazily.

‘Bucky?’ Your tired tone paralleled his.

‘[Y/N]?’

‘I don’t want to keep you up if you’re tired.’

‘What is it, baby?’

‘I get the sentiment,’ you mumbled, ‘but ‘m really hungry.’

‘Burgers?’

‘Oh my God, yes. Can we play poker, too?’

Love, a Footnote
  1. The KGB Bar off 2nd Avenue in New York’s East Village was a gathering place for the Ukrainian Communist Party, which explains the curious décor but not the frequent readings.
  2. Red is evoked by the longest wavelengths of light discernible to the human eye. Red is long; long and slow. The curtains in the KGB Bar are not so much red as a history of red.
  3. “Podium,” from the Latin, often confused with “lectern.” One stands on a podium. One leans one’s elbows or sets one’s beer, beaded with condensation, on the lectern.
  4. In ventriloquism, the speaker’s voice seems to come from elsewhere. This doesn’t explain why he called his poem “The Ventriloquist.” Maybe something about the poet and the reader, but I don’t like trickery, anyway.
  5. We associate red with heat, energy, and blood, and with emotions associated with heat, energy, and blood—such as anger or love. Ezra Pound makes his ideogram of “red” with four signifiers: rose, cherry, iron rust, flamingo. I would use: bark, blood, cardinal, sex. Sex because, like red, it occurs in long, slow waves.
  6. You sat next to me, though I didn’t know you at the time. It was red, dark and red, and there was so much smoke you could see the air moving around people as they moved.
  7. I love words that can inhabit more than one part of speech, as in a match or to match. The phosphorous smell of a just-lit match. Enough light for two faces to share.
  8. Wallace Stegner’s comment about art as the communication of insight appears in various incarnations in his work, but my favorite is in Angle of Repose. You acted surprised that I had such a thought. I took it as a compliment at the time.
  9. In Plato’s Symposium, Diotima tells Socrates how to experience the ideal form of beauty through love. From our desire to possess one body, we sense eternity.
  10. An “angle of repose” is the slope at which granular materials come to rest at, say, the base of a sheer rock face. In Utah, owing to iron rust, the rocks are often red. The process is long, and slow.
  11. As with “match,” one can be patient, or one can be a patient. I have been both, but never at the same time.
  12. Veselka is a Ukrainian diner in the East Village, near St. Mark’s Church. Very good pierogi. Many of the customers have chic glasses, cases for musical instruments, and dirty hair. I like to sit at the counter.
  13. Sake is produced by multiple fermentations of rice. Sometimes it tastes like heavy moonlight, sometimes it tastes like a neon sign that’s just been turned off. In Japan, sake is drunk from small cups called choku. In certain friends’ Lower East Side apartments in December, it is heated in a microwave and drunk from chipped coffee mugs that say things like “Happy Secretary’s Day” and “#1 Dad,” even though the person who lives there is neither a secretary nor a dad.
  14. Feeling is a way of knowing what you’re going to think about something. Example: I felt the thought, I could want you. Emotion as premonition. It is a mystery. It is the ideal form of beauty.

Rebecca Lindenberg

All Alone - Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: embarrassing dancing, sexual innuendos 

Word Count: 530


Originally posted by itsjustmycrazyvibe

The whole team was on a mission except for you. You had been told by Steve that everyone would be gone, you would have the compound to yourself. You decided that that meant you could safely turn up some music and dance around the compound in only a sports bra and some very short shorts. 

You thought that this would be okay. Boy, were you wrong. 

Keep reading

You’re Beautiful

Originally posted by jeonbase

A/N: So, this may just become a thing. I’ve been saying that in my tags when I posted the last POC scenario and imagine, and now, because I am putting in the time and effort; I think it’d be best to start adding in these types of stories. Representation is definitely important, and if I can help make more stories relatable for people like myself, why not? :)

P.S. If by any chance, at some points within the story it doesnt make since, something doesn’t fit, or seems too corny, I apologize. >.< Im trying 

Genre: Fluffy like a yorkie, but with a pinch of angst.

Pairing: Y/N x Suga

Word Count: 7726 (Oh so long! XD)


“This is too stressful,” you huff and plant another chip in your mouth, “like, he’s making me sweat.” As you aimlessly search for shows on Netflix to watch, you slump further into the bag of chips you’ve deemed as your safe place, and whimper. “Like, who told him to be that hot and be casually nice, and smell good,” you scoff. “And I don’t even pine for guys like that! Not that it’s an issue of race, but just in general—the whole male population as a whole.“ 

 "Uh-huh,” your best friend agrees nonchalantly. 

“No, like I can totally feel your overboard support through my phone,” you smirk, but smile because even you know that you’re being silly. You’ve almost forgotten how it feels to have a crush, and the giddiness makes you excited and smiley for no reason. You fall back onto your bed with an ‘oof,’ and spread out from your previous sitting position. 

 "What? I’m listening,“ she replies, and you can hear her flip through pages—of what you guess—a magazine. “I’ve been here for almost an hour listening to you talk about your crush diligently, and haven’t said a word." 

"My point exactly,” you respond and sigh. 

“So, what do I do?” You press another chip to your tongue, and at this point, you feel like you could almost inhale the bag. 

“How about you just talk to him and see where that goes?" 

"Like start out slow and act friendly, and then maybe ease into a dating?” you ask, and you form a small frown. “I don’t think I can though, like what do we talk about? He probably doesn’t even know I exist." 

"That’s why you have to break the ice and just start off slow. If he can get a chance to know about you, then maybe something’ll happen,” your friend sounds hopeful. “Yeah, but it’s almost like we’re a worlds apart,” you whine. “We’re so different." 

"And?” your friend challenges. “Different isn’t bad, and you better figure this out soon before someone else snags him." 

"Wow, how encouraging,” you mutter, but you know she’s right. Like always. This doesn’t have to be difficult, but something’s just holding you back. Whether it’s the difference of cultural backgrounds, or the more outwardly-obvious reasons; taking a step towards this guy just seems…like, what’s the use? “I get what you’re saying though, because I’ve seen other women look at him likes a piece of meat." 

"Well, I have to keep it one hundred with you. I wouldn’t be a good friend if I let you think that you have forever, or by a miracle he’ll just fall in love with you at love at first sight,” she replies. “But before we hang up, because I have to meet my man for dinner; if by chance this does develop into something, he’d be one lucky dude. You’re a catch, don’t worry." 

"Awe, thank you,” you reply, and your frown literally start reversing itself. “Goodnight." 

"Night, honey,” she responds. When the phone beeps to signal that the call ends, you toss your phone onto your bed and wipe your hands on a nearby napkin. 

You’re standing up from your prolonged sitting position and your joints and muscles pop, as you stretch. Walking to your walk in closet, before you enter, you flick on the light switch. A faux crystal chandelier glimmers above your head, and brightens up your wardrobe selection. You have clothing pieces for each season, varying in different colors, and shoes and accessories to match. Needless to say, you’re proud of your collection. It’s not too much, but it’s more than enough to enjoy yourself. Nothing in your closet is too overly priced, except for maybe some shoes and a couple handbags or clutches. But you always try to purchase soberly, and not splurge on something you’ll only wear once. So as you stand in front of your clothes, you’re surprised when you feel like you have nothing to wear. In front of him. 

As you mull over outfits and possible scenarios of how you’d guys meet, you wonder when you’d make time for a relationship in general. You have a job, and school itself is almost relentless. You cannot and will not let your grades drop, bc that’s your ticket to an overseas schooling program that you need. The opportunity to travel and learn in regards to your career at the same time, it’s exciting and it could be an eye opening experience. At this, your frown starts making a comeback. 

… 

“Am I stupid?” you ask yourself. “Come on, before he gets away,” you whisper to yourself. Sitting on a bench, off to the side of the park next to your local basketball court, you watch Yoongi playing basketball, and you feel shady. You wonder if this could count as stalker tendencies. You don’t watch like this all the time, but on rare occasions that you can just sit and watch him shoot three-pointers all day—because he is just that good—you get mesmerized and admire secretly. You sigh. The breeze smooths past your skin lazily, and though the sun is bright and out, the temperature outside says otherwise. Which is why you bundled in a decently padded coat, a scarf, and beanie. You have no gloves, and you almost regret it, because your pockets aren’t doing enough.

“Still watching from afar, I see,” your friend observes. She sits beside you and hands you a red to-go Starbucks cup. 

You sigh dramatically and take the offering with a wide smile, “You shouldn’t have, but I’m glad that you did. And, yes. I’m still admiring. I mean, look at him.”

“He’s good,” she agrees. Noticing off to the corner of your eye, you see she almost scoots forward, and she chuckles, “Did he change his hair color? That hair used to be black.”

“Looks good doesn’t he? It’s different, and I just want to run my fingers through it. Maybe give him a nice scalp massage while I’m at it.”

“Whipped.”

“Like the cream,” you agree and laugh heartily. You’re not joking, because you’d really do it too. Not paying attention, because you were laughing too much at your own joke, you look back up to the basketball court and pause when you notice Yoongi’s gaze directed towards you. This makes you laughter halt immediately and you just stare back. After a small moment, when your friend nudges you to do something, you just bashfully look down at your hands and muster up the courage to at least wave. Nothing much, just a wave and as much a friendly smile as you can muster. Your hopeful when you notice he starts waving back, because that means you weren’t just imagining things. However, your face starts to morph into confusion when you notice some girl grabbing a hold of his attention. 

“Did she just vajay-block you?” your friend asks. Any other time you would’ve just laughed and maybe snort, but it only just brings forth a small quirk of the mouth. 

“Block what? We were just waving at each other,” you brush off. Deep down though, you feel a pang at disappointment, though you don’t expect him ignore others just because you guys have a small moment. You’re sure that your face shows this, because your friend just rubs you on the back.

“Hey, you’re going to do fine,” she says softly. 

“How? I can barely wave at him without being shy about it, and she just flat out, practically sprinted towards him,” you counter, and you want to slump in your spot. You can’t help but to take mental notice of her appearance too. She’s petite, with long soft wavy hair, that’s gray with subtle lavender highlights, olive skin, hazel eyes, and just overall beautiful. You abruptly stand up, get you book bag, and exit stage left with your friend right behind you.

Sipping on your third cup of coffee for the day, you’re seated in front your homework for the week, and reading your textbook diligently. You’re at a Starbucks a block away from your university and letting the breeze hit you outside, because the inside is too crowded. You pay no mind to the strangers passing you by and trekking up the steps to get inside the warm building. All you want to do is eat your favorite chips, sip coffee, finish some work for the day, and get on with your life. However, you’re confused when someone stops by your table.

Taking the chance to look up, your eyes grow wide when you see Yoongi smiling down at you. His platinum blond hair is covered in a black beanie, and he’s sporting a white Nike sweatshirt with matching bottoms, and the sleeves pushed up his forearms. The look compliments his athletic habits, and your heart almost skips a beat, and you want to look away before you body doesn’t want to.  At some point, the silence is moving sluggishly, and you start to feel subconscious. Your mind begins to nit-pick everything you feel like are flaws. You hair hasn’t been the most cooperative today, so as time went along, you just wrapped your hair into a cute donut bun, though it’s—to you—noticeably wanting to gain friz. You think you may be slightly bloated, and somewhere around lunch, you’re sure that your matte lipstick has started to dry and is cracking, though you’ve haven’t noticed any real damage done. 

You’re not sure what to say, and almost go back to reading when neither of you say anything. As you start to brush him off, you notice the confusion in his eyes, and Yoongi steps closer to your table and knocks on the wood. “Hi, I think I saw you at my—the basketball game at the park earlier,” he says, looking hopeful. His smile is brought back, and you almost get the lost in the charm of his eyes before you respond. 

“Yeah, hi,” you reply and stand, while holding out your hand to shake his, “My name’s—”

“Y/N, I know. We have a few classes together,” he grins and latches onto your hand, and you notice a small blush form on his alabaster skin. You just nod, but no words come out, and you’re both left in silence again. With his hand still in yours, and you notice how his long fingers caress your hand softly. He gives your hand a small squeeze, “Well, I noticed that you’re studying and don’t want to be in the way, so I’ll just go get coffee and then leave.” You smile and just nod again. 

“See you around,” you say hopefully, and he gives you a bright smile and says that he hopes so. As he leaves, like clockwork, the giddiness returns and you wonder where your firm stance to stop crushing on him went. Nonetheless, though you fight the smile trying to take control of your face, you also want to squeal a little. 

Low and behold, you guys do meet again the next day. Only a few hours after dawn, of all the days you try to sleep in, you accidentally start your day late and in a frenzy. You have to speed through the halls of your campus building to not miss your test. The moment you turn a corner and feel yourself bump into another person, you brace yourself to apologize profusely and possibly crash onto the floor. However, on impact, someone catches you in their arms and helps you to regain your balance and not fall. “Woah,” Yoongi chuckles, and you feel like the day couldn’t start off any better, “somewhere to be?” 

“My first class this morning starts with a test I’ve been cramming for, and I can’t afford to miss it,” you reply, and try not to wheeze all over him. You want to hide your face and just be swallowed into a hole. You wanted to sprint to him, but not run him over. That, and he still hasn’t let go. You have to shake your mind out of the fog, when you start to notice how good it feels to be his arms and how it’d be to cuddle with him for real. 

He gives exceptional hugs, you feel. 

“Which class?” he investigates.  

“(Major of choice),” you reply, and try looking everywhere but his face. 

“Let me escort you, this way you don’t run into anyone else,” he suggests, and again has this hopeful look about him as he stares at you. 

The close proximity hasn’t gone missed between you two, and you feel like he notices too. He draws the features of your face into in his mind, as you do his and the tension is getting suffocating. You urge yourself to just say something, or better yet just get him to let go. Politely separating yourself from his arms, and you catch a draft after doing so, you smile your usual polite smile and say yes. 

Just as you both begin walking in the direction of your class, you remember the time or the lack thereof you have, and start speeding up with him right behind you. Coming up on the door, you barely turn around to thank him and enter the silence of the classroom. You quickly find your way to your desk, and thankfully, though you’re only a minutes late, your professor into present yet, so you can breathe peacefully. Yet, you’re heart picks up pace again when you see Yoongi peeking through the classroom door looking for you, and when your eyes meet, he gives you a thumbs up and waves bye. 

"Aw, you guys are so cute,” your friend squeals. “So when’s baby daddy gonna put a ring on it?”

“You’re something else,” you laugh, but aren’t mad at the thought.

“You know I’m just teasing, girl,” she reassures and smiles, “but on the real though, I’m happy for you.”

“Nothing’s happened yet.”

“Can we get something happening then? Maybe a study date? Movies? Breakfast? Lunch? Dinner? Oh, I know. A date a the skating rink,” she suggests, and brushes her shoulders off, proud of herself. “It’s perfect. Nothing too secluded, you get a chance to talk, and you can bond at the same time.”

“I don’t even know if he likes me like that yet,” you counter, but wonder what you’re waiting for.

“No one holds somebody for that long, or even better, escorts them to class, if they aren’t interested,” she reinforces.

“I don’t know,” you reply, and play with your food. Today, you and f/n decided to eat lunch in the cafeteria, just to have a change of scenery. That, and once f/n revealed to you that a source of hers mentioned that Yoongi eats here every once and while, you thought to yourself, ‘why not?’ Unfortunately though, you haven’t seen Yoongi yet or since this morning, so you start to lose hope.

"You don’t know what? If you don’t mind me asking,” Yoongi adds himself in your conversation, and you’re startled enough to jump when you weren’t expecting him. He sits himself between you two and starts digging into his own. From his sweaty appearance and the sweat towel around his neck, you assume he just finished playing basketball. His muscles outline slightly from the sweat on his white t-shirt, he has on basketball shorts, and this time a snap back as well. He’s very skinny, but still lean and in shape. You just look towards f/n and she smiles cutely.

“Yoongi, how are you? I’m y/n’s friend, f/n. It’s nice to finally meet you,” she introduces herself.

“To finally meet me? Has y/n mentioned me to you a few times?” he quizzes and you catch the peeking he does through his lashes towards you.

“Only just several times,” she confirms, and you almost throw something at her. You can tell she’s feeling cheeky, and you’ll have to watch her.

“Not that often, and really just about your crazy basketball skills,” you reassure, and suddenly your lunch looks a lot more interesting.

“How are your skills off the court? Care to show my friend? I think she’d enjoy that, wouldn’t you?”

If you weren’t such a nice person, you had been snatched her by her edges. You just laugh it off, “You’re doing too much, stop talking. I promise we’re not that weird,” you say to Yoongi. He chuckles at whole spectacle, and you almost want trap his laugh and save it for rainy days.

“Nah, just thirsty,” she retorts. At this he tilts his head and you can see he confusion in his face. You hope with everything you are that he doesn’t understand. His first language isn’t English, so if you’re lucky, that term could’ve just flown over his head.

You almost choke on your food, and decide to toss her your half empty water bottle, “I’ll give you the ocean, if you just shut up.”

“Well, then you’re in luck. I have to leave to go do a thing.”

“What thing? You don’t have a thing,” you say, and produce the saddest puppy dog eyes you can, so as to stop her from leaving.

“Silly y/n, if I want to have a thing, then I’ll have a thing,” she playfully scolds you. “My life doesn’t revolve around you, honey. Now, when we can have a double date, then we’ll talk,” she pushes in the last part quickly and then jogs out of your reach. Watching her hair sway as she leaves, you want to drag her back to the table, because you’re not sure how to act around Yoongi.

“Why don’t we have a thing?” he inquires and looks at you directly, and you witness a smirk form on his lips.

“We? Uh,” you respond, but barely. “Like, what do you mean?” You gulp discreetly.

“Anything we want, really. I don’t mind, as long as I can spend that thing with you,” he smiles and stares at you endearingly. At that, you could almost fall into his lap without clear reasoning, aside from the fact that you like him that much. You wonder how he does it.

“How about we go to the skating rink downtown? Have a thing?” you suggest. Your mouth stretches into its own smile.

“I don’t skate, but for you, why not?” he agrees and wipes his hands on his shorts. “Well, I have to go do an actual thing that involves studying, but give me your phone and we can make plans.”

“I look forward to it,” you reply and hand him your phone with the contact info form open.

“Feelings mutual,” he says and gets up for the table. Throwing his gym bag over bag over his shoulder, he walks backwards and grins his charming smile at you again, “See you around.” You wave to him this time.

After spending 2 hours with f/n trying to pick out a cute, but casual outfit for your date, you’re giddy during the whole drive from your home. You fortunately find a parking space not too far from the building, and walking around the block to get to the front entrance, you’re surprised when you see Yoongi already standing outside the venue. His hands are fiddling with his phone and he doesn’t see you walking up to him. However, you see him nice and clearly and your stomach does flips. He isn’t in anything that you haven’t seen him wear before, or that’s different from his laid back style, yet every time you see him, you can’t help but to feel excited and butterflies churn. “Did I come late?” you inquire, seemingly startle him.

He chuckles, and shakes his head, as his signature smirk shows through. “Nope, my friends just dropped me off early because they had something else to do,” he replies. “Ready to have fun?”

“I thought you didn’t consider this as fun,” you remind him, and lead the way inside. He treads beside you.

“It isn’t, but someone may as well have fun laughing at me, as I fall on my butt.”

“It won’t be that bad,” you try to encourage him.

“Just wait.”

After paying for the shoes you guys are going to rent for the occasion, you notice that after he laces them on and then tries to stand, but continues to fall back into his seat, that he’ll have some issues.  You, yourself though, have no problems standing and you grab both of his forearms to help him up as well. He’s wobbly on both feet and can’t stop looking at the ground to make sure he doesn’t fall. “You’ll do fine. However, I think we should take it slow.” You look in to his eyes, and he stares back and then nods. “First let’s just walk over to the ice, and just try standing on it.”

From then on, it was a hit or miss of a lesson. When he walked out on to the ice, he couldn’t stop using the wall as a supporting crutch in order to keep standing. He’d sometimes hold onto your hands, and you’d help him glide over the ice at a snail pace. Once you let go, if he had no momentum, he’d just be at a stand still. No need to try and move forward by himself, because he’d always lose his balance, and it’d be the end after that. Multiple times you’ve watched him fall and get back up. Fall, then get back up. However, as time continued to pass, your muscles in your feet, legs, and including abdomen from laughing so much, began to hurt and you knew Yoongi was already fed up with everything, if not including life. “Ready to leave?” you ask, while checking the time on your phone.

“We’re leaving already?” he responds with a tremble in his throat, as he tries to get back up from falling on the hard surface. Anytime he’d think he’d have a foot secure underneath himself, and then try to stand on the other, it’d slide back and he’d be on all fours.

“Well, it’s been three hours since we’ve arrived,” you reply, and chuckle. “Come on, Bambi,” you coo and grab a hold of his hands. He starts to stand on one foot and then the other, and now he’s at least still and not one the ground.

“See? Told you you’d get a knack out of this,” he rolls his eyes, but his smile never leaves his face. “I didn’t realize so much time had passed.”

“Well, time flies when you ‘re having fun,” you smile and swing his hands in yours. “Shall we go?” Leading him back to the rest are, you’re careful to not pull him too fast and then help him to a nearby seat. You saunter to the counter to pick up your guys’ shoes, and when you get back to Yoongi, he already has his skates off and looking at his feet concerned. “Break something?”

“Yes,” he sighs, “my tail bone and pride,” he jokes.

You hand him his shoes and start to take off your own skates. “Maybe next time we should do something else? I don’t want you to force yourself to come with me here and not really enjoy yourself,” you suggest.

“I’d come here a million times if you asked me,” he says, and laughs at his own corniness, while trying to smooth out your insecurities about bring him.  

You smile a long with him, but are glad that your face is hidden. With the pigment of your skin, no one can really see if you blush, but you’re sure your face would still speak a thousand words if he were to see it then. “While I appreciate the gesture,” you say and stand on your feet in your own shoes, “I’m not trying to destroy your bruised tail bone. How about you choose the next destination?”

“Fine, I like that idea,” he agrees, and looks back down at his feet. “That reminds me. Can you give me a ride back home? My friends are still probably out, and it’d take them too long to pick me up.” That catches you off guard, but you not sure if you mind too much, because then you’d get to spend more time with him. Needless to say, you’re hoping that he feels the same way.  

Surprisingly enough, going to the ice skating rink with Yoongi was more fun than you anticipated.First, he was the perfect gentleman, you guys could always find something to talk about and you were both interested in keeping the conversation going. It wasn’t forced, or too awkward. Anything you could talk about on a first date, you did. There cute moments of whispering nothings into each other ears and just laughing at the gall you both had. There were giggles. There were times when he’d fall into your arms, so <i>he</i> wouldn’t fall, and you trying not stare so blatantly into his eyes. It was perfect, to say the least, yet still odd to think about. 

Secondly, you both are so different, you weren’t entirely sure how everything would fair. If not for the cultural differences, then for the more obvious, outward reasons. He had the pick of anyone he’d probably want, and here you two were. You still question yourself, ‘why?’ You know you shouldn’t have thoughts like those, but it takes time to reverse that sort of mentality. Every once and while, it can come with dating outside of your race. Sometimes you consciously—or even subconsciously—slip into that frame of mind, when you feel unworthy or not “his type.” Then there are moments when you’re proud to say that you catch yourself, and not let such defeating thoughts bring you down. You’ve found that if you were to ask yourself, if f/n were to ask you if she were worthy enough, and you wouldn’t say those self-defeating thoughts to them, then why do it to yourself? It’s never easy, and knowing your worth takes time, but it can be achieved. 

The drive back to his place is silent, and in your opinion, more awkward between you both than before. As you’re driving past green lights and other cars, you notice he’s less talkative. His body is with you, but you wonder if his mind is somewhere else. Did he not have fun? Did he regret the date? Should you have even gotten your hopes up? What’s wrong? Around 15 minutes later, you pull your around the corner of the apartment building he stays in, because parking in limited. Finally finding a parking spot, you reverse park into the space and turn off the engine, but the radio could still be heard playing in the background. “I’m sorry,” he blurts out. He turns to you in the passenger seat and looks at you undauntingly. 

You’re not sure if you want to look back at him because his stare could sometimes be intimidating. Though you know not on purpose, but because…well…that’s just how his face and eyes work. Gathering up the courage, you take a deep inhale and look back him with your own searching eyes. Upon his direct stare, you almost freeze, but talk nonetheless. “For what?”

“Being like this,” he uses his hands to gesture at himself, “Awkward. Even more than I was before. Non-talkative.”

“Um, it’s okay. I mean if you didn’t enjoy yourself, I won’t force you to be all happy go lucky,” you reply, and then look back ahead of yourself. There isn’t much to see, but you’d rather look at the cars parked ahead of you and the street. At least then if your eyes get the slightest bit of glassy, he won’t be able to tell and he won’t have to feel sorry for you. 

“That’s not what I meant,” he says immediately after you say your piece. “This is probably one of the best nights I’ve had in a while, but I’m not apologizing because of tonight. I’m saying I’m sorry because I know I’ve just made things unnecessarily weird between us. Back at the rink, I was a lot more open and had more to say, but that’s because my mind didn’t have to work overtime to find something to talk about. Everything flowed a lot nicer when we were just talking about anything and everything at the top of our minds, and when we both had to focus on me not seeming like a total idiot in front of you. Not to say that falling on my butt should be a conversation starter,” and you snort, “but it was just easier. Now that our attention is fully on one another, I can’t seem to think of anything to say that’s cool or funny, and I’m overthinking everything I think I should say.” He takes a deep breath and asks in a low voice, if that even makes since. “I’m nervous. I’m sorry.”

In a way it made since, and yet didn’t at the same time, but you’re at least happy to hear that he truly did enjoy himself. “It’s fine.” You say, and look back him. His eyes appeared to had gotten softer, and the tension you didn’t even notice, also left his shoulders. 

He turns back around slowly, “I guess I should get going then.” Was that it? “I think I should leave now before I make myself seem even more uncool than you probably already think I am,” he chuckles. No one makes any sudden movements, but at the last second, you do. 

Opening the driver’s side door, you step out into the brisk air. Your body is protesting the cold, but your insides are burning. You don’t do something like this often, but you don’t want to let the night end like this. You’re aware of the attraction between you two. You’ve seen it, obviously have experienced, and you want to put it to the test. Right now. Walking around your car you meet Yoongi, who’s already standing outside of the vehicle because you left, on the passenger side of your car. “Anyway, thank you for—“ you halt his words with your delicate kiss. Nothing forceful, but purposeful and straightforward. Your hands are on his biceps, and they glide up his arms and around his neck and head, where one of your hands relish in the softness of his hair. His hands find themselves on your waist, and he leans into the kiss too. Your lips mingle with one another. They feel. They caress. They’re tender to its recipient, and careful to not scare either away. As several seconds pass by, you finally pull away and he follows your warmth an inch, wanting more but he holds himself back. You smile at his eagerness, and see that his eyes are still closed, and your foreheads are touching. “Thank you. You’re really a good kisser,” he admits, and then smiles to himself. “Tell me I didn’t just say that out loud.” 

Your own smile spreads uncontrollably onto your face, and you separate yourself from his grasp. “Have a good rest of your night,” you say and start walking back to the driver’s seat of your car.

“Really? How could you say that, knowing that you’re the best part of it?” he asks, and his famous smirk shows back on his face. “See you around?” 

“You think I’d stay away now?” you ask cheekily, and get into your car. He waves bye as you drive away, and you can’t wait for tomorrow to come.

“Aren’t you guys the cutest ever?” f/n exclaims and dances in her seat. “I’m so happy for you!” You’re both at you guys’ favorite lunch spot, while working your own separate school assignments. School isn’t letting up, and between that and work, you wonder if there’ll be any free time soon. “So, when’s the next date?”

You laugh at her blatancy, “It’s only the next day.”

“And? Didn’t you two already talk about it this morning, when he texted you ‘good morning’ this morning?” she raises her eyebrows teasingly at you, trying to hint at something. But you stopped her in her tracks.

“It wasn’t like that,” you insist, “we haven’t gotten that far and it’d be too soon.”

“Not too soon for a smooch, which by the way, I’m impressed,” she laughs.

“You seem more happy than me.”

“Hardly! Girl, you were practically glowing this morning,” she giggles.

“I wasn’t,” you retort.

“Glowing like the sun so much, I almost regret not bringing my shades today.” You just shake your head at her, but the smile still hasn’t left your face, and you get back to work.

At the moment, it seems like you have too many assignments to start, and not enough time to finish what you’ve been working on for a few weeks, but you get to work anyway, before your next class. At this rate, you wonder if you’ll ever meet Yoongi again anytime soon. Like that, days turned into weeks, and they transitioned into a little over a month. Your encounters never lasted for anything over a few minutes every blue moon, but your texting conversation continued to go strong. Little words here or there were sent throughout your days, and you figured you should at least be happy with that. Neither of you really had time, and even f/n was having a hard time keeping up her life and school.

Sitting in the library, you’re taking notes diligently until you feel your phone vibrate in your pocket. Your timer’s just gone off after two hours, signaling for you stop your research and to move on to another assignment for the night. It’s almost 10 pm right now, and the day’s activities has already been settled into your body. Your hands are feeling cramped, your back hurts from sitting hunched for too long, your feet are feeling sore from getting up and going every place known to man, and your eyes a beginning to feel heavy with sleep. You bring your coffee cup up to your mouth and drink down the lukewarm caffeine. You sigh and lean back into your chair. You think yourself that you only have two things to do before the night ends and then maybe you get to sleep at around 1 AM tonight. You’re groaning.

Sitting forward again, and leaning on your elbows on the table, you start to type again but onto a whole other chart of numbers and statistics that are fusing together. Slowing getting to the flow groove of just working, your phone vibrates in your pocket again. Absentmindedly, you bring it up to line of sight, and you take a quick glance at the front and notice it’s a text from Yoongi. Here goes the cheesy smile again. “What are you doing?” he inquires.

Your frown and look back at your laptop screen. “Studying.

Is it for anything important?

You almost laugh, “I think so. Ive heard rumors of students who didnt complete their assignments and fail the semester miserably.

Sounds important, then.” You nod your head ‘yes’ slightly and begin to look back down at your homework, until you hear a text being sent to you. “Want to ditch?

As tempting as that is, I cant. I have too much to do and at stake,” you reply, disappointedly.

Come on~” he starts. “What can a 20-minute break do to you?

Against your better judgement, knowing it’d be longer than twenty minutes that you’d spend with him, you still text him back agreeing, and ask him where to meet. You’re surprised when he tells you to come to the basketball court. Nonetheless, and not caring too much about his request because you want to leave the library, you pack up your stuff.

5 minutes into the stroll and coming closer to the court, you’re surprised when you see him and few other guys playing. You don’t make any sudden movements for him to catch your attention, and just watch silently off by the sidelines. Some of these guys he’s playing with you haven’t seen before, and you’re not sure if they go to your university or not. Another five minutes pass before Yoongi calls for a time out, and jogs over to you. “Enjoying the game?” he asks panting. His hand are placed on his hips and he walks over to his bag to grab the towel that sitting haphazardly on top of it. He wipes off the waterfall sweat that falling into his eyes, and then stands closer to you. “Want to meet my friends?”

“Why not?” you reply, and he starts yelling and waving everyone closer to you both. Understandably, you’re a little nervous. Will you like them? Will they like you?

“They’re weird, but you’ll like them,” he smiles.

“Is this the famous y/n? Do you know he talks about you nonstop?”  the tallest of the guys asks. His hair is a deep brown and he’s more muscly, but about as lean as Yoongi, and with broader shoulders.  

“Hopefully you only hear good things,” you chuckle.

“I don’t talk about her nonstop,” Yoongi retorts.

“Nope, you just have this greasy smile on your face whenever you start texting her,” another man speaks up and, and runs his hand through his light pink hair. Odd color, but whatever floats his boat. “Hi, my name is Jimin.” He smiles and brings forth his hand to shake yours.

You’re polite and introduce yourself back., while shaking his hand “I’m y/n.”

“Don’t forget about me.” Another voice shouts, but is deeper than the rest so far. He jogs up to you and takes your hand in his too. “I’m Kim Taehyung.” You tell him it’s nice to meet him and introduce yourself as well.

Then another male jogs to the group. “I’m Namjoon,” he pants and nods his head to you, with a dimpled smile showing through.

Then another male bumps into him whom is slightly taller. “I’m Jungkook.”

“And I’m Hoseok,” someone else voices, and the crowd has to part slightly for him to come through. “My sister-in-law, it’s nice to finally meet you.”

You giggle, and probably look confused. You glance at Yoongi, but he doesn’t notice and he throws Hoseok a ‘Really?’ sort of look. “I will remember this day.” He runs his hands through his hair, and puts his hands on his hips. “Want to play?” he directs his words at you.

“No.” You shake your head. “I don’t think it’d the best idea.” You’re not horrible at basketball, but you don’t really play either. If anything you just enjoy the game and actually know how the game works for the most part.

“Nonsense, I’m sure you will be great. Do you want to be on my team?” Taehyung suggests. His English isn’t broken, but it sounds a little garbled. His accent is semi thick, but you can understand him.

“No thank you,” you shake your head again. He looks a little disappointed, but he just nods his head understandably. To you, you’re not in the best position to be playing when you’re not that great at it and your feet ache. That, and you’re dead tired.

“Can we play?” you hear another voice, but that’s feminine. Your line of sight moves around some of the guys heads and you notice that it’s the gray-haired, hazel-eyed beauty, as well as a group of her friends—you’re assuming at least. Everyone turns around to see who the voice belonged to and one of the guys, you think Jungkook, goes to give the girl a side hug.

“You’re here,” he exclaims.

“You thought I wouldn’t come? And miss this game?” she purrs. “You must be out of your mind.” Well this is an unexpected turn of events, and you want to fight to not roll your eyes. You’re not sure where the feelings are coming from, but you’re jealous. She’s pretty, can play basketball—apparently—and probably knows everyone better than you do. As you watch all of Yoongi’s friends greet the ladies that have just arrived, you wonder if you missed your chance at having a decent friendship with them too. It’s a strange thought, but you almost feel out of place.  

“I didn’t know you had invited them,” Yoongi says with a smile. Is he excited to have them here too? Did he forget you that quick? This pricks you in the heart a little bit.

“Yes. I invited them because I thought that since y/n was coming, why not invite more people? This way there could be a girl and boy team,” he replies and shrugs. Jungkook looks towards you. “Y/N, I know that you don’t feel up to it. So, if you don’t want to play, you can just sit this one out and watch on the bench.” Nope. You won’t.

“You know what? I actually have to get back to the library to study, so I’m going to go. Thank you for the offer though,” you smile to everyone, and they look confused by why you’re suddenly leaving. Even the girls that have come look confused. “Have fun.” You look at Yoongi, and he stares back at you with a slight frown. You start walking back to where you’re thinking you should’ve stayed in the first place.

You tell yourself that you don’t need to put yourself in that vulnerable state by staying there, but you also wonder why you didn’t try harder. Fight for him harder. Did she even like him like how you assumed? Why disqualify yourself so early in the game? You laugh at yourself a little. You’re not sure why you’re like this.

After coming back to the library and then studying for an additional hour, you start to pack up your things and decide to finish your work at home. You saunter to your car and get into the drivers side of the vehicle. You sit for a second. You’re tired and you don’t want to move, but you don’t want to stay in the school parking lot either. So you start your car and give it a few minutes to heat up. At the last second before you put the car in drive, someone knocks on the passenger side of car. You jump, and look at who knocked. It’s Yoongi.

He points at the passenger seat of your car, and you oblige. You’re not sure why. He climbs in and looks at you pointedly. “Why’d you leave?” You know he didn’t mean it in a demanding or blaming way, but you already feel guilty for leaving so fast anyway. Of course, you’re sad for going because you didn’t even give yourself a chance, but you didn’t want to stay either.  

“I just wanted to leave, okay? I have to study, and again, I can’t play basketball. So, me being there wouldn’t do anyone good.” You look away and lean back in your seat. You don’t feel like having this conversation right now, and you feel like it shows on your face and in your posture.

He sighs, and looks ahead of himself, taking his eyes off you. “You’re right, you can leave when you want to. I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine, it’s been a long night. But I really have to go, so,” you say, and leave your sentence hanging in midair.

“It’s not alright,” he insists, and looks back at you. “I didn’t know Jungkook was going to invite those girls.”

You snort. You’re happy that he understands why you left, as well as are a little embarrassed, but you brush it off. “Yoongi, it’s fine. You can play with whomever you want to. It doesn’t make a difference.”

“Unless it’s with a person of the other gender.” You look at him surprised, and his signature smirk shows up.

“I’m not jealous,” you start out, “but I’m glad you understand.” You both laugh and it reminds you of the laughs you both had at the rink.

“So, Hoseok was right.”

“About what?”

“He told me that you had looked a little disappointed when the girls came,” he says and looks at you sadly. He leans back in his seat as well and caresses every detail of your face with his eyes. “I’m sorry.”

You shake your head. “You didn’t do anything.”

“That’s the point. I didn’t do anything. I should’ve gone after you, even after the smidgen of a hint that you didn’t like what was happening. How am I going to be your boyfriend if I can’t even figure these little things out?” Your eyes widen significantly and you mouth to him ‘boyfriend?’ He nods haughtily.  

“I just never expected you to say it out loud,” you respond and giggle.  

“Well, I figured I shouldn’t beat around the bush and just say it up front. I like you, a lot, and you don’t have to wonder about it either.”

“So, what does this mean?” you ask, while simultaneously trying to fight the smile off your face.  

“It means, I take you another date fast before I miss my chance with you,” he smiles endearingly.

“What’d you have in mind?”

“Everything, but going skating again.” He chuckles, and you almost get lost in his eyes. It happens when you’re around him.

As you’re both having a moment, your back door behind Yoongi’s opens. “I’m sorry to interrupt, but I need a ride home,” Taehyung pants, and sits down cozily in the back.

“So do I,” another voice pipes up, and you notice that Jungkook is standing beside Taehyung. Taehyung scoots over for Jungkook to get in too, and then Jimin tells Jungkook to scooch over as well.

Jimin climbs into the vehicle, and then looks up at you all smiley and expectant. “I hope you don’t mind.”  

You glance towards Yoongi, and he calmly looks like he wants to murder somebody. “Why not? We weren’t having a moment,” he says tightly.

“Well then, we’ll just make ourselves comfortable,” Jimin laughs.

“Y/N, can you play any music?” Jungkook asks.

“Just let me pick, they always choose what we listen to,” Taehyung complains. That’s how your night with Yoongi starts and ends. With three of his so-called toddlers—his words—bickering and giving you a headache, but also a smile you welcomed.  

The end. 

Say No To This (M) – Best Friend!Hoseok

Originally posted by ohparkjimin

Summary: It’s been a while since you and Hoseok have spent time with each other, but he hasn’t forgotten how hard it is to say no to you.

Warning: Smut, oh my lord is there smut

Word Count: 3.4k

A/N: So I’ve had Say No to This from Hamilton stuck in my head for the past week and it somehow inspired BFF!Hobi sex.

Sequel: Ambiguous (M)

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Things I associate with VIXX

N: Playing with puppies, the feeling of the sun on your skin, lazy days, white bed sheets, playing with hair, star gazing, drinking warm coffee, aged books, eating macaroons, holding hands across a table, cuddling on the couch, writing in a diary, calligraphy, climbing trees, playing in the sand at the beach, traveling to London, paper bags, felt tip pens, split coffee, chocolate chip cookies.

Hongbin: Mirrors, taking pictures, collared shirts, Polaroids, scrap booking, watches, grand father clocks, white converse, sketching with pens, playing in the snow, denim jackets, grey cardigans, listening to music on a train, walking around the countryside, bike riding by the beach, fairy lights, cloudy days, maps, gravel, burning paper.

Leo: Freckles, broken glass, fluorescent lights, doc martens, tile floors, dates at the aquarium, floating in open water, mirages, candle sticks, rings, sitting at the bottom of a pool, walking along railroad tracks, getting lost at night, sitting by a lake, a cool night breeze, street lights, wet roads, water distortion, dreams, crashing waves, lathering soap, wire armatures.

Ken: Fallen yellow leaves, sunflowers, eating oranges on a hot day, glitter, painting, drinking tea, feeling grass on your feet, caramel, soft serve ice cream, picking flowers, flannel, doodling on the corner of a page, falling asleep in a field, waiting for a subway, eating eggs in the morning, checking things off of a to do list, dried flowers.

Ravi: Sitting in an old book shop, playing with matches, untied shoe laces, dried roses, drinking red wine, eating raspberries, rubies, late nights at a bar, a crescent moon, drinking coffee alone in the middle of the night, smeared lipstick, trespassing in old train yards, getting a cut, abandoned libraries, bomber jackets, scratch marks, hickeys.

Hyuk: Flowers floating in water, bath bombs, antique replica ships, collecting crystals, marshmallows, white Adidas, sleeping in late, bubble baths, pink lemonade, shy kisses, playing with hair, platinum blonde hair, pink hoodies, strawberries, baseball hats, putting photos on your wall, cherry blossoms, eating peaches, rhinestones.


Disclaimer: I don’t know VIXX very well. I only listen to a few of their songs. Please do not be upset if it does not turn out the way you want. This is my interpretation. (I literally only look at one picture of them and base it off of that.)