mxchloe
“ah, ma’am--” jimin asked, pout self-evident on his features. “sorry to be a bother, but do you think i could trouble you for a favor? i can’t reach the cans up on the top shelf up there, and i’m trying to finish all my groceries for the week-- and, well--” a sheepish, bashful grin split across his face, sweet and shy. “i think you might be able to reach it better than me, and it’d be less embarrassing to ask you than one of the attendants.” he’s not even that short-- he’s just, in this case, too short to reach the beans. rip.











