bts oneshots ✓ [completed]

✔Flying Green Disc | Namjoon

  [Note: I apologize in advance if you have short hair, 20/20 vision, and are a member of any other gender than female. These oneshots are geared more towards a certain vision. So. Ya know. Please don't get mad at me. 💕]

   You sip your bubble tea, stiring the cold liquid with the body of your thick plastic straw, before setting it down beside your sketchbook and pulling your novel back into your lap.

  You sat under the cherry blossom tree at the center of the public park, enjoying the slight breeze that swept through the hot sun.

 
   Tucking a strand of (H/C) hair behind your ear, you push up your wide-rimmed reading glasses that complimented your soft complexion nicely. You turn the page to your thick novel, so completely entranced by the world created from the pages, that you'd totally forgotten to finish drawing out the sketch for your college entrance project.

   
   "Excuse me?" A deep, husky voice asks from above you. You look up from your book, squinting at the tall man who loomed over you. You smile politely, still unable to see his face, due to the sun right next to his head, blinding you.

 
  "Uh, sorry, could you take a step to the right please?" You ask softly, waving your hand back and forth. A pen, laced over your index and middle finger and tucked under your pinky and index, was weaved between your fingers. You had been using it to make notes for your project, but soon became an accessory on your hand while you got sucked into the world that your novel created around you.

   He quickly steps to the right, his head easily blocking the blinding sun.

  You suck in an abrupt gust of blossom-scented air as you get a look at him. He had dyed-purple hair, tossled and messy. His hairline glistened with a thin layer of sweat, most likely from both the heat, and from playing frisbee; judging from the lime green disk in his long-boned fingers. He must've been playing with a friend, or perhaps a dog. But since you don't see a dog at his feet, you settle on the former.

   He had soft, almond shaped eyes, a subtle nose that didn't protrude from his face too much, and plump lips. You couldn't help but drink in his features hungrily. As an art student, you were very observant.

 
   "Hi there." He says, laughing softly. You push your glasses up, using them like a headband to push stray hairs that'd escaped from your messy bun, out of your face. Tugging your bottom lip between your teeth.

  "Hi. May I ask what I can do for you?" You ask softly. You were torn, between being talked to by the unfairly attractive individual hovering over you, and the world-tipping plot twist that you were being pulled away from by him.

  He kneels, using a frisbee-free hand to run his long and delicate fingers through his dyed hair. He sets the dirt-covered lime green frisbee onto the soft grass beside your feet, and sits himself down.

 
  Despite still being relatively frazzled by his sudden appearance, you don't question him, and instead make room for him to sit across from you. You find yourself entranced by the way the sunlight cast pink-toned patterns onto his pale face as it shone through the pink blossom petals.

 
   Oh how you would love drawing him.

   Immortalizing this moment on paper.

   In the least creepy way possible.

  "So. You must be wondering why I, a stranger, am here, interrupting your reading." He chuckles, gesturing to the open book on your lap; the pages splaying over your worn mom jeans that fell two-thirds down your shins. You start, before pressing a bookmark between the pages. You push the book closed, before setting it down atop your blank sketchpad.

   "The question occurred." You laugh easily. He joins in, his breathy laugh nearly an octave lower than yours, creating a chorus of soft laughter.

 
  "Well. You see. That weirdo over there with the tiny hands, is my friend Jimin. He kept urging me to come over here, and talk to you." He answers, without a shred of shame.

 
  You look, searching for said Jimin. You find a boy, sitting in a particularly thick patch of grass. His hair was as tousled as the hair on the boy in front of you. He waves obnoxiously at his friend, smiling at you both sitting under the cherry blossom tree.

 
  An oddly romantic place to be sitting, with an unnervingly-handsome boy, and an oddly empty sketchpad. 

  You look back to the boy at your feet, a skeptical eyebrow raised.

  "And... why me?" You ask indredulously.

  "I must say, you're incredibly beautiful. And what can I say? I'm attracted to a girl who looks smart." He laughs.

  "Is it the glasses?" You ask worriedly, your hand finding the spectacles that rested atop your head. You never liked having to wear reading glasses, to read or draw. His dark eyes widen, his position at your feet, stiffening slightly. 

  "What? Oh, no no no. I just meant that you're surrounded in papers and you're reading. I'm sorry. I was just implying that I'm attracted to your interest in the book, rather than gawking at two sweating boys, while one of them desperately tries to throw the flying green disc as hard as he can in order to impress the girl in the red converse." He says quickly, finishing with a gesture to your red shoes beside him.

  You struggle to fight down the heat that was crawling it's way up your neck, and to your cheeks. This unbelievably attractive guy, was trying to impress you?

  "I'm flattered." You breathe. An understatement of wicked proportions.

  "So.... can I get your number?" He asks shyly. You laugh outwardly, fueling the raging blush that he failed to mask.

  You reach over, tearing off of piece of your sketch paper, jotting down your phone number, with the pen that you kept weaved between your phalanges.

  "I'm (Y/N)." You say nervously, handing the piece of paper to him. You'd just met him, but you were willing to give it a shot.

  "I'm Namjoon."

××××××××

  I was watching Catfish while writing this.