A bunch of random scenarios with your favorite Bangtan Boys where you have to decide what would you do if you were in that situation. Highest Rankings: #1 in whatwouldyoudo, #1 in btswwyd and #2 in wwyd.
No, no, no. Don't strain your cute lil tongue. I'll answer for you. You do know BTS. Quite personally, in fact, seeing as RM is your BFF and is the leader of BTS. Dear lord, so many abbreviated letters. Please hold. My eyes went crossed and I'mma need a minute to rattle them back into their proper places.
Owwie.
Okay, I'm okay.
So good old Kim Namjoon, or as you've called him since you were in diapers: Namgoon, is your bestie out of all the restie, even if his studio was a bit messy. Speaking of his studio, that's where you are right now, boobaluh - in the RKive, waiting on Namjoon to get his ass back here after the freaking concert.
You were originally supposed to meet up at your place after for a Netflix marathon of [idk whatever tf u wanna watch idc], but the concert ran late and then you got a text from old Goonie Joonie saying there was no way he could make it out to Hoonboonbong (your hometown) in time. He asked you to head to Seoul so you did because you tend to listen to those who are smarter than you, in which Namjoon is very much one of those big, sexy-brained individuals.
Not that you thought Namjoon was sexy. Though you totally did. No. That's not what I'm saying. You were JUST friends. Trust me. I wouldn't lie to you. >.>
Only problem was, Namjoon was taking his good old time getting to the studio. Who did he think he was, keeping YOU waiting? Fah! Screw him. You decided to take a nap.
God only knows for how long you drifted off. All you know is, by the time you opened your eyes, the studio was pitch black or as black as a deep bunghole if you're fancy. The sound of Namjoon squeaking into the room as he let out one of his sneaky squeetle-sounding farts is what woke you up. Pretty sure, judging by the overwhelming smell of cabbages rolling up your nose right now.
"Ung, furp, gahhbo!" You made some weird-ass noises (not to be mistaken for the weird ass noises that Namjoon was making out of his... well, his ass) as you woke the fook up. "Goonie? Is that you?"
"Yeah, baby," he said in that deep, ghetto voice of his. "I made it."
"Finally!" You purposely ignored the baby comment because you hid from puberty the way that fungus hides under my toenails. "Jesus, Joon. You're dripping in sweat. Did you have a concert or a ten-hour orgy?"
"Haha!" he laughededed. "Is there a difference?"
"You pig boy. Dishonor on your whole family. Dishonor on your cow."
"Let's leave Jimin out of this, shall we?" he said as he sat his old-man-shaped ass down at your feet on the stiff-ass wooden couch he called a couch.
"Hornkle!" You laughed out your nose unattractively, then covered your snout and slowly sat up. "What time is it, anyway?"
Namjoon looked at his wooden watch. "1:23," he said.
"A.M.?!?!"
"Yeah."
"Ooh, bitch. I gotta go. I didn't feed my duck!" You twisted your fupa sideways and began to get your ass up but Namjoon put his hands on your shoulders and pushed you back down.
"The fuhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh?" you began, only to be cut off by Joon's deep drawl.
"You're not going anywhere," he said, hovering over you.
And ooooh, bitch, you could feel them lights dimming even though it was already dark as a rotten nipple in there.
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