#sassi says

“I’m ho-” 

Your announcement is cut off by a choked sob, one so brief you would have rushed into your roommate’s room out of concern if not for the familiar embroidered hoodie that lays on your shared couch. It’s nothing special, just another cotton grey hoodie with three symbols stitched down the right side. You personally don’t understand Greek, but those three letters convey more meaning than any English words could. 

It means he is over. 

Min Yoongi, your roommate’s fuck buddy and your year-long crush. 

Holding your breath, you tip toe towards your room, closing the door with a light thud and immersing yourself in your fluffy comforter. Really, they couldn’t have picked a worse day to do this. You’ve been out of the house since 5a.m and the last thing you want tonight is your heartstrings tugged with explicit sounds of fucking from your not so naive roommate. 

Really? On a Tuesday? You murmur as you shed the tiredness from your body along with your pants and jacket. Looking for your stash of disposable earbuds -- your little cushions of peace -- and grasp in horror when the zip lock bag comes up empty. Nearly whining out loud because how the hell are you going to sleep now, you roll over onto your back to stare at your moonlit ceiling. Considering your options, you choose the lesser of two evils (the other choice being to crash at your friend’s place, but walking is not exactly an option to your body at the moment) to cave into your aching bones and sink farther into the mattress. Immediately your eyes drift shut in bliss, the soothing softness of your pillows pulling you rapidly towards sweet slumber until- 

“Yeah, you like that baby?” 

Min Yoongi’s raspy growl rings loud and clear through the wall separating the both of you, causing your eye lids to comedically shoot straight up like blinds snapping back into place. 

Jesus fuck, you whisper rolling over onto your stomach so you can pull the pillow over your head, knowing damn well it won’t be of help in the slightest, but having  the safety your cushions covering your head as a protective layer comforts your panicked mind and racing heart. Yoongi is not a particularly loud lover (you’ve been present too many times to not notice that fact) but, just occasionally, very rarely you’ll be graced by-

“What a good little slut, baby doll.” 

-that filthy mouth of his.

Your body involuntarily flush from head to toe, a groan ripped from your lips and heat rushing down and down to pool at your core -- a treacherous response in contrast to your constant denials of attraction. 

You know you want him, the little voice in your mind whispers.

“Yeah, want him to shut up is more like it.” 

You sigh with a shake of your head, ignoring the tingles that are crawling up your spine and choosing instead to reach for your earphones. 

“I’ll fall asleep listening to screamo if I have to.” 

You declare with determination, hitting the play button on a random Spotify playlist, too preoccupied to choose a proper station. In fact, you can’t be bothered. No, not when the creaking is starting and your roommate’s moans are beginning to increase in frequency. 

“Good fucking night.” 

Jamming the cheap earbuds into your ear, you make a mental note to invest in better earphones, noise cancelling ones. Sleep claims you then, after about an album’s worth of music that drifted from one ear and out the other. It’s peaceful. Wonderful even, until you see him the morning after, shirtless in your bathroom with a gummy smile just for you. 

“Good morning (y/n), how’s my favorite girl?” 

You don’t do too well with distance and by distance you mean even five feet has become too far for the amount of empty space between yourself and Yoongi. 

It’s surely not your fault, since it’s not everyday that the tight lipped prince would confess his love to you, even rarer an occasion would he humor your requests with such mirth and, wait is that, adoration, twinkling in his eyes?  

“Say it again,” you murmur, fingertips tugging the edges of his sleek suit jacket, cheeks burning at your own brazen request. Yoongi pauses mid stride, a hybrid between a grumble and a cough tumbles out of his lips and you’re so deep in your embarrassment you fail to see the red tips of his ears, burning as bright as your cheeks. 

The silence grows, prolonged in it’s discomfort until you sigh and step back, ready to give up, 

“Neverm-” 

He moves too quick, hands catching your wrists and body leaning all too close, 

“I love you, princess.” 

Ah, I must enjoy torturing myself, your jumbled brain nearly short circuits with the way he’s smiling, gently pushing his forehead against yours, eyes crinkling with amusement. If he stares any longer you fear that you’ll fall into those inky depths. 

“Come now, don’t be selfish (y/n).” 

Your shock is immediate, your expression giving you away before you could control your response. He chuckles, full and deep like melted chocolate and you’re most definitely regretting your loose tongue because you know he’s just as stubborn as you when it comes to the object of his desires. You simply couldn’t fathom that it’s you that he has set his sights on. 

“I- I love you too.” The sentence comes out in a jumbled rush, too breathy and saturated with hesitance but Yoongi is satisfied nonetheless, gummy smile on full display as he pulls away.  

“Come sweetheart, the maids are staring.” 

The abrupt giggles from the other side of the corridors are proof of his statement and you grab his arm in your haste, burying your face in his chest. 

...

The pair of you go on in the same fashion for a few days, a few sweet days. That is until Yoongi announces that he will be away for a month or so, business as always. Except to you this time, it is not business as always, it’ll be you missing him for a month or so. 

You’re sulking in the gardens, roses stacking up on the skirt of your gown when- 

“Are you so cold as to send me away without a single goodbye?” 

Of course it’s Yoongi, his steps echoing through the empty greenhouse as he makes his way into your hideout. It’s not much of a hiding spot from him however, considering he was the one who showed it to you. You remain passive, pensively caressing the rose petals with feather light touches as you brew over your decisions.

With his usual grumble, Yoongi kneels down (in true prince fashion) on one knee, his eyes now meeting yours. His fingers brush against your busy ones, taking the rose from your grasp. With eyes locked with yours, he brings the flower towards his lips, lashes fluttering close as he presses an ardent kiss on the milky white petals, smiling when he looks up at your starstruck expression. 

“I’ll be back before the last rose in this garden wilts, please don’t be so sullen love.” 

He places the rose back in your grasp, but not before he brushes a kiss on your knuckles. 

“Return safely,” you reply, your voice shaky as you melt into his arms, “that’s a command.” 

“Anything for my princess.” He seals his promise with a kiss on your crown. 

. 

. 

You find it worth the effort to pick the last rose on the day of his return, handing him the plush petals with a mischievous smile as he makes his way down the main corridor. 

“Welcome back, my prince.” 

Yoongi doesn’t find it necessary to reply, instead taking brisk strides towards you and not stopping until he’s pulling you close, crashing his lips against yours...