When You Happened | Min Yoongi ff

Ria's Pov

They say the first week of marriage is a blur.

Mine began with a shelf war.

I stared at the single kitchen shelf we both seemed to want. My tea packets were lying there peacefully-until Yoongi decided it was also the perfect spot for his coffee stash.

"You're invading," I said, arms folded.

"I'm organizing," he replied coolly, placing his jar of instant coffee right next to my sleepy-time green tea, like some kind of caffeine colonizer.

We'd been married five days. Legally, emotionally? Maybe five hours.

The air between us had a quiet politeness, like we were both guests in the same Airbnb. He was neat, weirdly quiet, and suspiciously good at folding laundry. I was a bit chaotic-especially in the mornings, where my personality didn't load until 11am and one cheese toast.

"You can't just claim shelf space without a treaty," I added, poking the jar.

He gave me a look. Not annoyed, not amused. Just...Yoongi.

"I'll move it," he said after a pause, "if you agree to label your leftovers. I ate tofu yesterday thinking it was paneer. It was not."

I gasped. "You touched my food?!"

He raised one eyebrow. "It was unlabeled and sad-looking. I thought I'd rescue it."

"I was going to eat that sad-looking tofu!"

Yoongi just shrugged. "Too late. It died a second time in my stomach."

I hated how much I laughed.

He had this dry way of talking that made you feel like the joke was halfway hidden and you had to dig for it. It kept me on my toes-and unfortunately, kinda interested.

_____

Our apartment was simple-two bedrooms, one converted into his makeshift office-and a balcony that caught the morning light like a movie.

He worked from home twice a week. Today was one of those days. He sat with headphones, typing away like the diligent office soldier he was. Occasionally sipping coffee, eyes sharp, fingers steady.

I was supposed to be sorting restaurant bills for clients. Instead, I scrolled Instagram reels of cats trying to swim and couples doing cooking challenges.

Then a reel popped up:

"What's the hardest part about being newly married?"

Cut to the woman: "Pretending you're not attracted to your husband when you accidentally walk in while he's changing."

I swallowed.

Not because I related.

Not at all.

Just yesterday, I had accidentally (fine, half-accidentally) opened the wrong wardrobe door and got a full view of Yoongi changing his T-shirt. That man was deceptively lean. Like, K-drama second male lead who turns out hotter than the first male lead kind of lean.

I closed the app.

And my eyes.

And tried to forget his back muscles.

______

That evening, we were both quiet. Not cold, just... cautious.

Until the lights went out.

A full blackout, just as I was brushing my hair and he was in the bathroom.

I yelped.

"Yoongi?" I called.

"Wait," he said from inside. Then-crash. Clink. Creak.

I stepped closer to the door. "You okay?"

"Dropped your shampoo bottle. It smells like mangoes and betrayal."

I laughed despite myself. "Do you want me to get a candle?"

A pause. "Only if you don't set the house on fire."

"I'll try."

I found a candle in the kitchen drawer and lit it. The small flame danced like a tiny heartbeat. I placed it near the bathroom door. The door creaked open a moment later, revealing Yoongi in nothing but a towel around his waist.

I froze.

He froze.

The candle flickered like it, too, was shocked.

"Sorry," he said quickly, brushing past me toward the bedroom, water still dripping from his hair. I caught a soft scent-mint, maybe? Or soap? Or whatever men smell like when they're fresh out of a steamy bathroom and exist to torment you emotionally.

I stood there with the candle like some ghost bride in a horror movie, internally screaming.

I. Need. A. Cold. Shower.

_____

Later that night, we sat on the couch eating instant ramen, our knees almost touching. The lights were still out. My hair was slightly damp, his towel was thankfully replaced with clothes, and the awkwardness had melted into something quieter.

"I think we need a system," I said between bites. "For shelves. And food. And accidental nudity."

He nodded. "Agreed. Let's start with: always knock."

"You didn't knock before barging into the kitchen this morning."

"That was a caffeine emergency. Different category."

I smiled. "Fine. Then my tea gets a no-disturb zone."

"I can live with that."

We sat in silence a little longer. The kind that didn't feel heavy. Just...new.

Like we were two people learning each other's rhythm. And maybe-just maybe-not hating it.

____

Later, as we lay in bed-separate blankets, separate sides-I heard him murmur, "Hey, Ria?"

"Hmm?"

"I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable earlier."

I blinked at the ceiling. The room smelled like candle wax and faint soap.

"You didn't," I said honestly. "It was just... new."

A pause. Then-

"Next time," he said, "I'll light the candle myself. You rest."

I smiled in the dark.

Maybe this marriage thing wasn't so scary after all.

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⚝It's me Kim Ria signing off...!!!