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mrworldwideshoulders · 2 years ago

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all the wrong places || reader x myg

After getting separated from your friends during a night out, you get stuck with a hefty bill – one that you can’t pay. So when a handsome, emotionless stranger covers your tab in a random act of kindness, you’re determined to track him down and pay him back. inspired by 24K Magic by Bruno Mars.

‣ Pairing: reader x yoongi (dual pov; feat. JK and Jimin) ‣ WC: 6.1k ‣ Genre: slight angst, fluff, strangers to lovers ‣ Warnings: alcohol consumption, reader and jimin joke about her being an alcoholic 🤪 (psa fr tho, please drink responsibly), credit card debt, yoongi (gently) manhandles the reader, bouncer!jungkook and his tattoos, jeon jungkook being freaking annoying, unrealistic scenarios that could only happen in a fic (is it fate, or is it just fanfiction?), reader in her dumb bitch era (said lovingly) ‣ a/n: same yoongi from my fics bang bang and give me novacaine; different y/n tho. i’d def recommend checking those two out first (though for this one i don’t think you really have to unless you’d like more backstory). i like this fic a lot and i think it’s cute so i hope you enjoy it too! as always, bannered and beta’d by the amazing april aka @onmypillow-onmytable, plus credit for the general idea of this story! 😘 thx! ly – robyn ‣ P.S. I do not own BTS, their likenesses, or the music of Bruno Mars, they just inspire me.

part of the 24k magic collection (masterlist)

This might actually be the worst night of your life. Or at the very least, one of the most embarrassing ones.

Your friends, who were supposed to be splitting the bar tab with you, have all but evaporated into thin air, and you’re so far gone you can’t even remember when you saw them last. And it’s starting to dawn on you, as your credit card declines for the third time, that you may have overdone it – in more ways than one. Declining once, that’s normal. Two times, that’s just bad luck. Three times declined, however, that’s just embarrassing. If there were ever a time you wished you were more proactive about budgeting and keeping your credit card paid off, it would be now. It’s not the end of the world, of course. You just won’t get your credit card back tonight, and you’ll have to come all the way back over here to retrieve it at some point – after you go home and recover enough of your senses to pay off some of the balance on your card. But going without your credit card for any length of time makes you anxious for some reason, and having to come back over here just for that doesn’t particularly fit into your already busy schedule.

“Are you sure you don’t have another card?” The bartender that’s trying to close out your tab looks at you pointedly as you’re rummaging through your bag. You can feel the weight of his judgmental gaze all over you.

“No, but, listen,” you ramble, face hot with a mixture of shame and too much alcohol. “I wasn’t supposed to be the one paying for everything. My friends, they stuck me with the bill, and I really need—”

“Sounds like you don’t have very good friends.” He stares you down unsympathetically. “Either cough up or get out.”

“Can’t you just…give me my card back?” you manage helplessly. You feel tears of frustration starting to form behind your eyes. “I’ll come back and pay you tomorrow. I’m good for it. Really. I just have to—” Rearrange my entire bank account, pay off my credit card, reevaluate my whole life, and promise to stick to a budget from here on out, no matter how much Jimin and Nayeon want to go out drinking. Yeah. That’ll last about a week.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” grumbles a low, irritated voice from behind you. You turn to find a man dressed completely in black, with dark eyes and an expressionless face shrouded under a heavy curtain of black hair. He hands the bartender a sleek black card. “Here. Will you leave her alone now? Go back to pretending to do your job or something.” Your eyes widen. Who is this guy? And what is he doing?

The bartender eyes you sullenly and hands you back your card. You turn to the man to thank him, but he’s already walking away, being swallowed up by the crowd. “Hey!” you call. “Wait up!” You push clumsily after him, jostling people left and right as you try to catch up with him. He’s at the front door before you’re finally able to tap him on the shoulder.

“Now what?” he snaps.

“I just wanted to thank you,” you say breathlessly, taken aback by his brusque reply. “For what you did back there. I can’t even tell you how much I appreciate it. I was about to cry because of that guy, and then you just appeared out of nowhere to save the day. You must be my guardian angel or something.”

He lets out a bitter chuckle. “Trust me, I’m no angel.”

Your cheeks seem to flush all over again and you almost forget the other reason you chased after him in the first place. “Oh! Money! I can repay you.”

His face doesn’t change. “Don’t worry about it. It’s not a big deal.”

“But…it’s money.” Your face falls in disbelief. “Of course it’s a big deal. And I don’t like owing people anything. Especially money.”

“Well, I’m not big on people feeling like they owe me anything either.” He shrugs. “So consider it forgotten. And stop following me.” He pushes through the front doors and out onto the street.

You start after him again, but you stumble on your way out the door, falling almost directly into the bouncer’s well-muscled arms, one of which is adorned in a full sleeve of tattoos that recedes under the sleeve of his black t-shirt. “Careful,” he says, steadying you on your feet.

“Um – thank you,” you manage. “That guy I was following. Did you see where he went?”

“Down there.” He points you toward the taxi stand. “He’s not bothering you, is he?”

“No, it’s just – I need to talk to him, but he keeps running away from me.” You march wobbily toward the man from before. “Hey! You!”

He sighs resignedly and turns around. “Do you make a habit of following random men out of nightclubs?”

“Only when they do me favors and won’t let me pay them back.” You plant yourself in front of him, arms crossed.

“Look, I told you not to worry about it.” He scowls. “Do you really want to do something for me? Go home, pay your credit card bill, and forget you ever met me. You’ll only hurt yourself if you don’t.”

“Suppose I don’t want to.” You gaze defiantly into his eyes. “Is that a threat?”

“No. It’s a warning. I’d listen if I were you.” A taxi pulls up, and he grabs you by the arm, firmly, but loose enough that you could break away if you needed to, and pushes you inside. “Go home.” The door slams, leaving him standing there on the sidewalk.

“Well?” says the driver impatiently. “Where to?”

You stammer out your address, still too stunned to think about anything else. Who was that guy? And what was that about a warning? He doesn’t seem like a bad person – why else would he have paid a stranger’s bar tab?

Forget you ever met me. You’ll get hurt if you don’t.

Why did he say that? You don’t know why, and you’re still far too drunk to figure it out tonight, but one thing is for certain.

You’re going to track him down. And you’re going to pay him back.

Jungkook whistles as Yoongi heads back toward him. “That was a close one.”

“Too close,” mutters Yoongi. “She could have blown the whole thing.”

“What did you do, anyway? Weren’t you supposed to be blending in?”

Yoongi shrugs. “The bartender was harassing her about her tab and her card wouldn’t go through, so I paid it for her. She wanted to repay me.” He thinks back to the look on your face, like you were about to burst into tears at any moment. A strange, unfamiliar surge of protectiveness in his chest, one that he hadn’t felt since he’d recruited Jungkook all those years ago. ”I told her she didn’t have to, but.”

“Aww.” Jungkook slaps Yoongi good-naturedly on the shoulder. “See, hyung? You’re a good guy after all.”

“Hah,” he scoffs under his breath. “No. I’ve just gotten soft, that’s all. I’ll probably regret it in a day or two. No good deed goes unpunished and all that.”

“You say ‘soft’ like it’s a bad thing.”

“Maybe not, maybe so.” Yoongi sighs, running a hand through his hair. “We should get back to work. We’ll stick around here until closing, then debrief in the morning.”

“All right.” Jungkook nods, resuming his post near the front doors, despite the sidewalk in front of the club now empty at one o’clock, an hour before closing. “I’ll be here.”

Yoongi heads back inside, his head still filled with thoughts of you, that defiant expression on your face when you’d asked him what would happen if you refused to forget him. Anyone else would have just accepted this good deed and carried on as if nothing had even happened, or worse, they would have screamed at him, told him he was overstepping and a creep, to fuck off and leave them alone. Why hadn’t you screamed at him? He’d even grabbed you, a stranger – and a woman – by the arm to push you into the cab. Yoongi knew for sure he’d overstepped there. You just didn’t do that when you were a man, not in this day and age – especially not when you were a man with a past like his. Even someone as supposedly stupid as he was knew that much. Why, he wondered, were you so intent on repaying him? Had no one ever done anything nice for you before? Purely for the hell of it, never expecting anything in return? The two of you must have something in common, then. No one had ever done anything like this for him – with the exception of Hoseok – but that was different. Hoseok was his friend, for one thing, and didn't understand the concept of taking no for an answer. At least Yoongi knew to just say thank you and get on with his life, instead of trying to push it. A chuckle rises in the back of his throat before he can stop it, and he swallows it down almost as quickly as it came, shoving aside the thoughts of you along with it.

He tucks his hands into the pockets of his jacket as he forges back into the depths of the club. There was something about you, something that made you want to insist upon repaying a random man that had just done you a favor, something innocent, idealistic, even, that made him want to protect you. Something that made him want to know you, even if it was only as friends, to explore your thoughts, to live inside your head for just a day, to find out just what, exactly, was going on in there. But he would never allow himself to get close enough to discover what that was – or risk you doing the same. Someone like him and someone like you – that could be dangerous.

Especially someone like you.

As it’s beginning to turn out, tracking down your angel in black – that’s what you’ve been calling him – is far easier said than done. Somehow you’d stumbled up to your apartment after the cab dropped you off, and from there you’d somehow managed to let yourself inside and fall face-first into your bed, where you’d slept soundly until late the next morning, awakening with a pounding head and a foggy recollection of the man from last night, convinced the whole thing had to have been a dream and that your credit card, at this very moment, was probably stashed behind the counter of that bar. Or so you thought, because it’s definitely there when you go to check your wallet. That man, the angel in black – he was definitely real – and that means his warning was real too. The only problem is…you don’t have his name, and the only thing you can remember was that he was dark-haired and wearing all black – which could be literally any man in Seoul. Now it’s Wednesday, a week later, and you’re staring at your screen, open to a browser window that’s now littered with the failed remnants of your search, and rest your chin on your hand with a sigh. Ugh, what was I even thinking? How am I going to find some guy on the internet when I don’t even know his name and I can barely remember what he looks like? Talk about a needle in a haystack. You’re supposed to be working, as in, doing your actual job, but you haven’t been able to focus all week, and you've been off your game since that night.

“What are you so laser-focused on over here?” comes Jimin’s lightly chiding voice from over your shoulder. His sudden appearance makes you jump and knock your hand into your half empty mug, causing a small wave of tepid coffee to slosh onto your desk.

“Damn it, Jimin, you scared me!” You hurriedly reach for the wad of napkins you keep in the top drawer of your desk. “Don’t sneak up on me like that. You know I startle easily.”

“Sorry.” Jimin grins mischievously and leans in to take a closer look at your screen. “Y/n, are you seriously still looking for your mystery man? It’s been a week. You know, if he wanted you to find him he would have at least told you his name. Or slipped you his number. He was probably just being nice. People do that sometimes. Like on those hidden camera shows where little kids will ask you to help them cross the street or tie their shoes. Just accept it and move on already. He’s clearly not that worried about it. You said he had a black card, right? That kind of money is probably nothing to him.”

You finish mopping up the coffee and heave another sigh, sitting back in your chair. “I know It’s stupid. And I’m definitely wasting my time. But he saved my ass in a really big way. I can’t just move on like nothing happened. There has to be some way for me to pay him back. And besides…” You debate whether you should tell Jimin what he told you before he shoved you into a taxi. “He told me to just forget I ever met him, that I’d get hurt if I didn’t. I know it’s a bad idea to keep looking at this point, but you can’t just say something like that and expect me to forget about it. It only makes me want to find him even more.”

"That’s a weird thing for anyone to say," says Jimin, leaning against your desk, "but I suppose that's your choice, even if I do think you’re only setting yourself up for disappointment."

"Thank you for the vote of support." You run your hands backwards through your hair and hum thoughtfully. "I guess I could always not pay my credit card bill and hope that it summons him out of the abyss to save my ass again."

"Then he'll think you're trying to scam him instead of repaying him.” Jimin pats your shoulder. "Cheer up, y/n. Maybe you'll find him. Maybe you won't. But we've got a meeting about the new skincare line in about…" He checks his watch. "...two minutes? And they'll kill us if we're both late so maybe put a pin in that for now?"

Of course, your actual job, the main reason you're able to have a credit card in the first place. "Shit, you're right. I completely forgot about that." You stand and gather your meeting materials into your arms. "What would I do without you, Park Jimin?"

"Mm, probably lose your job?" He straightens up and smirks.

"Mean." You slap him lightly on the arm. "I wouldn't even be looking for this guy if you and Nayeon hadn't ditched and left me with your billion dollar bar tab."

Jimin chuckles. "Okay, true, but need I remind you that you were responsible for most of it anyway?" He makes a tutting noise as you're walking down the hall. "Honestly, it's unnatural how much alcohol you can put away.”

"Please," you scoff, pushing open the door to the conference room. "I just have a high tolerance. It takes practice. You’ll get there one day."

“God, I hope not.” Jimin looks horrified at the prospect. “No offense.”

The meeting drags on, well into the afternoon, and your mind continues to wander in the direction of your angel in black, no matter how hard you try to pay attention to the subject at hand. Normally you’d be rapt with attention – skincare is your area of expertise, after all, and it’s been your dream to work at a cosmetics company ever since high school – but for the life of you, you just can’t seem to shake him from your memory and focus on your work.

Wait. The bouncer. He was standing there the whole time you were arguing with the guy. That sleeve of tattoos was pretty distinctive-looking; you’d definitely remember it if you saw it again. It would be way easier to find him than the guy in black. And he works there. He’s more likely to be there than the other guy. Maybe he remembers something you don’t.

As soon as the meeting ends, you hurry back to your desk, intent on getting all of today’s work finished by the time it hits six o’clock so you won’t have to work late, and spend the rest of the afternoon in a state of hyperfocus, only noticing that time has passed when you see that most of your coworkers are getting ready to leave. “Jimin.” You sidle up to him as he’s shrugging into his coat. “What are you doing tonight?”

“Probably just going to head home and—” He stops and narrows his eyes. “You’re up to something, aren’t you? Is this still about that guy?”

“I was thinking we could go back to that club,” you say earnestly. “There was this bouncer outside, and – well, I don’t really remember what he looked like either, but I’d know him if I saw him. I’m sure of it. I want to ask him if he remembers anything from last week. Maybe he knows something about this guy.”

“Y/n, it's Wednesday." Jimin says. “That place is going to be dead. I doubt anyone will be there, let alone your mystery man.”

You make your best pouting expression. “You’ll come with me, right? For moral support?”

“Fine.” Jimin sighs. “If it'll get you to stop fixating on this guy, I'm all for it. But you're buying me dinner.”

You throw your arms around him. "Jimin-ssi, have I ever told you you're my favorite person in the whole wide world?"

"On multiple occasions.” He smirks. “This is the first time you've ever been sober, though."

“Wow. See if I ever buy you dinner again.”

The club, as Jimin predicted, was nearly empty, with only a few clumps of people dancing here and there, a handful of people at the bar, and a completely different, tattoo-less bouncer working the front door, who seemed to think the man with the tattoos was a temp.

“There’s nobody like that working here!” he bellowed back to you, over the thumping music. “Your guy’s probably a temp!”

“No, I’m positive!” you shouted. “It was here. I tripped going out the door and he caught me. I’d know him if I saw him. Are you sure?”

“I’m sure!” he said. “Would you mind stepping away from the door? People are trying to come inside.” You didn’t hang around much longer after that, figuring that if neither the bouncer nor your mystery man were there now they probably wouldn’t be there later either.

“Well, that was a bust,” comments Jimin, once you’re back in a cab on the way home.

You blow out a frustrated breath. “Yeah. Sorry to drag you all the way over here for nothing.”

“Ah, don’t worry about it,” he says. “That’s what friends are for, right? At least I got dinner out of it.”

“Ha, ha, ha.” You roll your eyes. “I knew I should have just waited ‘til the weekend. I was just so excited to test my theory that I jumped the gun a little.”

Jimin frowns. “Don’t tell me you’re planning on making another special trip back over here to look for this guy.”

“Well…I was.” You turn to look at him, taken aback. “Why shouldn’t I?”

“Y/n…” Jimin sighs. “I'm your best friend and I love you, but…don’t you think you’re going too far with this? You don’t think maybe it’s time to move on? I mean, what if this guy really is dangerous, like he said? What if you get hurt?”

You scoff a little. “Would a dangerous person really come right out and say they’re dangerous?”

“Yes. That’s absolutely what a dangerous person would say. Please let this go, y/n. I’m begging you. For your own good. The universe will forgive you this one time for not paying that guy back.”

"I know, but…" I won't. You sigh. "One more time, Jimin. I have to try one more time before I can tell myself I did everything I could."

"Okay. One more time." Jimin's face softens. "But I'm going to hold you to that. No more midweek club nights, internet searches, whatever. You have to let this go because it’s weird that you’re still hung up on this."

"I promise. One more time, and then no more. If I don't find him this time, I'm done."

"Good. Be careful, okay?"

"When am I not careful?" Your best friend raises an eyebrow and squints at you with the most skeptical of sideways glances, probably armed and ready with at least a dozen examples of how you’ve most decidedly not been careful in the past few years you’ve known each other. "That was rhetorical, Jimin. Drop the judgy look, please."

“What judgy look?” he demands. “This is just my face.”

“Uh-huh. Sure.”

If Wednesday night’s visit was bad, then Saturday’s is even worse. It’s crowded, almost as crowded as it was the very first night the man in black saved your ass, with barely any good vantage points to park yourself and people-watch in hopes of catching a glance of your mystery man. You should have taken the other bouncer’s inability – or reluctance – to tell you anything about his tattooed coworker the other night as a warning – because it’s obvious that no one else is going to tell you anything about him either, for one reason or another. You’ve asked bartenders, waitresses, anyone who looks like they work there, and all that’s gotten you is in trouble with management.

“We’re not allowed to give out that kind of information about our employees.” The manager’s eyes narrow. “Stop nosing around before you get yourself banned. Permanently.” With one final scowl he stalks off.

I guess that’s it, then, you think. You let out a sigh as you sit back down at the bar. God, what was I thinking? I never had any chance of finding this guy, not in a million years. Jimin was right. Why did I drag this out so long? It's time for me to move on. As soon as I finish this drink, I’ll walk out of this club and I’ll never think about him again. I’ll go home, and I’ll catch up on all that work I’m behind on because of him. No, I’ll get ahead. Yeah. That’ll show them. Part of you wants to feel relieved, but the realization only makes you feel dejected. Damn. I really wanted to meet him. You get to your feet, and collect your things, taking one last glance around the room.

That’s when you see him.

Your angel in black, drinking whiskey in the corner. Same black suit, same heavy bangs, same blank expression. Right as you’re about to leave and never look back, you just happen to see him? It’s too coincidental to be anything other than fate.

You draw a deep breath, steel your nerves, and march up to his table. “And to think I was just going to walk right past you and out of this place forever. It's almost like the universe wanted us to meet again." You pull out the chair across from him and sit down. “You know, I never did catch your name.”

“That’s because I never dropped it,” he says dryly. “What are you doing here again? Didn’t I tell you to mind your own business?”

“What, can’t a girl drink where she likes anymore?” You lean in. “Who says I’m here to mind your business? I’m busy minding my own. Which, as it turns out, happens to involve you – and making sure you get something in return for covering my ass that night. Thank you, by the way. You barely let me get it out last time.”

He scoffs, sitting back. “I told you to forget about it. I didn’t spot you because I expected you to pay me back.”

“Why did you do it, then?” You cock your head to one side. “There must have been some reason you felt like rescuing a damsel in distress. Nobody does anything without a reason.”

The question seems to catch him off-guard for a moment, before he quickly regains his composure. “Why does it matter?” He stares down into his glass. “You don’t know anything about me. I could be dangerous for all you know. Like I've been trying to tell you this whole time.” Dangerous. There’s that word again.

“Well, you can’t be all that bad, or you wouldn’t have helped me out. And besides,” you muse, “if you were going to do anything to me you probably would have done it already.”

“Suppose that’s true.” One side of his mouth twitches, almost imperceptibly.

“Then again, maybe it is like you said. Maybe you aren’t a good person. But I don’t think that necessarily makes you a bad person. And I don’t think you would have done anything to me, even if you did have the chance. Which you did, the other night.”

A hard laugh escapes from his lips. "Clearly you haven't been listening to anything I've been saying. Because you definitely wouldn't be saying that if you really knew me.”

You purse your lips thoughtfully. “Well, you know, I have this theory. Everyone has a color, right? Some people you can just tell whether they’re one way or another, black, white, whatever. But you…well, I’ve never met anyone like you before.”

“Hah. I’ve heard that one before.” The man avoids looking at you and stares down at the table, features set in an unreadable expression. “So, what color am I, then?”

“Mm.” You grin. “First impression? Silver.”

“Silver, huh?” He smirks. “Why silver?”

“On the surface you’re a very gray person. Kind of an enigma. You’re not black and you’re not white, you’re somewhere in between, which makes you gray. But on closer inspection, anyone can see there’s something different about you that sparkles a little bit. Something that shines.” His face doesn’t move. “It’s just a theory, anyway,” you say hastily. “I’d have to get to know you a little better before I could really say for sure.”

“What makes you think that’s going to happen?” An eyebrow quirks just slightly.

“Hm. You seem like the type who would have gotten up and left already if you weren’t at least a little bit interested in me, even if you came off as rude. And you’re still here, so you must be somewhat intrigued, right?”

“That’s a compelling theory – but you're wrong. I might be an asshole but I'm not that kind of asshole.” He leans back, an arm draped over the back of the booth. “Anyways, before I answer your question, let me ask you one of my own: why are you so hellbent on paying me back to the point where you thought you had to track me down?”

“You know, I’m not sure myself.” You rest your chin in your palm. “It just feels like the thing to do, that’s all. Most of the time strangers tend to either ignore me or glare at me when this kind of thing happens. You probably think I’m a mess. I know I do. I also know from experience that I can only ever count on my friends to have my back, so imagine my surprise when you, a random stranger, had my back the other night. You did something only my friends ever do for me.” You shrug nonchalantly. “And I always repay my friends.”

“All right,” he says after a moment. “I won’t say I’m not at least a little impressed that you even found me. And now that you have…I’m guessing you’re not going to leave me alone until I give you what you want.” The whiskey swirls in his glass, resting in one long, slender hand. “Which is?”

“Dinner,” you say, boldly, without hesitating. “Or drinks, at least. I know I probably can’t afford what you’re used to. Obviously, considering the other night…but let me treat you sometime. Just to say thank you. Honestly, I’m a great date. Really. Or I should be." You sigh. "I've been on a lot, so I've had plenty of practice. But I promise I’ll make it worth your while. I even paid off my credit card. Just for you.”

He releases a resigned sigh and sets his glass down. “Okay. Say I agree, even though you have no idea what you’re getting yourself into and I definitely shouldn’t indulge you any further than I already have. Will you stop following me around if I do?”

“That depends. Are you going to ghost me as soon as it’s over?”

“Now that,” he says, “depends on whether or not you’re as good of a date as you say you are.”

“Oh, I’m positively delightful. Excellent conversationalist. Top-notch table manners. I won’t even stick you with the check this time. Best night of your life, guaranteed. Or top-ten, at least.”

He pauses, looking like he might regret what he’s about to say. “Fine. We can have dinner. On one condition.”

“Oh? What’s that?”

“You really have to stop following me around.” His expression turns dark. “It’s not a good idea for you to get involved with me. You could get hurt.”

“This again?” You sigh. “Let’s just see how dinner goes, and then I’ll decide if you’re worth any more of my time.”

“You’ll decide, huh?” He eyes you. “You don’t even know my name.”

“I don’t know your name yet,” you correct him, “and that’s only because you haven’t told me what it is.”

“Yoongi,” he says finally, after a moment of hesitation. A tinge of amusement plays across his features. “Min Yoongi.”

“Yoongi,” you repeat. “It’s nice to finally meet you, Yoongi. I’m Y/n. Y/n L/n.” You extend a hand across the table.

“Y/n,” he says, giving your hand a firm shake. It’s cool and dry, and you spot the barest remains of a scar on his palm as he pulls his hand away. “Only time will tell whether I’m going to be able to say the same for you.”

“Mm.” You shrug. “I think you’ll be surprised.”

“Like I said.” Yoongi gets to his feet, taking his glass with him. “Anyway. I have some business to take care of. Can you get out of here on your own, or are you going to be needing my help again?”

“I’ll be fine, but – wait, I didn’t give you my number. How are we going to get in touch?”

“Don’t worry about it.” He looks down at you and smirks, the unmistakable hint of a sparkle somewhere in those soft, dark eyes. “You seem to think we’re fated, so I’m sure we’ll run into each other again if we’re really meant to. We’ve exchanged names now.” Yoongi raises his glass slightly. “You can find out a lot about a person from just a name.”

“Hey, wait a—” Yoongi is gone before you can finish your sentence, swallowed up by the dense crowds of the club. “He still didn’t answer my question,” you mutter.

But despite all that – you have a hopeful feeling about the whole situation.

"Yoongi," you repeat. "Who are you, Min Yoongi?"

The silence in Yoongi’s office the next morning is nearly palpable, the air between him and Jungkook filled with the sounds of clicking keys as they’re finishing up their paperwork on the case at the club. Even without looking he can sense the younger man eyeing him over the top of his laptop screen. Yoongi heaves a resigned sigh. “Spit it out, Jungkook. I can practically hear the gears grinding inside that giant head of yours.”

Jungkook stops typing and leans forward, grinning in a suspiciously sunny manner. “I was just noticing how good of a mood you’re in today, boss,” he says. “Better than you’ve been in months.”

"Bullshit I am." Yoongi’s eyes don’t move. “You're imagining things."

“You are too!” Jungkook insists. “I told you good morning on my way in and you didn’t even tell me to stop bothering you and get to work.” He squints at Yoongi. “You said it back to me. And you weren’t even being sarcastic about it.”

“So I said good morning to you. Once. Big deal. I’ve been known to be cordial every once in a while, haven’t I?”

“But you’re never cordial with me,” insists Jungkook. “You're cordial with clients. And people who are gonna give you money. Normally it’s all grunts and scowling when you talk to me. Something good happened last night, didn’t it? I saw you chatting with that girl, the one you paid the bar tab for last week. She managed to track you down, huh?” He’s not going to let this go easily. He’s like a dog with a chew toy whenever he finds an interesting enough tidbit to hang onto.

Yoongi suppresses a sigh and presses his fingers to the sides of his temples. “Yeah, and? What are you getting at?”

“Oh, nothing.” He plasters an innocent-looking expression on his face. “She went through all of that trouble to track you down when most people would have just let it go. She must like you. Seems like you like her too.”

Yoongi snorts. “Y/n? Flighty, irresponsible, doesn’t even know her own limits, so impulsive that the first thing she thinks of when a man does something nice for her is to follow him out into the street y/n? No way in hell.”

“And you, a guy who’s so cautious, practical, and down to earth that he never does anything without thinking about it for weeks?” notes Jungkook. “All I’m hearing is that you’d be perfect for each other. Opposites attract, you know?”

“The worst thing she could do would be to get involved with me,” Yoongi scoffs. “Trust me. It’s not happening.” He rolls a pen back and forth in his hand. “It’s not like that, anyway. She said she’d leave me alone if I let her do this. She doesn’t like me, she just feels like she owes me. That’s all. I’m just humoring her so she’ll leave me alone.”

“Uh-huh.” Jungkook smirks. “You do like her, don’t you?”

“I didn’t say that,” grumbles Yoongi. “Why don’t you mind your own business for once?”

“In case you’ve forgotten, hyung,” says Jungkook, still grinning, “you left me in charge of minding your business for the past six months. You know, while you were off the grid camping in the middle of nowhere?”

“Yeah, and I’m starting to regret it,” he mutters. “Humor me and let it go. It’s too early for this shit.”

“All right, fine.” Jungkook turns his eyes back to his screen, but it doesn’t last for long. “So when are you going to see her again?”

“We didn’t set a firm—” Yoongi’s eyes narrow, pinning Jungkook with a searing glare. “Hey. I’ll fire you if you don’t watch yourself.”

“Ah, go ahead and fire me, then,” Jungkook says cheerfully. “I’d like to see how well you manage without me covering your ass.”

Yoongi flings the pen in his hand across the table, aiming for Jungkook’s head, who easily dodges it. “Aish, you’ve gotten cocky since I left. I managed just fine on my own before you got here, thank you. You were the one who came bitching to me about how much you needed me to come back, weren’t you? This case that you just couldn't handle by yourself, even though you've probably handled about a dozen of the exact same type of cases all by yourself?”

“Come on!” snorts Jungkook. “We both know you were ready to come back. I just needed to make you feel good about yourself so you’d actually get off your ass and do it. You should be thanking me, hyung.”

“Thanking you?” demands Yoongi. “What the hell should I be thanking you for?”

“I think you know.” Jungkook’s eyebrows dance suggestively, eyes twinkling. “Y/n – she’s pretty, isn't she?”

“That’s it. You’re getting demoted.”

“Okay, okay.” Jungkook falls silent suddenly before he speaks again. “I missed you, boss. Good to have you back.”

“Ah, shut up,” Yoongi snaps. “And get back to work. These reports aren’t going to write themselves, you know.”

Jungkook turns his attention back to his computer screen again, eyeing Yoongi’s scowl with a knowing smirk. Yeah. He totally likes her.

#bts #bts fanfiction #bts fanfic #bts x you #bts x reader #bts au #min yoongi x reader #suga x reader #yoongi fanfic #suga fanfic #bts imagines #yoongi angst #yoongi fluff #min yoongi #reader x myg #mrworldwideshoulders #i hate tags lol

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mrworldwideshoulders · 2 years ago

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i choose you || reader x knj

When your best friend abandons you at a wedding with a bunch of strangers and the guy she’s trying to set you up with is just not that into you, you decide to have some fun instead of sulking in the corner, which earns you the attention - and the affection - of a stranger named Kim Namjoon.

✓ Pairing: reader x Namjoon (very briefly feat. Jin) ✓ WC: 4.5k ✓ Rating: rated T / PG-13 ✓ Genre: mostly fluff, smidgen of angst, strangers to lovers-ish, love at first sight-ish ✓ Warnings: alcohol consumption, foul language, minho slander (he’s choi minho, he can handle it), seokjin is drunk, loud, and in love, bad descriptions of making out, dimple descriptions, reader is a hoe for namjoon’s forearms, namjoon is a big awkward cutie ✓ a/n: hehehe it's another wedding fic sorry lolololol. this is the prequel to where love finds us and the way you look tonight, if ya wanna check those out afterwards. i meant to have this out last month but oh well, here it is in july :) i like this one a lot because it's a lil bit goofy and i hope you enjoy it too! as always beta’d and bannered by teh amazing april (@onmypillow-onmytable)! thx! ly - robyn ✓ P.S. I do not own BTS or their likenesses, nor do I own the music of Bruno Mars (lol), they just inspire me.

part of the 24k magic collection (masterlist)

“Remind me again why I’m here?” you complain as your best friend, Ji-eun, pulls you by the arm into the reception hall. “When you asked me if I wanted to do something this weekend, crashing someone’s wedding reception was not what I had in mind.”

“It’s not crashing if you’re invited,” shrugs Ji-eun. “I was invited. And then I invited you. Ergo, you were invited.”

“That is absolutely not how weddings work. Who invited you, anyway? I don’t recognize anyone here.”

“The bride?” says Ji-eun, as if it should be obvious. “We’re co-workers, or something. She invited everyone from our department.”

You roll your eyes and sigh. “I’m totally underdressed.” You eye all of the women around you dressed in semi-formal gowns and you elbow Ji-eun in the ribs. “Why didn’t you tell me there was a dress code?” The strapless cocktail dress you thought was such a good idea earlier suddenly seems like the worst decision you ever made, and you didn’t even bring a sweater to save face either, all because the only instruction Ji-eun could bother to give you when she texted this morning was “wear a dress” and “something with lots of cleavage.” Ji-eun, you’ve decided, is bound and determined to drag you into trouble at every opportunity. It’s a wonder you’re both still alive – and not cellmates in jail – with all of the questionable situations she’s been pulling you into since middle school.

“You look hot,” she says. “Don’t even worry about it. You’ll blend right in.”

“Did you just say ‘hot’ and ‘blend in’ in the same sentence?”

“Ugh, you’re so self-conscious. You are hot. I think it’s time you embraced that.” She pouts at the look on your face. “Come on, y/n,” she wheedles. “Minho will be here, and I’ve been wanting to introduce you guys for ages. He’s such a great guy. Did I mention he’s hot? And dying to meet you? Please let me play matchmaker. Then later when you’re happily married to the love of your life, you can say it was all thanks to your best friend in the entire world who loves you enough to set you up with her hot guy friends.”

“Yeah, well, the position of ‘best friend in the entire world’ might be opening up sometime soon if you keep setting me up with these duds.”

“You’re so mean!” she whines. “I told you the last one was just a misunderstanding.”

“He ditched and left me with the check, Eun. It was not a misunderstanding. It was a calculated move.” The guy even had the audacity to call you later that night to see if you wanted to go out again, claiming “bathroom trouble” as the reason for sticking you with the check. As if you were dumb or desperate enough to fall for that – especially since he’d conveniently been hit by “bathroom trouble” once he was mostly done eating, not to mention your waitress had been kind enough to let you know that she’d seen him slipping out through a side door – apparently completely fine.

“Stop complaining. Come on. Sparks are going to fly between you two, I just know it.” She resumes tugging on your arm and you reluctantly allow her to pull you along as she weaves through the crowd, finally stopping you in front of a man who must be the fabled Minho. “Oppa!” coos Ji-eun. “This is y/n. You remember, don’t you?” She shoots him a knowing look.

“Ah, Ji-eun!” he greets her. “I remember. The one you were telling me about, right?” Minho glances at you. “Eun, she’s gorgeous. Where have you been keeping her?” He takes your hand and plants a kiss on it. “Choi Minho.”

“Y/n,” you reply, somewhat taken aback at his outward display of affection. “I’ve heard a lot about you, so it’s nice to finally meet you.”

“Have fun, you two,” teases Ji-eun in a sing-song voice. “I’m off to snag myself a drink or a handsome groomsman, whichever one comes first.”

“She’s really something else, isn’t she?” you say, looking to break the awkward silence that falls once Ji-eun is gone. “So how do you two know each other? I don’t think she said.”

“University,” says Minho. “We were in the same major. Same year, too, but she insists on calling me oppa.” He shakes his head and chuckles. Minho says it like it’s something that bothers him, but it clearly doesn’t, or else he would have corrected her before now.

“Oh, I guess you were a business major, too.” You nod. “Explains why we never ran into each other. I barely saw her the whole time, and we were roommates.”

“We went to the same university?” Minho seems surprised. “I never would have guessed. What major were you in?” Something about the incredulous look on his face rubs you the wrong way.

“Uh, yeah. We did.” You narrow your eyes. “I was a graphic design major.”

“Graphic design. Wow.” Minho inhales sharply through his teeth. “How’s that going for you? I hear it’s pretty competitive. You know, if you’re ever looking to change fields I’m sure I could find something for you at my company. A favor for a friend of a friend, yeah?

“Oh, um,” you say, “I…have a job. And I kind of like it, so I’m not really planning on moving any time soon.”

“Well, you let me know if you ever change your mind.” He winks and touches your bare arm. “Any friend of Eun’s is a friend of mine. And I’m sure we could take much better care of you than wherever you’re working now.” Minho’s eyes wander from your face down to your chest and then somewhere over your shoulder, where something – or someone – else seems to catch his eye.

“Uh…thanks,” you say, unsure how else to respond, feeling a little uncomfortable. You wish you had a drink to settle your nerves and a sweater to cover your chest. Why did Ji-eun have to leave? you curse internally. She knows I’m not good at this. “So,” you say brightly, hoping to steer the conversation in another direction. “What does your company do?”

“We’re in transportation, mostly,” he says, his eyes still somewhere behind you, “but we’ve got our fingers in a lot of pies.”

A few more minutes of conversation with him pass, and it’s already obvious that you and Minho don’t exactly have a lot in common – nor does it seem that you’re really his type, because he keeps glancing at a pretty bridesmaid in a lavender dress somewhere behind you. You’re beginning to wonder what exactly Ji-eun expected the two of you to talk about, because the two of you are polar opposites, and not in the endearing, meet cute, opposites attract sort of way, in the way that even if you did decide to date you’d probably end up butting heads over anything and everything. You steal a covert glance the next time Minho’s eyes wander away from your face and over your shoulder. The bridesmaid is chatting animatedly with what looks like another bridesmaid, cutting glances every so often in your direction – or Minho’s direction, more like. You sigh internally and try to hide your frown. Of course. Minho looks like he could be an idol or an actor; it only makes sense that he wouldn’t be interested in you. He probably only even agreed to meet you as a favor to Ji-eun. Well, if he’s not even going to pretend he’s interested – then why should you? “Minho?” you say sweetly. “I’m going to go get a drink.”

“Don’t miss me too much while you’re gone.” He grins.

“I’ll, uh, do my best.” You find your way over to the bar and watch as Minho approaches the bridesmaid he was making eyes at, any thoughts of you surely already forgotten. You shake your head and sip your wine. He’s probably better suited for her than he is for you. You blow out a long breath and order a glass of white wine from the bartender. Why does it have to be like this? Every guy, every date, every time you even attempt to put yourself out there – it just never works. Sure, part of it is probably your fault for having unrealistic standards. And part of you doesn’t even really want a relationship, not after watching your parents tear each other to pieces every time they set foot in the same room together. It’s not like it’s always been your dream to fall in love and get married, either. The only thing you’ve ever wanted for yourself is to be happy. If that’s with a man in your life – then so be it. Everyone always says that you’ll know when the right one comes along, but you’re starting to think that has about as much likelihood of happening as you becoming president.

You throw back half of your wine in one gulp. Ah, should I just leave? you wonder to yourself, scanning the room for Ji-eun. There’s no point in me staying if Minho isn’t interested and nobody else is either. What else am I here for other than that? You debate slipping out the front door, flagging down a taxi, and going home, but eventually decide against it, feeling a twinge of guilt at the idea of abandoning Ji-eun at this wedding by herself – even if she did technically do the same thing to you. Really starting to question who’s putting the most effort into this friendship, you gripe internally.

You finish the rest of your wine and request another from the bartender. What am I doing? you think suddenly, the first glass of wine beginning to hit you as you start on the second. Am I really just standing here drowning my troubles at a wedding, of all places? This is so dumb. You scan the room. The dance floor is crowded, with people moving back and forth, dancing, reveling in the moment, the music pounding all around. Instead of lingering by the bar, feeling pitiful and alone…the realization dawns on you that you should be out there, having fun. Or, at the very least, keeping your mind occupied enough to forget the disappointment of yet another man having no interest in you.

“Dance like no one’s watching, right?” you say to yourself, downing the rest of your second glass of wine and hopefully, washing away the nerves that normally plague you, the fear of being perceived when it comes to doing anything in social situations. As the wine hits you, you begin to feel pleasantly warm and tipsy, and you move toward the crowd, the lights bouncing off the lacquered wood floor. Before you can talk yourself out of it, you close your eyes and feel yourself start to move with the beat of the music. You don’t even know the happy couple, but you silently thank them for hiring such a good DJ.

Minutes pass, though it feels much longer, with you tossing your hair, moving your hips and head back and forth to the beat of the music, forgetting about the fact that your best friend is a terrible matchmaker, and the fact that it feels like she’s genuinely trying to set you up for failure, making you question everything about yourself, forgetting about the fact that you couldn’t even hold a man’s attention for longer than ten minutes, even in a stupidly revealing cocktail dress that your friend made you wear under false pretenses. And in those moments, it’s just you, and the music, remembering that you are pretty, and one guy’s stupid opinion of you doesn’t matter. Love will come, or it won’t, and you’re determined to be happy with your life either way.

The strappy heels you’re wearing prove to be your downfall, and you eventually decide to extricate yourself from the throng of wedding guests, limping back over to the bar. Your cheeks are flushed, and you’re exhausted, but there’s a sense of exhilaration pumping through you, feeling somewhat revitalized by making yourself do something you wouldn’t normally do on your own. You steady yourself against the bar, standing on one foot while you rest the other, and request another glass of wine from the bartender.

“Looks like you were enjoying yourself out there.” A low voice materializes next to you. Your head swivels in the direction of the voice to find a man standing just feet away from you, holding a bottle of beer and watching you with interest. He’s much taller than you, but not intimidating, with an approachable air about him, and warm brown eyes that remind you of autumn. A dark blazer is slung over one shoulder, leaving him in a simple white dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up, the folded cuffs tugging at his muscular forearms. His friendly smile accentuates the dimple in his cheek.

“Oh!” you say, cheeks flushing. You put your other foot back on the ground in surprise. “Yeah. I guess. I don’t normally do that kind of thing, but my friend dragged me here because she wanted me to meet this guy, but they both disappeared, and then I was just standing here all alone feeling sorry for myself.” You lift one shoulder in a shrug. ”I don’t even really know anyone here, but I figured I might as well make the best of it and have some fun.”

“Looks like we’re in the same boat,” he says with a chuckle. ”I sort of got dragged here too.”

“Well, from one wedding crasher to another, let me introduce myself.” You hold out a hand jokingly for him to shake. “I’m y/n.”

“Y/n,” he repeats, taking your hand. “Nice to meet you, y/n. I’m Namjoon.”

"There, now we both know at least one other person." You smile, taking a sip from the glass of wine that the bartender has just set in front of you.

“So this guy your friend wanted you to meet,” he says. “You didn’t like him?”

"No?" You make a face. “I mean, he was all right, I guess, but I don't think we had very much in common. Besides, he was making googly eyes at some bridesmaid the whole time I was talking to him." A rueful sigh huffs through your lips. "I’ve got to stop listening to Ji-eun. She means well, but one thing she doesn’t have is a talent for matchmaking.”

“Sorry to hear that," says Namjoon. "About the guy.”

“It’s okay. At least we didn’t waste too much of each other's time.” You smile. “Anyway, why aren’t you out there? Isn’t everyone supposed to be dancing? It’s a party, after all.”

“Oh, no.” He chuckles. His laugh feels affable and warm, just like his smile. “I’m a terrible dancer. It's better that I don’t. I’d probably end up breaking something, or someone. I’m just here for the atmosphere.” He sets his bottle down on the bar top. “Besides, I was having more fun watching you.” His brown eyes twinkle.

Your heart flutters in your chest and you find yourself trying to hold back a laugh.

“Not buying it?” he says teasingly. You shake your head, still smiling. “Sorry. I’ve never been very good at this. Whatever this is.”

“I’ll give you a point for trying.”

“Ah, good. That means I didn’t fail completely, right?”

“Right. Something like that.” You laugh. “So who dragged you here? Are your friends equally as annoying as mine?”

"My friend, Seokjin, who's been bugging me to get out for weeks. He claims to know the groom or something. No, wait, it was the best man…or maybe it was the best man’s friend? I’m actually not sure.” He scans the crowded dance floor and points. “Him, right there, with the shoulders.” You follow his line of vision over to a tall, broad-shouldered man, flailing his arms and virtually towering over his dance partner, who, come to think of it, looks a lot like…Ji-eun? "He might actually be more dangerous on the dance floor than me.”

“Funny,” you say. “That's my best friend he's dancing with.”

“Really?” Namjoon looks at you, then back at them. “Wow. I guess it’s only right that our annoying best friends found their way to each other.”

“No offense to your friend, but I don’t think it’ll last very long. Ji-eun’s not known for committing long-term. She’s a walking contradiction. Convinced she’ll be the one to introduce me to my one and only, yet has no interest in finding one of her own.”

“As luck would have it, neither is Jin. They’re a perfect match.”

You raise your glass. “In that case, may the Seokjins and the Ji-euns of the world always find their way to each other.”

He clinks his bottle with your cup. “Hear, hear.”

Namjoon is easy to talk to, and he's especially interested in your job illustrating book covers for a publishing house. "It's nothing special." You wave your hands. “It’s a really small company. And I’ve only been doing it for about a year, so I’m not very good at it yet.”

"Are you kidding?” he says, awestruck. “I’ve never met anyone who does that. And you must be good, or you wouldn’t be doing it professionally.”

“Well, it pays the bills,” you say, dipping your head modestly, “and it gives me plenty of free time to work on my own art.”

“Really?“ Namjoon looks intrigued. “What medium do you prefer?”

“I’m a painter. Mostly. But I like to experiment with a little bit of everything.”

“Wow. She designs book covers. She paints. And now I’m wondering where you’ve been all my life.” A tinge of pink colors his cheeks. “Uh…I just meant…” He rubs at his neck self-consciously. “Anyway.”

He’s awfully cute when he’s flustered.

The conversation takes a slight turn, and you find yourself listening with interest as he tells you about his work as a grad student, his dissertation on the intersection of art and philosophy, his plans for the future after he finishes his doctorate. Tenure, professorhood, the papers he wants to write. The art he'd like to buy if he had the money. If it were anyone else, you know you'd be starting to zone out by now, but there's something about Namjoon's low, even voice that draws you in and keeps you paying attention. Like a documentary narrator, or a radio host.

"You're staring at me," he says, his tone light and teasing.

You were listening so intently that you didn't even realize what you were doing. "Was I?" You turn away slightly, hoping to hide the blooming patches of pink on your cheeks. "Sorry."

"It's okay." Namjoon's eyes crinkle into a smile. "It's all I can do to get the freshmen in my courses to look at anything other than their screens, so trust me, I don't mind it at all. I'm just glad you don't think I'm boring."

"Boring?" you say, surprised. "Are there people out there who think you're boring?"

"Oh, definitely. You'd be surprised. Jin, for one. He swears up and down that he doesn't think so, but a few minutes in and his eyes are already starting to glaze over. You, on the other hand…well, I've been monologuing for ages, but you've just been standing there with that mesmerized look on your face the whole time."

"Mesmerized?" You chuckle. "I don't know about that."

"No, it's true," he insists. "Admit it. I fascinate you."

"And?” you ask. “What about it?”

“What do you say we get out of here?” he says, barely blinking an eye. The corner of his mouth quirks. “This party’s almost over anyway. We can continue this conversation somewhere we can actually hear ourselves think.”

You hesitate. You barely know this guy. But he likes you – you can tell. He’s the first guy in a long time to express genuine interest in you or your job or your personal life in general. It doesn’t hurt that he’s easy to look at, either, with his striking brown eyes and easy, dimpled smile. There’s just something about the way he looks at you that makes your palms tingle and you heart feel like it’s about to explode. And what is it about rolled up sleeves and exposed forearms that just drives you absolutely insane? Maybe it’s the alcohol talking, or the letdown from Ji-eun’s unsuccessful attempt to set you up with Minho – but you have to see where this goes. “Okay,” you say finally. “Where should we go?”

He’s about to speak when Seokjin and Ji-eun stumble up, arm in arm. “Namjoon-ah! My best friend!” Seokjin exclaims drunkenly. He throws his long arms over Namjoon’s shoulders from behind, pink-cheeked and grinning. “I think I’m in love.”

“Oh, really?” Namjoon eyes his friend with a dry expression. “Who is she, then?”

He looks at Ji-eun blankly, then back at Namjoon. "Ah, well, her name isn't important. What matters is…I'm in love." Seokjin pokes a long finger into Namjoon’s cheek. “And I’m going to marry her.”

“Oppa!” squeals Ji-eun, pulling him back toward her. “Really?”

“Uh-huh. I’ll bet.” Namjoon’s gaze cuts in your direction. “Sorry. Normally he’s better at holding his liquor than this,” he whispers. “I should really get him home before he gets any louder – and gets us uninvited from future events.”

“Same here,” you say apologetically. “If we can manage to split them apart again.” Seokjin and Ji-eun are once again furiously making out, hands in places you’re not even sure you’re supposed to be looking.

“They’ll have to come up for air sometime. I think we might have a chance then. You grab yours and I’ll grab mine?”

“Deal.” The second Ji-eun pulls away from Seokjin to take a breath, you take her firmly by the arm and pull her toward the door of the reception hall, ignoring her protesting about being separated from the love of her life, while Namjoon tugs Seokjin along behind you. There’s a line of people outside already waiting for taxis, given that you’re in the middle of the city, so you join the queue behind another couple, still trying to prevent Ji-eun and Seokjin from devouring each other whole on the sidewalk.

“Nicely done,” says Namjoon, the dimple in his cheek reappearing alongside his grin, while he maintains a firm grip on Seokjin's arm. “I take it you have experience with this?”

“Only every Saturday night since university.” You chuckle. “Between the two of us I’m definitely the responsible one.”

“Eonni!” whines Ji-eun. “Don’t tell him that! He’ll think you’re boring!”

You plant an elbow firmly into the side of her ribs, sending her into silence.

"That's okay." His smile doesn't waver. "I'm a little bit boring myself, so what's one boring person to another?"

Boring? you think. You're not boring at all. You’re passionate about what you love. You’re the first man to look at me that way: like I’m the most interesting person in the world to you, when really it’s the other way around. You’re sweet. You’re adorably awkward. You’re bad at flirting – but something about you draws me in anyway. And I know we’ve only just met…but I want to know everything about you. What makes you happy, what inspires you, what intrigues you…I want to spend hours listening to you tell me all about it.

The crowd waiting for cabs disperses until it's just you and Namjoon. "I guess this is it, then,” he says as a taxi finally pulls to a stop in front of you. “We should do this again sometime. Minus the drunk people, of course. Not that I don’t enjoy dragging a hundred and thirty pounds of dead weight around with me, but it does put a damper on things, doesn’t it?”

“Yah, you bastard! I’m not that heavy!” Seokjin bellows, as he's struggling to stay upright, his words still slurring together.

“Yeah,” you say. “I’d like that. Maybe we can actually finish that conversation we were having before we got interrupted.” You nudge Ji-eun, who seems determined to make herself as unwieldy as possible, not so gently into the cab, sending her tumbling into the backseat, and turn back to him. “By the way…I really appreciate it. You talking to me. It made me forget how totally out of place I was.”

“Ah, it was nothing.” He ducks his head sheepishly. “As a fellow wedding crasher, I’m happy to have helped. Thanks for putting up with me rambling all night.”

“Please.” You smile, waving your hand. “Nothing to put up with. I had a good time.”

“Well…good night, y/n.” Namjoon closes the car door after you. “Get home safe. Until next time?”

“Until next time.” You look up at him. “Good night, Namjoon.” You sit back in your seat, allowing the flutter of excitement that’s been slowly building in your stomach to take flight. This guy…he likes you. He really likes you. You’re going to see him again. And for the first time, in a long time, if not ever…you’re excited. Really excited. Your hand goes to your mouth, barely concealing the grin that’s forming on your lips.

As your taxi pulls away from the curb, a hand suddenly appears in the half-open window, causing it to jerk to a stop. Namjoon appears next to the car, shaking his hand ruefully and wincing. "Damn, that hurts. Guess that'll teach me, won't it?" He leans down, bringing his face closer to yours. "Sorry about that. You were just about to disappear when it dawned on me that I forgot to ask you for your number, and I knew I had to do something before I lost you."

“Oh! My number.” Your heart flutters again. “Yeah, you’re going to need that, aren’t you?”

Namjoon watches as you tap your number into his phone. “Good thing I remembered when I did. That could have been a disaster.”

“A disaster, huh?” you ask, handing his phone back to him.

“Catastrophic.” He laughs, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “How else would we have found out if we were meant to be if we didn’t go on an actual first date?” He gazes down at you with a teasing grin. “Anyway – I’ll call you?”

“Soon, I hope.” You smile. “I’ll be waiting.”

“I’ll try not to keep you waiting too long.” Namjoon’s eyes meet with yours momentarily before he turns away, letting out an awkward chuckle. “Well…good night, y/n. I mean it this time. Really.”

“Good night,” you say, stifling a giggle. “Get home safe.”

The taxi finally pulls away from the curb, and you can’t help looking out the window after him as he walks back toward Seokjin. He’s handsome, even from behind. Ji-eun flops against you, and you shift her to a more comfortable position against your shoulder. “I knew dragging you along was a good idea. Did I call it, or what?” she mumbles proudly. “You know, I saw the way you were looking at that guy just now.” She pokes teasingly at your arm, eyes half-closed. “Like you wanted to dive right in and take up residence in his dimples. And sparks like a fireworks show. It’s so obvious! You are smitten.” Ji-eun sing-songs the last part.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you say, pressing your lips together to hide your smile. Ji-eun might not have introduced you to the love of your life – but it’s the first time in a while that you’ve felt this way about anyone – and you suppose you do have to thank her for that.

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