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daisy-dont-play · 4 months ago

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moving in | myg

summary. in which moving in together isn't as simple as it seems, but no task is herculean with yoongi by your side

pairing: yoongi x reader

genre: established relationship au, angst if you read this with a magnifying glass

word count: 3k

content: oc and yoongi finally move in together / yoongi is the sweetest but oc also wants to kick is ass half the time

warnings: none :3

notes: i'm back from my break, did you guys miss me :> this was inspired by an ask by an anon which you can find here (tysm anon ur amazing). likes, reblogs, comments and feedback is always so so appreciated. enjoy my loves!

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Privacy was a luxury in Yoongi's dorm. You had known this from the moment you first started visiting him here—how his space, while technically his, was never truly his own. There was always a member walking past his bedroom door, the faint hum of conversations drifting in from the common area, or the occasional loud clang from the kitchen at midnight.

You never minded it too much—at least, that’s what you have always told yourself. But when Namjoon walks in unannounced for the third time this evening, catching you and Yoongi curled up on the bed, you let out an exaggerated groan.

“You guys ever knock?” you tease, though there is a tired edge to your voice.

Namjoon blinked, looking apologetic as he took a step back. “Oh—uh, my bad. Was just looking for my headphones.”

Yoongi sighs next to you. He shifts his body, pulling his hand away from your waist to rest it under his head. “They’re in the studio, hyung,” he mutters without even opening his eyes.

Namjoon makes a face of realisation before nodding. “Rightt. Thanks, man.” He disappears just as quickly as he had entered, the door shutting behind him with a soft click.

You sigh, turning your body and draping your arm across your boyfriend. “You know, for a bunch of guys who's lived together for this long, you’d think knocking would come naturally.”

Yoongi chuckles, the sound deep and low. “You’d think.”

It's annoying when you can't even have the few days that Yoongi isn't burying himself with work to yourself completely. But though Yoongi agrees with your sentiment about his members, you know that you're roommates aren't much better.

You lean into his side, nestling yourself against his warmth as you put your thoughts to the side. His arm automatically drapes over your shoulders, his fingers absentmindedly playing with the hem of your sleeve. The silence that follows is comfortable, lulling you into a sense of ease—until Yoongi speaks again.

“You know,” he starts, voice lazy but thoughtful, “we’d have more privacy if we moved out together.”

The words send a jolt of awareness through you.

You stiffen slightly but don’t pull away, choosing instead to focus on the way his fingers trace slow circles against your wrist. He has mentioned this before—moving out. Not just for himself, but for the both of you. You have always brushed it off, too scared to give it serious thought.

“I dunno…” you mutter, eyes flickering up to the jagged ceiling.

The shift in the air was subtle, but you feel it immediately. Yoongi’s fingers still, and when you chance a glance up at him, you notice how his expression has hardened slightly, his jaw tight.

“What do you mean you don’t know?” His tone isn’t harsh—it never is when it comes to you—but there was something pointed about it.

“I mean…” You hesitate, chewing on the inside of your cheek. “I just—I haven’t really thought about it seriously, I guess.”

Yoongi doesn’t reply right away. He just watches you, his dark eyes scanning your face like he's trying to read between the lines. “You haven’t?”

You swallow. “I mean, I have, but—”

“But?”

There is no malice in his voice, but the weight of his gaze makes you squirm. You exhale slowly.

"But...I don't know."

You're awfully conscious of the way Yoongi's chest moves up and down with every breath; awfully conscious of how his heartbeat is lost to the sound of your own nervous thoughts.

"Oh."

You expect him to continue speaking, but he doesn't, instead choosing to let the silence hang in the air.

The last thing you want is to hurt him in any shape or form, but you know you'll sound stupid if you put your thoughts into words. This isn't the first time Yoongi has brought up the idea of moving out together, and you've managed to evade giving him an answer every time. But the quiet drags on, becoming unbearable with the second and you give in.

“Yoongi, it’s not that I don’t want to. I just…” You take a deep breath. “I don’t want to seem completely dependent on you.”

His eyebrows twitch. “What?”

“I mean, you already do so much for me,” you admit, fidgeting with the fabric of your hoodie. “I don’t want you thinking I can’t handle things on my own.”

Yoongi lets out a sharp breath, his head tilting slightly as he processes your words. “You think I’d care about that?”

You shrug, feeling silly. “I don’t know.”

Yoongi scoffs lightly, shaking his head. “You do realise I’m the one who keeps asking you to move in, right? It’s not like I feel obligated or something. I want you there.”

You bite your lip. “Yeah, but…”

His gaze flickers with something unreadable. “But what? If you genuinely don't like the idea, just tell me. I won't be offended.”

Yoongi would definitely be offended. Well, offended isn't the word he would use, but he'd be disappointed. It's a big deal for him to actually want to spend most of his days with someone who he knows he won't find himself constantly drained around.

But the last thing Yoongi wants is for you to be uncomfortable. Even if it stung a bit, he'd understand because it's you. He'd do anything for you.

You sigh. “I also don’t want you to get doxed or harassed because of me. What if someone spots us? What if it turns into a whole thing?”

Yoongi doesn't react right away. He simply watches you, his fingers tightening slightly around your wrist before he exhales. “You really think I’d let that stop me?”

You shift. “And besides,” you add quietly, “you’ve told me before that you need your own space—that people overstaying annoys you.” You glance up at him hesitantly. “What if I annoy you?”

Yoongi blinks. His lips part slightly, as if he's surprised you even had that thought. For a moment, he just stares at you.

“That’s different,” he said.

“How?”

“Because it’s you.”

Your breath hitches.

“I like having my own space,” he continues, voice softer now. “But I also like coming home to you. And yeah, people overstaying annoys me, but when have I ever wanted you to leave?”

You think back to all the times you've gotten up to leave his studio, only for him to pull you back down beside him. The times you’ve texted him that you were heading home from the dorms, only for him to insist you stay just a little longer.

Never.

The answer was never.

You open your mouth to respond, but before you can, the door swings open again.

This time, it's Taehyung.

“Oh, come on,” Yoongi groans, running his hand through his hair.

Taehyung blinks. “Uh—was just looking for my hoodie. My bad.”

As the door clicks shut once more, Yoongi turns back to you, deadpan. “If that’s not proof that we need to move out, I don’t know what is.”

You stare at him for a moment, then let out a breathy laugh.

“…Fine,” you mutter.

Yoongi’s eyes glint. “Fine?”

You sigh. “Fine. Let’s move out.”

A slow, satisfied smirk stretches across his lips. “Good,” he murmurs, leaning in slightly. His voice drops to a teasing whisper. “Because I already started looking at apartments.”

Your eyes widen. “Yoongi—”

He just grins, turning to fully wrap his hands around your figure.

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Moving day comes a lot faster than you expect it to.

It's overwhelming, not just because of the sheer number of boxes but because of what those boxes mean. This isn’t just another visit to Yoongi’s place, nor is it a temporary stay.

This is different. Permanent.

And that scares you.

Yoongi, on the other hand, has been frustratingly calm about the whole thing.

He stands next to you in the elevator, hands tucked into the pockets of his hoodie, looking completely at ease. Meanwhile, your heart pounds against your ribs as the floors tick past one by one. You fiddle with the keys in your hand, the ones Yoongi had given you just this morning.

“This is really happening, huh?” you murmur, half to yourself.

Yoongi glances down at you, a small smile tugging at his lips. “You sound surprised.”

You exhale. “I am.”

He tilts his head slightly, eyes twinkling with amusement. “You agreed to this, remember?”

“Yeah, but…” You hesitate. “It just feels surreal. Like, we’re actually moving in together. That’s a big deal.”

Yoongi hums in agreement but doesn’t seem nearly as fazed as you are. If anything, he looks… content. Maybe even excited, in his own quiet way.

The elevator doors ding open, revealing a long, well-lit hallway.

Yoongi leads the way, his stride casual, as if he has already memorised the path. When you finally reach the apartment door, he gestures towards the keys in your hand.

“Go on,” he says. “The first time opening the door should be yours.”

You glance at him, then at the door, suddenly feeling the weight of this moment settle over you.

Taking a breath, you slid the key into the lock and turned it. The mechanism clicks smoothly, the door creaking open to reveal your new home.

The first thing you notice is the vast emptiness that fills the walls.

The apartment itself is beautiful—modest yet modern, with floor-to-ceiling windows that bathe the space in natural light. The hardwood floors gleam under the afternoon sun, and the walls, still bare, seem to echo your movements as you step inside.

But there was nothing here. No furniture, no decorations, just an open space waiting to be filled.

You swallow, feeling oddly displaced. Everything is so...hollow. It's eerie.

Yoongi, again, seems unfazed. He steps past you, kicking off his shoes and letting out a satisfied sigh. “Not bad,” he muses, glancing around. “I forgot how much I liked empty spaces.”

You stare at him. “Are you serious? It’s so… bare.”

Yoongi smirks. “Exactly.”

You groan, setting your bag down. “Okay, well, you might be comfortable living like some kind of minimalist monk, but I need furniture.”

He chuckles, watching as you wander further into the apartment. You run your fingers along the smooth countertop of the kitchen island and sneak a peak into the—unfortunately empty—fridge, before making your way to the bedroom.

The bedroom is the emptiest of all.

The only thing in there is a single mattress on the floor, still wrapped in plastic. No bed frame, no pillows—just the sad, lonely mattress sitting in the middle of an otherwise vacant room.

You turn to Yoongi, unimpressed.

“Really?”

Yoongi grins. “It’s temporary.”

“You didn’t even get pillows?”

“I forgot.”

You sigh dramatically, placing your hands on your hips. “You know, for someone who planned this whole move, you’re really underprepared.”

Yoongi shrugs. “We’ll manage.”

You shake your head with a fond smile before wandering back into the main living space. It's strange—this apartment was supposed to be yours now, but it still feels so foreign. Like you're just visiting.

As if sensing your unease, Yoongi comes up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist and resting his chin on your shoulder. “You’ll get used to it,” he murmurs.

You lean into him instinctively. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” His voice was warm, reassuring. “It’s just a space right now. We’ll make it a home.”

You exhale, feeling the tension in your chest loosen just a little.

For now, this is enough.

By the time the sun has set, exhaustion has settled deep into your bones. The day had been spent moving the essentials—clothes, toiletries, a few kitchen items—and while you haven’t even scratched the surface of fully furnishing the place, it already feels like you have done enough heavy lifting for a week.

Now, standing in the still near-empty bedroom, all you want is to curl up somewhere comfy—somewhere that wasn't just a mattress on the floor.

It looks even sadder in the dim light. No bed frame, no pillows—just a single, plastic-wrapped mattress in the middle of a room that feels far too spacious for what little was inside. The walls are bare, the windows uncovered, leaving the city lights to cast faint, shifting patterns against the walls.

Yoongi, as usual, seems unbothered. He tosses his phone onto the mattress, stretching his arms over his head as he looks around. “Not bad,” he muses.

You turned to him, unimpressed. “Not bad? Yoongi, we don’t even have blankets.”

“We have hoodies. Besides, you have me.”

“Oh my god.”

He smiles, clearly entertained by your misery. “We’ll go shopping tomorrow,” he reassures. “I was too busy making sure everything else got here today. I figured we could survive one night like this.”

You quirk an eyebrow at his words. “One night? You mean the whole week until the bed frame arrives?”

Yoongi’s smirk falters slightly as he purses his lips. “…Maybe.”

You groan dramatically, flopping down onto the mattress. The plastic crinkles beneath you, making the moment even more pathetic. “This is not how I imagined our first night living together,” you mutter.

Yoongi chuckles, toeing off his socks before sitting down next to you. “How did you imagine it?”

You turn your head to look at him. “I don’t know. Maybe something a little more… romantic? Cosy? With an actual bed?”

Yoongi hums, lying back beside you. “So, no romance in a bare room?”

“None,” you say firmly. “Absolutely zero.”

There was a beat of silence before Yoongi suddenly rolled over, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you flush against him.

“Yoongi—” you yelp in surprise, but he only buries his face into your neck, his breath warm against your skin.

“You said no romance,” he murmurs, voice laced with amusement. “So I’m just making sure you’re comfortable.”

You huff, feeling the faintest hint of a smile creeping onto your lips. His body is warm against yours, and despite the lack of pillows or blankets, there is a surprising sense of comfort in simply being here with him.

“You’re ridiculous,” you mutter.

Yoongi hums, pressing a lazy kiss to your shoulder. “And you’re complaining less now.”

You roll your eyes, though you don’t bother arguing. Because the truth is, despite everything—the bare room, the mattress on the floor, the emptiness surrounding you—you still feel at home.

And that has nothing to do with the apartment itself.

It has everything to do with him.

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The next day, after waking up sore from sleeping on a mattress with no pillows, you and Yoongi ventured out to buy furniture.

It should have been an exciting experience—picking out the things that would turn your apartment into a home. But instead, it became clear within the first fifteen minutes that you and Yoongi have vastly different approaches to shopping.

Yoongi? He was practical. Minimalistic. The type to point at the first couch he saw and say, “That one’s fine,” with zero hesitation.

You, on the other hand, wanted something comfortable, something that felt lived-in before you had even sat on it.

Which was why you're currently standing in the middle of a showroom, arms crossed as you glare at the stiff-looking grey couch Yoongi is sitting on.

“You actually like this?” you ask incredulously.

Yoongi leans back slightly, patting the armrest. “It’s firm. Good back support.”

“It’s uncomfortable.”

“It’s a couch, not a cloud.”

“It should at least be soft enough to sit on for more than ten minutes without feeling like you’re in a waiting room.”

“You’re being dramatic.”

You scoff. “Says the man who literally naps more than anyone I know.” You gesture to the couch. “Can you actually see yourself sleeping on this?”

Yoongi pause. His lips press together like he wants to argue, but then he slowly looks down at the couch as if re-evaluating his choices.

You can see the exact moment he realises that you're right.

“…Maybe not,” he mutters.

You smirk. “That’s what I thought.”

With a victorious huff, you grab his hand and pull him toward the other section of the showroom, stopping in front of a much softer, cosier-looking couch. You plop down on it immediately, sinking into the cushions with a satisfied sigh.

Yoongi raises an eyebrow as he sits down next to you. “This is your dream couch?”

“Try lying down.”

Yoongi shoots you a look but does as you say, shifting until he is lying back against the cushions. You watch as his eyes flutter shut for a moment, his body visibly relaxing.

“…Okay,” he admits. “It’s nice.”

You grin. “Exactly.”

Yoongi cracks one eye open. “But it’s too big.”

You scoff. “It’s a normal-sized couch.”

“For a family of six.”

“For two people who want to be comfortable.”

Yoongi sighed, rubbing his temples like this was the hardest decision he has ever had to make. You know he's being dramatic on purpose, but you also know he doesn’t actually mind letting you win. He just likes to put up a fight first.

“Fine,” he mutters, sitting up. “We’ll get this one.”

You beam. “Thank you for admitting I was right. I know, I know, I'm so amazing.”

Yoongi rolls his eyes, unable to fight the smile on his face, but doesn’t argue.

Furniture shopping continues in much the same way. You bicker over dining tables (Yoongi wanted a small one, and you wanted a bigger one “for guests,” which made him scoff because, in his words, “What guests?”). You argue over rugs (“Why do we need one?” “Because it makes the space feel cosy, Yoongi!”).

But despite the back-and-forth, it wasn’t frustrating. If anything, it was fun.

By the end of the day, after picking out a bed frame, a coffee table, and a bookshelf you have absolutely no room for but insist on getting anyway, you both collapse onto one of the display beds.

“We should’ve just bought a fully furnished place,” Yoongi mumbles, staring at the ceiling.

“And miss out on all these cute domestic moments? Never.”

Yoongi glances at you, a small smile tugging at his lips.

“Cute, huh?” he murmurs.

You grin. “Very cute.”

Yoongi sighs dramatically but subtly reaches over, intertwining his fingers with yours.

And just like that, your new home was slowly coming together.

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