JellyV @jjly04 - Tumblr Blog

Feb 21

30% Valentine’s

General Masterlist

Blind date set up by your mother? Sounds like a horrible idea. Blind date on Valentine’s Day? Even worse. But your date is Namjoon - tall, handsome, and unexpectedly charming. What starts as a potential disaster turns out to be… well, you’ll see.

genre: Art nerd Namjoon X psychology nerd reader. Pure fluff. Cozy date vibes. First date.

word count: 5K

a/n: here's a little something for valentine’s 🥰 I didn’t have time so this is not edited, proofread or anything. So it might be repetitive, and there might be mistakes. Hope you'll still enjoy it and I love you all ❤️

Why did you say yes to this?

You roll the question again and again in your mind as you struggle through the rain to get to the restaurant.

You normally wouldn’t want to go anywhere after work, especially not when it’s raining.

Especially not for a blind date with a dude you know nothing about. And frankly, don’t care to learn.

But your mother insisted.

Saying it’s her friend's son, he’s tall and nice, and you basically stopped listening because you’re not interested.

But she continued.

I gave him your number already. She said he’ll contact you to schedule a date. Not leaving you space to refuse.

And he indeed sent you a message a day later. Apologizing he doesn’t have the time to call you properly as he’s busy with work, but would love to schedule a date.

You said yes…

What else could you do?

He suggested a time and a place, you agreed, and that’s where the conversation ended.

So you know nothing about him.

Because you haven’t listened to what your mom had said, and you didn’t feel like asking questions someone who just told you “he’s busy with work.”

And his profile picture is of a flowers field, so you don’t even know how he looks like. That can’t be a good sign.

You sigh as you realize this is probably going to be a disaster.

And on top of all that, it’s fucking Valentine’s Day.

Blind date on Valentine’s Day? How have you agreed to this? At the time, you didn’t even realize it when he asked if you were free Thursday night.

Only when you talked with your friends did you connect the dots. To be honest, it’s quite impressive that he managed to get a reservation for Valentine’s Day on short notice. And a nice restaurant at that.

You finally get there, shaking water off your umbrella and yourself. You check your phone - nine minutes early. That’s good, it’ll give you a moment to collect yourself and manage the mess your hair is probably in.

You approach the hostess, hoping the table is ready so you’ll be able to put down your coat and go to the restroom to freshen up.

“Hi, I have a reservation for…” You realize you have no idea if he made a reservation or on what name. You don’t even know his last name, “…Namjoon?”

The hostess looks at her screen for two seconds before she nods as she talks, “Yes, Kim Namjoon, two people, 8 PM.”

You’re about to ask her if the table is ready as you came a bit early when she looks up, “Follow me.”

You follow her as she walks throught the busy restaurant. It really is a nice place, warm lighting, white tablecloths, some old tunes playing in the background, low enough to hear the person next to you, loud enough to be heard over the murmur of the space full of people.

You cross the restaurant and you look around, all the tables are fully occupied. Until you get closer and closer to table, tucked in a corner, the only table where a single man is sitting at.

Is he already here?

As you get closer.. Oh, he’s big. Like his back and shoulders dwarf the chair kinda big.

And.. handsome.

Very handsome.

A panic starts to rise in you. What the actual fuck? It was supposed to be a flop date with your mom’s friend son loser random guy.

You are definitely not prepared for a nice date, at a nice place with someone looking like that.

This couldn’t be him? Right?

You look at the hostess, she’ll probably divert at any moment now, take you to a lame table near the toilet or the kitchen. But she walks in confident, long strides directly in this direction, his direction.

He’s looking at something on his phone, glasses low on his nose. As you get closer, he seems to notice, and he looks up, as a bright smile breaks on his face. And when you are a few steps away from him, he pushes himself up, takes the glasses off, and puts them down on the table.

You get to the table, and the hostess looks back at you, you wonder if she can read the panic on your face. “Enjoy your night,” she says as looking between the two of you. And then she leaves you there alone. Well, alone with him.

And as much as you feel terrified, he looks delighted.

He dressed nicely, with a linen shirt tucked into light dress pants. And you try to ignore how the shirt stretches on his pecs. And he's tall. Like, towering-over-you, you-need-to-tilt-your head-to-see-his-face tall. He takes a step towards you, hand reached out, you look down at it and then back up at his face as you put your hands in his.

His hand is large, larger than yours. And warm, compared to your icy hands that still haven’t warmed up from the outside cold.

“Namjoon. Nice finally meeting you,” he says as he shakes your hand. His voice.. It’s.. not good for you. What it does to you. Like the final nail in your coffin.

“y/n, nice meeting you too,” and you’re very aware how shaky your voice sounds.

He let go of your hand as he circles you, “May I?” as he gestures to your coat.

You just nod, and he takes it off, hanging it on the back of your chair, and he pulls it out for you.

But you don’t sit down, you need a moment. “Umm.. I need to go to the restroom. Real quick.”

He nods, and he chuckles a bit, like he finds you amusing, “Sure.”

You lock the door after you, letting out an exhale that has been sitting in your chest since you got here. You hurry to check yourself in the mirror, and well, you look just like the mess you’ve imagined. You look down at your clothes, feeling self-conscious all of a sudden. Maybe you should have worn something nicer to work today. But you have nothing you can do about it now. You hand-comb your hair, making it look somewhat normal. Adding some lip gloss and a spray or two of perfume.

You examine the result in the mirror; this is the best you can do right now. You take another deep breath. You can do this. This is just a date. What is the difference from before? That he’s hot and tall and handsome? And it looks like he has pecs you want to lay your head on?

Okay, this isn’t helping.

Maybe he’s still a total loser.

Yeah, his personality might suck. Like, he could be a complete dick.

But he did choose a nice restaurant. And he got up when you arrived... And he took off your coat and pulled the chair out for you... That’s quite gentlemanly actually...

Maybe you’ll go out and find out instead of talking to yourself at the restaurant bathroom?!

OMG, how long are you here? He probably thinks you’re having explosive diarrhea or something.

One last look at yourself. You can do it.

And with that, you got back out.

You stroll back to the table, slide into the chair in front of him. Your Valentine’s date. Namjoon.

He puts down his phone right away, takes off his glasses, smiling at you as you sit down.

You look at each other for a moment, you don’t know what to say, where to start, and it looks like he doesn’t know either.

“Well.. this is awkward,” he chuckles, and rubs the back of his neck. And you catch that he’s also a bit nervous. Maybe as you are. But he is. And it’s somehow reassuring.

You laugh lightly with him, “Yeah, it really is. I’ve never been to a blind date. What is supposed to happen now?”

“Neither do I,” he nods. “I was just visiting my mom’s when your mother was there. And she started showing me pictures. She really talks about you a lot,” he giggles as he shakes his head.

Oh, fuck your life. You cover your face with your hands. This is so embarrassing.

“This is mortifying.”

“No, no, it really wasn’t. She’s cute,” he giggles again, “and very persistent.”

“How is it not embarrassing that my mom basically told you that I’m chronically single?”

He laughs, a full laugh, “Because that makes the two of us.”

And just like that, the ice start to break. Without noticing, you feel more at ease. Like, you can actually do this. Go through this date.

“Wait, you knew how I looked?” You suddenly realize what he said earlier. “So it’s not actually a blind date to you,” you tease.

He takes a sip of water, “Yeah, I saw some pictures of you, so I already knew you were pretty.” He flirts easily. “You haven’t seen any picture of me?”

You shake your head as you raise the glass of water to your lips. You need to cool yourself down.

“So I hope you’re not disappointed,” he says cheekily with a wiggle of his brows and a grin.

You’re about to open your mouth to say god’s know what, but luckily, you’re saved by the server who stops by your table.

“Are you ready to order?”

You panickly fumble with the menu you haven't even opened yet. “I think we need a few more minutes,” he answers her calmly. “Do you want to order drinks first?” he asks you as he opens the drink menu.

“Yeah, sure.”

“Is wine okay? Or do you want something else?”

“Wine is fine. You can choose whatever.”

He says something that sounds French as he points to what he wants for the server.

You then busy yourself with reading the menu as you need to prepare for when she’ll come back. And he follows suit, opening his own menu, “Do you want to share starters?” Umm, duh? You’re starving. And because you haven’t really had many expectations for this date, you just planned to eat. Because at least you’ll always have food. “What do you think about fried zucchini flowers from the specials?” you suggest.

“That sounds good. And the burrata?” he asks as he looks at you above the menu.

You hum and nod. Your stomach already growls. And right on cue, the waitress arrives with your wine. She uncorks the bottle and pours a small sample into one of the wine glasses. “Who will try the wine?” Namjoon is gesturing with his hand to you, “Please.”

She places the glass in front of you, and you take a small sip, feeling suddenly embarrassed as Namjoon is looking at you, waiting for your approval. You don’t know much about wine. But it’s good. It feels smooth and the taste is rich. “I like it,” you nod as you look at him.

He smiles at you, then turns to the waitress and gives a nod of approval. And she follows by filling both of your glasses.

“Are you ready to order?” Namjoon asks you.

“Yeah, I’ll take the risotto,” you tell the server. Namjoon orders the carbonara and the starters you agreed on.

When the waitress leaves, he takes up his glass and swirls the wine in it before taking a sip. He hums, and you ignore how low and attractive it is. “It’s a really good wine.”

You drink your wine as well, humming in approval.

“Your mom told me you’re doing your PhD now,” he says as he puts down his glass. “In psychology?” he adds a beat later. It takes you a bit by surprise, because he is obviously more prepared for this date than you were. If it wasn’t acutely obvious already.

“Yeah, I’m doing my research in behavioral psychology.”

“What is it about?”

“The connection between addiction and stress.”

“Sounds interesting. How have you got into that field?”

“Well, originally, I was more in the neuropsychology side. I was doing my bachelor's seminar on the HPA axis. The whole reward-stress dopamine-related response.”

“How did you get from that to behavioral psychology?” he asks, sounding genuinely interested.

“Well, I got really into the world of addiction, as a phenomenon that shows how the brain reacts to extreme situations. How we react to them. I look at addiction more as a stress response and less as… lack of control. If that makes sense.”

“Yeah, totally,” he answers, and there is something in his voice, and a sparkle in his eyes that makes you want to keep talking.

So you continue, and he asks more questions. Looking at you, listening intently. Surprisingly, it goes well. This is very nice. He asks good questions, adding intelligent comments. You’re actually enjoying yourself talking with him about this. The food arrives at some point. And you feel more like yourself. More in your element.

Before you even notice, your glass is empty, and he immediately suggests filling it up for you.

And as you eat your starters, you ask him, “What do you do?”

He looks up at you, fork in one hand and knife in the other, frozen in the middle of motion. “You really don’t know anything?”

You feel yourself blush as you shake your head. And he laughs, like he finds you obliviouness so funny.

“How did you even agree to this date at all?” he says as he shakes his head like he doesn’t really expect an answer, still laughing. He relaxes a bit and then says, “I’m a curator. I work with several galleries, and I also help connecting business who look to buy local art with artists.”

“Oh, I actually worked with this restaurant. I helped them with getting all the art that’s hung around here.” He says as he looks around.

You look around as well, “You did a good job.” He seems pleased with the compliment, smiling brightly, “Thanks.”

“This is how you got a reservation here on Valentine’s Day?” you ask, because now it makes more sense.

“Yeah,” he answers proudly. “The owner is a good friend of mine,” he chuckles. “I told him I have a very important date and that he has to help me out,” he adds with a wink.

You almost choke on a bite, and you swallow it forcefully.

“I actually don’t know much about art,” you add, not knowing what to say more.

“You don’t need to know nothing. Art is meant to be enjoyed, to evoke a feeling for the consumer. That’s the only thing you should know.”

“Have you ever been to a gallery before?” he asks. You shake your head busing yourself with the food, you can guess where it’s heading.

“Then.. maybe.. I can take you?”

You just nod, mouth full of food. Not that you’d know what to say in response anyway.

The main courses arrive, with a new refill of your wine glass. And you feel much better, this is going way better than expected.

For a moment, conversation pauses, forks clink softly against plates, steam curls up between you. You hadn’t realized how hungry you were until now, and judging by how he’s already digging in, neither did he.

“This is dangerously good,” he says after his first bite, eyes widening slightly. “I might need to apologize in advance if I start ignoring you.”

You smile around your fork. “As long as you don’t steal my food.”

He’s lifting a brow. “I was actually planning on snicking a bite of your risotto.” And his fork is already making its way to your plate. A moment before he reaches your plate, he looks up at you, checking if this is really okay with you. And you nod with a smile. You planned to steal a bite of his pasta anyway.

You laugh, the sound coming easier now, more natural. It surprises you how comfortable it feels.

“So,” you say after a moment, swirling your wine absentmindedly, “Do you go on a lot of dates arranged by your mom?”

He winces. “God, no. I’m usually okay with finding dates on my own.”

You look at him, mischief glints in your eyes, “So... you go on a lot of dates?”

“Very smooth,” he chuckles as he takes a sip of wine. “But no, I usually work too much. Doesn’t leave much room to meet new people.” He says with a shrug, accepting it for what it is, but it sounds like it saddens him. “At least that’s what my mom says.”

“What about you?” he asks, quietly.

“Does my mom set me up on dates? She tries, but I usually refuse,” you say cheekily, trying to lighten the mood back again. Knowing this is not what he intended to ask.

“Then how did I get so lucky to land this date?” he asks, amused.

“She already gave you my number before talking to me. I couldn’t really back off at this point,” you say with an exaggerated sigh.

“Can I be honest with you?” he says conspiratorially, lowering his voice.

You nod, eyes locked into his.

“I actually begged your mother for your number. After she showed me a picture of you, and she told me about you, I just really wanted to meet you.”

Your throat feels dry all of a sudden, and you feel hot all over.

“I hope it’s okay with you,” he says, voice even lower.

“Y-teah, it’s okay,” you barely mumble. And he smiles in response, a light laugh laced with his words, “Good. I’m glad you said yes to this date.”

“Me too,” and you look down at your plate, digging in for another bite.

For a few moments, both of you are back concentrate at eating. You’re suddenly very aware of everything - your heartbeat, the warmth of the wine in your stomach, the way his gaze flickers to you when he thinks you’re not looking.

“Are you always this concentrated when you eat?” he asks suddenly, voice low, teasing, but there’s something in his tone that makes you feel like he’s only asking because he wants an excuse to keep the conversation going.

You blink at him, caught. “Uh… I don’t know. Maybe.”

He smirks, leaning back slightly, still eating, thought. “You look like you try to figure things out.”

You giggle. “And what exactly am I figuring out right now?”

He shrugs, but his eyes don’t leave yours. “If I’m completely charming you or completely terrifying you.”

You snort, unable to help yourself. “I’m leaning toward terrifying.”

“Nah. I don’t buy it,” he says, and it sounds so dorky, you can’t help but laugh. How does he manage to say something like that but not sound cocky? Or douchy?

“Okay. And what about you?” you ask, biting down on your lips, feeling somewhat self-conscious. You haven’t openly flirted like that in a long, long time.

“Oh, I’m completely charmed. Wasn't I obvious enough?” he says right away, not even a slight waver in his tone.

You feel the heat creeping to your face; you hope that it’s dark enough that he can’t really see it. And you try to hide your smile behind a sip of wine. Not that you think you manage to.

You lower your glass slowly, trying - and failing - to compose your face.

“Oh, you were obvious,” you say, attempting nonchalance.

He squints at you slightly. “Obvious in a good way or in a ‘please escort this man out’ way?”

You pretend to consider it, tilting your head. “I’ll return to you with an answer by the end of the night.”

“I’ll wait patiently.” He nods seriously. “I did come in strong with the eye contact. Rookie mistake.”

You can barely hold your smile in as he refills both of your glasses, finishing the last drops of wine. “You did hold it for a very long time,” you agree.

“I read somewhere that long eye contact builds connection,” he says matter-of-factly. Then he pauses, thinking for a moment before he continues. “Or it triggers a fight-or-flight response. It was a fifty-fifty gamble on my side.”

“Fifty-fifty? You’re generous,” you say with a teasing smirk.

“Ouch,” he snorts. ”So, how are my chances looking right now?”

You pretend to muse, finger tapping your chin. “Like.. 30 percent?”

“Oh wow, that bad?” he says, but his big smile tells you he knows you’re bullshiting.

“What can I say? I’m hard to impress,” you giggle as you say.

“I figured. Or else, how someone like you would still be single?” he grins as he says.

You narrow your eyes at him. “Wow. That sounded like a compliment and an insult at the same time.”

“I’m talented like that,” he replies proudly. “It’s a niche skill.”

“So what are you implying?” you challenge, but there’s not a real bite.

“That you have standards,” he says simply. “High ones.”

You hum. “Correct.”

“And possibly a low tolerance for nonsense.”

“Also correct.”

He nods thoughtfully. “That explains a lot.”

“Explains what?”

“Why I need to be on my best behavior.”

“And is this your best behavior?”

“This is me trying.”

“That’s concerning.”

He laughs. “Okay, fair. But in my defense, I don’t go on many dates.”

“Oh?” you lift a brow. “Because you’re busy reading about cheap psychology theories about eye contact?”

He laughs. “Next time, I’ll check with the psychology PhD candidate if she approves the data.”

You shake your head, smiling. “So you don’t date at all?”

He shrugs. “I get busy. And then when I do have time, I convince myself I should use it productively.”

“That’s the most responsible excuse I’ve ever heard.”

“I once cancelled a date because I remembered I had laundry,” he admits.

You almost snort wine out of your nose.

You level with him and rise up the stakes. “I once cancelled a date because I started a new show the night before.”

He nods slowly. “Dangerous.”

“I realized I prefer to go home watching what happens than going on a random date.”

He presses his lips together, trying not to laugh. “Did you at least lie creatively?”

“I said I wasn’t feeling well.”

“That’s technically true,” he says solemnly. “You were unwell. Emotionally. And probably also mentally.”

You fake gasp, punching him on his arm. Ignoring how solid it felt.

“You cancelled for laundry.”

“Laundry is survival,” he argues.

You roll your eyes, and he laughs.

“Okay,” he says calmly. “Once, I cancelled a date because I found a parking spot directly in front of my apartment.”

You’re laughing before he even finishes. “You sacrificed a chance for romance for convenient parking?”

“You don’t understand,” he says, shaking his head. “It was rush hour. In the middle of the city. Right next to the building. I felt it was a sign.”

“You’re unbelievable.”

“I texted her and said something came up.”

“A paring spot came up,” you say, and you both laugh a little too loud for the vibe of the restaurant.

You wipe at the corner of your eye, still smiling. “You’re worse than me.”

“Thank you,” he says proudly.

“That was not a compliment.”

“I’m taking it as one anyway.”

You’re still smiling at him when the waiter appears beside the table, clearing your plates.

“Desserts?” she asks, placing the dessert menu between you.

He looks at you, and you just nod your head.

“Yes, please,” he answers.

There’s a moment of silence as you both read the menu.

“I’m kinda eyeing the tiramisu and panna cotta,” you say, and you look up at him, only to see that he’s already looking at you.

“Let’s do both,” he says simply, still holding eye contact with you. He shifts a bit, his knee brushes yours, and when you don’t move it, he leaves it there.

You smile, and he smiles back. Something soft takes over his gaze.

The waiter returns, and he orders the desserts.“And espressos, please,” he adds.

You look at him. “It’s like, late at night.”

“And the problem is?” he asks.

“You’re not sleeping tonight.”

“I rarely do.”

“That explains a lot,” you mutter.

He nudges your foot lightly under the table. “Rude.”

You feel so different from the beginning of the date. It’s almost hard to believe it was today. It’s hard to believe you just met today. When are you ever so comfortable next to people you just met? When was the last time you enjoyed a date? And a first date at that!

The conversation flows easily now. You tell things about yourself, you life. He listens, gives you some of him in response. Share a bits of himself. Giving commentary when it’s appropriate.

The desserts arrive. With his espresso.

You dig into the tiramisu immediately. He takes his own spoonful, eyes widening slightly. “Okay. This was the right choice.”

You nod, mouth full. “Mhm.”

After a few moments of just eating in silence, he leans back, declaring, “The tiramisu was better.”

You giggle. “Are you always this decisive?”

“About dessert? Absolutely.”

“About other things?”

He leans back slightly, studying you. “Depends.”

“On?”

“Whether I care.”

You raise a brow. “And tonight?”

He doesn’t hesitate. “I cared enough to find a reservation for Valentine’s Day on short notice.” He lifts his brow, like he thinks it’s obvious.

“And now I owe a favor. This is probably gonna cost me,” he mutters, laughing.

“Hope it was worth it,” you say with a smirk.

“Oh, totally.” He leans in a bit, resting both hands on the table, eyes narrowing as he looks at you. “And still, I got only 30%.”

You pretend to consider it again, tapping your chin dramatically. “Fine.”

His eyebrows lift.

“Thirty-five.”

He gasps softly. “Five percent? That’s huge.” He says all sarcastically.

“Don’t get cocky.”

“Never,” he says, already looking extremely pleased with himself.

You lean back in your chair, buzzing from wine and sugar and the way he keeps looking at you.

“Okay,” you say. “Important question.”

He straightens again. “I’m ready.”

“Would you eat the last bite if I offered it, or sneak it when I’m not looking?”

“To be honest? I’d probably sneak it.”

“And here I was, thinking you might be a gentleman.”

“I am a gentleman,” he says, pouting slightly.

“So you’re not patient,” you tease.

“I’ll have you know I’m plenty patient,“ he murmurs, voice low, eyes locked on yours.

You smirk, letting your hand rest casually on the table. “Plenty patient, huh? I’m skeptical.”

He leans back, eyes glinting. “Skepticism is healthy. Keeps me on my toes.”

You laugh softly, finishing the last bite of tiramisu. A yawn escapes you, the exhaustion of the day, the food, and the wine finally catching up with you.

“I feel like this is the time I’m obligated to say I had a lot of fun tonight,” and suddenly, something else is painting his tone. More gentle, almost shy. “And I’d love to see you again,” he says as you notice his cheeks are tinted pink.

“If you’d-”

“I’d love to,” you don’t let him finish.

He looks at you, smiling, his hand resting on yours now. You feel the warmth climb up from it, and it’s like it sets your whole body on fire.

“I didn’t expect to enjoy tonight as much as I did,” he says, softly.

You tilt your head. “So you came with low expectations for this date?” you tease.

“I came with high expectations.” He squeezes your hand. “And you exceeded them.”

He holds your gaze, rubbing gentle circles with his thumb on your hand, until the waiter clears the plates and he signals for the check.

You gather your things, still smiling, as he helps you on with your coat. “You want me to call you an Uber?” he asks, keeping his tone casual, but there’s a hint of care in it.

“That’d be great,” you reply, buttoning up your coat and trying not to stare at how tall he looks in the dim light of the restaurant.

You step outside together. The city is wet from the rain, lights reflecting in the puddles. The night is beautiful, almost cinematic. He tilts his head, smiling, and you can’t help the shiver that runs down your spine - not from cold, but from the way he’s looking at you.

He comes closer, standing right in front of you.

“So…” His hand brushes yours lightly. “This was… fun. Very fun.”

“It was,” you murmur, matching his smile.

He smiles brighter, he leans in and presses a soft, gentle kiss to your lips. Short, sweet, yet enough to make your heart race. When he pulls back slightly, his eyes search yours, sparkling in the streetlight, full of emotion.

Neither of you says a word, just your breath swirling together in the cold air.

Then his hands go to the collar of your coat, and he pulls you back in. Or that you lean back forward. It’s hard to tell when the only thing on your mind is him.

Your lips meet again, this time longer, warmer, more certain. And for a moment, the world narrows to the rain-soaked street and the soft press of his lips. His thumbs brush along your jawline, and the kiss depends. His tongue teases your bottom lip gently, and you slightly part them for him. He tastes like cream and wine and want. He holds your head gently, fingers brushing your hair. And it feels right. You feel sure and steady in his hands. You can’t remember the last time you were treated with such gentleness. His hands are gentle, calm, keeping you in place but not pulling you hard. His lips moves without a rush, like he savors every minuscule movement of your own. And you feel yourself melt more and more into the kiss. Wanting more of him. More of his calmness. More from how steady he holds himself. You feel like he can holds you too. Not that you ever looked for someone to hold you. But maybe it’ll be nice from time to time?

You break apart just slightly, eyes immediately connecting.

“What are my chances now?” he asks, voice low and slightly breathless.

“Probably 40%,” you tease.

He laughs, leaning his forehead against yours.

“I’ll earn the rest.”

jjly04

Jun 26, 2025

Namjoon as a boyfriend

Warnings: None

He establishes what he calls “date days” where he takes you on a date every 1-2 weeks so you never get bored

He buys you your favorite flowers paired with your favorite fruit and a handwritten letter telling you how much he admires you

He can get jealous sometimes for sure but he’d never take it out on anyone; he’d just be more cuddly and clingy for the next few days

He flirts with you often as if he still has a crush on you

Sometimes he daydreams about y’all’s future together and ponders what your children would look like

He creates an entire Pinterest board inspired by his admiration for you

When you first met he seemed very calm and composed, but now that he’s comfortable with you he shows you how much of a hyper nerd he is

He still gets shy when he makes eye contact with you

He smiles any time you walk into the room, eyes focused on every move you make

Very encouraging and philosophical when you come to him for advice

He tends to hide his insecurities from you at times, but he knows that you’ll ask eventually. So, he’ll come to you first and vent to you about everything

Sneaks glances at you whenever he thinks you’re not looking

If you attend an event together, he makes sure you’re in his eyesight at all times

He talks to his friends about you.

Will always go with you on your nighttime gas station runs

Hates when you have an attitude with him

Will roll his eyes at you when you’re not looking

When you get snappy with him he’ll just look at you- wide-eyed and raised eyebrows…then a smile will plaster his face and his dimples show

Very playful and bouncy when he’s happy

He’s so loyal

He’s so spoiled

Pays attention to detail

…which can lead to perfectionism and overthinking