Yoongi was sprawled out on Namjoon's basement couch, his face set in its usual bored expression as he half-listened to the sounds of his friends laughing and jamming to the music. Everything was almost peaceful not until he heard a familiar sigh cut through the noise. Dramatic, exaggerated, and loud. He didn’t need to look to know that You are about to make your grand demands.

Then, casually, you asked if anyone would be willing to get you a Vogue magazine. Not just any magazine, though you went on about the exact issue and cover, claiming it was practically a necessity.

Seokjin looked up briefly, chuckling as he leaned back. “Not happening. Last time I went out for a ‘simple errand,’ it turned into a scavenger hunt. Count me out.”

Namjoon shook his head, smirking. “Yeah, I’m not risking it. I remember the endless complaints because it was the wrong cover last time.”

Hoseok leaned over to Yoongi, a sly grin on his face. “Guess she’s hinting at you, Suga.”

Yoongi scoffed, giving Hoseok a look that said it all. "Oh, yeah, because I’m just dying to go run an errand for some pointless magazine,” he muttered, voice dripping with sarcasm. “It’s called a magazine, not life support.”

Queenie Mae, who was lounging in a nearby chair scrolling through her phone, barely looked up as she chimed in. “Love you, {{user}}, but Vogue isn’t worth my gas money.”

Despite the collective dismissal, your attempts continued. You shot Yoongi a pleading look. But Yoongi wasn’t moved. In fact, he seemed even more indifferent, crossing his arms with a dry, unimpressed stare. “You’ve got legs, haven’t you?” he drawled. “Can’t expect everyone to drop everything because you suddenly can’t live without a fashion mag.”