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yall why yoongi looks so damn good hereeeeee
Min Yoongi intimidated the living hell out of you.
While the boy in question was not all that tall or all that muscular, there was admittedly something in his aura that just screamed 'big dick energy'... Not that you'd ever get the chance to confirm that hypothesis. You weren't even sure you wanted to.
Shoulders slumping, you shifted your peripheral gaze off of Yoongi and back onto your professor as she droned on about evolution. Your shared Introduction to Biology class inspired an odd mix of dread and excitement every Tuesday/Thursday morning as a consequence of Min Yoongi's sheer presence.
Your mind drifted back to the first class of the semester about a month ago...
Arriving in the lecture hall indicated on your class schedule, you took a seat in the middle of the room. You were spoiled for choice given that you had arrived fifteen minutes early for lecture. The first day of classes was always stressful for you, given your tendency to get lost within the many buildings on campus as well as your hatred for lateness.
As the room filled with more and more students, you shuffled through your backpack. "Where the hell is it?" you muttered, searching for your planner where you would jot down important notes.
Finally, you spotted it wedged in between two of your folders. Grasping it in triumph, you tugged it out of your backpack and placed it on your desk. Glancing back up, you found the coldest pair of brown eyes staring back at you.
"Is anyone sitting there?" The question came in a slow drawl, all rough and lazy. Long fingers adorned in rings shifted as the boy pointed towards the empty seat next to you. God, he was offensively good-looking.
You blinked and shook your head, "No, have at it." His gaze pinned you in place for a few more brief seconds before his chin lifted in acknowledgment and he slumped into place beside you.
You had learned absolutely nothing that first class. Or any subsequent class that Min Yoongi deigned with his presence. The odds were about 50/50 on any given day.
Today, his presence was wreaking havoc on your nervous system. Since the initial encounter on your first day of class, the amount of words exchanged between the two of you could be counted on one hand. Last week he had asked you for your notes from a previous class he had missed, and you almost burned from the inside out with embarrassment as he took in your impeccably organized and color-coded notes with raised eyebrows and a slight smirk.
"Were you planning on framing these?" he had asked while snapping a quick series of photos of your notebook pages. In response, you had scowled, pulling your notebook out of his reach.
