#being a college student right now is chaotic

[cowgurrrl]

Something in the Orange

Pairing: Joel Miller x art teacher!reader

Author's note: this might become a mini series idk idk

Summary: A parent-teacher conference leads to trouble [4.0k]

Warnings: no outbreak! au, teacher things, Ellie being a little loner, Joel the Menace making a return, Joel gets both his daughters in this one because it's what he deserves, flirty flirt, i think that's it???

You feel like you've been running a million miles a minute since you got in this morning. The second you could unlock the door, at least three students spilled into your room and chaotically ran to the kiln to collect their most recent pottery projects. One of them ended up shattering (the exact one you warned Colin about, but he didn't listen), and, as per high school custom, they were all screaming about it. You consoled the students just in time for your principal to walk by and ask about lesson plans which made you scramble through your backpack for your notebook even though you knew damn well there wasn't a single lesson plan in there. "Do you always have those lights on?" Principal Martinez asked, gesturing to the room's fairy lights and orange lamps. Leave it to administration to want to avoid art classrooms so much that they don't even know about the Big Light Philosophy. 

Since then, it's been class after class. You only have one more period before your planning period and then, finally, the end of the day. There are a hundred things to do, but you can't focus on any of them. You got so caught up in managing your classroom and helping students with the hardest parts of their portfolio work that you almost forgot you had a parent meeting scheduled during your planning period. 

Calling in parents for meetings about their children may be your least favorite part of your job. It makes you feel like a bad teacher, and parents usually don't feel great about getting called in on a workday to talk about their kid. Luckily, Ellie's dad, Joel, seemed more than happy to take time to talk about her. You rack your mind for his occupation as you add some detail to a canvas you've been hiding in your office and working on when you can. Was he a blue-collar worker? Or was he another stuck-up Austin transplant parent who's gonna accuse you of lying? He'd make the fifth parent who's made you cry this semester.

A knock on your locked door pulls you from your thoughts, and you quickly put away your painting before answering the door. "I told you she was in here!" One of your students, Dina, announces as she and a posse of three other kids you don't recognize push their way into the room. "Miss, you've gotta take that thing off your door; otherwise, people are gonna think you went home!"

"You mean the sign that says, 'planning period. Do not enter?'" You ask, and she snaps her fingers.

"That's the one." She says as she and her friends start putting their backpacks down at one of your high tables. You sigh and kick the door stopper into the threshold.

"You guys can't stay here. I have a meeting in five minutes."

"With who?"

"None of your business." 

"Miss!" Dina acts wounded, and you cross your arms over your chest, your keys jingling around your neck in the process.

"I am an adult with a college degree and the debt to show for it. You are a teenager with a still-developing brain. You have to listen to me," you say. "Wait, whose class are you supposed to be in right now?"

"Mr. Flynn's."

"Guys!" You groan before walking over to your desk and quickly writing up a hall pass for them. "I know you don't like math-"

"No, we don't like Mr. Flynn." Dina cuts you off.

"Or math!" One of her friends adds, and you shoot them a (loving) disapproving look. 

"Whatever you don't like, you can't keep hiding out here. Mr. Flynn is two seconds away from trying to get me fired for how often I let his kids in here during class, and I actually like this job, so," you rip the hall pass off the pad and hand it to Dina. As they pack their stuff up, a tall, bearded man steps into your classroom and makes eye contact with you. "Out, out, out! I love you. You're gonna change the world one day, but please get out." You blow them kisses as you usher them out of the room. 

"Are you Ellie's art teacher?" He asks, a confused look on his face, and you nod.

"Yes, I am. Sorry about that. They're still figuring out that I have work to get done even when I don't have a class," you explain, a little breathless from running all over the place and getting caught off-guard. You really do try to act a little more professional with parents, but the kids threw you off. The kettle whistling behind your desk doesn't make it any better. "Is there anything I can get you? Coffee? Tea?" You pick up a random mug off your desk but find it full of murky water. "Paint water?"

"Are you allowed to have an electric kettle in here?" He asks, and you laugh nervously as you find a clean mug and your tea box. 

"I won't tell if you won't." You say. He stands there awkwardly as you pour yourself some tea, and you realize you didn't pull a chair up for him. "Um, we can sit..." you glance around your messy classroom until you find a clear table and gesture toward it. "Here." He follows your lead, and you take a deep breath as you sit down.

"You gonna be okay?" He asks, the hint of a smirk on his lips. His curly hair looks golden brown in the low light, and his round eyes have a little knowing twinkle. You take another breath to compose yourself and nod. 

"Yes. Sorry. It's been a long day." 

"Don't worry bout it. I'm sure they run you ragged."

"Is it that obvious?"

"Well, you do have paint in your hair." He says, and panic seizes in your chest. You're never more aware of how crazy your job can be until you meet Real Adults. Even if you can't remember what he does for a living, you still have to admit that you look a little silly next to each other: you, with your paint-stained sunflower dress and markered hands, and him, with his black shirt and jeans. He doesn't have any apparent stains or splatters on his clothes, but he's broad with thick biceps. He must work with his hands or something within that capacity. You clear your throat and try to get back on track with the meeting.

"Uh, so Mr. Miller, the reason I called you here today was to talk to you about Ellie," you start. "First, I just wanna say that she is an amazing student. She always does her work and engages thoughtfully with the material. I really do enjoy having her in class." 

"Well, that's certainly good to hear. She talks a whole lot bout this class and you, so... it's nice to place a face to the name," he says, adjusting his position on the stool. "But I have a feelin' you didn't call me down here just to tell me how great my kid is." 

"She is great. She's extremely talented, smart, and funny, but she spends more time in my classroom during lunch than anything else. I'm worried about her making friends and finding a community here at school. I've tried convincing her to join the art club, but she's hesitant. During class, she just sits with her headphones in and draws. She really doesn't like talking to anybody but me." You wait for blame to be assigned to you or get lectured, but it never comes. He just sighs, and he deflates a little in his chair.

"She's been through a lot this year. Well, her whole life, really, but 'specially recently," he says dejectedly. "What can I do for her?"

"There's an art show this Friday night here at the school. It'll all be student work from across the district. I thought if maybe you or... whatever adults she has at home came with her to this, she might feel more comfortable talking to her peers or even want to submit some of her own stuff."

"We can do that. I'll get off work early and ask her uncle if he wants to come," he's quick with his solution, and you're a little shocked. You rarely get parents, let alone fathers, who act this swiftly when something is going on with their kids. "Is there anythin' else goin' on that I should know bout?" 

"Uh, no. Like I said, she's a great kid. You should be really proud." You say, and the concerned wrinkle between his eyebrows disappears with a proud smile. 

"Thank you," he mumbles, suddenly shy. "And thanks for carin' so much bout her. It's nice to know she's got someone lookin' out for her here." You don't know what to say, so you just nod and stare at him. You know, like an idiot. It takes a chuckle from him to snap you out of your thoughts, and blood rushes to your cheeks.

"Yes, of course. She's a good kid." You say. 

"You said that already." 

"I bet you'd be a little scatterbrained if you were at the mercy of two hundred teenagers all day."

"You're absolutely right. I would be," he says, smirking devastatingly. "Someone ought to get you a coffee or somethin' if you're dealing with all that." 

"People like you should go argue with the school board. I'm sure you'd be popular with all the teachers." 

"That'd be a first. I think I might've been the least favorite parent for all of my girls' teachers." 

"Well, I find that hard to believe." 

"Yeah?" He asks, leaning forward just a little, and you nod, smiling. Your brain struggles to come up with something to say, and you're a little embarrassed at your silence, but luckily, your projector saves the day by buzzing loudly and making the picture on the board cut in and out. You mumble a quick apology before getting up and climbing up on a desk to jiggle a piece back into place. You hear Joel curse behind you, and when you turn to see what the problem is, you see him holding his arms out behind you. "Do you stand on desks often?" 

"Only every day. I haven't fallen yet this year." You laugh at his exasperated expression and turn back to the projector. It's still making a weird noise, so you move it around a little more, moving the desk under your feet, and Joel stabilizes it with a sigh. 

"How long has it been doin' that?" 

"Couple months. I keep putting in maintenance requests, but nobody ever comes to fix it."

"I can fix it for ya," he says simply, and you look down at him. "I've got tools in my truck. It wouldn't take long at all."

"Really?" You ask, and he nods. 

"It'd make me feel better knowin' you're not almost breakin' your neck every day."

"You mean, standing on a decades-old desk to mess with an ancient piece of equipment isn't OSHA compliant?"

"Please," he says, grabbing your ankle when the desk wobbles under you, and you laugh at his worry. "Let me fix it for you before you give me a heart attack." You think about declining and just putting in another work order, but the likelihood that anyone would actually come and fix it is slim to none. Plus, you really shouldn't be climbing on top of desks every day. You pretend to think it over for a few more seconds just to watch the worry play across his features as his grip on your ankle gets tighter.

"Only if you really mean it." 

"I really mean it," he says, offering you his other hand. "Now, would you please get down?"

"Fine." You say and take his hand. You bend to safely get yourself down, but Joel moves his other hand from your ankle to your waist and basically hoists you to the ground. Once your feet touch the floor, he doesn't let you go immediately like he's trying to figure out if you somehow got hurt when he wasn't looking. There's a part of your brain that's aware of how inappropriate this would look to any passersby, but you're also highly aware of how warm his big hand is on your hip. 

"Ya alright?" He asks softly, and you nod, taking a conscious step back from his arms.

"Yes, thank you."

"Good," he says, also taking a step back. "Let me go get my tools, and I'll get that fixed for you." 

"Perfect. I'll be here." You stand there, staring at each other awkwardly, for another moment before he turns on his heels and walks out of the classroom. The second he's out of your line of sight, you bury your head in your hands and start silently freaking out. 

What the fuck are you doing? How did a parent-teacher meeting turn into him hauling you off a desk and offering to fix your projector? Technically, nothing incriminating has happened, and it needs to stay that way. It doesn't matter if you think he's attractive or like how he worries about everything. He's Ellie's dad. Teachers have gotten fired for much less than this, and you're not willing to risk your career because of one guy. 

When he gets back with his toolbox, you're sitting at your desk and sorting through assignments like a reasonable adult. He doesn't say anything as he climbs up on the same desk you were standing on and begins messing with the mechanics of the equipment. You each work in silence for a few minutes before a screw clatters to the ground, and he grumbles something under his breath. "Do you mind..." he starts, pointing toward the lost piece. 

"Not at all." You cover your anxiety with your chipper teacher voice and search for the screw with your phone flashlight. You find it tucked between canvases, carefully pick it up, and walk over to where he's standing, waiting for him to be ready for it.

"It looks like it's just an old piece in here. I'm sure you can order a new one, and I can come back and install it if ya want," he explains, looking down at you. You probably look stupid just standing there with a tiny screw in your hand, but he doesn't laugh. "D'you mind handing me that tool to your right?" He asks, and you blindly reach for the tool you think he's talking about. "Your other right." He corrects, and you flush in embarrassment. 

"Sorry. I never was a very good woodshop student." You say, and he laughs once he has the tool in hand. 

"My girls are the same way. Just askin' ‘em to hold a flashlight while I work on their car is like pullin' teeth," he says fondly. "Speaking of which, is there a reason the lights aren't on in here?"

"The lamp light is less harsh, and it helps students focus. Plus, nobody likes coming into a bright classroom first thing in the morning." You explain, and he hums.

"If I'd had a teacher like you growing up, I would've been at school much more than I was."

"You didn't like school?"

"Hated it," he says, opening his hand for the screw. Once you drop the tiny thing into his large palm, he straightens up, and you can barely hear it going back into its rightful place. "'S a miracle I graduated." 

"That was me in college." 

"Now, I don't believe that for a second." 

"Really?" You laugh, and he nods.

"Someone like you, with your pretty dresses and all that empathy, was meant to be a teacher." 

"I wasn't always like this," you evade the compliment despite the butterflies in your stomach. "Being a teacher was never on my radar until I graduated. A lot of my life was never on my radar until then." He puts the hood of the projector back on and climbs down from the desk until he's standing in front of you again, wiping his hands on a red handkerchief from his toolbox. 

"Well, with the way you carry yourself, I never woulda guessed." He says. He opens his mouth to say something more, but the sharp tone of the bell ringing cuts him off. You jump at the sound and look at the clock as if it were wrong. 

"I'm so sorry. Time must've gotten away from me. Thank you so much again, Mr. Miller, for coming in to talk with me and looking at the projector. I hope to see you and Ellie on Friday." You say quickly as the sound of rowdy kids fills the hallway, and you hold your hand out to him. He takes it and squeezes it firmly.

"You can call me Joel. Mr. Miller makes me feel old." He says, and you smile. He doesn't look old, unlike the other dads you've encountered. Sure, he's got some gray at his temples and in his beard, but it suits him. 

"Joel, it is then." You resolve. His hand lingers in yours for a little too long before finally pulling away. "Well, Joel, unless you want to elbow through teenagers, I'd suggest you hide out here for a few more minutes." He does happily, even helping you carry supplies to your car once the hallways have cleared out enough. He's a proper gentleman, slinging your backpack over his shoulder and opening doors for you. You part only once everything is in your trunk, and he bids you goodnight with a charming smile that fills your thoughts on your drive home.

Ellie surprises you the next day as you're setting up the classroom. Normally, she isn't in until right before the bell rings, so seeing her this early is a little bit of a shock. The ink staining her hands is not. "Hey, dude. What's going on?" You ask. "Did you get breakfast from the cafeteria today? I heard Mrs. Hodges has those French toast sticks that everyone loves. You can probably get two servings if you run." 

"No, I already ate. My dad and uncle had to leave early this morning, so we got breakfast. Speaking of which," she says as she takes off her backpack and pulls a cup of iced coffee out of her water bottle pocket. "This is for you. We didn't know what you liked, so we got a vanilla latte or something." 

"Oh, El! You didn't have to do that. Thank you, honey." You say, and she sets it on your desk for you to enjoy once you don't have paintbrushes in hand. "If this is your way of getting a good grade on your piece, I already told you that you have nothing to worry about."

"It wasn't my idea. It was my dad's." She says nonchalantly before moving to the back of the classroom to get her sketch book. You, however, are confused and secretly pleased that Joel thought of you when he didn't have to. You find a message scribbled on the side when you reach for the cup to take a sip. 

Thanks again. See you Friday. -J

You turn to hide your smile from Ellie, but she's so deep in her work that you doubt she would've noticed anyway. You put some music on, and you and Ellie work silently on your projects until the bell rings and the day starts. 

The rest of the week goes by without a hitch, meaning that nobody accidentally ingested paint, and you only had to have one Come to Jesus talk with your Art 1 class. When Friday night rolls around, you're excited to see all the students work and treat yourself by wearing a new shirt with black scribbles all over it and black dress pants. You figure you should look as art teachery as possible for an art teacher event. 

By the time you get to the school, the hallways are buzzing with students dragging their parents from one piece to another and administrators praising their art programs even though you know not one of them has seen the inside of an art classroom in months. You make small talk with some of your students and their parents before finding a way out of the conversation and letting yourself wander through the makeshift gallery. You love your kids, but you really don't want them breathing down your neck as you look at all the art. You're almost at the end when you hear a familiar voice calling your name, and you turn to find Ellie walking toward you with Joel and, who you assume to be her uncle, next to her. 

"Hey, kid! I'm so happy to see you here!" You say sincerely, and she smiles shyly. You turn to her uncle and hold your hand out to introduce yourself. 

"Tommy. We sure have heard a whole lot bout you at home." He says with a smirk, and you laugh. 

"All good things, I hope."

"Of course. Ellie just bout worships the ground you walk on," he says. "Joel was singin' your praises, too." 

"Alright, I think that's enough. Why don't y'all go walk around, and I'll catch up with ya?" He suggests, and Tommy chuckles. Another teacher calls Ellie's name from down the hallway, and she's quick to drag Tommy off to meet him, leaving you and Joel alone. He's replaced his black shirt with a light blue dress shirt, and it looks like he's recently trimmed his beard. He looks nice.

"Singing praises, huh?" You raise your eyebrows at him, and he smiles sheepishly. "Thank you for the coffee the other morning, by the way. It was a really nice surprise." 

"Figured it was the least I could do to thank you for takin' such good care of my girl." 

"Well, thank you. I owe you." 

"You don't owe me a thing," he says. "Although, Tommy was a little upset that I didn't bill you for lookin' at the projector." 

"Was he?" You ask, and he nods.

"Oh, yeah," he laughs. "Said next time I should, at least, ask you on a date."

"Mr. Miller-"

"I thought you agreed to call me Joel." He raises his eyebrows in a silent challenge, and you shake your head, fighting a smile.

"Joel, while I'm flattered by the offer from someone so handsome-"

"You think I'm handsome?"

"I can't date my students' parents." You say, ignoring his question, but even then, the playful look on his face doesn't fade. "Well, I can leave you to it. I know Ellie will probably want to show you around." 

"Right. Of course," he says. "It's really nice to see you."

"You, too. I'm just glad I didn't have paint in my hair this time."

"I don't know. I thought it was kinda cute." You feel yourself blush at his words, but you have to shut it down before it can become anything more than flattery. You take a deep breath and try not to let that stupid smirk weaken your knees as he watches you.

"Goodnight, Joel."

"Goodnight, ma'am." He says, tipping his head politely before sauntering down the hallway like he owns the place. Trouble, you think to yourself. But you can handle trouble. It's in your job description, for Christ's sake. 

So, you brush off the flirting and try to ignore how his kindness and sweet words made you feel. You absolutely cannot flirt with the parent of one of your students. Dating is completely off the table. You can handle this like an adult. You have to. 

After a cold shower and a leftover dinner, you check your email once more before going to bed that night. Sitting in your inbox with alarming clarity is an email from Ellie with the subject line: Art Club. Her email is somehow just as short as her subject line. 

Simply, "When can I start -E." 

TAGLIST: @abbyhaslongshorts @kiwiharrykiwi @sumsworldz @myloveistoolittle @anavatazes @marantha

#joel miller #the last of us #joel miller x reader #joel miller the last of us #the last of us x reader #joel miller fic #joel tlou #joel miller au #the last of us fic #joel the last of us #ellie the last of us #the last of au #tlou au #tlou #tlou fanfiction #ellie tlou #joel and ellie #the last of us hbo #joel x reader #joel miller x f!reader

[idkfitememate]

Wait. What if all the creators are in the world at the same time

But

They're just a group of besties irl

I’m gonna call everyone by the first letter of their animal, so: Boar is B, Otter is O, Tiger is T, Fox is F, and Primo is P! ૮꒰˶ᵔ ᗜ ᵔ˶꒱ა˖⁺‧₊˚

(Natlan & Snezhnaya will be included! They will be N & S for now!)

There will be mentions of the term mother but that’s just because I unfortunately couldn’t write a gender neutral term that fit or sounded right! I apologize if this offends or causes any dysphoria! Again, sorry!

“GET BACK HERE YOU BITCH!”

“NO!”

Ah yes, just a normal day in the shared apartment of these five. Each a respective college member for their school.

Not to say they had high grades or anything. They were average!

…At best-

Currently O and B were fighting over who got to use the shared Genshin account next. And when I say shared I mean that it was shared. By everyone. All seven broke college students. Including their friends (and the couple… ew) who lived next door. S and N.

“NO WAY MAN. I CALLED IT THREE DAYS AGO.” O screeched. They tugged on B’s hair as the two rampaged through the apartment.

“FUCK OFF I GOT THERE FIRST!” B screamed back. They shoved a hand in O’s face as they fought back.

“WILL THE TWO OF YOU KINDLY SHUT UP?!”

Both fighters paused as the voice of T rung throughout the small space. They glanced at each other before letting go, dusting the other off.

“Yes mama.”

“Yes ma’am.”

It had become a running joke that T had become they had become the ‘parent’ of the group. And with them being in the kitchen currently with a frilly pink apron that had “kiss the cook” etched on in cursive… yeah they weren’t beating the allegations.

O & B called the mama in joke, so F & P called them papa to balance it out.

N & S were boring so they just called them T.

Party poopers 😒

As O and B grumbled to themselves, P was in the kitchen helping T.

T was watching closely as P used a knife. Last time they held one fifteen people ended up in the hospital and had an F.B.I. investigation on their ass.

Not fun. -10/10 would never recommend.

And F? They were asleep on the couch.

As B & O walked into the main room from T and P’s room (they shared a room so T could keep an eye on them… and also the computer was in there-), they booth looked towards the kitchen…

Before trying to rush out of the dorm.

“Oh no you don’t,” T mused, gripping the backs of each of their collars. “You two are gonna sit down and think about what you just did. You know there’s no fighting in this house.”

They dragged the two back, P looking out from the kitchen area.

As T continued to scold, P spoke up.

“Hey uhm… where is F?” Then they all heard the sound of a computer starting up. Painfully.

They turned to look at each other before the pampered bitch and chaotic asshole rushed out, the parental unit running after and puppy following close behind.

They all found F sitting at the computer, yawning. Glancing at each other, they all stood behind the chair F was seated in, watching them boot up all fives current obsession:

Genshin Impact.

As F typed in the password, B and O quickly started bickering about what the current player should do. T shook their head with a sigh and P egged them on.

“Uhm… is the screen supposed to be glowing this bright?”

Everyone turned their attention to the computer screen to see what F was referring to. And they were right. The screen was glowing oddly bright…

And then they got sucked in.

Everyone screamed. Especially T.

“I THINK I FORGOT TO TURN OFF THE OVENNNNNNNNN-“

… Uh oh.

₊‧ʚ・︵︵ ₊˚๑ ᕱᕱ ꒱✦ ₊ ︵︵・₊﹆ɞ‧₊

﹒˚ ₊ ︵﹒⊹ ๑ ︵︵ ๑ ⊹﹒︵

“Guys?” N called. It had been oddly quiet in their neighbors house, which was an immediate red flag with how lively they were.

Looking back at S, N took out their spare key and giggled the lock open.

Walking in and calling names, S noted that dinned seemed to be half prepared, luckily the stove was off.

The partners continued through the small apartment. Eventually joining back up before T and a P’s room. They looked at each other, shared a kiss and grabbed hands, before walking in.

The computer was on the home screen of Genshin Impact. S took a step forward and clicked enter, maybe just to see where they had left off. If it was in the middle of a mission, then they’d know something was up.

Because no one in this house would ever leave a mission uncleared.

The screen glowed brighter and brighter…

N clutched onto S as the other shielded them.

Seven for seven.

… Nice.

I hope this lives up to what you were expecting! I thought I’d be funny if they were all broke. Imagine sharing your account with six other people. I don’t know if I could do it guys ໒꒰ྀིっ˕ -｡꒱ྀི১

#genshin impact sagau #sagau x reader #sagau #x reader #x gn reader #yandere x reader #yandere x you #Boar!Creator #Otter!Creator #Tiger!Creator #Fox!Creator #Primo Geovishap!Creator #anon <3 #asks <3

[kerokerokook]

the rebound girl: chapter two

pairing: nerd pro-gamer jeongguk x reader

word count: 25.5k wtf

warnings for this chapter: oc just goes for it, jeongguk is hot as usual, lots of kissing, finally some smut, first time, virgin jk!, subby jk! with dom! reader at first but that changes, oral (m. receiving), oral fixation, fingering, jeongguk does the lower stomach trick from tiktok (iykyk), he's a little shit but it's okay.

other tags: lots of overthinking, oc goes back and forth a whole bunch (she's confused and hurt ok), jeongguk is a giant MF green flag (obvi), vmin and 2yeon being chaotically gay ofc, some brief physics mentioned, a bit of angst, oc has been hurt in her teen years.

a/n: sorry this took 9 million years but ya girl just got into her masters program!! hopefully, i can update this once/twice a month? maybe even more but, that's the plan!

enjoy :)

<3 mal

original post

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

The first day of school hit you in the face like a speeding fourteen-wheel truck. 

Okay, that’s a bit of an exaggeration because you’ve known the date since the beginning of summer break but time flew by so quickly that you couldn’t believe September was starting and another school year was too. 

Soon, you’ll graduate and get a job and move on from all of the shit you’ve gone through to become a whole adult. It’s terrifying yet exciting all at once. 

Fortunately, you picked out your outfit last night: baggy blue jeans, a white cropped tank top and an oversized black corduroy button up shirt. It’s simple and comfy which you always prefer for school outfits. Simple gold jewelry sits on your neck and in your ears and you keep your hair back with a clear claw clip. You keep your makeup light, being that you’ll be back home in a few hours where you’ll just slip back into your pajamas and do nothing for the rest of the day.

While packing your things, you make sure to tuck Jeongguk’s t-shirt that you’ve washed and his umbrella into your backpack, then give Snowball her last few pets for the day while checking her food and water bowl. 

“I’ll be back in a few hours cutie,” you coo, scratching underneath her chin. Her head tilts up, a content smile on her cute face, eyes shut while pushing into your touch.

Adopting Snowball sort of just happened. You were lonely last Winter break after a guy you met in your Economic Growth Seminar had moved on and your mom was talking about how your neighbor’s cat just had a litter of kittens. Thankfully, your landlord was okay with pets and boom, there was a little fluff ball making your day better little by little. After a long day, there was nothing you liked doing more than stroking her soft fur and listening to music or throwing a movie on while she purrs right next to you. She’s a great comfort to you and your friends love her too.

Tearfully, you rip yourself away from your little baby and step outside of your comfortable apartment. The hallway is empty at this time. Your building has mostly college students and a few bachelors and bachelorettes here and there so it’s surprising that no one else is walking out at the same time as you. But that’s fine. No polite greetings necessary. You put your headphones in, play some music and begin your trek to school. 

Living one subway ride away from university is a privilege. It never takes you that long to get to class and it’s easy to get back home. It’s the best thing about living here. 

Plus in the springtime, the blossoms decorate the streets with little pink petals and it’s a sight to see. 

On the way down the subway steps, you check your schedule once more just to be sure of your class load today. You have a 9am lecture, then an 11:30am lecture and then a discussion at 1:45 but those only start the second week of school every Monday, Wednesday and Friday. On Tuesdays and Thursdays, you have classes from 8am-3pm which sounds like ass now that you think about it. 

Fuck, were you drunk when you selected these courses? 

You shake your head. Whatever, not like there’s much you can do now, right? At least you’ll be busy so less time to mess around. 

Your walk down the steps continues and you shove your phone into your jean pocket as you rush over to make the train before your first class, taking out your metro-card.

After dodging some lethargic businessmen and starstruck tourists, you manage to reach the train with a few seconds to spare. There’s a towards the back so you quickly walk over and grab the handle when there’s a vibration against your ass. 

Confused, you pull your phone out. It’s probably a tiktok sent to you by Jeongyeon of a cat with a funny filter on or something but the screen shows the message icon and you use FaceID to unlock your phone to see who the sender was.

It’s a text from Jeongguk. 

jeon jeongguk

hey

do you want to give me the stuff outside the engineering building?

maybe around 1? 

by stuff i mean my shirt and umbrella

You smile to yourself. The fact that he felt the need to explain what he meant by stuff is unbelievably adorable to you. 

me 

sure, i’ll be there :) 

You almost wonder what Jeongguk’s schedule is like but you stop yourself quickly. You tried to not to think too much about him on Sunday when you got back. It was enough that his sweet smelling shirt was on your body and you still had the lingering imprint of his hug on your skin but now that you know he  goes to the same school, you’ll become more interested and you can’t. Jeongguk isn’t going to be the next boy to occupy your mind. 

This year is going to be different. You won’t be the rebound girl anymore, you won’t sleep with guys from your school, and you won’t give in. 

After everything that went down with Wooshik, it’s just better for you to distance yourself from this stupid label of rebound girl. It’s done nothing but hurt you and worsen your relationship with the people in your department. First year you were hanging out and eating with them and now all you have are Nayeon and Jeongyeon. Not that you don’t like them but you just hate what being the rebound girl has done to your college life.

Your mother used to say your college years are your prime years to be young and stupid and learn about life. 

But college is nothing special to you. The classes are harder, people are smarter, meaner, better, and all you can do is push yourself to do the best that you can. Sometimes it’s enough, sometimes it isn’t. Your friends are great and you’ve made some good memories, but so far, college isn’t that coming-of-age life lesson that your mother always talked about. 

You’re not particularly upset about it. You just wished you could do more. Live your life without eyes all over you and whispers at every mistake. 

As the train lets you off at your spot, you make sure to triple check your schedule for the day so you know where you’re going after your first class. 

9am is your Macroeconomics lecture in the Economics building which is fine. Your professor is nice and the class seems interesting enough that you know you’ll do well. Mostly test based which won’t be a problem because economics is your thing. You’ve been studying it diligently for three years now so you can confidently say that. 

But 11:30 is your worst nightmare: physics. 

This is all your fault. Nayeon told you to get all of your general education requirements out of the way quickly your first and second year so that you wouldn’t have to worry about them later but you didn’t listen. 

Look, science is simply not your thing. High school courses were hell on earth thanks to your asshole of a Chemistry teacher. You managed to gaslight yourself into thinking math was easy enough as long as you studied like a mad person and got those requirements out of the way but science is hell on earth for you. Your university requires one life science and two physical sciences. Life science was an easy choice: zoology. You got to learn about cute animals and watch videos about them. First semester of your first year was easy. 

Then you decided to take Geology for physical science during your second semester. It sounded easy but memorizing all of those different rock formations was starting to wear you out from the inside. Somehow you managed a B. And after that, it was either meteorology, astronomy, or some form of physics since every other course required you to be enrolled in the Physical Sciences department or have some prerequisite that you didn’t want to take. None of the options sounded appealing to you so you put it off until now. Then, when the realization hit that you had only one more year after this to make up for all of those credits, you decided astronomy might be the best choice after reading some professor reviews. 

Only for you to sleep through registration and wake up in a frenzy to find the class completely full. 

Yeah, you almost started crying.

So physics it was and, how wonderful, the only class available was with an unlikeable teacher that has a horrible rating. Amazing. 

Panic floods your system as you walk into the large lecture hall. You aim for a seat in the middle, take out your supplies, and start diligently listening. Your professor is a stout, sad, little man who is trying to improve his professor score online so thankfully, he says he’s going to be more lenient when it comes to tests but demands that homework be turned in on time otherwise points will be deducted. Fair enough. You could do that. 

But then he starts going into course material. 

Energy; alright. 

Motion; cool. 

Thermodynamics; okay.

Optics; excuse me?

Electromagnetism; sound the alarms. 

This class is going to kill you. Even if it’s Physics 1 and your class is filled with mostly underclassmen, you know you won’t grasp the concepts easily with all of your other classes weighing down on your head. There’s so much to do and so little time to do it all. 

“.. previous students of mine have so graciously offered tutoring hours so if any of you are confused, I highly recommend meeting up with them and going over concepts. They have taken my tests before so they know what to expect. It is the best way to ensure you do well.”

Most of the students behind you have gone to sleep or started scrolling through their phones but you have a lightbulb moment. 

Perfect, okay. All you have to do is check the list of tutors online and schedule appointments with them. Shouldn’t be that bad.  Another thing to be strict about. 

This is just what you wanted: a tight enough schedule to keep you too busy to think about anything else.

Once class is over, you pack all of your things and check your phone once more. Jeongguk said he’d be outside the engineering building which is close to the physical sciences building. The time reads 12:50pm so you have some time to make your way outside. 

So far, the first day has ended and it’s gone pretty well. You’ll go back home, create a strict study table on your Notion, rent all of your books and then relax for the rest of the day. Then the rest of this week should be smooth sailing as you get into the groove with your new professors. Nayeon and Jeongyeon are going to meet you at your place for home-cooked dinner this Friday( a little first week back tradition) which you’re excited for.  You should look up some recipes and make sure Nayeon stays out of your kitchen so she won’t blow anything up. That girl is incapable of not making a disaster in the kitchen. 

You sigh through your nose, studying the sights you see on campus. Various students walking in small triplets or duos. The occasional lone wolf with headphones on to block out the world. Some clubs are putting up posters or setting up tables to grab first years as they explore campus. The path that is currently running outside the STEM buildings break off into various courtyards and cafes where students of all departments come to chill or cut through to go to their other classes. 

It’s about to be a great scenic walk just until you run into Wooshik and his buddies as they’re exiting a café with drinks in their hands. 

Kill me now. 

You pause like a deer in headlights when you make eye contact with him, stopping midway so your lips can part as your entire body goes stuff. 

Now, more than anything, you really wish you were walking with someone. 

“Hey,” Wooshik forces out, crossing his arms over his chest. His polo shirt is open enough to show a random cluster of dark hickeys from the middle of his throat to the beginning of his chest. Real subtle. 

Before seeing that, you were thinking about apologizing but now, not so much. 

“Hi,” your tone is short. You can feel eyes dance over your body, the swell of your breasts and the sliver of skin revealed between your crop top and pants from one of his creepy pals behind him and you have half a mind to kick him in the balls. 

Wooshik’s eyes bounce back and he juts his face forward like he’s waiting for you to say something to him but you keep your lips perfectly sealed. If he wants an apology, he can wait until he’s dead. His other friends exchange weird looks at the lack of conversation going on between you two, probably wondering if this standoff is going to linger forever. 

It makes you wonder what Wooshik told them. 

Guys love having their ego fluffed. If they get rejected by a girl, they’ll tell their best friends that she was an ugly slut or they’ll flip the story to say that they rejected her to save face. The last thing they want their friends to know is that a girl rejected them. It dims their coolness. However, you really don’t give a fuck about Wooshik looking cool in front of his boys. If anything, you revel in the cutting deflation he’ll feel when you tell them the truth. 

“Did you get the wine out of your shirt?” You ask innocently. “I should’ve aimed it more towards your face and less towards your clothes.” Shrugging, a satisfied smile grows on your lips. 

Wooshik’s ears turn red. “I–” he cuts eye contact as his friends snicker behind him. You watch in satisfaction as his expression changes from surprised to annoyed to angry. “You know what, fuck you. You ruined my shirt. I had to take that hot waitress back to my place instead of a hotel so I didn’t reek of wine.”  

You scoff immediately. “Damn and I was trying to do her a favor. But congrats, looks like you got your tiny dick wet for two minutes.” You start to clap. One of his friends chokes back a splutter of laughter at the jab. 

Wooshik wasn’t anything amazing but you sort of expected that. Most of your hookups are satisfactory. They get the job done and they give up. As stupid as it sounds, you’ve always gone above and beyond to pleasure someone. There’s something amazing about making your partner feel good but most men see sex in a selfish lens. 

For most guys, sex means sticking their dick in and sloshing it around a few times until they feel good. Boom, sex over. 

Now, if they want to make you feel good, it still won’t be about you. Orgasms are like points. They don’t get off on your pleasure but more on the fact that they’re so amazing at sex that you experienced pleasure. Another way to fluff their egos. 

For once, you’d wish for a guy to actually care about you and your pleasure in an unselfish way, the same way you do for them. 

Wooshik stumbles for a moment but he jumps back quickly to get you too. Especially with all of his boys watching. 

“You didn’t seem to complain about it at first. What, changed your mind because I didn’t want you anymore?” 

Oh, please. A plastic vibrator has done more for you than he ever will. 

You laugh sardonically. “No, I just felt bad for you.” You say it wholeheartedly and it's the most truthful you’ve ever been with him. 

His friends then burst into giggles and snickers, shoving him around when he fails to retort, left dumbfounded by the sheer audacity of you but you don’t care. You don’t get to see the look on Wooshik’s face but you don’t care. The laughter is your cue to leave him. 

 That chapter of your life is over now and you won’t ever have to deal with him again. The last man you’ll let trample all over you the minute you show them some sympathy. 

All you can hope is that the pesky nickname that’s been poisoning you since your first year college can fade away into obscurity forever and ever. 

Then, you can just be you. No label, no nickname, no reputation. Just a regular college senior. 

The walk to the engineering building is lighter now. You feel like one of the falling petals gently flying through the sky from the branch down to the ground. A new journey begins and you can’t wait for it. 

After another minute of walking, you reach the engineering building. Painted a soft brown with tons of posters and clubs waiting to talk to students. You dodge all of them to head inside where Jeongguk is waiting by a random classroom. You navigate through the crowd until you finally locate a  mop of gorgeous dark hair and bright clear eyes. 

He’s facing his phone screen, one leg crossed over the other, but you’re still mesmerized by him. Beauty is in simplicity but with a face like that, Jeongguk could wear a burlap sack and make it work. But currently, he’s dressed in baggy gray cargos and a dark blue long-sleeve shirt with some brand name logo on it. The urge to sigh like a satisfied cartoon character is intense. 

You hate and love it at the same time. How on earth can he look so boyfriend without trying? 

“Hey, Jeongguk,” you call softly, taking short strides towards him, hoping that your hair looks good and not like a frizzy mess from the wind. 

His head pops up, glimmering eyes like two black pools of water gazing back at you. Then a soft grin forms on his lips, skin creasing, dimpling, and cute. 

“Hey.” Jeongguk tucks his phone into his pants pocket. His perfume wafts over to you the moment he moves, welcoming you like a warm hug after a long day. 

You want to bury your nose in it and never forget the smell. 

“Sorry, I got caught up with something on the way here. Were you waiting for a while?”

“Nah, I’ve been here for like two minutes. Did you bring it?” He adjusts his bag for a moment. 

“Yep.” You hand him the shirt, neatly folded and smelling of your fabric softener, along with the umbrella tied. “All clean.” A cute smile grows on his face as he gently takes the items and puts it in his bag, humming excitedly under his breath which makes your entire body warm. “Listen, are you off for the rest of the day?” 

“Yeah, I have all morning classes on Mondays and Wednesdays. You?”  

“Same and it just so happens that I needed a walking buddy to the subway station.”  You take the first step towards the exit when he agrees with a short chuckle and a nod. Your apartment building is one stop away while Jeongguk is about four stops away so you won’t get to talk much but the sentiment is what matters. 

Plus, all you really want is to be close to him and his family again. There was a real bond going on when you were young and now you’ve been handed a golden chance to reignite that spark. 

Fresh air fills your lungs while your ears pick up on the sounds of fading conversations, the smell of food and new school supplies greets your nose. You have yet to reach the economics building, where more people know you, so people here aren’t staring just yet. They’re preoccupied with their own lives and you want to appreciate it for a little longer. 

“By the way, thanks for Saturday. I’m sure dealing with five drunk weirdos must’ve been annoying,” you add. 

You barely remember the words coming out of your mouth. It was a slew of garbled song lyrics, high thoughts and giggles and that’s the best you can do. There’s no way Jeongguk was walking out of the night sane.  

He huffs out a laugh and then shakes his hair out of his eyes in a very attractive manner. “It was… well, it was something, I’ll tell you that much. But you don’t have to apologize. I don’t mind.” Then Jeongguk looks at you with his chin tilted down, lids low, almost glazed over like he’s checking you out but his gaze just dances over the features of your face. 

You get incredibly shy with him staring at you like that. 

Let’s hope you aren’t turning tomato red right now. 

“Jimin and Tae go out a lot so I’m used to making sure they don’t, like, die.” 

Jeongguk is like Jeongyeon in that sense. Always taking care of people and making sure they are safe in bed before worrying about themselves. Sometimes, she forgets that she’s allowed to have fun and let loose too and you don’t want Jeongguk to fall into the same mindset. Being the caretaker all the time can be draining. 

“I mean, it’s your birthday and the rest of us were getting fucked up. Usually, it’s the other way around.” 

Your 20th was nothing short of a hot mess. Nayeon snuck in bottles she got her older brother to buy and you tried to take a shot from every single type he brought. Whiskey, vodka, soju, sake, and beer. Safe to say, that was a rookie mistake that ended up hunched over a toilet bowl  for almost an hour. Nayeon held your hair while Jeongyeon ordered just enough carbs and hangover soup to make it all better. 

But it was a memory you hold dear to you because it was one of the last moments you felt like it was okay for you to be a stupid teenager and make a mistake.

Jeongguk didn’t get that moment and you want him to because that sloppy behavior won’t be cute when he’s in his late 20s or early 30s. 

“I didn’t want to,” he shrugs simply. “Drinking is sorta fun but I don’t love it and I never let myself get super drunk.” You want to ask why but Jeongguk continues speaking. “But we had cake and barbecue before coming to the club and my parents sent a care package, so it was a good birthday. Taking care of you guys didn’t ruin everything.” 

You relent a little. Perceptions of fun are different after all and maybe, for Jeongguk, he got exactly what he wanted so he isn’t complaining. The residual guilt fades slowly inside of you.

“As long as you enjoyed your birthday,” you sigh, a wave of something sentimental coming over you causes your heels to raise up so you can be tall enough to ruffle his fluffy perfect hair. The same boy who only dressed in Pokémon shirts is now legal, old enough to do whatever he wants, and you’re starting to feel a little soft about it. “Can’t believe you’re twenty!” You squeal. “You’re all grown up!” 

Jeongguk cringes, turning away from your constant pinches and prods and whining as a few eyes drift towards the two of you. His ears get the tiniest bit red but he doesn’t scold you so you continue teasing him. 

“Remember when you used to hand draw all of my birthday cards with little cartoons and you and Eunchae would come with my mom and I to look at all of the cakes at the store?”

The filmstrip of memories is painfully nostalgic. That one nice cake store a few streets away from your apartment building that made the best cakes. If you close your eyes, you can smell the sugary air as you walk in, a tinkling bell on the door to let the owners know someone was there, and the various cakes put in the display case. You always got the fudgiest chocolate cake with bright red strawberries on top. Your mom could only afford the small size but that was fine. You just wanted a cake. 

Jeongguk would come with you and press his face to the glass in complete awe. Sometimes, the three of you would pretend like you were rich people who got to buy big cakes whenever they pleased and you’d pick the biggest sizes of your favorite flavors. 

You always got chocolate, Jeongguk got some sort of fruit while Eunchae would get red velvet and you would dream of the day when you had enough money to indulge yourself on a whim. . 

Then, when Jeongguk’s mom opened up her bakery, she began making your birthday cakes so the three of you sort of got your wish but those were free. Made with love and compassion until you moved too far to feel it. 

“You still remember all of that?” He asks. The stone pathway turns. A signal that the economics building is getting closer by the second. 

Trying not to think about it, you answer him. “Of course, why wouldn’t I?” You’ve always had impeccable memory but you treasured every second of your childhood. 

Because your later teens, in Seoul and away from all that you knew, were terrible. 

“I barely remembered what I ate yesterday,” Jeongguk laughs, staring over at you. “That’s pretty impressive.” 

“You think so?” You turn to look at him when you feel his eyes linger for longer than usual. His stare isn’t piercing but it leaves a viable imprint on your skin like a thick layer of lotion. “What?” You get self-conscious. Is there something in your hair? Did a bird shit on you without you noticing? 

“I like your hair,” Jeongguk says after a moment, pointing to the clear clip holding all of your hair up. 

A few of the shorter strands come out from the tight hold with time, framing your face, while the rest remain bunched up with a large claw clip. It’s such an effortless look. This morning you were too lazy to fully style your hair with a hair dryer and a brush after spending too much time on it for your sham date with Wooshik. It’s starting to get a little greasy so you plan to wash it tomorrow but this is your go-to dirty hair look. 

“Oh, thanks.” A goofy grin nearly breaks out onto your face but you stop it halfway. “I like your earrings.” You want to return Jeongguk’s compliment with one of your own. Your pointer finger runs through the three thick hoops like a wind chime, causing Jeongguk’s shoulder to rise up thanks to the ticklish sensation, getting shy. “How on earth did your mom allow all of these piercings?” 

Mrs. Jeon lost her shit when a 14-year-old you greeted her with a second hole in your ears when she was coming home from the grocery store.  An upperclassman offered to pierce everyone’s ears using the nurses supplies in exchange for cigarettes or candy from a nearby convenience store. Since she was your guardian for the day while your mom was out for a certification exam, she felt irresponsible but you assured her that your mom was okay with it. 

Well, she had no idea at the time but you knew she’d get over it at some point. It was a second ear piercing, not like you got a tattoo on your forehead. 

“These were all presents, actually.” Your fingers brush the back of his palm as you get closer to the economics building at the end of the road, a little before the sidewalk down the main road begins, as your dread multiplies. “I learned that from you. Convinced mom and dad that my good grades warranted some award and they had no choice but to say yes.”

A dangerously familiar feeling mixed with pride courses through your veins like the newest drug. Jeongguk says he doesn’t remember much but he manages to reach in and pull out a sickly sweet memory from your childhood that has your insides turning into mush. You almost want to wrap your arms around your stomach to get it to stop flipping so much. 

You didn’t ask for much as a kid. Growing up you knew that money was tight so expensive things like the best console or brand name clothes were simply out of the question. But you liked to barter with your mom for more simple things. A good grade for ice cream or a day at the beach or a trip to the bookstore to buy a manga edition you’ve been waiting to read. 

It wasn’t all the time but when you felt like you wanted to celebrate yourself. You earned it after all. 

Then you got a little older and you wanted to become like the cool older girls you went to school with. So you dropped ice cream for piercings, nail polish, and CDs from all of the new idol groups that were popular at the time. Your mom was frugal of course, most of your stuff was cheap from the local dollar store or second hand markets, but she loved to treat you. She wished she could spoil you one day, buy you everything you could lay your eyes on, however the universe didn’t allow her to do that. 

She still can’t but that’s okay. You’re glad you didn’t grow up a spoiled brat. That you learned humility and patience and empathy because it’s those traits that set you apart from most of your classmates. 

“I taught you well.” Fingers itching to flick his chin, you hold back. You don’t want to make him uncomfortable with all of the touching. 

Jeongguk hums. “Got these and these,” he turns his head to the other side to show you almost five studs in his ear, “after my class rank and CSAT score came out.”  

“Didn’t that hurt?” 

You do your best to keep your eyes either on the ground or on Jeongguk as the almighty building comes into view. Despite the heavy beating in your chest, your inner turmoil shouldn’t be obvious. 

Jeongguk doesn’t need to know about your problems. Those are yours and yours alone. 

“Yeah but it wasn’t unbearable. I swear, Eunchae almost passed out when she got her doubles. She hates needles.” 

You laugh. “I remember. Your sister was freaking out when we were all getting our vaccines because she literally slithered down onto the floor the moment she saw the thing.” 

Jeongguk hums. There’s a small break in the conversation as the two of you pass by a huge yet short wave crowd of people who are either rushing to the cafeteria or to their next class but even through all of that, you can feel eyes all over the two of your backs. Especially yours. 

Your department members linger by the vending machines and smoking areas in little judgmental pods,  whispering about you amongst themselves. 

You can predict what they’re saying. 

There she goes again, latching onto another guy after Wooshik dumped her poor pathetic ass. 

Will she ever learn? 

Poor thing. He probably doesn’t know that he’s dealing with the campus whore. 

That word. That one word, repeats in your mind. Whore, whore, whore. That’s all you’ll ever be to them. 

Fear sets in. What will they say about Jeongguk? Will he get teased? Will he find out about your reputation and want nothing to do with you afterwards? No, the last thing you want is for him to get tangled in all of this. He shouldn’t have to deal with all of this. Know about all of the things people whisper about you when they think you aren’t listening.

At some point, he’ll find out. No matter how hard you try to hide it, push it down, pretend everything is okay, Jeongguk will come to know what everyone thinks of you and all of the nasty vitriol they throw your way. 

And when he does, you’re going to have to learn to let go of whatever you two have right now and whatever builds in your heart until all you have left to cling to Jeongguk are the sweet memories of your life in Busan. 

Because that’s how it goes for you. 

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Jeongguk stumbles into his apartment and throws his backpack onto his gaming chair, quickly calculating the amount of free time he has right now. 

 He has a group match in about two hours for League of Legends and he plans on canceling on them since he had to wake up early today. Jeongguk’s sleep schedule was fucked up all summer and suddenly, waking up at 6am instead of going to bed around then was quite literally torture. 

There’s no guilt when Jeongguk texts them. He doesn’t owe his teammates anything, not like he’s joined a real league anyways. He has other priorities. 

Now that he’s a student again, his sleep schedule sort of matters. His mother would cry learning about the absolute buffoonery he was committing over summer session with his new league he met online. Playing various games until the sun was peeking through his blinds and then ordering breakfast from McDonald’s while entering another battle. Usually that would entice him but all he feels is exhaustion. 

Most of it is from lugging his heavy ass backpack around all day in the sun. Some of it is still from this weekend. There’s a reason Jeongguk isn’t an avid partier. 

Quickly, he throws whatever pre-packaged dish he bought into the microwave and changes out of his school clothes into some sweatpants and a different shirt. All part of his usual after school routine. Then he carefully takes the steaming plate out once it’s done and sets it on the counter to cool before going to the bathroom to wash his hands. 

As he walks through his hall, something presses into the soles of his feet. It’s soft but flexible and round with a hard plastic bit strung onto it that digs into his skin.

“Ouch!” He stops midway, moving his foot and staring at the mystery item. Jeongguk’s eyebrows furrow at first. 

It looks like one of Taehyung’s many charm bracelets that he buys from those street vendors in Hongdae with the cute little charms around colored string. Jeongguk has one from him ( a black string with a baby pink bunny charm that he wears every now and then). The idiot probably dropped it while singing karaoke or doing his Scarface impersonation to make Jimin laugh. Jeongguk takes his phone out to text the guy but he realizes that Taehyung hasn’t been to his apartment in a few days. 

The only other person that has been here was… you. 

He bends down to look at the bracelet. Were you wearing one that night? Your bracelets didn't look like this. They were metal, not string. Jeongguk bends at the knees and picks it up. The string is elastic and stretchy but loose enough to fit around his wrist if needed. 

Oh, it’s a hair tie. 

You must’ve dropped it when you slept over. Jeongguk turns the thing around to see the charm. The elastic itself is plain black but the charm seems to be some Sanrio character that he recognizes but cannot remember the name of.

Hello Kitty? No, he knows her and she doesn’t look like this. 

Cinnamoroll? No, that’s a puppy. This is some weird purple looking thing. 

My Melody? Maybe. 

Fuck, he doesn’t have time to worry about this. Jeongguk shoves the damn thing in his pocket, makes a mental reminder to text you about it after eating lunch, and goes to quickly wash his hands. His fingers push the door open to his bathroom. Clean white tiles, the scent diffuser smelling of white musk, and his TMNT towel drying on the rack. 

Jeongguk looks up at himself in the mirror. His eyes are sunken in and a little swollen from the lack of sleep. His stomach rumbles as he lathers his hands in his fresh cotton hand soap. 

But all he can think about is you on that night. 

Saturday Night. 

The night felt never-ending. 

Jeongguk was doing his best to get everyone in a car ride home safely after song after song on the dance floor but he was getting a little overwhelmed with all that was thrown onto him in the span of a few short minutes when Nayeon decided she wanted to go home.

Laughing, tripping, complaining about vomiting, a smell coming from some random spot that’s making someone nauseous, Jeongguk felt like a parent trying to get their kids together. His phone was glued to his hands to call cabs and type in addresses while making sure the five of you didn’t wander off into the unknown without his supervision. 

Thankfully, one of your friends managed to usher the other into a cab and Jimin was able to shove a whiny Taehyung into the one Jeongguk had ordered so now all he had left was you. 

Drunk you was something else. Stuck onto him like a second layer, arms twined tightly around his waist, mumbling about something random while stumbling over every step. Jeongguk had half a mind to just pick you up and walk to where the guy had parked but he didn’t want to make your nausea even worse by swinging you around.  

“Wait! Jeongguk, I can’t find my phone, we have to go back,” you whined, tugging on his arm with one hand. “I-I can’t–hiccup–I can’t live without my-my phone!”

You were clutching your phone in your other hand. 

He sighed. “You’re holding it,” motioning to the device pressed into your fingers. “Come on, the cab is parked there.” The yellow thing looked like something descending from the heavens while the driver finished the last of his cigarette and belched loud enough for Jeongguk to hear. 

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“Are you really sure?”

“Yes.” 

“Okay, I trust you.” You mumbles, hugging him close like he was a large pillow. 

The next few minutes passed by a bit quicker as you let Jeongguk help you into the car and started on your way back to his apartment since you and your friends were incapable of remembering your address. 

He leaned against the tough upholstery as the car began moving. Muscles tight and tired. Jeongguk felt the rivulets of sweat dripping down on his neck which he quickly wiped off and onto his pants, something he usually doesn't do but he’s at the state of not really giving a fuck about clothes he’s going to wash anyways. His body bobbles with a shaky turn and somehow, your limp body ends up pressed into his side, head leaning on his chest while a muffled groan leaves your painted lips.

“Ah s-sorry,” you slurred, attempting to sit up by placing a hand on Jeongguk’s mid-thigh. “I forgot to put on my belt.”  Your perfume flowed to him, a soft clean scent, maybe a bit sucrose when mixed with the scent of your shampoo. 

“Oh, the belt is finicky on that side, ma’am.” The driver informs. He meets both of your eyes in the rearview mirror. “It’s okay. Lean on your boyfriend for the rest of the drive. Should only take a few more minutes!” 

Jeongguk opens his mouth to correct but you interrupt him with a giggle. His head switches to you, mouth covered, skin dimpling. “Boyfriend.” You repeat. 

The driver plays along, most likely very confused, just like Jeongguk. “You two make a lovely couple.”

That next statement makes you giggle a little more. Jeongguk wants to know what is so funny about this cab driver assuming the two of you are dating. Do you find the hypothetical to be so insanely outrageous that it’s hilarious?  Should he even bother asking or should he let it go to save himself the pain from hearing your brazenly honest answer?

Jeongguk chooses to ignore it. He knows another turn is coming up so he raises his left arm and nudges you closer to rest on him comfortably. That same arm circles around your shoulders and the top of your head tickles the bottom of Jeongguk’s nose. You’re warm and comforting after a long night, bringing up a slew of feelings he’s been pushing down for years at this point. 

Still mumbling to yourself, you become distracted with the jewelry on Jeongguk’s hand so you don’t hear the questions that the cab driver throws your way. 

“How long have you two been dating?” He asks, turning down the late night radio station playing old hits. 

Jeongguk just goes along with it. “It’s-uh-very recent, sir.” A four hour relationship to be exact. “But I’ve known her since we were kids.” 

“How cute! My wife and I only dated for a few months before I proposed, you know,” he proclaims proudly, shoulders broadening. Jeongguk nods and fakes a grin in hopes that the conversation ends here. 

Jeongguk wants to laugh. Marriage? 

He’s never even been in a relationship before. He’s barely gone past kissing someone for longer than two minutes. With the way things are going, Jeongguk will probably live his life exactly like Steve Carell in the movie The 40-year-old Virgin only there’s no way he’ll get a happy ending. 

The cab driver laughs to himself when he sees the look on Jeongguk's face before turning the music back up. You’ve successfully knocked out on Jeongguk’s chest so you miss the faint redness creeping up his neck and to his ears but it’s not something he wants you to see either. His brain zeros in on his own pathetic state of affairs. 

He’s always prided himself on his emotional maturity for someone so young but romantically? Horrendous. 

Jeongguk has always stood behind the belief that he simply isn’t meant to be in a relationship with anyone. Sometimes he can be too shy, too closed off, and people don’t gravitate towards people like that. They want someone who can be openly affectionate after a few conversations and Jeongguk simply isn’t the type. The only reason why he has friends like Taehyung and Jimin is because they made an effort to get to know him at his pace. It’s the same with you, who was older and a girl but you still made the effort to invite Jeongguk to watch Barbie movies or search for coins to get the cheapest candy at the convenience store. People usually don’t care after he brushes them off a few times but you did, Taehyung and Jimin did, and Jeongguk gets all fuzzy inside. 

Would he ever find someone like you three again? Would he ever be so lucky? Probably not. 

He looks over at your face smushed against his chest, playing with the zipper of his jacket. You’re so pretty, always have been, always will be, like a rare flower. Even after all of this time, he’s so taken aback by how effortlessly beautiful you are; on the outside and the inside. The way your hair falls delicately over your face, cheeks puffed, lips puckered; the way your shirt gives you an angelic look and your necklace lies perfectly in the middle of your collarbones. 

It’s enticing. Jeongguk can’t take his eyes off of you. He never could. 

Fuck, this random reunion might do more harm than good if Jeongguk doesn’t learn to control himself. This isn’t the time to reawaken old feelings that he pushed down for a good reason. 

Once the cab stops in front of his apartment building, Jeongguk pays him and then helps you out of the car. Body limp and slippery like slinky. 

“No, I forgot how to walk,” you mumbled, leaning against one of the pillars outside the building to keep yourself up straight. “Can’t I just sleep here? It’s comfortable.”

“That’s a concrete pillar.” Jeongguk runs a hand through his slightly dampened hair. “Come on, there’s an elevator and I don’t live too high up. You’ll sleep better on my bed.” 

A pout grows stronger on your face, a few streaks of something black collecting in the corner of your eyes and your lipstick is smeared a little but Jeongguk still finds you so put together and exquisite. Still like that rare flower on top of a mountain peak; beautiful yet impossible to reach. 

“Fine.” You peel yourself off the pillar. “But if you’re lying to me, I’m gonna pinch those cute little cheeks right off your face.” Squishing his flesh momentarily before dropping your hands, Jeongguk blinks a few times in shock. 

Focus, Jeon. She needs to rest. 

Getting you inside is easier than he thought. The promise of the elevator and a warm bed with some water turned you much more docile. But you’re still enamored by his rings which you slip on and off his fingers as the elevator beeps. Then, Jeongguk slips off your shoes and tells you to wait by the kitchen counter while he rifles through his things, handing you a shirt and directing you to the bathroom.

A loud sigh escapes his lips once he’s all alone. Jeongguk has about ten seconds to change himself. He’s been in these tight jeans that squeeze his legs like anything. Maybe he shouldn’t have gone so hard in the gym over the summer. Now most of his old clothes don’t fit him as well as they used to. 

Quickly, he throws on his pajamas just as you emerge from the bathroom and hum a random song from tonight. 

Then, he helps you into bed, groaning out at the soreness in his muscles from all of the lifting he’s been doing today.  You don’t fight back too much, clearly worn out, so you sink into the soft padding easily like a little kitten. He throws the blankets over you, does a quick check to see if you’re okay, and then gets into his own makeshift bed made out of a thin mattress and a set of sheets. 

It’s not nearly as comfortable as his own bed and his back might be mad at him tomorrow but it’ll do for now. 

Just as Jeongguk is beginning to fall into deep sleep, he hears you rusting around, mumbling under your breath about something. Your hands push yourself up on your elbows. For a second, he thinks you’re going to throw up so he gets up quickly and makes his way to his kitchen to grab a plastic bag. 

But you start speaking louder. 

“I can’t believe you, Seojoon.” Your hair sticks out from every corner as you flop back down, lips bloated and pouty, slapping around the comforter and pointing to no one. “I hate you.” Jeongguk’s eyebrow raises, pausing in the middle of his kitchen to decipher what on earth you are talking about.

Clearly, you’re having a nightmare. Jeongguk takes quiet steps back to his spot on the floor in order to avoid that one squeaky 

“You cheated on me with Somin, didn’t you? You bastard. You told me you loved me,” whining, your body twists around. “Why else would I let you fuck me?” 

Jeongguk reels his brain back to stop the curious sympathy right there. He doesn’t want to prod further into this bad dream involving a fight with an ex of some sort. It’s none of his business and clearly this wasn’t meant for him to hear. All he does care about is if you’re going to vomit or not. 

He calls your name. “Are you okay?” Jeongguk whispers. 

You don’t respond. Instead, your face twists in discomfort as you continue to mumble into his mattress and writhe around. 

Jeongguk grows increasingly worried. He doesn’t want you to choke or anything of the sort while he’s deep in REM. Slowly, he gets down on his knees to get a closer look at you tossing and turning.  

“It hurts so much.” 

Jeongguk gently places a hand on your arm, saying your name softly so you don’t wake up. “Hey, you okay? Do you want water?” You twist away from his touch at first. “It’s me, it’s me, it’s Jeongguk,” reminding you as your lids barely part. He thinks you register him, that maybe you’re somewhat awake right now as you begin to curl forward. 

But then your hands clasp Jeongguk’s arms tightly, restricting his every move. 

“You’re going to leave me, aren’t you?” Your voice slurs, the tip of your nose meeting the fabric of his shirt, fingers digging into the flesh hard enough to leave indents. 

Nothing but confusion clouds Jeongguk’s brain. What are you talking about? 

“You told me you loved me. What? Don’t you want me anymore?”  

Tightening around him, you bury your face into his neck again. Your arms begin to raise, wrap around his shoulders to bring your body closer to his rigid frame. Jeongguk feels wetness from your eyes begin to drip onto his skin, dampening his shirt.

“Just do it then. Just leave me. No one ever sticks around anyways. Guys always leave me the moment something new comes along. Every single one,” you enunciate, vibrating into him, crying softly. “You don’t even care about how much you hurt me. No one cares.” 

Jeongguk is paralyzed under your hold as your tears start to roll down. Your sobs are loud and erratic and painful, as if all of this hurt has building until you eventually couldn’t hold onto it anymore. That it took alcohol and a long night to wedge it out of you. 

It’s contradictory; holding him tight and telling him to leave you.

But he doesn’t push you away and he doesn't let go. Jeongguk lets you grip onto him for safety because he’s terrified that removing his touch could break you even further. 

 He doesn’t know what is happening in your dream to make you behave like this, he doesn’t know what made the previous glee that used to make your eyes bright fade away after all of those years passed. He wants to ask but he doesn't know how. 

All Jeongguk does know is that you were different. Not in a good or bad way but you were simply different.  The happy go lucky little girl grew into a hardened adult. When he looked into your eyes tonight, he saw traces of all of this hurt woven alongside other emotions. Like a heavy blanket that only pushes you further and further deeper into a more melancholic way of being. 

And as he helps you back into bed once your tears stop falling, rubs some cooling Vicks rub on your forehead and pulls the cover close, his brain turns into an echo chamber until he tires himself to sleep. 

No one ever sticks around anyways. 

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

A week has passed and while you thought you could gain control of your physics plight, it seems like the universe has some different plans. 

The tutor that you selected, a second year girl who is majoring in electrical engineering, has been a total flake. You exchanged numbers with her on Thursday during Week 1 and she fed you all of these sweet words about wanting to become friends and teaching in a friendly, kind way which immediately softened you. The last thing you wanted was for some dickhead to call you stupid because you didn’t understand the concept the first time. 

She said she’d meet you at the library that Saturday at 3pm to come up with a schedule and she never showed. So you rescheduled to Sunday, then Monday, then Tuesday and now you just feel like an idiot. 

There’s always some excuse. Either she slept in or she’s not feeling well or her roommate needs her but you’re losing your damn mind right now. 

“You’re not paying her, right?” Jeongyeon asks, rummaging through Nayeon’s bag for something. “Maybe she’s a scammer?” 

You give her a dull look. “She doesn’t get paid by me. I think the university does or she’s earning credits, I don’t know. But I’m fucked for the big quiz we have next week.” 

It’s only Week 2 but the material is daunting and frankly put, you’ll shit your pants the day of the actual quiz and whatever date the final is. This is all so unfamiliar to you and, unlike other subjects, you struggle to find that area where the content becomes interesting. All you feel is terror. 

Nayeon, ever the optimist, tries to lift your spirit. 

“Girl, that shit is next week. Do yourself a favor, find a new tutor, study a whole bunch and then ace the quiz. There’s no point in waiting for this random girl to start caring. It’s your grade after all.” 

“Yeah but I just don’t want someone that’s going to be an asshole when I get things wrong.” 

People love to dumb you down, especially those in your own department. Obviously your promiscuity directly correlates to your intelligence. Girls can only be slutty or smart, right? There exists no gray area. But you know yourself. Even if science and math aren’t your thing, you’re a smart person. You got into a top performing university without any fancy prep classes or coaches and you are consistently pulling good grades each semester. That speaks more about you and your capabilities than anything else. 

“I’ve heard this one guy is pretty good. He’s a teacher’s assistant pursuing his masters degree here.” Nayeon takes her phone out to look him up. “My friend was in his Chemistry group sessions and he was apparently super helpful and kind. I think he does physics too. Let me ask her.” 

You perk up. It would be perfect if you could land a tutoring session with this TA instead of your missing student tutor. Even if it’s a group setting

“Let me know what your friend says.” You look away from the two in front of you for a split second as your attention was cut by your phone vibrating on the table. Flipping it over you see a text from your flakey tutor herself. 

Reading it over, you roll your eyes heavily. Another lame excuse about her skipping out on your tutoring session because she scheduled a meeting with her professor at the exact same time by accident. You ignore it and plan to respond with a passive aggressive rejection to end all of this bullshit. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Jeongyeon and Nayeon try to discreetly take their edibles before digging into the food you all ordered. 

Steaming plates of rice, kimchi, stir-fry and meats along with a few fried foods makes your stomach grumble. You flip your phone back over and grab your chopsticks, changing the subject quickly. 

“What are you guys doing after this?” You ask. The edibles are going to last a while and considering a weed high has different stages, there’s no way these two are going to be eating the entire time. Munchies aren’t that strong. 

Jeongyeon wiggles her eyebrows suggestively to her girlfriend, cheeks full like a chipmunk, and Nayeon turns beet red. Enough context for you to figure it out, breaking into a fit of giggles. 

“Ohhh, I see.” 

Good for them. If only you were getting laid too. Lately, your vibrator has been your best friend late at night when your mind wanders. 

With thirteen settings, it’s safe to say you won’t be getting bored for a while. 

However, you’ve never done it while being high. You’d want to do it with someone you’re comfortable with, maybe a consistent trustworthy hookup and only if consent is 100% enthusiastic, but you can only imagine how heightened the senses feel. 

Getting lost in thought, you cross one of your legs over the other, thinking about the haziness parting as you ride them slow but deep. Your hands will grip their shoulders, nails digging into the tight flesh as the drag of their length is delicious inside of you. Moaning out loud at how full you feel, watching the sharp bone of his jaw unhinge with pleasure, thick silver earrings brushing your skin, dark hair between your fingers as you increase the pace and drive the two of  you to the tipping point. 

It sounds… so satisfying. 

Fuck, okay, you need to get some control over yourself. It must be the week before your period or something because your mind has been cooking up these scenarios that demand attention. 

And most of the time it involves some familiar looking yet faceless character giving you the best dick you’ve ever gotten. It’s really messing with you. 

How the fuck are you going to be Miss Celibacy if your ass can’t go a week without sex? 

You stab your chopsticks into a large chunk of tofu and stare at the red sauce over the surface before shoving it into your mouth in hopes of distracting you when an angry recognizable voice flutters past your table. 

“..and this bitch has the nerve to look me dead in the eye and go, ‘well, you just lost yourself a customer,’ as if any of us give a shit. Like ma’am I get paid minimum wage to make watery coffee and reheat cardboard sandwiches regardless of your purchase, please leave me alone and die.” 

Turning your head, you see tufts of blonde and shiny boots combined with the soft smell of peaches: Jimin. 

And right next to him is none other than Jeon Jeongguk who is chuckling at Jimin’s whiny Karen tone to describe his awful customer. His cheeks creasing, eyes getting shinier and cute. 

You can feel your body thrum with excitement. 

“Hey guys!” Nayeon waves, setting down her utensils. They turn to look at her, then Jeongyeon and then at you, bowing while greeting. Your shoulders cave in when you feel Jeongguk’s stare on your face. “Do you wanna eat lunch with us?”

“Hell yeah. Is the menu today good?” Jimin asks.  

Jeongyeon, with a mouth full of food, nods excitedly which is perfect. Jeongguk and Jimin laugh, motioning to the lunch line quickly so you save the table and go back to eating your lunches. Your brain demands another curious glance at Jeongguk’s retreating figure. 

What? He looks really fucking sexy from the back. 

Ever since the first day of school,  you agreed to ride the subway back with Jeongguk on the days you end class at the same time and you've come to the conclusion that he is quite literally the hottest guy on the entire planet. Hotter than any other guy you’ve wasted your time with. 

He has the most boyish features but his body is perfectly crafted. Wide shoulders, defined thighs and arms, a super sculpted back, but not overly burly where he looks fake. Like an exquisite marble statue from the Hellenistic period. 

Yes, yes, you know it’s sort of weird considering the fact that you’ve  watched grow up from a cute kid to an emo pre-teen and now jumping to the absolute meal he is now but it’s just some simple attraction. 

One that rears its ugly head whenever Jeongguk laughs or smiles or pushes his hair out of his face or tongues his cheek or does literally anything. 

There are a million reasons why this could’ve happened. From all the time spent together from the subway rides to morning coffee and dinner one night (with all of your friends but it still counts) or you’re thinking this silly little attraction might be a combination of a lack of dick, PMS and pure loneliness. Either way, it isn’t anything major. 

Finding a way to ignore it is the next step.

Nayeon nudges you. “Remind me again, how exactly are you two childhood friends?” Her cheeks puffed with food.  

“Oh, I lived in Busan until high school and he was my neighbor. I would always hang out with him and his two sisters.” You explain, taking another bite of soft sticky rice. 

“Older sisters?”

You shake your head. “One older and one younger.” Wondering why this is relevant. 

But then, Nayeon and Jeongyeon make eye contact, eyebrows raising like they do when they know something you don’t. Meanwhile, you’re just sitting there like an idiot, waiting for context with your chopsticks held halfway up to your mouth. 

“Green flag. Bright green fucking flag.” Jeongyeon whistles. 

“Huh?”  Your chopsticks barely prod your lip without your mouth opening. Did the edibles pull out some secret stoner knowledge that you aren’t aware of? 

Jeongyeon decides to explain it to you. “According to the girlies on tiktok, men with older sisters are usually green flags. Something about learning gentleness and patience and respecting women from an early age or whatever. I don’t get you heteros so it went past my head.” 

You’re puzzled at first. These men all have mothers, they came from a woman who nursed them and cared for them until now, why is having an older sister so different?

But then it hits you. 

The way Jeongguk treats you is so different from the way most guys treat you. There’s no domineering masculinity coming from him in heavy waves trying to overpower you. It’s softer. He’s so approachable and gentle. He never touches you unless you’re okay with it, he’s always polite and kind and sweet. He never makes you feel stupid or inadequate, doesn’t talk over you, nothing of the sort. 

And while it’s the barest of minimum, Jeongguk makes you feel safe. 

Even Jeongyeon and Nayeon, who are often not comfortable around straight men, found him to be a delight. That has to mean something. 

“I…I never thought about it,” your voice goes a little husky. Tucking a stray piece of hair out of your face as your cheeks get a little warm. “He’s just a good guy, you know.  Jihyo, his sister, always kept him in check. I guess, it’s a good thing.” 

Kids lead by example. Growing up in an environment where the adults around you were treating women poorly or pushing people around will appear in relationships. But Jeongguk was the opposite. 

“It is. Think about it,” Nayeon leans in, “after all of those duds you’ve been with, he’s just what you’re looking for.” 

The way your heartbeat accelerates is not a good sign. 

Your chin pulls back, like you’re leaning away from the possibility. “What? I’m not gonna date him, Nayeon,” you groan under your breath. 

“Why not?” She whines, slamming her fists onto the table, then laughing slightly at the indents left on his skin. 

“Because he has no interest in dating right now,” you grumble, remembering his words from his birthday. 

Even if you did try to pursue it, there’s a high chance Jeongguk might only see you as his older sister’s friend. Which is how it should be! It’s best that you let this silly little crush die like a lonely star and maintain your promise of making this year all about you. Your bullet vibrator is going to have to help you whenever you get the urge but besides that, no sex, no dates, no boys, nothing of the sort. 

“Did he tell you that?” Jeongyeon asks, eyes glazing over. The weed must be hitting pretty hard. You’re surprised they can keep up with this conversation. 

Then again, they’re probably used to it. 

You nod. “At the club.” Snorting, your eyes briefly flick to the other side of the cafeteria where a certain someone sits. “Juri offered him her number and he said he wasn’t going to go out with her.”

That seems to wake the brunette up. “Fuck, really? I wish I saw that,” she pouts, leaning on the blonde curled up next to her. Cute. 

“Well, he didn’t say no since you two started fucking hazing him the moment you saw him,” you scold. “But he told me he was going to reject her if/when he saw her in person.” 

“Hey! You were the one who directed us to shoo away any man that came up to you that night.” Nayeon defends. “We were just listening to instructions when we came over to stop you two.” 

Jeongyeon joins in. “Yeah, and he looked like your usual type so we assumed we should pull you away. How were we supposed to know the super hot guy you were talking to was a friend?” 

You open your mouth to quip back when you feel a presence behind you, casting a shadow on your back. The lingering smell of cologne and food dance in the air. A wave of despair crashes inside of your stomach and you really wish a black hole would open up right under to sweep you away from this hellscape. 

“What are you guys talking about?” 

Taehyung Jimin split to sit on the bench between Nayeon and Jeongyeon’s bench and yours. It's a square shaped table with four benches on each side, so enough space for two people per bench. The two couples share a bench while you and Jeongguk get your own, although he still sits closer to you on his own bench. 

“U-uh–” Jeongyeon stutters, looking at you with wide eyes for help. 

“Oh, just some guy,” you fake a laugh, flicking some hair out of your face and turning to food so you can shovel it in your face like a starved person. 

Taehyung laughs a little. “Just some guy? Jeongyeon was saying that he’s super hot and your type.” He’s being cheeky, like he always is, but this time, you can’t engage in a back and forth with him. 

Because the hot sweet guy you were talking about is sitting right next to you. 

Your brain urges you to take a peek. Jeongguk is dressed like he usually is; a pair of baggy cargo pants and a light gray sweatshirt, and he always looks attractive. The fall wind is allowing you to smell the scent of his flowery shampoo in combination with his usual perfume and it’s such an addictive scent that you never want to forget. 

But you can’t think about that. You should be thinking of a lie. 

“I’ve always wondered if you had a boyfriend,” Jimin asks, resting his chin on his palm. A sly smirk forms on his lips, just as cheeky as his own boyfriend’s. “I asked Jeongguk and he said he didn’t know.” 

Fuck. You look at him now, hair swishing with your movements. The boy is eating without a care and shrugs in response. “You never mentioned one.” 

Yeah, because there isn’t one. You’ve never had a boyfriend in your life. 

Sweat beads your palms. There has to be some guy that you can just drop in here for the sake of the conversation. Some random guy out in this cafeteria that is insignificant enough to never cross paths with you again so you can nip this conversation right in the bud. 

You scan the place. There are a few guys you’ve already hooked up with so that’s a no. Some groups of first-years and that’s also a no (you’re not trying to catch a case here). 

For fucks’ sake, are the only hot guys at this school Jimin, Taehyung and Jeongguk? 

“Uh–”

Nayeon swoops in like a guardian angel. “We were talking about the Physics and Chem tutor. I don’t know if you guys have had him but, Kim Namjoon?” 

Right, the tutor Nayeon’s friend went to. The really nice one. 

She sends you a hidden wink from her end of the table and you respond with a quick finger heart. Bless her soul. 

“Joon? Oh, he is so hot.” Jimin, to your surprise, bounces at the chance to thirst over this supposed sexy tutor that you’ve never seen before. His eyes roll back at the sheer thought of him, leaning closer to gossip.  “He was our tutors for Physics 2 last semester and wow.” He shakes his head, marveled at such a man. “He could top me and then never speak to me again and I’d be okay with that.”

Now you’re curious about this Kim Namjoon. Just how hot is he? 

Taehyung jumps in. “I agree, however, “he holds a single finger up, “I would also like to add Kim Seokjin, the bio tutor.” His eyes roll back dramatically. “Dream threesome. Foursome if you want babe,” he nudges the blonde who blushes in agreement.  

Then the entire table breaks out into giggles and with a little coaxing, Nayeon and Jeongyeon reveal their ideal threesomes which you already know the answers to (Han Sohee and Irene from Red Velvet) since they share the same girl crushes. Then you answer begrudgingly which are the two male leads from Business Proposal because, obviously. However, the person next to you is rather quiet. You lightly nudge his side with your elbow to check in with him. 

“You okay?” You’re asking just in case Jeongguk isn’t comfortable with sex talk. 

But he nods. “Sorry, I’m still listening. Just really hungry. All I had for breakfast was a protein shake.” Jeongguk inhales the glazed stir-fry chicken on his plate, a dot of sauce landing on the corner of his lip and, oh my, do you want to wipe it off for him because he is so cute with his bready baby cheeks all puffed with food.

“Come on,” you pretend to scold. “Breakfast is the most important meal of the day.” Jeongguk’s mom would weep if she heard about him skipping. 

He waves it off but you can see his ears get a little red. “Yeah, yeah, I know but I slept through my alarms so I was in a rush this morning. Almost pulled a Taehyung and crashed into the wall while trying to run out.” 

You laugh at the image. Taehyung can be a bit of a klutz. At the club on Jeongguk’s birthday, he almost crashed into an entire table because he was dizzy from doing tiktok dances all night. Your head throws back slightly, eyes fluttering shut, and when you open them again, Jeongguk’s eyes are on you. 

They feel explorative, searching every inch of your face like he doesn’t want to forget a single inch, lips quirked up in a half smile but it’s Jeongguk’s eyes that really take you aback. His eyes have never looked at you like that before. 

As if something is swimming deep in those pools of glimmery chocolate brown; something warm and sweet in there. 

“Sorry,” he blushes, turning his eyes away from your face and back onto his food. Your heart stops for a moment, looking down at his pillowy soft lips. They’re right there, moisturized and pink. All you really have to do is lean in. 

And with the way Jeongguk looks at you, you really fucking want to. 

He’s so beautiful. So pretty and sweet and kind and unlike any other guy you’ve ever wanted. The urge to go for him is almost primal that you can barely hold yourself back. 

Your friends are like little angels in your head, goading you on to just do it. Just kiss him and take him and then drop it. Satiate that part of you that needs sex, that needs to fucked just right, and then move on. It would be different than usual because Jeongguk is different from the previous men so you wouldn’t get hurt. 

Although… 

He’s Jihyo’s little brother, the boy who needed to hold your hand when crossing the street, the kid always on his skateboard or his nose buried in a manga. Would it tarnish everything that you find familiar to just go for it? Would years of a perfectly healthy happy friendship go right down the drain? 

But Jeongguk is an adult, only one year younger than you. There isn’t anything wrong. 

Ideally, you could just lean in and–

“Jeongguk, what was the name of the blue penguin in the Backyardigans? I really need to know like now,” Taehyung urges, breaking your train of thought immediately. 

You fly back as if the contact singes you, curling into yourself and placing a single hand on the surface of the table to catch your breath. You completely forgot about the whole conversation going on around you when you stared into Jeongguk’s pretty deep eyes. 

It’s clear as day to you. With the man he’s become, it’s obvious that you are definitely into Jeon Jeongguk. 

“Huh?” He rasps, slightly out of it too. “Oh-uh, Pablo. He’s the one that sings International Super Spy.” 

“Pablo! I knew it.” Taehyung snaps his fingers loudly. “How do you still remember that?”

Jeongguk awkwardly forces out a laugh. “We watched a few episodes together this summer, remember?” 

“Right. Pretty sure I was blazed out of my mind, though.” 

Jimin nudges him. “Babe, when are you not blazed out of your mind?”

“When I’m with you, baby boy,” he coos.  

The boy next to you groans out loud. “Ugh, you two are so nasty.” His voice is muffled by food but he still gets his point across. You bite back a giggle at the disgust on his face. 

“Jeongguk, you can’t be mean to us. It’s homophobic.” Jimin points a chopstick in his direction but Jeongguk simply shrugs and continues eating without a care. 

Jeongyeon pipes up. “I agree. That applies to you too, Queen of the Straights.” 

The direct hit has pulled you out of your internal panic, reminding you to contribute to the conversation like friends usually do. Your eyes dull a little. “Yes ma’am.”  Faking a soldier’s salute to make everyone laugh. 

You’re glad that everyone else seems oblivious to what just happened because you know that had the two of you been alone, the situation would be entirely different. 

And you don’t know if that outcome would be any better than this one. 

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

On Friday, classes get canceled. 

Thankfully, it’s nothing bad. All of the buildings are getting fumigated to keep out any infestations that might’ve crawled in over the summer since someone thought they saw a cockroach in the Arts building so all the professors decide to post the lecture information online or have virtual class if necessary. 

You had no complaints with this change. Attend class in your pajamas, in your bed, and have the option to fall asleep without getting caught? Sounds perfect. 

Although, no in person class means you don’t get to speak to your Physics professor to complain about your flakey tutor and find a new one which you were banking on completing before you had your huge quiz next week. So, once your final lecture ends, you begin to worry about how the hell you’re going to resolve that problem. 

Sure, you could easily self-review with the resources online but you’ve always learned more theoretical concepts with someone explaining it to you in person so you could ask questions immediately. 

You shut your laptop off and place it on top of the long coffee table you use as a desk. An open notebook with notes sits on your right, pen clicked off, highlighters placed neatly in your pencil case, and the silence of your studio apartment almost starts ringing in your ears. 

Who do you know that can tutor you for physics? 

Nayeon sent you the email address for the Namjoon person whom everyone is vouching for. You asked this morning  if he had any space in his tutoring session but he responded saying that he does but he isn’t having a session today and he’s happy to answer any questions over email or through a video call individually. 

You genuinely consider that option until you look up at the decor in your room that Namjoon has no chance of missing during the video call. 

Now, you wouldn’t call yourself a strange person, if anything you are a well-adjusted member of society,  but the pieces chosen to hang up in your studio apartment would raise some eyebrows. From the poster of Bibble from Barbie saying Gaslight, Gatekeep, Girlboss to the concerning amount of Sanrio plushies you’ve collected over the years to all of the cat beds and toys thrown around the place and the impressive array of diffusers in every corner, your apartment is an amalgamation of you. 

And you don’t know if this Namjoon guy is going to take one look at the place and peg you down as a fucking weirdo or not. You want to make a good impression on him. 

So, you wrack your brain for a different option to help you just before your quiz next week. 

Someone. Anyone. 

Your worst bet is to walk over to the nearest cram school and ask someone there but those are all high school students and you’d die of embarrassment. 

Then you remember, Jeongguk took Physics last semester. Maybe he can help. 

Quickly, you pat around your duvet for your phone. It’s lying screen down a few inches away from Snowball’s sleeping body. Carefully, you grab the device, scroll through your contacts and call him with fiery hope coursing through you thickly.

“Hello?” His voice drips from the speakers like flowing water and you want to drown in it. 

“Hey, are you done with online classes?” You ask, on your back and knees to your chest in a very suggestive position. 

“Uh almost,” Jeongguk trails off. “Why? What’s up?”

You hold back a goofy smile at his distracted tone. “You know how you said you took physics last semester?” He hums in response. “Do you think you could explain a few concepts to me? I have this big ass quiz soon and I don’t wanna bomb it.” 

You wait. The pessimist in you expects a rejection, a flat out ‘I’d rather die than waste my time explaining physics concepts to a 21-year-old,’ but the optimist is waiting with a bouquet of roses on the other side. 

This is Jeongguk we’re talking about. Sweet, sweet, lovely Jeongguk. Not that dickhead that sits in the back of lecture and watches hentai on his phone. 

“Oh. I’m not the best teacher.”

Both the optimist and pessimist in your head are waiting on the balls of their feet. That wasn’t the answer you were expecting but it's an answer you aren’t hurt by! 

“That’s okay! I just need someone to go over it with me. As long as you aren’t mean, I won’t complain.” You want to appeal to Jeongguk in a way that’ll get the guy to bend a little and what other way to a man’s heart than food? “I’ll repay you with dinner,” you sing-song.  

There’s a brief pause, like he’s considering the option while noises mumble in the background. “What’s the menu?” Jeongguk asks. 

God, he’s so cute. Your cheeks are raised so high, they might as well curl into your eyes. 

“I live near a great fried chicken place.” Works out perfectly because you’ve been craving something fried for a while now. Must be your period. 

Jeongguk barely waits a second. “Sold. Text me the time and your address.”

You cut the call after bidding each other goodbye. A giddy squeal almost bubbles out of your lips until you realize that you have about two hours until Jeongguk is in your apartment for the first time ever. 

Alone. No friends. No family. 

Just you and this super hot guy. 

No interruptions. Complete privacy. 

You launch out of bed so fast that you wake up Snowball from her slumber. Quickly, you shower and you take your time to scrub your body with lilac body wash and shave. Usually Friday is your pamper day so this isn’t anything out of the ordinary. Then you wash your greasy hair to rid yourself of the conditioning hair mask you slathered on this morning. After your shower, you walk around your studio with your fluffy bathrobe and microfiber towel on to find the perfect outfit. 

It has to be comfortable but cute. Even though Jeongguk is just tutoring you and there is a high chance that this meeting will only be platonic, you still want to look your best. 

Rummaging through your dresser drawers and closet, your eyes immediately fall to your collection of baby-doll lingerie sets in various colors. An expensive purchase, but you’ve always enjoyed dressing up every now and then. Your fingers dance across the itchy lace, thinking about which one Jeongguk would like? Lilac? Baby pink? Maybe the nude one with the intricate designs on the cups? Or how about the blood red and black one that looks like it came straight out of a BDSM film? 

Nah, that’s too much. You go for yoga pants, a plain t-shirt and a quarter-zip with your university’s logo on it. Then selecting a lacy pair of underwear and no bra. You hate wearing one at home anyways. 

The clothes lay spread out on your bed as you begin your post shower process of lotion, deodorant, a soft scented body spray and then your clothes. Then, you dry your hair and then begin cleaning up the little clutter you have over the place. You’re a neat person, which others find shocking, so there isn’t much to do. You dry some dishes on the rack, reset your bedsheets, light up a candle, empty the litter box, and eat a mediocre salad as you wait for the clock to strike 5pm. 

Time moves at a microscopic pace, probably because you’re staring at the moving hands in hopes that you’ll blink at the pretty boy will be standing at your doorstep. You should focus on something else in the meantime. So you take out your physics notebook and begin reviewing. 

Next week’s quiz will be on a little under ½  of the energy chapter covered so far. You’ve been paying attention, taking diligent notes, and doing pretty good on the homework but the topics still freak you out.  

It’s a STEM thing. You haven’t taken one since your first year so you’re rusty and the material seems extra intimidating. Unlike Jeongguk, Jimin and Taehyung, you don’t study this on a daily basis. 

But there’s nothing you won’t be able to conquer without working. 

About halfway through your revision is when the buzz of your home intercom rings, shocking you out of your thoughts. Slowly, you get up, dusting the invisible particles off your clothes and going over to the machine to let Jeongguk in. There’s a short waiting game, lasting about two minutes, as he probably comes up from the lobby and reaches your door before knocking. 

You’re putting a kettle of water to boil as the sound resonates and you rush over to open the door with a bright smile on your lips. 

“Hey,” you breathe out, taking in the sights before you. 

As always, Jeongguk looks perfect in a gray long-sleeve t-shirt and black sweats. Like the comfy soft boyfriend of your dreams. His hair is a little damp at the ends but it waves a little past his eyebrow as it grows and his backpack straps pull his shirt wide to show off his broad shoulders. 

Fucking hell, you think. You want to eat him up and ruin him. 

Swallowing shakily, you step aside as he grins. “Hi.” Jeongguk’s voice is low, like usual, but a little buttery and less hoarse. Almost sexy. 

Basically, it’s doing things to you. 

Carefully, you lead him inside where Jeongguk takes his shoes off and stares at the place with those big eyes of his. You wonder what goes through that pretty head of his as he stares at the various stuffed animals and the wall art. But, instead, he lands on the Kirby shaped cat-bed at the base of your bed holding Snowball’s half-asleep body. 

“You have a cat?” He asks. 

“Oh, I forgot to tell you.” You walk in front of the thing, squatting down in front of the entrance to hold a hand out for the ball of fluff to sniff. Snowball headbutts you immediately. “You didn’t inherit your dad’s allergy, did you?” 

That would crush you. As much as you like dogs, you’re a cat person at heart or a Snowball person at heart. 

Jeongguk shakes his head no. Then he comes to the same spot you are and gets on his knees on the opposite side of you, watching with curious doe eyes. Slowly, Jeongguk extends his hand out, thinking Snowball needs time to get used to him like some cats do, but no. She’s friendly and extroverted, getting out of the bed to welcome Jeongguk with an excited soft-tone trill.

It’s heartwarming watching her melt into his touch, purring and climbing into Jeongguk’s lap the more he pets her on all of her favorite spots. 

“You’ve been accepted,” you muse, crossing your arms over your stomach in hopes that by pushing on it, that buttery, gooey, sugary feeling will go away. 

“Yay,” Jeongguk cheers cutely. “What’s her name?” 

“Snowball.” 

“Snowball!” He coos. “You are the cutest ever!” Jeongguk leans down to tell her, slight aegyo in his tone. The rounded tip of his nose brushes the top of her small head

No, you are, is what zings through your mind but don’t tell Snowball you thought that.  

Since your knees start screaming at you to get up, you leave Jeongguk and Snowball to go check on the kettle which is at its very end of boiling the water. You get up on your tiptoes to pull out two white mugs and before grabbing your go-to peach green tea packets, you ask Jeongguk. 

“Tea or coffee?” 

Jeongguk looks up from Snowball curled on his lap, the body of a bright grin on his lips. “Coffee please.” When you nod, he goes back to petting the white feline without another care. 

His adorable politeness removes any nerves you had or any prior sheepishness from the way your studio apartment looks. Small and decorated with all of your interests. The only people that have ever been here are your mother, Jeongyeon and Nayeon. Hookups were always at their place or a hotel so it’s a little odd to see Jeongguk seated on your floor. 

But at the same time, it’s Jeongguk on your floor so you aren’t that worried. 

Pouring the mugs with steaming hot water, you grab a packet of instant coffee while your tea bag steeps and you make Jeongguk his coffee. In the meantime, he’s seated by your coffee table/desk, shrugging his backpack off while Snowball sits beside Jeongguk diligently. Like she’s protecting him from whatever she thinks is going to attack him. 

“I like your place,” Jeongguk says, shocking you for a moment. “It’s very,” he trails off. “Very you.” 

You give him a dulled look over your shoulder. “What do you mean by that?”

“You know, it’s got all of your favorite things.” His chin gestures to the Sanrio stuffed animals, the various figurines from all of your favorite animes, the vintage posters, the bunny paraphernalia, all of your favorite things, like Jeongguk said. 

You turn, pressing the small of your back to the cold counter behind you. “Your place is nice too,” you add for the sake of returning the compliment, although it is true. 

Jeongguk shakes his head. “Yeah but, my landlord is a gaping asshole and hates the idea of posters and paintings since he’s scared it’ll fuck up the wall. It’s nice but it feels dead,” he gives your apartment one more look, “but yours has some personality, you know? I’m kinda jealous.” 

His smile is genuine, sweet and kind. You find yourself melting from the sheer sight of it but you hold yourself back. Don’t want to look too whipped.  

Exhaling with some laughter, you start bringing the mugs over along with some biscuits since it’s tea time. “The first apartment we had when we moved here was like that. The landlord didn’t even let my mom change the curtains even though the ones that came with the place had stains all over it.” Jeongguk grimaces at the thought. “But Mrs. Jeong from our Busan apartment was so nice.” 

What a sweet woman. She would often come down whenever she heard one of them had a cold or if there was a birthday and she was never harsh when your mother’s checks bounced or if she needed an extra day because she hadn’t gotten paid yet. She was the reason you thought all landlords had some semblance of empathy but no. 

“We lived there for about fifteen years. It sucked having to leave.” 

“Oh my god, I didn’t know you moved out!” You gasp, shifting yourself to face him completely. “Is your current place closer to the bakery?”

“No, it’s actually farther but it’s closer to the center of Busan so public transport is good. Plus, noona got a car so it’s not too bad.” 

You sigh. Fuck, you miss Busan so much. Even hearing the slight satoori in Jeongguk’s voice does wonders for your nostalgia as yours only peeks out when you’re angry thanks to teasing from all of the Seoul elitists. 

The beach, the food, the fresh air, the streets, you miss all of it. Such a simple time. You’ve always dreamed of settling there once you’ve figured your life out. It was your end goal. 

“I wanna hear more but let’s get physics out of the way first,” you tap your notebook twice and Jeongguk moves to his backpack to take some items out to start the tutoring session. 

And, to no one’s shock, Jeongguk is actually a really great tutor. 

He’s patient with you and doesn’t mind giving you constant encouragement when you get a bit insecure halfway through a word problem. On concepts you’re unsure about, Jeongguk explains them in the simplest way possible without getting haughty. No outbursts if you make the same mistake two times in a row, he never once calls you stupid or says you’re wasting his time. Jeongguk gently coaches you until you try to solve some problems on your own from the textbook without his help and he checks them afterwards, telling you what you did right and wrong.   

Quite literally, this is all that you wanted. 

Someone to answer your questions, explain a few concepts, and walk you through a couple of examples without questioning your smarts as a whole. 

It’s nice. You feel safe and even better, you feel actually prepared for the quiz which is the opposite of how you felt this morning. You aren’t even worried about it at all. 

After clearing through the sample quiz and practice problems easily in a matter of about 2 ½ hours, you two are all done tutoring. Which means freedom for the rest of the night. 

Quickly, you connect your laptop to the small TV mounted on the wall and put on Love Island since neither of you have watched it. Jeongguk is rather curious about it since Jimin and Taehyung won’t stop talking about it,  so you decide to jump into the newest season with him while leaning against your bed and pulling up the menu for the fried chicken place.

“I’m getting honey garlic,” you tell him when you hand him your phone.  

“Then, I’ll do the spicy cheese one.” He leans closer instead of taking the device and you really wish he didn’t because your body reacts to the proximity with goosebumps erupting all over you like you’re a teenager again. 

Your eyes flick up to his side profile, which is literally perfect. His jaw is strong, well cut, defined and his skin is the color of fresh milk tea. You can see little imperfections on his skin like old acne scars, the slightly chapped surface of his lips, and all of his shiny earrings. You love the way he looks and how Jeongguk has grown into his features.  The urge to trace his jawline with your tongue is insane, almost caustic inside of you. It’s impossible to push down. You sort of dressed up for this tutoring date, throwing on a pair of your favorite panties, lathering yourself in the softest lotion; you took all of the right steps and you’re hungry for a certain ending even though there’s a high chance it won’t happen at all. The horny side of you is begging for you to shoot your shot. 

But you stop. Not yet. Not right now. 

While Jeongguk picks out drinks, appetizers and the dessert he wants,  you rush to the bathroom for a second. In the mirror, you take notice of your reddened cheeks and parted lips and the messy wisps of hair sticking out. You quickly tie it back into a loose braid and then splash some water on your face. 

Reel it back, bitch.  

While in the bathroom, you call out. “Hey Jeongguk? Could you get my wallet? It’s on top of my dresser, the one next to my closet.” Might as well pay now so you can get the chicken faster. 

“Okay!” He responds. 

The noise your stomach makes is loud and painful. The salad you had did nothing to satiate your cravings so the thought of chicken, perfectly fried to a crisp and covered in garlicky sweet sauce has you practically salivating. Especially since you’ve been eating so healthily as of late. It’s nice to treat yourself to some fast food.

Afterwards, you trudge back on over to the coffee table and plop down silently while Jeongguk puts in your card information. Meanwhile, you remember to feed Snowball for dinner and give her some much needed attention by bringing her to sit with the two of you so she can be pet and loved. 

Jeongguk’s warmth emanates from his shoulder that is inches away from you while the Love Island intro song plays at the start of every new season. Half-heartedly, you watch the corny antics as each contestant introduces themselves with the main host speaking over and you think about how much internal anguish you’re feeling at the moment. 

An object prods into your forearm. You look down to see the rounded edge of your credit card. “I paid,” Jeongguk tells you. You don’t respond verbally, taking the plastic and shoving it into the slot of your card wallet. 

“Thanks,” you mumble. You bring your knees up to your chest and rest your chin on top of them, hoping to get into the various shirtless tattooed guys on your television screen. It’s an easy task. Shows like Love Island don’t ask too much of you but you can get into it enough where other thoughts begin to fade. 

You check your phone to see that the chicken should be delivered in about 10 minutes. Then you can have food and TV to reward you for all of your hard work. 

The beginning is awkward as each person picks their couple purely based on looks and their name. You cringe when a guy comes in and no one steps up to match with him so he has to randomly choose a girl who was either too shy to step up to say she thinks he’s cute or not at all interested in him. It sounds like such an awkward place to be in and you’d hate to be on either side of the situation. 

Jeongguk, on the other hand, isn’t a reality TV kind of guy. So he has a million questions and comments throughout the 57 minute episode. 

“I don’t get it. They just shove 10 hot people in a house and they have to like each other?” 

“Fuck, that’s how you’re supposed to say Leicester?” 

“That one guy looks like such a fuck boy. Why would you ever get a chest tattoo of an eagle?” 

“What happens if you don’t like anyone you match with? Can you just leave?” You shrug in response. This is your first time watching this show too.  “I’d leave so fast if I was on this show. None of these people would interest me.”

“Me too,” you respond, playing with the frayed edge of an old receipt sticking out of one of the wallet pockets. “I’d get the ick so fast and then hop on the first plane back home.” 

Jeongguk’s bantering turns the simple binge into something more. You start laughing, indulging his every whim, making fun of the guys trying too hard to flirt and seem suave and it’s really fun. You manage to barely remember the way you felt when you came out of the bathroom. 

Is this how it should always be? Platonically hanging out? 

Was it a good thing that you stopped yourself before your desires took over your logic?

You don’t know. You don’t want to either. You just want to sit back and enjoy the rest of this lovely day off. 

After another few minutes of watching the show, you feel Jeongguk’s eyes on you. Wide, glittery, washing over every inch of your skin like he’s trying to commit your features to memory. You raise an eyebrow in question. For a moment, he doesn’t do anything, just stares at you, and then he points to your phone screen where a notification from the delivery app shows. 

The food is here. 

Quickly, you go down, slipping some slides on your feet and shoving your hands in the pockets of your sweater. The delivery person hands you the plastic bag with steaming boxes and you thank them before trundling back upstairs. The smell that wafts to you is mouth-wateringly delicious. 

This. This is your treat after a grueling two weeks of school. 

You bring it up for you and Jeongguk to dig into. The chicken is fresh and delicious and in combination with Jeongguk’s commentary, you start to really enjoy yourself. Especially as all your sex related thoughts begin to push to the back of your brain and the night gets more fun yet relaxing. The food is good and the drinks are refreshing. 

Afterwards, you crack open a bag of  kit kats to share with him to cap off the meal with something sweet since none of the desserts at the restaurant sounded appealing to either of you. 

Love Island is addictive. Your friends were right about it. Two episodes later and the two of you are curious about who is the new islander coming and how they are going to shake things up. 

The TV is on the wall mounted across your bed and coffee table. For the sake of your backs, you move Jeongguk to the bed and take some pillows to lean against so your backs aren’t completely sore by the next morning. 

Although, you do wish your back was sore for another reason but let’s not get into that just yet. 

Since you don’t have a lot of pillows, you share your main one, meaning you’re a lot closer to Jeongguk than you originally planned. To the point where your arms are pressed against each other and your legs are brushing. It makes you nervous to be this close. His perfume is a strong elixir, heady and comforting, pushing you to lean in and bury your face into the delectable skin of his neck. Even his neck, wow. The skin is so smooth, there’s a mole right in the middle of it. You want to sink your teeth into the flesh and use your lips and tongue to paint it all sorts of beautiful colors. 

Sweat begins to form on your hairline. You get nervous with Jeongguk sitting so close to you, hands itching to do something. First they play around with the single star pendant on your necklace, then at a loose thread on your comforter, and then you decide to redo your hair. 

The braid has become a straggly mess with you leaned against things so you pull your hair tie off and begin to undo your braid. At the very least, it is something for your hands to do, keep them occupied and away. 

From Jeongguk that is. You don’t want to obstruct his view or break his attention. 

Pushing off from the pillow, suddenly something happens on screen that makes your head turn abruptly  to see who said what and your hair wacks Jeongguk right in the eye. 

“Shit,” he hisses, clutching his face, curling inwards. 

You begin to panic, turning in on your knees to get closer to him. 

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry! I was trying to tie my hair and then something happened on screen so I–” you stop midway, no need for an explanation. Instead, check to see if your hair scratches him in the cornea or not.

Jeongguk’s legs, that were once crossed, are now spread wide without your body taking up the space next to him on your bed. Without a second thought, you cross over the one closest to you and end up in between his two long legs. One hand on his shoulder to grab his attention. 

“Are you okay?” You ask worriedly, trying to search his gaze but Jeongguk’s eyes are turned down. “Jeongguk?” 

Muffled, he speaks up. “Y-yeah. I’m fine.” Jeongguk drops his hands onto his thighs before blinking a few times and you see a telltale tear pool from his big doe eyes, dripping down the slope of his cheek. 

A huge wave of guilt crashes inside of you. 

You made Jeongguk cry. 

Not intentionally but still. He’s crying. 

“Aw,” you cup his cheeks, searching his irises for anything like you’re a licensed ophthalmologist or something, wiping the stray tear with your thumb.“I’m really sorry. Do you need eye drops or anything?” You sit down on your feet, leaning closer to see him. “I can go check in my medicine box if I have any left from Spring.”

He doesn’t respond. 

 Jeongguk freezes immediately with you between his legs. As if all of his blood stops flowing through his veins and he’s turned to stone by Medusa. He glances at every corner of your face, at the strands of hair framing it, like he’s never seen you before. His jaw unhinges and the tip of his pink tongue is just barely visible. 

You don’t even notice how close you get. So worried about the possibility of your hair scratching his cornea that you forget that your knees are brushing against his crotch. Nor do you think about how your face is near, you’re literally staring down like you’re about to kiss him despite dreaming about being in this position all day. 

The only thing echoing in your mind is: Is Jeongguk okay? 

Not another thought. 

“I–” he stops, lips parted, “I’m okay, really.” 

Jeongguk’s palm gently pushes your hands off of his cheeks and he shifts in his spot. 

He’s practically shielding himself for you. His legs are pushed up to his chest now. Jeongguk looks like an animal that’s getting scolded for spilling food everywhere and you cannot understand why on earth he’d be making a face like that. 

“Is something wrong?” You ask. Jeongguk covers his face but you can see his ears starting to turn red. 

You inch closer to him and gently wrap your fingers around his wrist. You’re so close you can smell the gentle perfume he’s sprayed on his neck and the inviting scent of his hair serum. But he’s wriggling around like a fish out of water and it’s scaring you. 

His hands move down, ripping his wrist out of your grip to cover up his crotch and you see a glimpse of the obvious bulge poking from his sweatpants. 

Oh. 

You recoil, muscles tightening as your brain moves a mile a minute. Something Jeongguk must sense from you because he starts explaining way faster than you thought he would. 

“I’m sorry! This is–I can leave if you’d like–” 

“It’s okay, Jeongguk,” you mumble. Your voice is soft. 

It’s okay. It’s more than okay. 

It’s better than okay. 

Jeongguk continues to panic, deaf to your obvious nonchalance about him popping a boner right after you almost blinded him. “I don’t–It just sort of happened-and-and I wasn’t like–thinking a-about you or doing anything–it just,” he pauses midway, sighs to catch his breath, stops nervously stuttering,  and then turns to get up which makes you a little nervous. “I’ll go to the bathroom and get rid of it–”

In a flash, your hand wraps around his wrist to stop him from moving. 

“It’s okay,” you repeat. “I’m not grossed out.” Literally, you are the complete opposite of that but barely you mull it over one last time before speaking up again. “I could fix it, if you’d like.” Just before your conscience could stop you.

This is it. This is your chance to have him. Just once, satiate that need, and then you can go back to normal. 

The universe practically handed you this opportunity on a golden platter so you should take it. Given that Jeongguk is down too. 

His eyes go adorably wide. “W-what?” Jeongguk stutters. 

“I could help you deal with it.”  You say once more. 

At least your voice is clear and sure. On the inside, you’re just a giant piece of adrenaline. 

Jeongguk relaxes some more, gulping, and you watch his Adam’s apple bob. His shoulders broaden like he’s trying to seem confident but you can tell that he’s nervous as fuck too. 

“Why would you do that?” 

Oh, you pretty thing. You have no idea, do you?

“I don’t mind,” you shrug. Feeling bold, the hand that rests on his shoulder squeezes the mass indulgently and Jeongguk feels exquisite. You want to rip all of these clothes off of his body. “You helped me with physics so,” trailing off, as if it’s the only logical solution to this problem. 

To you, it feels like it is. Trade an A on a quiz for an orgasm. 

Plus, you finally get to rid yourself of this intense sexual tension building inside of you. A combination of your hormones and your loneliness all cooked up to make a touch-starved mess at the tiniest thing. Being with Jeongguk could be just what you need to get your focus back on yourself. He’s gorgeous, inside and out, so there’s no intense guilt to bubble from letting some douchebag grow an even bigger ego by sleeping with you. 

Jeongguk is still apprehensive. “You… you know you don’t-like-owe it to me to fix this, right? Just because I got hard doesn’t mean it’s your job to do something for me.” 

You’re taken aback. 

Most guys wouldn’t have even protested. Your mouth would be on his dick and the minute they come, you’d be all alone. They’re the types to view sex in a very individualistic manner. 

A dopey smile makes its way to your lips. “I know. This isn’t a really transactional thing.” You cup his cheek with one hand this time and trace the deep scar there absentmindedly. “I actually want to do this.” 

If Jeongguk were to hear the insane things your brain produces, you wonder if he’d run for the hills or be flattered. Definitely the former. 

“Okay but um,” he avoids your eyes, looking off to the side and you sort of love Jeongguk like this. It’s so different from his nonchalant easygoing behavior.  “I’ve never,” he searches for the words, changes his mind halfway through, and finds another path. “No one has ever like-oh god this is embarrassing–”

You decide to save him. “No one’s ever given you a blowjob?” 

He nods behind his hands that rose to cover his reddening face during his reveal. God, he’s adorable. 

“Really?”

“Is that such a surprise?”

“Yeah, I mean, you’re hot.” You say truthfully. His change of expression does wonders for your confidence. So much so that you decide to bite the bullet and run a hand through his hair affectionately. “How far have you gone?”

The strands are silky smooth, flowing through your fingers like water, and Jeongguk’s eyes flutter shut at the sensation as he mumbles out a response. 

“I kissed someone but only a few times. I got dragged to a high school party and played spin the bottle but nothing more than that.” 

This is new for you. Almost every guy you’ve ever been with is experienced or way more experienced than you. From the guy in high school who took your virginity all the way to Wooshik. And they varied from vanilla guys to those who are super into the dom/sub spiel. You’ve never been the experienced one and it feels different. 

Like you’re corrupting him, forcibly taking away something precious. Like Mrs. Robinson on the prowl for someone younger whom she can use to her advantage. 

And even though that isn’t the case with you and Jeongguk, you want this to be different than your first time. If anything, you want him to feel safe and wanted and to let him know that, at any point, if he wants to stop then it will stop. Just like there’s no obligation for you to make him feel good, there is no obligation for him to return the favor. 

“Then let’s start with that and then we can move on if you’re comfortable. Or we don’t have to do anything and we can just forget about it. Whatever you want.” 

You won’t do anything unless he wants you to. As much as you want to touch him, as much as you need sex, you’re totally fine with taking things at his pace. 

And if he rejects this entire thing and opts to fix his situation in the bathroom, that’s okay too. 

Jeongguk presses the back of his head against the wall in thought, giving you an amazing view of his jawline, until he shyly speaks. “Okay.” 

“Okay?” You want to be sure, hiding the fact that you are utterly elated on the inside.  Jeongguk just turns more red as he avoids your eyes peering into him. 

“You–we can start. I-if that’s what you want.” 

You exhale through your nose. “Oh, you have no idea how much I want to.” 

Before he can question you, you lean down and gently connect your lips with his. 

There’s a moment where it feels foreign, where your body becomes covered with goosebumps at the sheer adrenaline coursing through you and the way your brain freaks out at the change. This is happening, you’re finally doing this, but you take a second to just press and feel. Be in the moment and stop trying to control everything, then you’re fine. 

It’s easy because Jeongguk’s lips are pillowy soft. 

Starting off with a quick peck, you split for a second, nose brushing, and then you kiss Jeongguk again. This time it’s much stronger. Any lack of confidence melts when your lips move languidly against Jeongguk. He’s responsive to your every movement, feeling the inside of your mouth with his own, while his hands rest appropriately on your hips. His lip balm is rose flavored and delectable. Jeongguk is a good kisser. 

The noises fill the quiet apartment as you move closer and cup his jaw on one side while your other hand goes back to his silky soft hair to move your lips cohesively. You adjust yourself so that instead of kneeling between his legs, you’re straddling his thick muscular thighs and they feel exquisite against you, pulling a soft sigh from your lips. 

Jeongguk must feel your exhale, gaining some bravado to take the lead when he kisses you, setting the pace as his own hands begin to move from their comfortable spot on your hips. Part of you really wants to push them down to your ass to feel those big sexy hands grab a handful but you want to wait to see what he does.

He kisses you a little wet but wanton, igniting a deep burning flame inside of you. It’s bright, hot, and you can’t pull yourself away from him the more your lips collide, suckle, and slot. 

Jeongguk’s hands begin tracing up your back with a feather-light touch, and your lips part at the feeling when he unexpectedly inches his tongue into your mouth. 

Looks like he wasn’t lying when he said he’s kissed before. 

Crackles of pleasure bubble in you. Kissing can turn you on, if the guy is good at what he does, and Jeongguk is doing just that. That throbbing sensation takes over and you find yourself clenching around nothing, dreaming of having something just fill you just how you like. His tongue tangles with yours. The kiss starts to get much sloppier, something you didn’t realize you were craving until now, and you rise up on your knees while gently tugging on his hair in a flash of atypical roughness on your end. 

Your mind refuses to process that this is Jihyo’s little brother who is kissing you silly. Right now, he’s Jeongguk. 

Jeongguk with the gorgeous eyes and the gorgeous body who got hard the moment you inched closer. 

You decide to grind down on him, especially when the curve of his bulge becomes more prominent against your ass, and Jeongguk muffles a noise into your mouth. The fabric of your underwear drags across your neglected clit, pulling another sigh out of you. It’s a small jolt of pleasure and you can feel yourself dampen even more. From the action and from the way Jeongguk sounds. 

Another moan comes from Jeongguk when you grind against him again and again, whiny yet soft. It’s doing something to you. His hands squeeze your hips and then one drifts to the back of your thigh. 

Pulling away to catch your breath, you press your forehead against his. There’s a thin layer of sweat building on your skin but your arms loop comfortably around Jeongguk’s neck, tugging his body forwards. His eyes glimmer at you, with kiss-bruised lips and the beginnings of his pearly white bunny teeth peeking out from between. You resist the urge to dive down again, instead wanting to appreciate the absolute view you have right now. 

Your fingers tangle in a lock of his soft black hair. “You’re so gorgeous,” you whisper, taking in his forehead, his jawline, his perfect nose, and every single one of his moles. 

Jeongguk, who is already blushed and heavily breathing, gets even more shy at your compliment, looking away from you to avoid your teasing smile. Which just makes you want to shower him in more praise just to see how embarrassed he can get. 

“So pretty, so handsome,” your finger traces his jaw before going down to his unblemished neck where the skin looks so soft but the area is taut and beautiful. You want to see how he’d look with hickeys. “I want to mark you,” you point to the middle of the right side of his neck, “right here.” 

Jeongguk’s eyebrows raise to his hairlines. “You want to give me a hickey?” He says incredulously. You nod. 

“I want you to remember this.”

Usually, you aren’t the possessive type but you think about Juri, walking through campus and finding Jeongguk, someone that she’s expressed interest in, like this. Covered in marks you left, reeling after the pleasure you gave him. You know the chance is unlikely and if Jeongguk were to run into her, you doubt he’d tell her any bit of what you two had done but it’s the principle of it all. 

That she can be a misogynistic pick-me/not-like-the-other girl all she wants, you still pull better than she ever will. 

Maybe then, she’ll keep your name out of her damn mouth. 

Jeongguk exhales quietly, holding some weight. “Do you actually think I’ll forget this?” 

You smirk. “Dunno, but I can’t let a pretty little thing like you get away, can I? Especially with all of those other girls who love to stare.”

It happens often whenever you two would be walking from class or on public transport and people would stare at Jeongguk. Not that you’d blame them. With a face like that, Jeongguk could debut as an idol and win the hearts of millions, he could act or model even, but then you become more aware of the fact that someone even better could scoop him up at any time and you wouldn’t stand a chance against them. 

“I won’t,” he starts, shaking his head with eyes so honest and truthful that you almost collapse in his hold. “I won’t go away and I won’t forget, okay?” Jeongguk pleads with you, holding your body still with two exact hands on your hips. 

You swear your stomach feels a group of butterflies flapping about, along with unicorns and rainbows and glitter and all of that silly shit when Jeongguk says that. The hand in his hair cups his cheek, thumb tracing his cheekbone. 

“You won’t?” 

“Never,” Jeongguk presses firmly. “And,” he hesitates for a moment, “and I’m not looking at anyone else right now, either. There’s just you.” 

There’s just you. 

The sentence sounds like a confession. Like he’s being honest while you were just being horny and possessive. You feel your act drop, whatever front you were putting up, it drops, and you don’t know what to say at first. 

The truth? You aren’t thinking about anyone else either. You don’t want to. You want Jeongguk. There’s only Jeongguk right now. 

Had this been with any other person, you wouldn’t feel comfortable being honest with them. You wouldn’t trust them not to use that against you but you know Jeongguk and you trust Jeongguk more than anything. 

“I… I’m not looking at anyone either,” you manage to mumble out. Now you’re the one who is all red and shy. 

And watching Jeongguk’s expression change when you said that… priceless. 

He stares at you like you hung all of the stars in the sky, that you push the sun up in the sky every morning, like the dew droplets on the blades of grass, like it was just you. 

It’s perfect yet so much at the same time. You want to say more but you don’t know what else you could say so you meet his gaze, then dip down to his lips, and he nods so you lean in to kiss him again. 

He makes a noise of surprise, immediately licking fiercely into your mouth to meet the movements of your lips. Slowly, Jeongguk pulls away from the wall and begins moving down to lay against the bed, holding himself up with a forearm on the soft material and strengthening his hold on you so you wouldn’t slip off from him. 

You feel Jeongguk grin against your lips at your eagerness but he maintains the energy. Arching your back a little, mostly for show, you reach back and push one of Jeongguk’s hands further down to your ass. He’s been so careful and gentle with you so far and, as nice as it is, you want more. His eyebrows furrow against you, curling his palm over the tangible curve before giving your ass a tentative squeeze and pulling a muffled moan from you. 

So Jeongguk does it again. Does it with more vigor, digging his fingers into the flesh of your cheek and grinding his hips upwards. Gets you throbbing insufferably and so wet. 

“Jeongguk,” you gasp into his mouth, meeting the movement of his hips with your own. The bulge in his pants becomes really prominent as you break the kiss, moving down his strong jawline to his perfect neck. 

Whatever perfume he uses, the smell is strong now, filling your olfactory senses with sweet powdery softness. Your lips search for that spot you ache to mark, digging your teeth into the gentle flesh and soothing  the area over with your tongue. 

The noise he makes…

Jeongguk whimpered when you were sucking and biting on his skin. 

It took so much willpower for you to not rip his damn top off when that sound reached your ears. You were so wet and throbbing in your pants, desperate for some form of touch besides your soaked underwear against your clit. If you could, you’d cover his entire body with hickeys, paint his neck all sorts of beautiful colors if it were socially acceptable for someone to be walking around like that and not have everyone’s immediate thought be that he got jumped or something. 

But you practice restraint and suck on the hot skin, kissing, and doing your best to keep yourself under control even if your wetness was starting to become bothersome. Jeongguk’s hands on your ass don’t help with that either. 

The hold helps you feel the shape of his fingers which are pretty long and thick. You’ve seen them writing, typing, gripping onto the pole in the subway so the veins and tendons pop out and you’ve reached a conclusion that you need to feel them inside of you. Pumping deep and slow. Since the digits are longer than yours, they would reach that damned spot inside, turn you into a shaking, coming, mess. You crave that. 

Even before Wooshik, these dry spells weren’t uncommon. You know that it’s just your monthly horror revving up the hormones that’s making you want some dick like water in a desert but still. 

A girl has her needs. Especially when said girl is constantly hanging around a hot guy. 

Once you pull away from his neck after creating a total of three hickeys, you sit up. All of the kissing and petting and grinding has made you all sweaty so you quickly pull off your quarter-zip hoodie, leaving the plain t-shirt you have on underneath with no bra. 

Jeongguk’s eyes fall to the way your breasts lift and fall with the movement, jiggling into place as you throw the piece of clothing somewhere. The change in temperature has your nipples straining against the thin material and you can tell his attention has shifted. 

With a cocked brow, you smirk. “Want my shirt off?” You ask, slowly twisting the hem around a single finger. 

“Yeah.” 

His hands give your ass another appreciative squeeze. One that nearly has you dropping the control but you rebuild quickly. 

“Take this off then.” You place a hand down on the base of his stomach. Jeongguk’s shirt is thin so you can feel his stomach through the fabric. You need it off asap. 

Jeongguk’s lips part. You think he’s going to deny at first. Maybe he isn’t comfortable showing you his body yet. That’s okay; you don’t mind. Whatever he’s comfortable with, right? 

But in a split second, he grips the gray fabric and sits up slightly to peel it off of his body and gives you a view of what he has underneath. 

Which is just exquisite. 

Jeongguk treats his body like it’s a work of art. When he isn’t gaming or studying, he’s in the gym and he has one of the strictest meal plans you ever see. Allowing himself one cheat meal out of the week and then sticking to his rice, steamed veggie and lean meats for the rest of the days. And that dedication shows in the way his body looks. 

While still being thin and put together, his stomach is defined with steel-cut abs and his obliques are enviable along with sturdy shoulders, firm chest and deliciously bulky arms. 

You’ve never really cared about the body of whoever you were sleeping with. Muscles are nice and hot but they aren’t a necessity. Honestly, having a handsome/pretty face can get a guy farther than a six pack but now you might be changing your mind on that stance. Because Jeongguk has a pretty face and a six pack. 

Or is that a twelve pack? You didn’t really count. 

A single finger starts at Jeongguk’s sternum, tracing down his body to the waistband of his sweats, taking your time to appreciate every patch of skin and flesh. You inch backwards so you are sitting more on his thighs than his lap where his bulge is firmly straining against his pants. Looking all inviting. Your thighs clench together to relieve yourself from the lack of attention.

But before you can wrap your hands around him, Jeongguk’s fingers close around your wrist to stop you. 

“You said if I took my shirt off, you would too,” he reminds you. His tone is low, barely teetering into a domineering one. Brings a rush of arousal to your pussy and you immediately bite the inside of your cheek. 

Jeongguk ordering you around is… really hot. 

“Eager.” 

The plain t-shirt is rather unflattering on the outside so you do away with it quickly, feeling the mass of your breasts lift and bounce back down while adjusting to the temperature change. Your nipples are hard and goosebumps cover your upper body. 

But that’s mainly caused by the way Jeongguk’s eyes practically ravish you. 

You wonder if he’s more of an ass guy or a boob guy. Because his grip has stayed on the plump curve of your backside but his tongue swipes over his bottom lip while staring at your tits like he’s at the Louvre and he has two seconds to take a glance at the Mona Lisa. 

  There’s a sense of vulnerability to have him look at you like this. Like you’re something perfect when all everyone else, including yourself, does is point out your faults. 

It’s too much. You need to make a move, get his eyes off of you, so your hand goes back to the waistline of his pants where his boxer band flashes quickly. Calvin Klein, black in color to match the color of his sweatpants. 

“Can I?” You ask, looking down at the heavy print showing through the material and your mouth waters. 

Jeongguk nods immediately. “Please.” 

Carefully, you peel back the first layer of clothing. The tight elastic pressure around his waist is enough to slowly peel back Jeongguk’s boxers, exposing the beginning of his ilium but then he raises his hips some more until his sweatpants are pushed a little past the beginning of his quad muscles. You desperately want to see the sinew on his legs because you’ve been feeling them flex and move against you this entire time and they are just to your expectations. His skin is soft, a little tanned, thin hairs barely visible on his thighs from the hallowed light. 

“What do you want? My hand or my mouth?” 

You said a blowjob but whatever he wants, you will do. 

His eyes darken with lust. “Y-your hand, first,” Jeongguk stutters, shaking some hair off his sweaty forehead.  You try not to smile excitedly at the word first. 

“Okay.” 

After pressing one more kiss on his perfect nose, your palm cups his bulge. Against the material, you can see somewhat of a defined shape. It’s thick, impressive looking, and your wetness is soaking through your pants, effectively ruining the pair but that’s the least of your concerns. You fight the urge to grind into something, relieve some of the throbbing pressure from your core, clenching around nothing in hopes that it will fix. 

Jeongguk says your name carefully, checking to see if you’re still okay with continuing and your attention is back on him. You give him a wry smile in response and then work on slowly tugging his boxers off of his hips to free his cock. 

You gasp when his length slaps against his bare stomach, incapable of holding it in. 

 He’s big and thick; bigger and thicker than any guy you’ve ever been with. Jeongguk’s dick is pretty. Two veins trailing up the sides and pulsating with blood, the tip peeking with a small droplet of pearly white pre-cum. 

“Fuck,” you curse, reaching a hand forward to barely wrap around him. Your fingers manage to encompass the whole circumference but you can only accredit that to your long digits. Otherwise he would be too girthy. 

Jeongguk’s eyes flutter shut when you pump his length once. His jawline strains sexily as little puffs of air escape his lips. He looks so good when he’s pleased. As if he was made to only look like that. The emotion sits perfectly on his pretty features. 

A bead of pearly white fluid seeps from the stop, collecting slightly over the flesh-toned head. You lick your lips. “I don’t think you’ll fit in my mouth.” 

“W-what?” He stammers. 

“You’re too big, baby,” you purr, panicking momentarily about the pet name. “Shit,” swearing under your breath when you feel him twitch. Then, you let a fat drop of spit fall from your mouth and onto the head to aid your hand gliding up and down. “My throat will definitely be sore tomorrow.” 

Not that you’re complaining. 

The boy beneath you flushes. “I–” his breathing quickening when your hand works over him expertly, barely a moan. “You–um–you don’t have to,” Jeongguk offers. 

You coo, reaching forward to boop Jeongguk’s cute little nose with your free hand, still slowly jerking his cock with the other, giving the fat length a nice squeeze at the base. “But I want to,” forcing a pout and watching his gaze turn heady with euphoria. “Don’t you want me to use my mouth? To suck you off nice and properly?” 

This is new for you. You are usually rather submissive in bed and you’ve always liked it that way. If anything, you sought after guys who were more dominant because it was an immediate turn-on for you but now that you’ve made Jeongguk all pliant and soft, you can’t stop. He just looks so perfect. His eyes clench shut, creases appearing at the sides when your hands squeeze his length teasingly on the upstroke, legs going more rigid. 

Jeongguk doesn’t respond at first so you lean down, holding yourself up with one hand splayed on the mattress, right next to his head, and increase the pace of your hand. You pay special attention to the tip and the spot right under where he’s sensitive, rubbing a thumb over the area to collect more precum on the way down his cock. Jeongguk sputters out a soft noise, gritting his teeth tightly. 

“You have to tell me what you want, Jeongguk,” you muse. The tips of your noses graze, your breasts meeting his hot skin. Jeongguk’s hands, which switched to curling into the fabric of your duvet, go to your thighs to squeeze them. At that point, you decide to only stimulate the head of his cock with the pad of your thumb, rubbing teasingly tight circles while Jeongguk leaks all over, rivulets of creamy white decorating his length.  “My hands? Or my mouth? What do you want me to do?”

Jeongguk goes crazy.  His back arches off the mattress along with a high whine emitting from his swollen lips. He looks so overwhelmed with red cheeks and his hands gripping onto your body like it’s a lifeline. 

“Y-your mouth! I want your mouth, please,” he whines once more, digging his nails into your thighs, surely leaving indents. You smile, pressing a sweet kiss to his lips before descending down his taut body. 

Jeongguk is a work of art after all and you need time to appreciate him. 

Your hands stop their tortuous movement, leaving Jeongguk’s cock to hold yourself up while inching down. You kiss down the right side of his neck. The skin is salty from sweat but you don’t mind. You kiss all the marks you left, the mole on his chest, the beginning of his abs (you pay special attention to this area), licking up a stripe to feel the ridges of his body before you end up on your knees in between his legs. 

While you were kissing him, Jeongguk kicked his sweatpants off his legs, allowing you to capture a full glimpse of his meaty thighs. His skin is flawless and soft looking and you bookmark the thought of leaving red lines atop his thighs while riding him like a fucking stallion for later. 

His length deliciously twitches again from the brief lack of touch. You eye it for a split second, mouth watering, before taking the head between your lips. He throws his head back in satisfaction. 

Jeongguk tastes good. A mix of skin, salt, but he isn’t bitter; soft, pliable skin meets the plush membrane in your mouth. You moan out while your tongue circles the head, awarding you with a fresh spurt of pre-cum. 

Giving head isn’t everyone’s favorite (totally understandable) but it’s definitely yours. You don’t know why, maybe you have an oral fixation that you don’t know about, but it always makes you wet and desperate for more. Especially when the guy you’re blowing has hot moans like Jeongguk does. 

“Fuck,” he drawls out, while your tongue moves over him. He wraps a hand around the back of your hair gently, barely pushing you down to take more of him into your mouth. 

Ideally, you’d punish Jeongguk for that. If you were continuing this dominatrix stint you have going on then he shouldn’t be pushing you and trying to choke you but you drop the whole act. 

Because he feels so good. 

Your wetness is trickling down the swell of your ass as more of your mouth stretches to accommodate his length. The back of his head is about to reach the back of your throat when you wrap a hand around to pump what you can’t reach. It’ll be impossible to take him all in one go. You need to warm up first. Fat rivulets of spit trail down to his base and collect there to ease your ministrations. 

“So good,” Jeongguk praises, tangling his fingers in your hair while the wet sucking noises filter through your apartment. “You’re s-so good at this.” 

Jeongguk’s low voice isn’t helping you. Another pathetically whiny noise is muffled by his big dick going back into your mouth, swallowing around the tip as you take a little more than before. 

Swirling your mouth, using the inside of your cheek, the side of your tongue and the puckered membrane of your lips in conjunction with your nimble hands, jacking his thick cock and feeling the skin get hotter, wetter, with every second that passes by. 

He’s probably big enough to make you squirt. Though, you are the type to squirt easily, but guys around his size tend to hit the g-spot head on, to turn you into a shaking, coming, moaning mess in their arms. The thought really gets you going, imagining yourself sinking down on him like a Queen perched on her throne and spilling all over his thighs with a loud noise. 

Would he like it? Would he want to see you do it again? 

Fuck, you need a little bit of friction here. The combination of sucking him off, Jeongguk’s breathy whiny noises, and the deranged thoughts in your brain make your pussy so needy, demanding attention. 

You think about reaching back and rubbing yourself, just for a second, but your brain is too transfixed on Jeongguk. 

“P-please don’t stop-p,” he begs, “Please–Ah, yes.” Sounding like he’s about to cry. 

Your wrist flicks up during your motions while you pay special attention to the head. Jeongguk twitches some more and judging by how hard he grips your hair, he must be close. 

So you make sure your tongue stimulates all of the areas that make Jeongguk quiver in your hold. Your back arches, suckling at the skin. 

“Can I,” he interrupts himself with a moan, hands shaking, “Can I cum in your mouth?” He asks politely. 

You pull off with a breathy sigh, moving your hand to respond. “Please.” You want to taste more of him, until he’s filling your throat up completely. 

Sinking back down, you take in as much of him as you can, deep-throating his cock to the best of your abilities. It’s wet, the noises are filthy, salacious, but you don’t really care that much. Jeongguk’s cock twitches again as he spurts into your mouth, awarding you with his release as he whines throughout. 

And like a good girl, you swallow every last drop, refusing to let even a tiny drop of it go to waste. 

Jeongguk pants. His fingers slip out of your ratty hair and his hand slap over his forehead while he collects himself. His thighs shake with the aftershocks of his orgasm, sweat collected at the enticing dip of his collarbones, making his skin look like it’s speckled with diamonds. While you sit up slowly and wipe the back of your mouth, tucking his slowly softening length back into his boxers with a soft pat. 

For a few seconds, he doesn’t say anything to you. All Jeongguk does is try to catch his breath, probably slow his heart rate a bit. 

In that short period of time, your brain speeds at 100 miles per second. Did Jeongguk like it? Did Jeongguk hate it? Will he let you do it again? Oh my god, do you want to do it again and again and again. Is he uncomfortable around you now? What next? 

Your thighs are folded under you, watching Jeongguk’s stomach tense and flex as he leans on his elbows to look at you. 

His lips are adorable pouty and the hickeys look really pretty on his skin. You want so much more from him but you’re too afraid to vocalize it. You don’t want to stop. You don’t want to wake up and force this memory out of your brain. Jeongguk is so pretty and perfect and so easy to want. 

“C’mere,” he says softly, exhaling quickly with a stupid grin. Unsure if he meant his lap or right next to him, you shuffle closer until Jeongguk pats the space next to his body and you move accordingly. Hands an knees on the bed like a slinking cat. 

The air, which was once zinging with tension, has simmered down a little. Jeongguk’s arm stretches out for you to lean your head on his bicep. Up close, his eyes sparkle more than the stars in the night sky as Jeongguk pushes all of the loose strands of hair out of your sweaty face. 

“You were really good,” he repeats. “Thank you for that.” 

It feels weird to be thanked for sucking dick so you shake your head. “No need to thank me.” And because it doesn’t hurt to be truthful, you open your mouth once more. “I really wanted to.” 

Jeongguk’s expression warms; his smile gets wider and his cheeks get rounder. His thumb traces the curve of your jaw, dancing over your features like he’s trying to commit them to memory again.

“So can I return the favor?” 

Your heart leaps to your throat. You were sure Jeongguk was under the impression that this was a simple blowie, the end. Nothing else and nothing more. Even though you wanted more, you were ready to leave this romp at that but he proves you wrong once again. 

You raise an eyebrow. “You want to?” 

Most guys don’t. Most guys give up the second they cum without even offering.

But Jeongguk fucking smirks when he noticed your shocked expression. “I really want to,” he copies you. 

Fuck, you think. You put on a nice pair of underwear thinking that this would happen and then the entire tutoring session you were gaslighting yourself into thinking that nothing would ever happen and now here you are. 

There’s no doubt in your mind that you want this. Your panties are soaked and your core is aching to be touched. You need it so bad that you might never forgive yourself for turning this down.  

“Okay.” 

“Okay?” Jeongguk repeats. 

“Touch me. Please Jeongguk,” you plead with him, placing a soft hand on his warm chest. The breath is just about to escape you when he leans in to kiss you with his supple lips. 

You almost cringe. You must taste like him and you’re sure that there’s still some moisture collected in the corner of your mouth but Jeongguk doesn’t care. He licks hotly into your mouth, taking control during the kiss which surprises you completely. 

Gone is the shy whimpering boy who begged you not to stop. Jeongguk’s fingers squeeze your hips then pull one of your legs over his thighs so that you get even closer to him and your center is more exposed. That same hand travels upwards to your tits and cups the mass, and it’s your turn to shake in his hold. 

He’s starting off perfectly, like he knows what moves drive you crazy just by looking at you. 

You sigh softly when your lips break and he begins kissing down your neck. Unlike you, Jeongguk doesn’t leave any marks. Instead, he’s strategic about creating a clean line from your mouth, smooching along your jaw, then the side of your neck, to the middle of your collarbones before meeting your boobs. Jeongguk hauls you up the bed a little so he’s facing your chest instead, bringing your body closer with a splayed hand on your back. 

“Jeongguk,” you try, unsure as to why you’re calling him out. Jeongguk pays you no attention, transfixed by your naked breasts. He expels something inaudible under his breath and then takes one of your nipples into his mouth while tweaking the other, causing your body to go rigid. 

His lips wrap around the bud, sucking and circling his tongue over it while his other hand tweaks and pulls at the other. Like his tongue, his finger moves in time to turn you into a pile of mush. You grind onto nothing, wishing it was his thigh instead because you need friction from how wet and needy you’ve become in the span of like 20 minutes. 

Moaning out at the feeling of him slowly stimulating you, Jeongguk switches to the other one until your nipples are left shiny, wet, and puffy from his lips and tongue. 

He picks up fast, it seems. While kissing down your stomach, he asks you, “What do you want me to do?” Just like you did. 

“Anything,” you respond. You don’t care what he does, you just want him to do something. 

Jeongguk shakes his head. “Gotta give me a real answer,” he pulls up a little closer to your face, cupping your swollen bottom lip thanks to all of his work. “Tell me.”

“I,” you start. In all honesty, you wouldn’t mind anything from him. But you feel the length of his fingers, thick and perfect, and you remember your pressing desire of having them inside of you. “I want your fingers,” deciding on that. 

He grins softly at how cute you become when you’re overwhelmed. Jeongguk doesn’t wait around any longer, fingers going to the waistline of your yoga pants and tugging them down slowly. They’re tight, sticking to you like a second skin, so they snag along the meat of your thighs. Jeongguk doesn’t seem to mind as the fabric bunches up into a little ring and you kick it off to a random spot on your floor. 

Cold air meets your soaked underwear, making you cringe at the feeling, totally unaware of the way Jeongguk gapes at the flimsy little thing hugging your hips. He gently traces the band over your pelvis, almost like he’s hesitation. 

You open your mouth, ready to check in to see if Jeongguk still wants to do this for you or not, but before you can, his fingers dip into your panties to feel just how wet you are from him. 

His expression morphs beautifully. “You’re…” he’s speechless at first. Jeongguk’s finger trails up and down your center, barely grazing your sensitive clit. 

A whimper escapes you. His touch is feather light and barely enough yet so much all at once. 

“Fuck,” he groans, hiding his face into crook of your neck, soaking up all of your arousal while his ears and neck get bright red. You’d be embarrassed by the rushing gush coating you even more if Jeongguk’s thumb hadn’t stopped at your clit to draw tight, short, slow circles. 

Such a gentle pace, way less intense than the bullet vibrator you’ve been using, and the pressure builds gradually. One of your hands wind in his hair and the other grips his bicep, openly feeling him up. 

“Fucking soaked,” Jeongguk grits, moving his thumb a little faster. 

Your eyes shut. “Oh J–” interrupted by a shaky noise spilling from your mouth. Jeongguk takes that as a good sign, deciding to torture you even further by moving his lips back to your stiffened nipples and using his tongue to suck and lick at them as if you aren’t already sensitive. 

“You’re pretty too, noona,” Jeongguk says, looking at you this time. Slowly, your eyes peel open to find his big brown irises glimmering at you. “I think you’re beautiful. Always have.” 

You blush immediately. You don’t know why this feels so intensely intimate, like a pan that’s gotten too hot. Is it Jeongguk’s tone, the fact that he’s so close, the way he looks at you to make sure you know and understand him? What is it that has you so stupefied by such a simple comment? 

Boys have called you pretty before, called you much worse too, but you should be used to it. Over the years you’ve started to develop a thick skin but this one gets to you. 

That flutter of butterflies comes back, dancing from the tip of your toes all the way to your head. Jeongguk has seen you grow, from a kid to a pre-teen and now an adult. 

And he still finds you beautiful. Even after every embarrassing phase. 

You begin to smile, cupping his cheeks and leaning down to press a short kiss to his lips, then the corner of his lips, his cheek and his nose, because he deserves it and he’s cute. 

“Thanks,” you mean it, even if the sweet moment cut all of the flourishing beginnings of an orgasm from you and Jeongguk’s fingers halted, out of your underwear and holding your hip instead. 

Jeongguk mirrors your expression. Then he looks down at where his hand is and back up at you, nervously tonguing his cheek. “Can I move now?” 

You nod your head yes quickly after he asks. 

“And…” Jeongguk still looks awkward. You go back to cupping his soft cheeks. “Tell me if I’m doing okay?”

You want to melt in his grip. “Of course, Guk.” Thumb swiping over his cheekbone affectionately. 

Jeongguk takes that as the greenlight and slips his fingers back into your underwear. His gaze is on you, studying your features when his thumb goes back to your clit while his middle finger teases around your opening. You clench, desperate for something to slip inside of you, lifting your hips up in hope that Jeongguk would take the hint and put his fingers inside but he continues collecting your arousal to get his digits wet enough. 

“Jeongguk,” you call tightly, digging your nails into the meat of his shoulders. He hums in response. “I need more.” 

His thumb decides to go faster at your demand but not fast enough and his middle finger still traces your opening instead of slipping inside. 

“More?” He repeats, lilting his voice teasingly. 

Shithead. 

“Yes, more.”  You want to whine, kick your legs even. 

He can feel how wet you’ve gotten, does he not know how much you want this? 

“You want my fingers?” 

“Yes,” you grumble but it sweetens at the end because his thumb starts moving faster over your clit and you feel the waves of pleasure swirling in your stomach, turning into a half-moan. 

Jeongguk angles his hand a little differently and, gently, pushes his middle finger inside you. He groans at the feeling of you. “So tight,” breathing out against your skin. 

You react immediately, throwing your head back. There’s a slight pinch but it's not even the slightest bit painful. The intrusion is welcomed; although small, you need it. Jeongguk’s finger is nice and long and he pistons it out of you with so much care while hitting just the spot. 

“Fuck, right there,” you moan out, turning your face into the soft material of your sheets, eyes rolling back.

Jeongguk slips another finger in and he stops teasing your throbbing bundle of nerves to focus fully on moving his digits, curving them upwards to your walls as you release a symphony of noises. Finding that soft spongy part inside of you and massaging it. 

“F-faster please, please, go faster,” begging him out of the fear that he’ll tease you just like he was doing before. 

But Jeongguk plays fair and fingers you even faster, upping the ante even more by removing his free hand and pressing down on your lower stomach, right before your pelvis. 

And you lose it. 

The pressure from his hand on top, plus the way his fingers are moving, just becomes too much. The  gradual pressure starts accelerating and accelerating until it drops like a rollercoaster and you feel a burst of tingling pleasure rush through your veins and all over your body. 

“I’m cumming!” Crying out, tears pooling inside your eyes streaming down your cheeks as your legs shake with the crashing waves of your orgasm. 

Different than when you do it. As good as your vibrator is, something about it has yet to make you orgasm like this. Heavy, powerful, almost numbing. Waves crash inside you, again and again, cresting at the peak and slowly simmering out into a soft current and then nothing at all. 

Your breath comes out in heavy pants, limbs feeling like jelly, slowly opening your eyes to find Jeongguk staring back at you in bewilderment. His lips are parted but his cheeks aren’t red with embarrassment. If anything, he looks like the complete opposite of that. 

Like he could watch you do that again and again. Something you would gladly agree with. 

Jeongguk takes his fingers out from your underwear, glistening with your arousal, and before you can offer him a napkin, he slips his digits into his mouth and cleans them off. You really begin to question if this man is a virgin or secretly a sex god waiting to be discovered. He’s way better than you were when you were inexperienced. Does he watch a lot of porn?

Or do Taehyung and Jimin just talk about sex around him too much? Must be that. 

“Mmh,” his fingers come out with a soft pop noise, “You taste amazing.” Jeongguk’s clean hand brushes some hair out of your face as he smiles. You lean into his touch like a purring kitten, curling into his chest because your entire body feels weak. 

“You okay?” Jeongguk asks, closing his arms around you. 

Nodding into his chest, “Yeah. Felt really good.” You want to say more but there’s no energy for you to do so. 

“Did it? You looked really hot when,” trailing off, you know what he means, and you press a kiss to his chest. “Kinda want to see it again.” 

That takes your attention. 

Removing the fact that you haven’t been touched in a bit, two orgasms from Jeongguk might put your legs out of commission and that was just with his fingers. You can’t imagine what it would be like with more of him, especially as he learns more about how to pleasure you and gets better. Your poor vibrator might be out of a job. 

“I would love to, but you definitely wore me out.” Pulling your face away, you look up at his perfectly crafted face. “Can we try that another time?” 

Another time, you get giddy even before he agrees. After getting addicted to Jeongguk’s touch, you don’t want to entertain the idea of this being a one time thing. 

“Of course.” And neither does he. 

Jeongguk kisses the top of your head gently, rubbing soothing circles on your back. You tangle your legs with his, inhaling his scent and doing your best not to fall asleep. 

It feels sticky and wet between your legs. You should change and you should get ready for bed. Jeongguk probably wants to go back to his house, right? He probably doesn’t want to stick around your place after what just happened. 

But you think about it and that’s the farthest thing you want. 

Being in his arms, you feel safe and protected, like you drifted off to another dimension where nothing bad has ever happened and you were still the girl you were when you left Busan. Happy and lively. 

You don’t want him to leave you. You don’t want this to be another shitty hookup or one-time thing that makes both of you blush and walk-away. You just want Jeongguk to be in your life. 

So you hold on tight, avoiding his eyes when you ask: “Do you want to stay here with me tonight?”

Please, please, you beg internally. You’ll make breakfast, there’s a pack of toothbrushes under your sink, anything. Just stay. 

And thankfully, Jeongguk responds without wasting another second of your time, putting you at ease once again.  

“Please.”

a/n: okay yes, that was a lot but more smut will come and more angst will follow!

taglist:

@iwuzhere

#jungkook x reader #bts fanfiction #jungkook fanfic #jungkook smut #thereboundgirl #nerdjungkook #smut series #bts x reader #gamerjungkook #bts smut

[primojade]

【 # 001 】 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐈𝐄𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄

fallacy (n.) : are flawed, deceptive, or false arguments that can be proven wrong with reasoning.

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 : As a veteran AR60 player of Genshin Impact, you pride yourself as someone who knows the ins and outs of Teyvat, even studiously completing Spiral Abyss every reset, and having 100% exploration to some, if not all, of the released regions so far. Everything is fun and enjoyable, especially since Sumeru just recently debuted so you still have a lot to do!

All that ends though, when a mysterious passerby pushes you off the building of your university while playing Genshin. But instead of meeting your inevitable end, you find yourself waking up in the very world you were addicted to! 

It's supposed to be a fun dream, right? Something you could laugh at when you wake up? Right?! So, why is that you were back in AR1 with nothing but a dull blade in your inventory?!

…well, at least you still have those 700+ sunsettias and mints, Timmie's fowls…and surprisingly similar game mechanics you used to merely see on the screen before. But what should you do now? Flirt with the Genshin men??? Good lords...

"Welcome to Genshin Impact, Dreamer. Here, we can show you a happier ever after you've never had before…so, ready?"

𝐂𝐖 / 𝐓𝐖 : graphic depiction of violence; possible character death (on bad ends so choose your route wisely!); multiple endings (including good, bad, normal and secret ends); canon divergent, game mechanics, existential crisis, character study.

𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐑𝐄 : isekai/reverse isekai, choose your own adventure (cyoa) with branching narratives, romance, comedy, angst (depending on the routes), hurt with/without comfort (still depends on routes), action, mystery, found family.

𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐓𝐄𝐒 : albedo, tighnari, zhongli, cyno, xiao, diluc, venti, ayato, kaveh, kazuha and tartaglia. Possible more love interest as the story progresses.

𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐔𝐒 : on-going

𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 :

𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐔𝐄 : that love is a fallacy.

𝐀𝐂𝐓 𝐈 : alea iacta est. (the die is cast)

𝐒𝐂𝐄𝐍𝐄 𝐈 : argumentum ad hominem.

𝐒𝐂𝐄𝐍𝐄 𝐈𝐈 : argumentum ad ignorantiam.

𝐀𝐂𝐓 𝐈𝐈: audentes fortuna iuvat. (fortune favours the bold)

𝐒𝐂𝐄𝐍𝐄 𝐈.𝐈 : magister dixit.

𝐒𝐂𝐄𝐍𝐄 𝐈.𝐈𝐈 : argumentum petitio principii.

𝐒𝐂𝐄𝐍𝐄 𝐈𝐈.𝐈 : ignoratio elenchi.

𝐒𝐂𝐄𝐍𝐄 𝐈𝐈.𝐈𝐈: cum hoc ergo propter hoc.

𝐀𝐂𝐓 𝐈𝐈𝐈 : veritas liberabit vos. (the truth will set you free)

𝐒𝐂𝐄𝐍𝐄 𝐈 : —

𝐒𝐂𝐄𝐍𝐄 𝐈𝐈 : —

𝐒𝐂𝐄𝐍𝐄 𝐈𝐈𝐈 : —

𝐒𝐂𝐄𝐍𝐄 𝐈𝐕 : —

𝐒𝐂𝐄𝐍𝐄 𝐕 : —

𝐒𝐂𝐄𝐍𝐄 𝐕𝐈 : —

𝐒𝐂𝐄𝐍𝐄 𝐕𝐈𝐈 : —

𝐒𝐂𝐄𝐍𝐄 𝐕𝐈𝐈𝐈 : —

tba...

"𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐈𝐅" 𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐓𝐄𝐒

𝐈 | odi et amo ; ( gn!reader × scaramouche ) ; in which scaramouche reveals you the reason why he hates you so much. But in the silence that comes after his hatred is revealed, and from the unspoken words that never leave his lips, would it be too selfish to ask for something more than this? 

𝐖𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒 :

reader here is gender neutral, so if I happened to have a pronoun slip by accident, please do correct me. I swear it was a honest mistake cause I don't really proofread my works :3

that being said, although reader should based off of you, as in you reading this, reader has their own background prior to their arrival in teyvat. Down below are some of the changes/characteristics I took the liberty to add to the reader's persona and history to fit in the story!

(i.) reader is a university student studying science or other related field (their specialisation differs in each route to make it interesting). though i did not specify their age, appearance and race (feel free to imagine them whichever), they were supposed to be in the middle of taking their college degree.

(ii.) reader has an adoptive older brother (who would be important in the storyline later on).

(iii.) reader is presented to be quite reckless, a bit ditzy, chaotic, an unhinge and lively character, rebellious, hardheaded, opinion oriented, and wouldn't bend to rules that they see as pointless no matter how the society dictates them to do so, but they were kind and carefree when you get to know them more. you'll see what I'm talking about in the first chapter 😂

before I forgot, although I'm a huge fan of the sagau presented in tumblr (the one with creator and cult themes; those are chef kiss btw), my take on the plot of sagau is very different. There's no divine creator here or cultish behaviours (i'm so sorry if that's what you're looking for 😷) my main focus here is all about the genshin characters' self awareness that they were in a game as they interacted with the isekai!reader, which is why I added the reverse isekai in the genre tags because it will be a huge turnover in the future chapters :>

also, the game mechanics I'm talking about above is what we see on the screen of genshin. Like the Paimon Menu, the inventory, the character archive, and so on! When reader is isekaid, it seems like they brought the whole screen with them? XD

I know stuff will probably be confusing for you and me later on because of the branching narratives happening in this hellhole of a plot, but please bare with me xD I will do my best to make it clear as possible.

This fanfic has four types of routes (or ends if you prefer it that way), There are good ends (romantic happy ending all the way!), bad ends (if you're unlucky that you fall in the dramatic hellhole then yes), normal ends (this could end in either being platonic, a cliffhanger or an open ending up to your interpretation lmao), and lastly, the secret ends (i'll keep whatever this is hidden for now because I planned something huge for this lol).

a "what if" routes are a series of one-shots, short stories or drabbles that was not really connected with the primary routes. It could be read as a standalone fics. Possibly just my word vomit and brainrotting lmao. They also don't have any branching narratives like the primary routes.

well! that is all, i guess! I'll add something later if I remember stuff I should be telling you beforehand but for now, i guess this would do xD also, if you wanted to be tagged for this, feel free to dm me or send an ask about it! Thank you for reading all the way and I hope you will have fun (and a good laughs!) while you were reading this trash of a fanfic lmao 🤣

Ps. I'll try to post the prologue tomorrow since its already half finished already <3

#genshin impact #zhongli x reader #xiao x reader #albedo x reader #cyno x reader #tighnari x reader #diluc x reader #venti x reader #kazuha x reader #ayato x reader #tartaglia x reader #genshin impact x reader #gender neutral reader #jaded moments—! #genshin sagau #sagau

[thatfeelinwhenyou]

KINDRED — 40 (finale)

It’s your final year of highschool, and your only goal is to graduate top of your cohort, as usual. Except as student council president, your advisor can’t seem to leave you alone. What happens when you take Decelis Academy’s top student, their star athlete and put them in front of a camera?

written (2.7k words)

❥･• episode 40 — her entire being is lovable

The week after Jungwon’s competition, the two of you slip back into the usual programming of studying together after school, despite the documentary having ceased filming. It's a curious irony, isn't it? Now liberated from the suffocating grip of your mother's expectations, free to pursue your own desires, yet you find yourself still tethered to your books, for she was right when she says you can’t go anywhere without decent grades. 

You also don’t know what else to do in school besides studying. The library, with its quiet embrace, has become your refuge, a familiar haven and a place where you seek clarity amidst the chaotic excuse you call your current predicament. With your resignation as student body president, all that remains is the race against time until your college entrance exams.

"Y/N, sorry for being late!" Jungwon's voice breaks through the quiet murmur of the library as he settles beside you in your customary corner. You offer him a shy smile, basking in the familiar scent of his cologne that wraps around you like a comforting blanket.

"I finished a whole chapter waiting for you," you tease gently, knowing full well that he'll feel a twinge of guilt for keeping you waiting, only for you to feel bad for making him feel bad. And now you’re both feeling guilty and he’s demanding a kiss from you to make up for it.

"I never took you for the clingy type in a relationship, Yang Jungwon," you chuckle softly, playfully pushing a finger against his forehead to halt any public displays of affection in the holy vicinity of a public library.

"Yeah, well, I didn’t think you’d be rejecting my attempts at showering you with love when we’re a whole fortnight into dating," he pouts, his bag dropping to the seat beside you with a sullen thud. If one other thing did change aside from your relationship status, it would be the fact that Jungwon no longer sits across from you, but beside you. He insists it’s for practicality's sake, which to a certain extent you agree.

Truth be told, Jungwon just finds it distracting to be directly across from you, where he was in full capacity to be distracted by the beautiful features of your face. Not that the new arrangement helped anyway when he is still constantly reaching for your hand to hold, a silent plea for your touch that you gladly reciprocate.

“Why did the teacher hold you back anyway?”

"Couldn't believe my math grades improved so much; he thought I cheated on the recent quiz. Never thought I was doing so badly to make him doubt me that much."

"I mean… you were pretty horrendous," you quip with a grin, nudging him playfully. "Emphasis on ‘were’!" you add, teasingly, knowing he won't take it too seriously. He proves you right as he scoffs at your candid assessment of his past academic struggles. After all, deep down, you both know there's some truth to it...

"We have that final confessional with Producer Choi later today, right?"

"Yeah, can’t believe two months just flew by like that. Feels like just yesterday we were agreeing to only pretend to like each other." You snicker softly, sensing the irony in the situation now that you and Jungwon are in an official (not fake) relationship.

The irony is not lost on Jungwon as you catch his silent smile, knowing he, too, is lost in the memories of that pivotal moment, where pretence gave way to something real and profound.

"What's to say I'm not pretending right now?" Jungwon raises an eyebrow, eliciting an exaggerated gasp from you.

"Are you suggesting you still hate me?" you exclaim, feigning offence and playfully inching away from him on your chair. Jungwon's reaction is immediate, grabbing onto you as he pleads for you to stay, insisting he was only joking.

"So, you don’t hate me?" you inquire with mock seriousness.

"No, I would never!" He envelops you in a sideways hug, leaving you in a precarious position where, without his support, you'd probably topple off the chair, earning judgmental stares from every library patron within a half-mile radius.

With his arm around you, you gaze up at the finely sculpted features of his face, marvelling at how you ever found this man annoying in the first place. As Jungwon's fingers toy with the strands of thread hanging off your uniform blazer, a comfortable silence settles between you. 

“When’s your confessional?” Jungwon's question breaks the serene silence, prompting you to glance at the clock and realise the time constraints you're under.

"I'll have to leave soon if I don’t want to be late. Your confessional is right after mine, yeah?" you confirm, already mentally preparing to make your move.

"Yep, I’ll meet you at the gate after, and we could go for some snacks!" Jungwon suggests with a mischievous twinkle in his eye.

"Is this another one of your tricks to feed me into a coma so we don’t have to study?" you quip, raising an eyebrow in playful scepticism.

Jungwon feigns innocence, his grin widening. "Who, me? Never!" he replies, his tone dripping with sarcasm. You chuckle, knowing full well his penchant for indulging in snacks whenever the opportunity arises. But as you gather your things and prepare to leave, you can't help but look forward to the prospect of spending some more time with Jungwon, even if it means indulging in a few too many treats along the way.

You arrive promptly at the confessional venue, positioned strategically in the field right by the entrance of the school so the logo can be seen clearly in the background.  This meant people, a lot of them, stopping nearby to watch and observe the commotion as it's not every day you get to see a whole camera crew in the front yard of your school.

Spotting Producer Choi among the crew members, you make your way over and exchange greetings. "Y/N! It’s been a while, hasn't it?" she exclaims with a warm smile.

"It has," you reply, returning her smile as you exchange pleasantries with the familiar faces of the cameramen stationed around you.

"It felt weird not seeing you around after having seen you almost every day for the last 2 months. Strangely enough, I kind of missed it," you admit, though you sense a hint of scepticism in Producer Choi’s eyes, as she knows damn well you were the most excited for this documentary to end. 

With a gesture from Producer Choi, you settle into the stool in front of the cameras, and the familiarity of the setting washes over you. It's strange how quickly this space has become a second home over the past few months, filled with the laughter of the crew members who have become like family. With that thought in mind, you mentally ready yourself to share your thoughts and reflections on the journey you've embarked on.

"First of all, thank you, Y/N, for agreeing to be a part of this documentary," Producer Choi begins as the camera lights turn red. You nod in response, feeling a mixture of nervousness and excitement coursing through you.

"Let’s start by having you share with the viewers how you felt about this journey," Producer Choi prompts, her voice gentle yet probing.

"Well, it’s not easy, that’s for sure," you begin, your words flowing more easily now that you've found your rhythm. "It was an experience that urged me to step out of my comfort zone and explore beyond a routine that I was already used to. It was difficult, no doubt, but the friendships that I’ve made along the way made this whole journey worthwhile. If I were to go back in time, I would do it again."

Producer Choi nods encouragingly, her eyes reflecting understanding and empathy. "If that’s so, tell us the most important thing you gained from this documentary."

"This experience was precious to me in many other ways than one," you continue, your voice growing more animated as you recall the memories. "But if I were to point out the most important thing I gained out of this documentary, it would be myself. It’s a little cringy, I know. It still amazes me how much I managed to change in this short period of time. But you know what they say, the best discovery starts within you, and you best believe I discovered." 

The camera captures the sincerity in your eyes, the raw emotion shining through as you speak from the heart; a genuine reflection of your growth and transformation throughout the journey.

"Throughout the airing of ‘Kindred,’ the show has gained immense popularity among both domestic and global viewers, why do you think so?" Producer Choi asks, her tone shifting to a more analytical one.

"Honestly, the documentary was able to do well all thanks to Jungwon," you respond with a chuckle, thinking of your ever-charismatic boyfriend. "Without Jungwon, I genuinely think you guys would have produced the most yawn-bearing documentary to date. I acknowledge my lack of entertainment wits. There is also the whole strange pairing between Jungwon and I, even I admit that I’d be interested to find out how our very unique dynamics would work with each other."

The crew members share a knowing smile, having witnessed firsthand the magnetic chemistry between you and Jungwon that has captivated audiences around the world. It's a testament to the power of authenticity and genuine connection, something that can't be manufactured or scripted.

"Speaking about Jungwon, how has your relationship with him changed throughout the show?" Producer Choi inquires, her curiosity piqued.

"Jungwon is really special to me," you admit, a soft smile gracing your lips as you think of him. "I’m glad I got to properly know him through this experience. I’ll forever be grateful to ‘Kindred’ for bringing him into my life."

"Seems like there's something more to it, but I won't pry! But now that you’re graduating soon, what’s next?" Producer Choi prompts, her tone shifting to one of anticipation.

"Hmm… I’m not sure," you confess, feeling a pang of uncertainty creep in. "Ironic since you’d expect the girl with perfect grades to know what she wants to do. But I’m still working on that. Although, tutoring Jungwon made me realise how much I actually love teaching. May or may not consider pursuing it in the future, but we’ll see. I’m not in a rush anyway."

"Lastly, is there anything you want to say to the viewers of ‘Kindred’?" 

"To all the viewers of Kindred, thank you for all the support and attention you gave us!" you exclaim, genuine gratitude shining in your eyes. "I’m glad you found some sort of joy going through this journey with Jungwon and I. It’s an experience I’ll hold close to my heart forever."

As the final words leave your lips, you can't help but feel a sense of closure wash over you. This chapter of your life, filled with ups and downs, laughter and tears, is coming to an end. But as you look back on the memories you've created and the relationships you've forged, you know that the impact of this experience will stay with you for a lifetime.

"By the way, will Jungwon be doing his interview here too?" you ask, curiosity tugging at you.

"Why of course," Producer Choi replies with a smile.

"Can I watch?" you inquire, eager to see Jungwon in the hot seat for a change.

"You don’t see Jungwon here now, do you? We got to play it fair, Y/N," she says with a wink as she scurries you away from the film site, leaving you with a sense of anticipation for Jungwon’s answers now that you know the questions that were being asked.

"What was your answer to the question?" you grab onto his arms, shaking it relentlessly trying to get him to fold, even equipping your signature puppy eyes. Jungwon, however, continues to chew on his food that both of you bought off a random street cart, and is now seated at the very same bench where you shared your first kiss.

“I’ll tell you if you tell me,” you consider revealing your answers but decide against it when you think back to your responses and visibly cringe.

Jungwon, ever the enigmatic one, simply smirks, his lips curling into a playful grin. His eyes sparkle with mischief as he toys with you, taking another casual bite of his street food as if your inquiry were nothing more than a fleeting thought.

You roll your eyes, knowing damn well the game he's playing. This teasing banter, a familiar exchange between the two of you, only adds to the playful dynamic of your relationship. But deep down, you can't help but wonder what his answer might have been.

“I guess we’ll only know when they broadcast it,” you shrug, resigning to the mystery as you lean your head on his shoulders. The warmth of his presence beside you, and the gentle rhythm of his breathing, all serve as a comforting anchor amidst the bustling street around you.

As Jungwon reaches over to play with the strands of your hair, a comfortable silence washes over you. The sound of distant chatter and the occasional honking of car horns fade into the background, leaving only the two of you in your own little bubble of tranquillity.

With a playful smile, you reach up to gently swat at Jungwon's hand, feigning annoyance. "Stop messing with my hair," you tease, though secretly enjoying the attention. Jungwon chuckles, his warm breath brushing against your cheek as he leans in closer.

"But it's so fun," he counters, his voice a mere whisper. You roll your eyes playfully, unable to contain your grin. "You're lucky I like you," you retort, leaning into his touch despite your mock protest.

Jungwon's laughter fills the air, a melodious sound that resonates deep within you. His genuine joy is contagious, spreading warmth and happiness with every moment you share.

"I know," Jungwon replies with a smirk, tightening his hold around you. "And I'm lucky to have you." You smile to yourself, the warmth of Jungwon's words enveloping you like a soft embrace. His ability to express his feelings so openly still catches you off guard at times, leaving you feeling both exhilarated and a little overwhelmed.

"You know, you have a way with words," you tease, lifting your head to meet his gaze. Jungwon's smirk widens into a full-blown grin, his eyes sparkling with affection. "Only when I'm talking to you," he replies, his voice filled with sincerity.

The sincerity in his words touches something deep within you, stirring a gentle flutter of emotions in your chest. Despite any doubts or uncertainties that may linger, there's a sense of reassurance in knowing that Jungwon is by your side, ready to face whatever challenges come your way.

You never fully comprehended why you felt so connected to Jungwon in the first place. Sure, you could say that anybody in your position—forced to film a documentary 24/7 with a decent-looking boy (though you’d rather die than admit this back then)—you were bound to catch feelings.

To you, Jungwon is more than just a forced proximity crush; he's an anomaly in your otherwise stoic and academic-focused life. An anomaly that got you so frustrated trying to figure out why he’s such a constant pain in your ass. An anomaly that introduced you to the world outside of the one your mother delicately crafted for you—holding you to unrealistic expectations that she knew damn well you could never meet no matter how much you tried.

He helped you understand that this life is a journey that you shape. That no matter what, mistakes are inevitable. You can give your everything and still somehow manage to fuck things up along the way. Yet, the beauty lies in the way you get to decide how you’re going to fuck up. And there’s no one you’d rather navigate these missteps with than Jungwon.

And while many would assume that a student body president with good grades and a Taekwondo athlete who can't study to save his life would never go well together, these assumptions are proven to be false as you realise the many similarities you share with Jungwon. Like how either of you will do anything for the people you care about and for the things you wish to achieve. You could say the two of you are Kindred.

As you rest against him, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your cheek, you can't help but marvel at the depth of your connection, forged through peculiar circumstances. 

With him, it doesn’t matter who you want or need to be.

With him, life seems completely different, exciting and worthwhile.

prev | masterlist | next

♡。·˚˚· ·˚˚·。♡

authors note: aaaaand that marks the end of kindred!! i have so much i want to say but i'll save it for when the epilogue comes out! in short, thank you so much to everyone who stuck till the end despite my super irregular posting schedule... 🫣 until next time!

perm taglist. @hajimelvr @s00buwu @urmomssneakylink @bubblytaetae @mrchweeee @artstaeh @sleeping-demons @yuviqik @junsflow @blurryriki @hueningcry @fakeuwus @enhaslxt

taglist! @uuzhanggggggg @aloloveswonie @jayhoonvroom @missingemobeomgyu @jiawji @ocyeanicc @s7noo @asterizee @nwjws @noascats @yunwonie @saturnmooonxx @enhaz1 @jiaant11 @clairecottenheart @i2lain @miumiuoi @zhounauts @neocockthotology @nanuer @yenqa @ahnneyong @chanhee-hee @yanqiiuver @yujmelon @keiisu @jaeyunniesimp @jiamini @jihanniee @lilriswife4life @i-yeseo @plutoslostagain @haqzm @ilovejungwonandhaechan

#enhypen #jungwon #heeseung #sunghoon #belift #hybe #jay #iland #sunoo #enhypen fluff #jake #niki #riki #enhypen social media au #enhypen smau #enhypen crack #enhypen angst #enhypen x reader #enhypen scenarios #enha smau #yang jungwon x reader #jungwon x reader #yang jungwon smau #jungwon smau #jungwon social media au #high school au #yang jungwon #tfwy kindred #tfwy smau

[aeferkssr]

FORCE OF ATTRACTION

every magnet has a north pole and a south pole. placing two unlike poles together causes them to attract. when you try to place two like poles together (north to north or south to south), they will repel each other.

established relationship (xiao, childe), pining (kazuha), public opinion. obvious xiao favourtism. mentions of assassins/murder. mentions of still births. slight yandere!childe (not really,, kinda?). author started college and thinks they know everything /j

masterlist.

COMPUTER ENGINEERING / ELECTRICAL ENGINEERING

you two were polar opposites.

personality wise, xiao was quiet, aloof, and kept to himself most of the time. you, on the other hand, were the friendliest person on campus, always eager and ready to help if anyone had a problem.

he wore dark shades of black, grey, and the occasional teal to match the accents in his hair, while you were always delightfully decorated with an abundance of colours and patterns. even your majors were black and white.

so why is it that all of a sudden you two are inseparable?

the canteen was filled with idle chatter as usual, but one topic seemed to stick among the students of your college, the topic was discussed in hushed whispers and occasional coos as you broke off half of your cinnamon roll to give to him.

students will gawk at the gentle way you hold his hand to lead him to the location of your biweekly date, will laugh among themselves at the rips of his ears as it glows pink from realising that despite your major, how nice they are to hold, and will reminisce on the small kiss you have gave him prior.

(now that they think on it a little more, his flushing ears may be the result of that)

hardware and software rarely come together. but when they do, you know that good things are bound to happen

ASSASSIN / OBSTETRICIAN

your dynamic was chaotic. one who did all they could to bring life into this world, and the other who never hesitated to take it away. you did everything in your power to ensure safe deliveries while he would massacre in the flick of a wrist.

you sob as you mourn the loss of your patients offspring, while tartaglia laughs at the screams of victims praying for their lives.

two completely different world views.

yet, you cradle his head into your chest as a mother would to her newborn. yet, his blades soil with deep crimson as soon as he finds any person that may have given you a hard time.

yet, despite the stark difference in occupations, you two make it work.

after all, you two are human.

LINGUIST / MATHEMATICIAN

the both of you bonded on your love for your respective fields… while unintentionally hating on the others.

kazuha loved poetry. words were so powerful to the point where they can alter your very emotions, they were colourful, so full of life and meaning. he loved the way how the right words could change the very course of a conversation, and the allure of alliterations that allow ample amusement. numbers just seemed too… stuck up, too boring.

you, on the other hand, has a passion for numbers. numbers were factual, straightforward, to the point. if you counted ten apples, there is without a doubt ten apples. numbers never lied, numbers never had double meanings, numbers never mislead you the way that words and letters did.

kazuha visibly relaxes as he sees your animated expressions explaining your passion, his mind being swarmed with thousands of words and phrases to attempt at describing this feeling, describing you

but alas, nothing seemed good enough for someone as breath-taking as you.

© aeferkssr

#. ❀ gallery ! #genshin impact #genshin #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #xiao genshin impact #xiao x reader #xiao x you #xiao x y/n #xiao fluff #genshin tartagalia #childe x reader #childe x you #childe x y/n #childe fluff #tartaglia fluff #kaedehara kazuha #kazuha x reader #kazuha x you #kazuha x y/n #kazuha fluff

[starshapedkookie]

Grapejuice

→ Why must you make me laugh so much? It's bad enough we get along so well, just say goodnight and go

pairing: jungkook x reader (ft. taehyung x reader)

genre: strangers to lovers (?), art student jungkook, art apprentice reader, angst, smut, fluff, art university au, oc is older than jungkook (only by 1 year), kind of inspired by titanic(?? idk just bear with me lol) *also i went to normal college, no idea how art universities work*

warnings: swearing, feelings of being lost, thoughts of infidelity… infidelity, descriptive smut (oral fem. receiving, fingering, protected sex, multiple orgasms, jk is big y'all!), smoking (cigarettes & 🍃), themes of being lost, sad, nepotism, everyone is lowkey a villain lmao

summary: At 24, your life was lined up to be perfect; talented, nice apartment, amazing boyfriend, and a dream job. Working as an art apprentice for Kim Seokjin was the exact opportunity you needed to kickstart your art career. However, after you’ve hit a creative wall at full speed, you feel more lost than ever. It’s not until one person shows up with no brakes on in your life that not only changes your entire perspective, but takes your breath away in the process.

word count: around 36k (i was in a silly goofy mood💀🤓)

all feedback is very much appreciated! i hope y'all enjoy!

⏤

Jungkook’s hand that’s on the railing begins to tighten around it, his knuckles turning white as frustration pulses through his veins. You notice his tight grip and you place your own hand over his to relax him some. There’s mere inches between you two now, but it’s comforting and it feels like only you two are left in the world—the party raging down below and throughout the house drowning out. While your head is spinning from the two glasses of alcohol that you had sipped on earlier, you know that most of it comes from his intoxicating scent. He’s everywhere at all times and you think this is some sick joke manifesting itself into reality as you feel yourself leaning into him. When he says your name slow and calculated, you know that you’re a puddle in his hands, ready for all the consequences that may come with your decision. You just don’t know exactly how it could have reached this point. 

1 Month Earlier

If there was one thing about being an artist—it’s that it can absolute torture. You hated to admit how right-brained you actually were. You felt as if your mind moved much faster and more chaotic than most people. It wasn’t anything you couldn’t function with—you had dealt with it your whole life, finding different outlets for your energy and itchiness. You couldn’t remember the exact age that you picked up a crayon, but you knew it was younger than most.

A lot of your childhood seems to be a blur, only a few memories sticking out like a bookmark at times. One of the most prominent being at age 5 when you took a few Sharpies and marked all over the dining room wall, drawing what you thought to be a field of flowers. Turns out, it was just a black scribbled mess that ended up with you hiding in your room, terrified of how angry your mother had gotten at you. You had learned your lesson that day that the wall should not be your canvas of choice. 

Crayons turned to colored pencils turned to watercolor turned to oils turned to whatever you could grab and extend your talent further. You hadn’t taken the original school route—your dad putting you in a special junior school for artists, all the way up until you graduated high school. Naturally, this lead you to going to university to major in the fine arts. As you sit here in your studio now, you’re unsure if that was the smartest decision. 

The funny thing about artists is that you’re sure they are the type of people who crave and desperately need the most validation of any profession. You valued positive reinforcement to the point it could be crippling. You’re sure that it stems from some type of child-like validation you never received from really either of your parents. They were always hard on you but your dad was the more lenient one of the two; your mom too selfish in her own abilities to look your way. 

You glance up to the clock hanging on the wall. It’s nearing 3 in the afternoon which means you only have one class left for today. You were by no means a professor, however as part of your apprenticeship—it was required by your senior, Kim Seokjin, to assist some of his lectures. Like you, Kim Seokjin was a tortured soul with such talent that it was hard to comprehend as an onlooker. You were nearing 25, Seokjin was over 30 and he had built much more of a name for himself than you probably ever would. Despite the hundreds of artists just in the area surrounding the neighborhood and university, he was one of the best. He taught only the uppermost level classes at the university, handpicking the students himself to teach. You were lucky enough to have kissed his ass enough as an undergrad for him to accept you into his apprenticeship program. It didn’t pay much—starving artists was an absolutely true trope—but it paid the bills and at least you weren’t in a crippling, life-draining office job. 

You give one last glance to the large canvas in front of you before throwing in your colorfully stained apron over an easel in the corner. 

You check off the mental note to bring Seokjin the rest of the paint he wanted for today’s last class. You hurry into his own smaller studio/office that’s right near yours and pick up the tray of paints he’s set out. Afraid that you’ll be late for class—which was Seokjin’s biggest pet peeve, you hurry out of his office and back down to the main classroom. As you turn down the main corridor, you don’t even recognize what’s happened when you crash into a body, slipping backwards and letting go of the tray of paints, halfway falling backwards with a yelp until something—someone—manages to catch your fall just in time. 

Your eyes are completely ignoring whatever stranger is holding you in a such a strong embrace that it’s taking your breath away and looking over at the colors which now paint the hallway. 

“Fuck,” is the first thought that crosses your mind and when you finally look up at who’s got you—the second thing to cross your mind? Shit—who is this?

“Are you okay? Fuck I’m so sorry, I-I have to run these papers to advising before my class,” the stranger rambles on, his grip still tight around your body. He’s got you pressed against his chest, one of his hands around your waist tightly, the other holding your other arm out awkwardly, giving away that’s what he originally caught you with. 

Your mouth slightly gapes open, confused and getting angrier at the second. Seokjin was going to murder you. That or just take the paints out of your next paycheck—which you honestly would rather take the former. With all of your might, you push yourself away from the man who you crashed into, feeling his grip on your arm even after he’s let go. 

“I’m fine,” you spit out, running a hand through your hair in frustration. You bend down and start to pick up the paint that indeed survived the fall, placing them back on the tray one by one. To your surprise, the stranger bends down too, helping you place everything back into the tray neatly. 

“I’m sure there are some towels—“

“The janitors will get it, it’s fine,” you interrupt the boy who keeps a mild expression on his features. It’s true though, spilled paint is nothing out of the ordinary for the cleanup crew. It was a school of arts after all. 

You leave without saying another word to the stranger. You march towards the classroom, ready to hear it in front of Seokjin and all of his students. The thought mortified you, but it happened to his apprentices more often than you would think. Seokjin’s tactics are scary and intimidating but they are like that on purpose. He wants his students to be the best and he wants his apprentices to be even better. And your work as of recent and now this incident? You were surely not that. 

Seokjin doesn’t acknowledge when you let him know about the spilled paints, giving you a dismissing—clearly annoyed—glance before he begins his last abstract painting class. The classroom space is large and bright filled with 11 students exactly. Six working spaces down each side of the rectangle, a lone working space in the back corner of the room. You remembered taking this class vividly, finding the abstract work natural to you and your paint brushes. While you enjoyed abstract, your speciality lied in realism—whether it be through pencils or oils or paints. 

In many ways your role in the classroom acted similarly as a graduate student would at a normal university. You were there to provide help to the other students when needed, but the basis of your apprenticeship under Soekjin was to gain experience and build up your portfolio. Lecturing in art school is obviously quite different than regular university. Instead of an hour and a half of note taking, it was a simple debrief at the beginning of classes and then the remainder time was for working. 

During Seokjin’s brief monologue, the back door of the classroom opens in a rush, the same stranger from earlier entering in, demanding attention away from the teacher. 

“Sorry I’m late—I had to drop off some papers in the administrative office,” the stranger explains as he walks up towards Seokjin. They shake hands quickly, Seokjin introducing him to the class. 

“Everyone, this is Jeon Jungkook—he’s just transferred in from another department, please welcome him in kindly.” 

Jeon Jungkook. A few of the student’s eyes light up as he gives a small wave to everyone. You’re leaning against the wall a few feet behind Jungkook and Seokjin but suddenly Jungkook must have noticed your small movement of crossing your arms over your chest. He nearly does a double take as you make brief eye contact. He’s handsome, you can tell that much as you hadn’t paid much attention when he bumped into you earlier. Jungkook is giving you another apologetic look until you’re the first one to look away, gazing back over the entire class. 

Once class presumes, Jungkook takes the empty workstation towards the back of the classroom, beside of Kim Jisoo and across from Kim Yugyeom. 

“Y/N?” Seokjin says from where he stands, motioning you to come to him. You push yourself off the wall, sauntering over to your boss. 

“Yes?” 

“Meet me in my office after this class is over. I don’t really need you in here today so just continue working on what you need to,” he says only giving you a short glance. Your stomach drops. 99% of the time, if Seokjin wanted to meet in his office, it never really meant good news. Noticing some of his students who are sitting up front are listening, you only give him a short smile with a nod. The last thing you needed was his students talking about how shitty his chosen apprentice truly was. 

You push yourself off the wall, your feet carrying you quickly out of the classroom. Little to your knowledge, the stranger from earlier only had his eyes on you as you disappeared from the classroom. 

⏤

It’s only less than a couple hours later you find yourself standing in front of Seokjin’s office. You are gripping your tote bag tightly against your side, the rattling of your materials the only thing your mind can solely focus on. Sending a quick prayer up to whoever, you knock gently on the door and a hear a subtle noise for you to come in. 

You force a small smile on your face as you enter the office, making eye contact with Seokjin immediately. He makes you so intensely nervous that it can be hard to stomach being around him—but the validation and credibility he gives your portfolio—it will be worth it in the end. 

“Hi,” you say as he motions you to take a seat at his desk. He’s sat across from you, finishing typing away at his computer before he gives you any attention. His office is quite the opposite of what you would expect an artist’s office to be. It was all monochromatic and cream with touches of mahogany brown in the furniture and cabinets. There was barely any art on the walls, just a few small canvases that you recognized as his own pieces. You have to hold in a laugh at his narcissism. 

“Thanks for coming by, I don’t want to keep you too late,” he says emotionless. 

“No worries,” you shake your head, “Is everything okay?” 

He hesitates before he responds, leaning back into his giant office chair that looks divinely comfortable.

“I actually wanted to present you with that question Y/N,” he speaks slowly, as if he’s studying you and your reaction.

You furrow your eyebrows in confusion, “Me?” 

When he doesn’t say anything, you continue yourself. 

“I-I don’t think I understand,” you stutter anxiously, feeling yourself getting hot in the tiny office. This is it—this is where you die. Over spilled fucking paint. 

“Y/N,” he pauses to lean forward on his forearms, “You were one of my most exemplary students in undergrad which is why out of all the candidates, I choose you to be one of my apprentices. I just can’t help but feel you’ve been… well, lacking in the work you’re putting out..” 

His words are slow and calculated, as if he has rehearsed them many times over before spelling it out for you. Your shoulders begin to slump and you now wish you were being reprimanded over spilled fucking paint. You don’t even know what to say, so you don’t. Seokjin takes your silence with respect, continuing for you. 

“I just want you to be your best artistic self. I know what a slump feels like and if you need any help—“

“No,” you interject quickly, “It’s just—“ you pause, wanting to think about what you’re saying before you speak, “It’s just I’ve just been a little uninspired lately, but no I definitely don’t need help.” 

The last thing you needed was for Seokjin to think you couldn’t handle your own. The world of professional art was ruthless. You figured this out by your early teens when your mother had a gallery that was quote “a crashing bore of monotone, desperately wanting to be something it’s not.” After that, she locked herself in her bedroom for 3 days. You needed to prove to yourself you could handle piece after piece by yourself. If you couldn’t prove it to you, who on the outside would believe you could?

Seokjin narrows his eyes at you and you’re sure he definitely doesn’t believe you. “The final exhibit is coming up, I just don’t want you to lose sight of it.”

Knowing today’s date, the final exhibit is coming faster than you would like. Nearly 2 months away, but Seokjin is right. Art takes time, patience, and inspiration. Three things that you’re running out of.

“I appreciate the concern,” you say as genuine as you can, gritting through your annoyed smile, “But I promise you, I’m fine. I’m sure you know how it is to be in a funk.” 

He leans back in his chair, crossing his arms over his broad chest. If he wasn’t such an intimidating asshole, you would find him attractive. He seems to be content with your answer as he begins to nod slowly. 

“Alright,” he responds, “If you eventually need help though, you have an abundance of students who would be willing to work with you. Great art doesn’t have to be born out of loneliness.” 

You nearly snicker. The funny thing about artists is that we are so narcissistic, we can’t even see what we’re saying is just a crock of horse shit. You decide to leave the conversation at that, bidding Seokjin a simple goodbye and a wishful weekend. You pick your bag up off the ground, fishing your phone out of it quickly, leaving Seokjin’s office in a rush. You had dinner plans and you weren’t sure how much time you now had to get ready. 

You’re scrolling through your messages to recall the exact time you were supposed to be there when suddenly you’re bumping—no crashing—into someone—again! You’ve let out a yelp and a curse word you shouldn’t repeat when you hear your poor phone collide with the floor. Luckily you managed to catch yourself against the wall as your heart beats with fight or flight adrenaline. 

“Shit,” someone mutters and when you finally regain your orientation, you instantly recognize the voice. You realize it’s Jeon Jungkook—that new student who bumped into you earlier. He’s sitting on the ground as if he’s just been hit by a bus. It makes you narrow your eyes—you’re not that dense you knocked this man to the ground. How dramatic can he be? 

“Can we stop meeting like this?” You say as you reach down for your phone. You hope and pray there aren’t any cracks. When you turn it over, you let out a relieved sigh when the screen is unharmed. 

“That was totally your fault that time,” Jungkook pushes himself off the ground, fluffing up his dark hair some. Once he stands fully in front of you, you are now getting an essence of how big he is. He’s average height at most, but from your stature, you’re having to still look up at him. 

“How was that my fault?” You press, taking a step away from him to give you space. 

“Maybe you shouldn’t walk around with your head in that thing?” He motions to your phone with his eyebrows. His eyes are wide and doe like, his lips a little thin with a piercing on the right side, and a nose on the bigger side. You’ve always liked big noses. You normally wouldn't describe men this way, but he’s genuinely pretty. If he wasn’t standing right here, you’d blush a little.

“Maybe you shouldn’t sprint around this place like you’re being chased by a serial killer,” you argue back, your phone now buzzing in your hand. 

This Jungkook guy laughs a bit, a soft smile growing on his face, “I’m Jungkook,” he says matter-of-factly. 

“And I’m running late,” you point to your continually buzzing phone. You can tell it’s not the answer he wants, but you walk away before he can get that answer. You don’t dare look over your shoulder as you walk away to answer the phone. You can feel his eyes still on you and his scent fulfilling your nose. It smells clean, musky, and like amber. It smells dangerous. 

⏤

Carbone was easily one of the best spots in the city. The Italian cuisine was to-die for and with the way your stomach was growling—the thought of their vodka sauce penne was literally making you horny. In record time, you managed to rush home and throw yourself together a little more decently. Your hair was pretty greasy so you ended up throwing it up into a clip hoping that no one would notice. You’re playing with your so-called slut strands aimlessly as you stand outside of the restaurant waiting on your company. It isn’t much longer until you hear your named being called a little ways away. You look up from your phone, a smile beginning to grow on your face.

“Hey babe,” your smile only grows as your boyfriend approaches you. He himself begins to smile as he fully approaches you, engulfing you into a large bear hug. 

“I missed you,” he breathes heavily into your neck before he pulls away, “You look nice,” he holds both of your hands and looks down your frame. You glance down at your simple tank and loose-navy trousers. The navy somewhat clashes with his black suit, but it didn’t bother you none. 

“Thank you, missed you too,” you respond, “Shall we?” 

He nods once, giving you a look of longing before pulling you inside behind him. 

“Reservations for Kim Taehyung,” he smiles charmingly to the hostess. She seems awestricken by him as she fumbles around with the menus behind the podium. Once she realizes—or chooses to notice—you standing close with Taehyung, hand in his, her gaze immediately drops to her feet as she walks the two of you to the table. It’s a smaller two-seated table outside on their exquisite patio, twinkle lights tastefully lighting up around you and a small candle lit between you two. It’s still not quite spring so they have some outdoor space heaters which is nice on your exposed arms. The slight chill doesn’t bother you though. Your only focus is on Taehyung. 

Kim Taehyung. How could you even describe Kim Taehyung? 

As the two of you sit here now, him 27, you 24, you can’t believe how long it’s already been. You were naive and 20 when you first crossed paths with Taehyung. A mutual friend introduced the two of you at another friend’s birthday at the time. It was at some swanky bar in the fanciest part of the city and to your broke, aspiring starving artist kind; it seemed magical. 

There was an immediate attraction to each other that both of you seemed to recognize. His strong features and sexy smirk had you pulled in the moment he opened his mouth. His looks were one thing, but once you got to know him for him, you were sure you had found your soulmate. He was charming, funny, smart, and a hell of a lot different than you. But you liked that. You had been around the mismatched artist-type your entire life—you craved something different. And he gave you that every time, even now 4 years later. 

“How was your day?” You’re the one to ask first as the waitress ends up pouring out glasses of Chardonnay for the both of you. Taehyung always orders a bottle, citing glasses were the cheap way out. 

He takes a sip before he speaks, “Pretty good. I think we’re finally getting close to a deal on my biggest client which will leave me a lot less stressful once that sorts itself out.” 

Taehyung works in finance—specifically in private equity. When the two of you first met, he was a first-year hustling investment banker who worked long hours with high compensation for a 23 year old. Now, he works a little less hours with even higher compensation. One way that you two are similar is that you both like chaos—chaos that just manifests itself into different ways. Chaos for you comes in forms of paint, sketches, and a messy workspace. Chaos for Taehyung is working long, demanding hours, numbers, and making 50 year olds seem less experienced than him.

“You made it out of the office before seven tonight, that’s always a good thing,” you take a sip of your wine, hiding the scrunch on your face as best as you can. This Chardonnay was particularly dry and not quite what you thought you needed. A martini sounds real good about now. 

“How was your Friday babe?” He asks with genuine curiosity. If there was one flaw about you is that whenever Taehyung would go off the deep end in explaining his private equity and venture capital deals, you somewhat zoned out. Him on the other hand, always seemed intrigued about your endeavors as a struggling artists. Perhaps you should work on your listening skills now that you think about it. 

You’re about to answer until the waitress comes back to take your orders. You settle on the vodka penne, Taehyung gets cacio-e-pepe, and you two get a Caesar to split. Before you realize it, you’re adding in a martini to the bill. Taehyung raises an eyebrow at you as the waitress leaves. 

“Bad day?” He asks. 

You have to laugh, leaning back into your seat some. “It was fine, it’s just,” you pause somewhat frustrated now that you’ve had a couple hours to marinate Seokjin’s words.

“Seokjin has just been hard on me lately and it’s kind of exhausting,” you breathe out heavily. 

“Isn’t he always an asshole?” He raises a brow, leaning back in his seat to match your stance. His eyes don’t leave you as you command his full attention. 

You half-laugh again, “It’s like he thinks I can just shit out new pieces every week. It’s not like every morning I wake up with a new idea that's riveting enough to turn into something.” 

“I’m sure you’ve produced good things recently—you’re too hard on yourself Y/N,” he says, you assume trying to comfort or validate you in someway. It doesn’t work. 

“What you think is good, isn’t what I, or Seokjin, or art critics may think is good,” you say stubbornly. 

“Babe you really shouldn’t care about what those people think,” he says just as your martini arrives. You take quite a big gulp, a chill running down your spine. But it’s good, and needed. 

“That’s easy for you to say.” 

You don’t expect Taehyung to understand your perception of what you’ve always thought you career would be. Taehyung’s career was set for him the moment he walked across the graduation stage. There need be no inspiration or motivation for the work he does. He shows up, gets tasks and deals to negotiate, plugs and chugs numbers, and does it all over again. There’s no downtime in his field. 

When it comes to art—there’s too much downtime. Too much time to overthink and drown into your thoughts. It’s easy to become miserable and wallow in self-pity as an artist. You don’t know why or where this rut came from, but you hoped that something would inspire you fast. Seokjin was right—you really didn’t have much time to begin putting together your exhibition pieces. 

“I deal with people all the time who hate me and my colleagues—that doesn’t mean I don’t show up for the meetings. You’re going to deal with people who don’t like you but you still gotta get your shit done either way,” he shrugs and it’s like he caught what he said just in time before you could snap back at him—“Baby you know that’s not what I mean,” he suddenly leans forward and grabs one of your hands on the table. 

You try to get past his last comment—as if he was implying you weren’t doing your job—relaxing as soon as his warm touch gets to you. 

Perhaps one of the bigger flaws in your relationship with Taehyung is that sometimes he just doesn't get it. He can get very wrapped up into his world, unable to find a place of empathy for you and your craft. Sometimes, it feels like you're standing in a crowded room screaming yet no one turns around to see where the ruckus is coming from.

“I know,” you answer simply and luckily, your dinner arrives cutting the conversation at that. 

As you two eat together, catching up on other mindless topics, and enjoying each other’s company, it makes your heart yearn for so much more with him. You’ve only had one serious boyfriend before Taehyung in high school which probably doesn’t even count at this point and only dating a couple guys casually before you ended up meeting the man across the table. He was edging 30, you nearing 25. You glance down at your ring finger, wanting nothing more than truly make that next step in your relationship. You two had talked about it many times and you were sure he wanted to marry you—you just didn’t know what he was waiting on. 

Thankfully, you’re feeling a little less anxious now that you’ve ate a good meal and had some alcohol—not enough to where you’re drunk—but enough to feel a little buzz. After Taehyung’s paid (you’ve run your time trying to pay—also given Taehyung’s salary versus yours, it was sort of a given who would pay at fancy restaurants). 

The two of you are walking around the semi-hustling streets, hand in hand as you’re making way back to his apartment. Friday’s were routine the two of you. Given his hectic schedule, the weekends are where you two found solace. There was the occasional mid-week lunch if he was on your side of the city where the university was, but Friday’s had been particular your days for years now. You loved your little routine together. 

Taehyung has managed to pull you towards the city’s main river to a popular tourist watch site. On the weekends, there were the occasional events and water shows. Tonight wasn’t one of those nights, but there are a couple street vendors set up around the area. From the corner of your eye, you spot a vendor selling cotton candy and before Taehyung can stop you, you’re pulling him to the sweet treat. You settle on sharing a stick of the pink and cottony sugar as you take a sit down on the side of the river, trying to keep some distance from others. 

You sit on the step below Taehyung, settling between his legs as you eat the candy in a comfortable silence. He offers you the last little piece but you shake your head, leaning back into his chest more. He glad eats it and then wraps his arms around your front, instantly warming you from the outside in. 

“You chilly babe?” He asks and you shrug a little. You were a little chilly now, but he was keeping you warm enough. Given how he just knows you though, he ends up shrugging off his perfectly tailored suit jacket and draping it over your front. You give him a small kiss beneath his chin as a thank you. 

“This is nice,” you say lowly, the sound of the running river and carb-loaded tummy making you a little sleepy. 

“Mhm,” he agrees, settling his chin on top of your head, “You know I’ve been thinking recently..” 

Thought he can’t see your face from this angle, your eyes slightly widen and your heart rate picks up significantly. Unsure of what to say, you make a noise that resembles a “hm?” Could it be? 

“I know that both of our leases are ending soon,” he pauses, leaning back some. You take it to turn your body some to face him, a soft expression crossing your features. “I was thinking we should move in together.” 

While your heart semi-strains painfully given it’s not what you thought he was going to say. But hey—he wants to live together! That’s the second biggest step before getting engaged, right? 

“You want to live together?” You repeat his statement to make sure you heard it clearly. 

He gives you a small smirk, “Isn’t that what I just said?” He giggles, “I’d just figured we already stay at each others places on the weekends… and if we lived together we would definitely see each other more often.” 

He’s right. You think about waking up and going to bed with Taehyung everyday. You think about making coffee for each other and eating dinner together every night. You think about lazy morning-before-work sex and heavy, steamy sex in a shared bathroom. It seems perfect. You’re nodding before you even say yes.

“Yes, yes, of course!” You say enthusiastically, throwing your arms around him awkwardly. He laughs in content, holding you close as you both continue to watch the river. While it’s not what you were expecting, perhaps it was the final stepping stone until the relationship was to be taken further. 

⏤

“I feel like tangerine is the superior shade of orange, right?” 

You laugh a little as you take a step back from the canvas, looking over your shoulder to meet Sana’s gaze. She’s got a serious expression crossing her brows as she inspects your canvas and the orange color you’ve just slapped onto it. 

“I prefer marmalade,” you respond sarcastically with a half-smile, justifying your color choice on the canvas. She tilts her head slightly, sitting back in the barstool type chair she’s in. She was much more the charming artist type than you. Perhaps it’s one of the reasons you two got along so well—you couldn’t be anything more than polar opposites. You were laid back and didn’t think about your work too much, whereas your best friend from undergrad went through every detail imaginable before her brush hit a canvas. 

“I actually don’t give a shit about the orange,” she then says with a short laugh, “Y/N, what are you doing?” 

You furrow your eyebrows, setting down your palette on the work table beside you. “What do you mean?” 

She looks around your studio, the sun shining brightly thanks to the large windows on the back wall. You can tell she’s quickly inspecting every piece that you have finished up against the far wall opposite of you two. It’s only 3 pieces, but you can tell she’s about to rip them apart. 

“It’s just,” she pauses to meet your gaze again, "I feel like there's no emotion in these pieces, it's all just the same in different fonts...” 

You have a sudden open pit in your stomach, getting flashbacks from being in Seokjin’s office last week. You knew that she meant well—but like you said, she was the much more serious art type. She could read art better than anyone else you knew and to hear those words from her? It stung. 

“Because there isn't," you chuckle, "I’m just in a funk,” you say, not even attempting to try to argue with her. For the past couple months, every stroke of your brushes have felt like a chore. Every sketch of a pencil felt like someone had a gun to your head, threatening you to draw or otherwise the trigger would be pulled. 

“Isn’t your exhibition soon?,” she asks it like a warning but you’ve already heard that siren. “Is everything good with you?” 

“I’m fine,” you say straight-lipped, “Just uninspired.” 

She raises an eyebrow at you, “Taehyung not dicking you down right?” 

You roll your eyes, a small laugh emitting from you, “Trust me, that’s not the problem.”

Taehyung was great in bed—a gentle lover with rough hands. It would probably surprise people to know that you were the more dominant one in the bedroom. 

She looks as if she doesn’t believe you, but she lets it slide knowing your sex life is none of her business. 

“And he still hasn’t put a ring on it?” She glances down at your hands, which you shyly shove into the pockets of your jeans. 

“You'd be the first to know Sana," you tell her pointedly, "Also what's the rush?” you say, a half lie on your part. Maybe no rush on his part, but you were feening for that commitment from Taehyung. “He actually wants us to find a place together.” You make sure to add, given it makes your heart feel a little better. 

“Hm,” she pauses and you give her an odd look.

"What's that for?" you ask her, crossing your arms over your chest.

She shakes her head, "I just want you to be happy Y/N... I'm sure moving in together will be exciting," you can tell there's something else she's not saying. You can probably guess as to what she wants to say but you push it from your mind. God forbid she’s been the one on the other end of your drunken-crying nights, saying how much you wanted to spend more time with him and marry him. “Are you excited?”

You nod before you speak, “Of course,” you say, “I’ll just be happy to spend more time with him.” 

“I can’t believe he’s still in his soulless finance grind after all these years,” she exhales heavily with a shake of her head. You honestly couldn’t believe it either—but he loved his work. Sometimes you’d argue more than he loved anything else—including you. 

“Whatever makes him happy, makes me happy,” is what you leave it at. You didn’t want to have the same conversation with her again. 

“Well,” she pauses, “I gotta run, but enjoy your lunch,” she motions to the bag of food she so graciously brought you on her own lunch break. Given she works at an art studio in the city as an art preserver, her hours are much more flexible than yours. 

“Thank you,” you give her a quick hug, inhaling her sweet, floral scent. She’s always had that sort of nostalgic smell to her. One of those smells that you can’t pinpoint where you’ve smelt it before, but it makes you smile. Perhaps it just reminds me of sleepless nights in the dorm you two shared freshman year, watching endless drama's and Magic Mike nights.

“Are you gonna come to dinner with everyone tomorrow?” 

“I’ll try to make it,” you answer, “Depends how long I’m stuck here,” you speak with your arms in reference to your working studio. 

“You better be there,” she warns, “You haven’t seen Jimin and everyone in forever.” 

“I’ll try,” you repeat with a genuine smile, “Thanks for lunch again.” 

She gives you a kiss on the cheek, “Of course. Text me if you need anything,” 

You watch her frame as she walks out of your studio, your shoulders sinking in relief. You loved Sana, you really did, but the last thing you need is another person down your throat about your art. You were in a stupid, uninspired, funk but it will eventually go away. Even if you have to claw your way to finishing pieces for the exhibit—they will get done. You weren’t the type to just give up and throw in the towel. 

You haven’t even realized you’ve completely zoned out until you hear footsteps coming into your studio. When you fixate on who is hesitantly standing toward the door, a confused expression crosses your face. 

“Jungkook?” 

“I’m late?” He jokes, retorting your smart ass comment from the other day. You can’t help but laugh some as he approaches you. He’s curiously looking around your working space with wide doe eyes. “The lighting is great in here,” he comments. 

“I held Seokijn at gunpoint for this room,” you attempt to make a joke. He giggles so you’re satisfied. You’ve only been in class with him once since his first day last week. From what you’ve distantly observed about this Jungkook guy, it’s that he’s quiet and reserved, but quite talented. Seokjin must be feeling very sorry for you given he hasn’t needed you in class the past few days. That, or he’s just pissed that you haven’t done shit and it’s him telling you to get the hint.

“Everything good?” You ask him to break the silence, trying to be a “teacherly” as you could. Perhaps he had a question that Seokjin wasn’t available to answer. Or needed to know where certain pigments were. Or just needed a second opinion on a piece he’s started. Jungkook has made his way over to you, leaning at the table where Sana was just sat. 

“Seokjin needs you to work the afternoon class by yourself,” he explains and you’re a little confused. 

“Okay…?” You trail off, looking at him curiously. He’s dressed in a large short sleeve shirt, baggy jeans, and a slick pair of Nike’s. As he crosses his arms over his chest, you take quick notice of an array of tattoos covering his right forearm. It makes something deep within you stir. 

“Is he busy? Did he send you to tell me or something?” You ask. 

He’s staring at you intently with purpose. You’re suddenly insecure under his gaze, knowing you cannot possibly look put together with your hair thrown up and smudged glasses. 

“I volunteered,” he shrugged, his eyes looking over to the current painting you’re working on. It’s not too large of a canvas, so it sits on your large easel with ease. His words make you stir again. “This is a nice color,” he compliments. 

You laugh out of your nose, “It’s shit.” 

You can feel his eyes on your profile as you look at the painting. The orange you’ve laid down is only the base color and you don’t even know what you’re going to turn it into.

“Do you specialize in realism?” He asks you, again with a burning curiosity in his tone. This is the most you’ve heard him speak since he’s showed up. His voice is soft and smooth like honey, unlike Taehyung’s where—

“Yes,” you cut your thoughts off. 

“Me too,” he responds as your gaze meets his. You give him a small smile in unity. You’ve nearly forgotten lunch that Sana has brought you until a grumble goes through your stomach. You cross your arms over your stomach, feeling embarrassed under his gaze. 

“See you this afternoon?” He says, getting the signal for him to let you have your lunch break. 

“Will do,” you nod, “Thanks for letting me know.” 

He pushes off the table, “Of course.” 

His gaze breaks from yours as he walks away from you and your workspace. Just as he is about to walk out, you stop him. 

“It’s Y/N by the way,” you call out formally. He stops in his tracks, halfway turning to you again with a subtle smirk on his face. 

“I know.” And like that, he’s left. Something even deeper inside you not only stirs, but intensely electrifies you. You’re devouring your salad before you can let any other thoughts consume your brain. 

⏤

“Cheers!” Jimin is smiling eagerly as you all hold your shot glasses up in the center of the table. You all down, up, down the shots of soju before you quickly tip them back. It burns going down your throat, but it felt too good. Sana was right—it had been way too long since you’ve been able to catch up with everyone. Sana sits to your left, Jimin across from you, Hoseok to your right, Jennie beside Jimin, and Namjoon at the head of the table. 

“Never gets easier,” Hoseok makes a face as he quickly takes a sip of his soda for a chaser. You tease him by bumping his side, going back to eating the meat in front of you. Jimin was at the helm of cooking the meats and as always, did a fabulous job. 

The Korean BBQ place wasn’t too far from your studio apartment and the university. It was yummy, cheap, and some of your friend’s favorite. It was a no brainer for all of you to meet up here after a long day. Thankfully you were able to finish your work early today, but only because once again, nothing of substance was spawning on your canvas. 

“Namjoon,” Sana says, “When are you leaving for New York?” 

“Next week,” he says as he sips on his light colored beer. 

“Oh! Taehyung’s going this weekend,” you add into the conversation.

“Work trip?” He asks you, nodding in confirmation. It wasn’t anything new—Taehyung made bi-monthly trips to Wall Street. “If he’s staying long enough we’ll have to get a beer together,” he says. 

“I’ll ask him for you,” you smile, though it fades away quickly. You felt that twang in your chest when you thought about Taehyung leaving for work trips. Not because you didn’t trust him—you just missed him. Then again, he’s building a life of security for the two of you, so you couldn’t blame him too much. 

“How’s the apprenticeship going Y/N?” Jennie asks you as the others talk amongst themselves. 

“It’s going,” you try to sound light-hearted and that it’s actually not killing you. “I’m done after this semester,” you add. 

She nods—Jennie worked in social media for a fashion company. She was creative for sure—but not to the level of you and Sana. The three of you had known each other the longest, the other three boys tagging along as the college years went by. 

“Are you going to free-lance after?” She asks. As much as you know she doesn’t mean harm—any question about the future makes you anxious. You had no idea what you were planning on doing after your apprenticeship was up. You were just hoping working under Kim Seokjin would stick out enough on your resume that something would fall into your lap. With your parents consistently down your throat, something had to fall into your lap. Hell, you would even pull the nepotism card if you had to.

“We’ll see,” you shrug as you continue to eat your food. You were feeling a little bit of a buzz at this point and you knew that you should probably slow down on the drinks. 

The six of you all continue talking amongst yourselves aimlessly. You find yourself zoning in and out as you continue to think about Seokjin, your art, Taehyung, moving in together—your brain was cloudy and you felt stuffy. Something’s gotta give soon or you were sure you were going to explode. You didn’t understand—you have a good life, a good boyfriend, a talent not many people possess, fun friends—you didn’t know what was wrong with you. 

You end up excusing yourself, the alcohol inside you making you need some some fresh air. You try to ignore everyone’s concerned glances coming your way as you stand. You take your phone and head towards the front door. As you push the door open, the chilly spring air feels divine on your skin.

Deciding to get out of sight of your friends given the large glass windows, you make your way to the side of the restaurant, where an alley separates it from another small business. Luckily the area was safe, with no alley being too dimly lit to make you uncomfortable. 

As you round the corner, the smell of cigarettes fill your nostrils and you’re stopping dead in your tracks. Leaned up against the side of the restaurant, scrolling through a phone, and a cigarette hanging from their lips—is Jeon Jungkook. 

“Jungkook?” His name slips from your lips before you can stop it. He quickly responds by looking up from his device, looking somewhat startled. He looks panicked as he quickly removes the cigarette from his mouth, about to let it drop to the ground before he drops it. 

“It’s fine, I don’t mind,” you shake your head as you slowly step towards him, “My mom smokes when she paints.” 

He raises his eyebrows at you slowly putting the cigarette back between his lips, “Is she an artist too?” 

He’s wearing slim-fitted jeans and a multiple colored pullover, with a prominent shade of orange through the middle. It reminds you of the conversation you had with Sana yesterday. His hair is tousled a little, but still fairly straight and dark. He plays with his lip ring until you answer him.

“Both my parents are,” you respond, settling against the building opposite of him. He’s already got a few inches on you, but with his fancy tennis shoes, it gives him even more height. 

“That’s gotta be rough,” he laughs while blowing out smoke away from your direction. 

You laugh with him, settling for a short nod, “What about your parents?” 

He hesitates before taking another drag, “My dad is in banking, my mom stays at home.” While he’s answered your question, he doesn’t seem enthusiastic about it. You wonder what type of banking his father is into, so you ask him. 

“Investment and private banking,” is what he says. Your boyfriend’s face flashes into your head, but for whatever reason, you don’t mention him to Jungkook. He’s practically your student—he doesn’t have to know every detail about your life. 

“Does he enjoy it?”

He quickly shakes his head, “He’s been miserable for as long as I can remember, my mom even more so,” he says it like it’s a joke, but it makes something in your chest squeezes tightly, your mouth dries up, and your hands go clammy. Though he doesn’t voice it, he senses a demeanor change so he offers you a drag from his cigarette. 

You don’t hesitate to say yes as he passes you the little nicotine stick. Your fingers brush against his when he passes it off to you. Again, you have to ignore whatever is stirring deep within you. As you inhale the smoke, your head buzzes even further, settling your worries the tiniest bit. There’s no way that would become you and Taehyung. No way. 

“What are you doing here?” You ask. 

“Meeting some friends for drinks,” he explains, “But everyone’s late, as usual,” he laughs. 

“I hate when people are late,” you mutter, taking another drag of the cigarette. Jungkook agrees with you, asking what you’re doing here. “I’m with a few friends, we haven’t all been able to see each other much recently.” 

You reach out to give him back his cigarette but he shakes his head, “It’s yours,” his eyes have a glimmer in them that’s innocent but provocative all at the same time. 

“Thanks,” you say and nearly rolling your eyes at how much you probably look like your mother right now. You wouldn’t really take that as a compliment. 

“You did well teaching yesterday,” he completely does a 180 on the subject, but the praise makes you smile at him. Positive reinforcement—works every time. 

You thank him again, “I was actually pretty nervous.” 

“I don’t think any of us would have thought that,” he pauses, examining your face closely, “Have you thought about teaching when you’re done under Seokjin?” 

You shake your head, “Not really,” the cigarette is down to the butt so you throw it out, stepping on it with your white tennis shoe. 

“Maybe you should,” he says it with a genuine tone it almost makes you think it’s something you should consider. 

“I feel like this is you trying to take my job,” you raise your eyebrow at him and he only smirks through his laugh. Under the dim lighting, it really does excentuate how attractive he is. 

“Is it that obvious?” He cocks his head to the side quickly, glancing down your front in the process. You know absolutely nothing about this man except his dad is an investment banker and he’s Seokjin’s student. Despite that, you feel too comfortable with him and you know you shouldn’t. Goddamn; you were sure you were losing it at this point. 

You’re about to say something else before your phone vibrates continuously in your back pocket. You pull it out of your trousers, cursing under your breath when you see Sana’s name pull up on the screen. 

“Hey! Are you still here?” You can tell she’s still inside the restaurant given the commotion in the back. She also sounds even more drunk than when you left her. As much as you love your friends, you knew that going back inside was not what you needed. Jungkook watches you intensely, but you can’t keep his gaze continuously. 

“I uh,” you pause trying to think on your feet, “I actually wasn’t feeling too well so I ended up leaving.. would you kill me if I just sent you a Venmo for my food?” 

“Oh! Are you okay?! Of course I don’t care! Did you get a ride home?” 

You answer all of her questions in order quickly, wanting to get off the phone before she actually realized you were still there, just standing outside in the alley with your “student.”

“Text me when you make it home!” Is the last thing she says. 

After you hang up, Jungkook is still looking at you curiously. 

“Ditching you friends?” 

“My social meter has about run out… I need to head home anyways,” you trail off, leaning back against the wall behind you. 

“Do you live around here?” He mirrors your actions, leaning back and watching you. His gaze follows you like the Mona Lisa. You settle with the fact you don’t mind. His eyes look like they hold stars and you’ve always liked stargazing. 

“Yeah, not too far from here,” you say. 

“I’ll walk you home then.” 

You furrow your eyebrows, protesting heavily, “No, no it’s all good I promise! Your friends are waiting for you.” 

He’s suddenly giving you a smile where one side of his lips tug upwards before he’s biting his lip ring again. You don’t know why but you like that too. 

“Lucky for you, my social meter has run out too.” 

⏤

You know that having Jungkook walk you home would probably look extremely bad to someone if they knew the situation. Jeon Jungkook, senior art student for Kim Seokjin, and you, apprentice for Kim Seokjin, walking you home alone on a Thursday evening. It wasn’t that you thought he was attractive that it would look bad—that could be kept secret—more so just the power dynamic may look bad. The two of you have been talking aimlessly about random things, nothing too deep, until he says—

“How’d you get into art?” He asks as he walks beside you, about 6 inches separating you two. “I know you said your parents were artists, but why’d you follow the same path?” 

It’s a question you’ve pondered yourself many times as of recent. You wonder if Jeon Jungkook can read your mind. 

“I guess it’s just that,” you half-laugh, “It’s just something I naturally picked up so young and as I got older I just wanted to learn more mediums, create more, perfect the craft…” you trail off, still unsure if you’ve answered his question. He looks at you as you walk, but you’re looking forward so you don’t notice. 

“What did you start with?” You know exactly what he means. 

“Well like most kids I started with crayons and watercolor,” you pause and he nods in agreement, “Everything really changed for me though when I started doing realism through pencil and charcoal work when I was like twelve, which eventually moved on to painting.” 

He hums like he finds this information fascinating. Even if he doesn’t, it makes you feel like you’re being heard. It’s hard for non-art friends to understand the process of moving from one thing to the next, your brain constantly trying to find something new to work with. 

“Funny, you and I must have been on parallel paths,” he says it like its a joke and you end up smiling. 

“Where are you from?” You turn your head up to ask him. You find his eyes already looking at you. 

“Busan, just by the sea.” 

“And that’s where our paths are different,” you’re nudging his arm with your elbow before you realize it and you immediately regret it, pulling away quickly. It’s a habit you have when you’re talking to someone you’re comfortable with, specifically Taehyung. 

"Did you move here just for school then?" you ask him curiously.

He shakes his head, "No my family and I moved here when I was quite young, due to my dad's job," he explains.

"What do your parents think about you being an artist?"

The older you got, the less of a choice you felt like you had in terms of your career and path with your parents consistently down your throat. You'd love to know what it was like to actually choose this path of constant praise and validation.

"My mom is very easy going... she doesn't have much of an opinion about it," he pauses, moving closer to you slightly to dodge a pothole, "It's definitely not what my father would have chosen for me, but since my older brother went to school for business, I think it's lessened the blow for me," he laughs.

You decide right here that you think Jungkook's smile is probably the most beautiful you've ever seen. You don't even realize how long you've been staring at him in silence until his eyes meet yours again.

You clear your throat, “You really didn’t have to walk me home.” 

He shoves his hands into the pockets of his pullover, “It’s no big deal, I don’t live too far from here either.” 

“Do you live alone?” You don’t know why you’re asking such personal questions. 

“Yeah, just got my own place actually..” He says it with a faint smile. “Do you?”

“Yeah,” not for long. But again, you don’t mention it. 

“I’ll have to come see it one day,” you’re positive he’s not even sure what he’s said. Given how he said it so nonchalantly and natural though, tells you differently. You’re stunned to speak for a moment, until you finally find your voice that comes through like a weakened child. 

“I’m not sure that’s appropriate given my relationship to you,” you try to make your answer seem cool and collected. You think it comes across this way and you hope he thinks it came across that way. 

“Aren’t we friends?” He muses, something hidden behind his tone. 

“Are we?” You retort. What do you mean, is his next question. “We’ve just met as of last week and I don’t know much about you…” 

Again, he looks at you cheekily as you turn left down the street that leads to your apartment complex. 

“That can be easily changed.” 

At this point, you’re sure he’s flirting with you. Flirting with his goddamn teaching apprentice assistant. You have to shoot it down—fast. You don’t like how the idea of another man flirting with you makes you feel—mainly because it’s not a negative feeling. 

“I’m just up here,” you motion toward the large complex you live in. It’s a nice, private community that luckily you can afford on your apprenticeship salary. Your parents will help you from time to time which is something you can’t complain about, but for the most part, it’s just you and your gray tabby—Sushi. 

“Thanks for walking me home again,” is what you say as he leads you up to the main entrance. 

“No problem,” he responds as he stops walking as you continue forward up the short set of stairs. You turn around, looking down at him two steps up from him. The wind is blowing some, his hair looking soft and touchable. Tuggable, even. 

“Sorry if I took you from your friends,” you don’t know why but you can’t find it in yourself to walk away from him just yet. You’re unsure the last time a stranger was this nice to you. Despite your first two crashing meetings, Jeon Jungkook seems like a genuine soul. 

“Back at you,” he nods before his chest rises slowly, his gaze not leaving yours, “I enjoyed this more.” 

A faint smile spreads across your lips, unable to hide it. You don’t even want to hide it. He’s been so nice to you that it makes you feel giddy on the inside. It’s reminiscent of when you had your first date with Taehyung. The single thought of him, drains all emotion from your face when you realize what you’ve just thought. 

You need to leave. 

“I’ll see you around,” you finally murk up the courage to dissolve this evening, “Thank you again, Jungkook.” 

He holds your gaze, a glimmer in his eyes as they reflect in the street light. Definitely looks like stars.

 “Anytime.” 

⏤

Unlike most Fridays, this one had your mood shifted in the dumps. Straying from your normal routine, Taehyung’s flight for New York was leaving this evening. You hadn’t even seen him since last weekend, but you tried your well not to dwell too much. This was just another part of your routine together. He would be back before you knew it. 

You are currently sat with a few of the students outside on a coffee break of your own, them on lunch break. There was a large section of the rooftop that was flat with tables and extravagant plants along the sides of the roof. It was probably the most peaceful and serene part of this entire side of the university.

You’re sat with Jisoo, Lisa, Yugyeom, and Jungkook around a circular table. The weather is getting so nice and the sun’s vitamin D feels too good against your skin. You’re sat sideways in the chair, your legs hanging off one side of armrests, an iced coffee balancing in your lap. Despite you being older than all the students here, a one year difference truly isn’t anything. Sometimes you still felt like you were in university when hanging out with all of them. 

“How’s your exhibition pieces going Y/N?” Yugyeom is the one who asks the question. You’ve taken notice him and Jungkook have become good buddies in a short amount of time. You can feel the latter’s eyes on you, but you intentionally ignore him. 

“Awful,” you don’t even attempt to sugar coat it. You know that they’ve probably heard Seokjin’s scoldings recently. 

“Really? But your winter exhibition pieces were so good,” Lisa pipes in. Your stomach sinks and you wish you could curl into yourself even more. 

“I thought so too,” Jungkook’s voice suddenly appears and you turn your gaze to him. He’s sat to your left, but Jisoo is in between you two. 

“How’d you see them?” You don’t mean it to come off harsh, but given he’s transferred here in the middle of the semester, there’s no way he could have seen them. 

“I was in Park Kihyun’s department before I switched to Seokjin’s,” he says, leaning back into his chair as he sips on what looks to be banana milk. Today he’s wearing an all black ensemble of a black t-shirt and baggy black sweatpants. 

You make a noise of understanding. That makes much more sense. Park Kihyun was another highly respected artist and professor at the university. Probably even more than Kim Seokjin. He was head of the honors department of the university which is a cult of its own. You were talented as hell, but not even Kihyun would consider you for the honors program, let alone an apprenticeship. He was by far the hardest professor you ever, ever had which is why you only took one class from him. You learned your lesson fast. Though it’s quite impressive to hear Jungkook was in his department. You wonder why he switched, but you probably already know too much about Jungkook, so you leave it. 

“I’m sure everything will work out Y/N,” Lisa gives you a reassuring smile from across the table. 

“It’s just a funk, I’ll break out of it,” you shrug your shoulders. At this point, you’re hoping if you say it out loud enough, that the funk will indeed be broken. 

More talk occurs between everyone, though Jungkook doesn’t say much. When he does speak, he contributes a funny joke here and there. He’s deliberate with what he says and you understand that. One of your better traits is that you don’t act out of pure emotion. You want what you say to matter and no get lost in translation. Perhaps another parallel between you and Jungkook. 

“Y/N!” Someone bellows from behind you, “You’ve got a visitor!” 

Your eyebrows furrow as you swing your legs down, to turn around to see who is your so-called visitor. You put a hand up above your brows, to close out the sun. When your vision focuses, your heart swells at the sight. It also lurches with anxiety. 

“Taehyung?” You ask him as he’s approaching you with a bag of food from what looks to be your favorite sushi restaurant down the street, “You didn’t tell me you were coming.” 

You stand to meet him once he approaches the table. You can feel everyone’s eyes burning holes in you. Everyone here knows you have a boyfriend, having seen Taehyung many times. All except one. 

“I wanted to surprise you before I left,” he sets your food down on the table before waving to everyone, “Hey guys.” 

Everyone doesn’t miss a beat in greeting Taehyung before he turns back to you, pulling you in for a hug. He places a kiss on your temple gently just as you meet Jungkook’s eyes from your stance. He watches you curiously before they flick to Taehyung, his tongue playing with his lip ring. 

“My coworkers and I decided to get lunch on this side of town and I wanted to bring you some,” he says while looking down at you. Of course he’s dressed in a perfectly tailored navy suit and shined shoes, his hair a little slicked back today. You would love nothing more than to hop onto a plane with him to NYC, but unfortunately investment bankers don’t get plus ones on business trips. 

“You didn’t have to do that,” you’re speaking in a lower register, hoping that your lunch group’s own conversations drown out yours. 

“I wanted to,” he smiles, one hand squeezing your waist in reassurance, “Listen um, my trip may be a little longer than I expected,” his voice is low and deep, hesitant even. 

Your heart feels like it clenches in your chest and you’re sure whatever color was in your face is gone. So this is why he wanted to come see you. 

“How much longer?” You whisper, trying to keep your composure. You’re sure you can feel a certain someone’s eyes on you, but you can’t look at anyone but Taehyung. 

“Maybe two weeks, max,” he says quickly and trying to remove any doubts from you. You look down at your feet for a split second before you glance back up. 

“That’s okay,” you grimace, knowing you can’t control it so why is there reason to be upset? “Namjoon’s gonna be there… you guys should meet up.” 

He nods with a small smile, his eyes searching yours deeply. He knows you and he knows that you’re not happy right now, but Taehyung had no choice. Work calls and work calls hard and fast. You both knew that. He gives you another temple kiss, this one a little longing. 

“I love you,” he says, giving you a hug. You don’t even care to be embarrassed of PDA in front of the others. This was your boyfriend of years—you could hug him in public if you wanted. 

“I love you too,” you pause, “Have a safe flight.” 

Taehyung speaks to the rest of the gang for a couple moments. He’s only asking how everyone is since he recognizes everyone, even if he can’t remember everyone’s names exactly. 

“I don’t think we’ve met?” Taehyung questions the dark haired boy a couple feet from him. 

“I’m Jungkook,” he says, his voice slightly cold, “I just transferred into this department.” 

You watch the interaction carefully, your palms sweaty and your heart rate up. You can’t pinpoint why you feel nervous like this in front of Jungkook. More specifically, in front of Jungkook with Taehyung right here. You were sure if Taehyung knew Jungkook walked you home last night he would have been thankful, but another part of you thinks it would have made him pissed, given you weren’t with him at the restaurant to begin with. 

“Nice to meet you,” Taehyung smiles before glancing at his watch, “Alright, I gotta run babe. I’ll text you when I get to the airport.” 

You tell him okay before he pecks you on the lips, leaving swiftly after. Jungkook looks away, a hand of his finding its way to the back of his head to scratch it awkwardly. You seem to be stuck in place, unable to sit back down until Lisa grabs your attention. As much as you appreciated the sushi, the last thing you felt like doing was eating. 

As you sit down, Lisa asks if everything’s okay. You don’t miss a beat when you say yes, shrugging off your apparent sadness. Your eyes meet Jungkook’s briefly and you can tell he doesn’t see through your bullshit. You can’t tell if it makes you uncomfortable or if you’re grateful for it.

⏤

Your phone dings, prompting you to set down your pencil. You open the a text from Taehyung, smiling down at your phone. When you expand the photo, it’s a picture of Namjoon with Taehyung holding a beer out in front of him. It’s clearly from last night, given it is early morning in New York now, but still charms you. Namjoon worked as a writer for an art magazine—hence why he traveled the most of all of your friends. From Paris to NYC to Amsterdam—Namjoon has been there, done that. 

You respond with a simple Miss you❤️

It’s been a few days since he left now and thankfully, he’s been pretty responsive and active on his phone. In the past, some of his work trips have been so busy there were days in which the two of you wouldn’t talk at all. 

You stretch your legs out on the small sofa you have in your workspace. You grab your sketch book from your lap, tending back to what you were drawing. You liked doing pencil work in between the major pieces that would actually be submitted for galleries and exhibitions. 

“You’re still here?” 

A voice startles you, jumping slightly in your position. You crane your neck to the door where you find Jungkook has made his way into your space. Given you had the door open and Jungkook has become a good acquaintance to you, you don’t mind—but a knock would have been nice. 

You glance down at your watch. It’s almost 8 PM, the light outside barely poking through the darkness now. You honestly hadn’t even noticed. You stayed cooped up in your work space pretty much all day. 

“And you’re still here?” You retort, watching as Jungkook saunters over towards you. He looks tired, his bag looking a hundred pounds on his shoulder. You scrunch up your legs to give him a signal he can sit if he wants. You notice he has on black converse, matching the ones on your feet. You’ve always liked when guys wear converse, though you know Taehyung wouldn’t be caught dead wearing them. 

He lets out a deep sigh as he plops down on the small couch. He runs a hand through his hair, letting out a yawn. You have to fight your own as you watch him. 

“Long day?” You ask him. 

He nods slowly, “I was nearly finished with the piece I’ve been working on but I wasn’t paying attention and ended up streaking my canvas.” he explains.

"Aren't those just happy little accidents?" you quirk an eyebrow and he lets out a deep laugh.

“Seokjin made me start over, so no," when his eyes meet yours, you catch your breath.

You scrunch your nose up, “Sounds like Seokjin,” you give him half a laugh. 

“Why are you still here?” 

You look around the now dimly lit room, with a shrug. You picked up a paint brush for 10 minutes four hours ago. You had no idea why you were still here. 

“Lost track of time,” you shut your sketch book, stretching your arms slightly. “Is anyone else here?”

Jungkook shakes his head, “Not that I’ve seen,” he pauses, “This feels like the start to a horror movie.” 

You laugh with a sputtering of your lips. Jungkook made a good point. A late Wednesday evening, two people alone in a huge university hall, pretty much all lights killed, and quiet enough to hear a pin drop. It was the perfect storm. 

“As long as we’re both virgins, we should be safe right?” You raise an eyebrow at him, a joking tone to your voice. Luckily, he understands your reference as he laughs with a side smirk. 

“Totally,” he licks his lips which you watch shamelessly, but quickly looking away not wanting him to see you stare. “Need a walking buddy home?” Is his next question. 

As much as you should refuse, given the time and proximity of your and Jungkook’s apartment from the school, it only makes sense. It’s not long after you’ve gathered your things that you and Jungkook are locking up your studio, headed towards the direction of your apartment. 

The entire walk is peaceful and comfortable. You walk with your hands shoved into your sweatpants pockets, Jungkook mirroring you, keeping a good distance between you two. You talk about random things, with each conversation flowing easier than others. You feel as if Jungkook is quickly moving from student acquaintance to actual friend. You were friends with most of the people in the classes you assisted, but you had never interacted with them as much as you had Jungkook. He just always seemed to be there—though you didn’t mind his company at all. 

You’re currently laughing at something he’s said about a childhood story about him and his brother. You now know the reason for the faint scar on the left side of cheek. You would have never taken Jungkook as a competitive person, but getting to know him a little more day by day, he most definitely is. 

The two of you have almost made it to your apartment complex when sudden, heavy raindrops begin to fall from the sky. 

“Shit,” you mutter as you two have taken brief cover under a business awning. 

“C’mon,” Jungkook encourages with a short laugh, grabbing your forearm to pull you behind him. It’s hard to keep up with his quick steps, but you manage. 

While you two ended up at your complex entrance faster than you would have at your previous pace—you both are still soaked. The rain has also chilled the air, sending a shiver down your spine. Jungkook is muttering something about how Busan has always had much better weather when you get a full look at him. His hair is wet and flat to his head, but he’s pushing his fringe back to expose his forehead. His white t-shirt sticks to his chest, his silver chain grabbing the light. You gulp, a familiar stir in your tummy. 

“Do you want to come up and dry your things? Or a least grab an Uber or something to get to your place?” You’re mouth is offering the words before you can think about them. Fuck—that was stupid. 

As Jungkook looks down at your frame, he’s contemplating your offer, but then says—“No, no it’s okay, I’ll be fine.” 

You counter, “No please, I definitely have sweatshirts big enough for you.” 

He looks back out at the rain that has only seemingly got worse. He lets out an exhale before nodding, thanking you in the process. 

Once you cross the threshold of your apartment, you instantly feel warmer but also more claustrophobic. This had to have been a horrible mistake. Your apartment was your safe haven—with very few people ever getting the chance to see your space. Taehyung and Sana were the only regulars in your home. You’re hyper aware glancing around the kitchen room and living room area, thanking yourself for cleaning up last night. Jungkook has already witnessed how much of a mess your art is, the last thing you need is for him to think your home is a mess too. 

You excuse yourself to retrieve a sweatshirt for him and a new t-shirt for you to throw on. After you change, you nearly stop in your tracks when Jungkook is pulling the wet t-shirt off his frame. His back is to you, but god—it’s a hot back. His frame isn’t that big, but he’s got defined muscles well, everywhere. 

You approach him slowly, alerting him that you have a sweatshirt for him. The two of you trade items of clothing, gaze holding anywhere but him. Luckily for him, you pretty much only bought sweatshirts double your size, so the Nirvana sweatshirt fit over his frame nicely. 

“Your place is nice,” he comments as you throw his t-shirt into your dryer. 

“Thanks,” you give him a smile when you walk back into your kitchen. He’s sat at one of your barstools, watching your frame intently as you rummage through a cabinet above your microwave. Your eyes widen at the sight, stomach grumbling the process. You hadn’t ate in hours and you were sure you could eat a horse at this point. 

“Do you want one?” You look over your shoulder as you stand on your tip-toes to pull down an instant ramen cup. 

“Was my hunger that obvious?” He laughs and you roll your eyes, grabbing him a cup too. You whip up both of your instant ramens in less than 5 minutes, handing him a pair of chopsticks when you’re finished. 

As you’re about to rip open the flavor packet and squeeze it in like your normally would, Jungkook’s method has you stopping in your tracks. He’s got the flavor packet carefully tucked between his teeth, a chopstick on either side of the packet pushing out every drop of the sauce you could possibly get. 

“That’s fucking genius,” you marvel at him, mouth still slightly agape. “Did you come up with that?” 

He laughs, his nose scrunching up in the process, “Probably not, but I’ll pretend I did just for that reaction.” 

You ask him to help you, knowing that you will now be using this ramen hack till the day you die. He carefully tears a small rip the packet for you, telling you to take the corner between your teeth. You follow suit with the chopsticks and you’re simply amazed again as you watch the flavoring all dump into the noodles—none of it wasted. 

He laughs at you as you continue to rave about the genius of this ramen hack, questioning whether or not Namjoon knows about it given he’s the smartest person you know—even though he has no idea who Namjoon is. Then suddenly, Jungkook jumps slightly in the barstool, looking down at his legs. 

“You okay?” You ask with concern as you put your chopsticks down. 

At Jungkook’s feet is a little grey tabby cat—a little chubby, but cute as hell—staring up at him as it rubs its head against his ankle. 

“I see you have a cat,” he comments, looking down at it with an endearing expression. 

“Oh! Yeah,” you pause, taking a couple steps around the kitchen island to see him, “His name is Sushi…” you trail off, not believing the sight in front of you, “And he seems to like you?” 

“Hi Sushi,” he says with a mouthful of noodles before he swallows. It's cute. “Does he not like people?” 

“He usually just doesn’t like men,” you watch in awe as Sushi then lays down right at Jungkook’s feet, continuing to stare up at him. “He’s just gotten to where he can stand Taehyung, and I’ve had him for two years.” 

You don’t know why you tense up when you mention your boyfriend. Maybe it’s because you know Jungkook probably shouldn’t be in your apartment. Maybe it’s where Jungkook’s presence makes you feel nervous, yet a little too comfortable. He doesn’t know you as a friend who’s been in a serious relationship her entire 20’s. He knows you as the friend who happens to be his teacher’s apprentice. 

Jungkook though, uses this as a window of opportunity. 

“How long have you two been together?” He chooses his words carefully, not wanting to come off too strong or curious—though he absolutely was. After your boyfriend had come visit you last week, he had an array of questions.

You take a deep breath in and out, leaning against the counter, “Almost five years.” 

“Damn,” is what he says after a moment of silence, “That’s half a decade.” 

You laugh at his comment, “Sounds longer when you put it like that.” 

He finishes his ramen, “Thanks again,” he says as you take his chopsticks and stick them in the dishwasher. You then turn your back to throw away the cup. “How’d you meet him?” 

You pause momentarily as you open the cabinet where your trash can resides, clearing your throat, “Through mutual friends.”

You turn around and Jungkook nods knowingly, taking another glance around your apartment. Your apartment is decorated simply, but he can read the flares of a scatter brained artist easily. You have olive green cabinets, a cream sectional sofa with mismatched colored pillows, a funky shaped coffee table that’s a pink marble, and a corner of your living room that’s a bit of a clutter with art supplies. It makes him smile inwardly, as he has a similar clutter up in his own living room. 

You watch him as he studies your apartment carefully. Deep down, you hope that he likes it. After all, it wouldn’t be much longer that this space wouldn’t be yours anymore. As his eyes come back to the kitchen, something in particular catches his eye. You can pick up on it, giving the widening of his pupils and straightening of his posture. 

“You got tickets Yayoi Kusama’s exhibit?” His says almost stunned. You follow his eyes over to the small bulletin board you have hung up in your kitchen. You stick important reminders and other tasks for you on it, but what Jungkook is looking at are two tickets tacked the board. 

“Yeah, Taehyung got them for my birthday.” 

Your heart sinks as the words leave your mouth. You couldn’t’ even imaged what Taehyung paid for the tickets, but he knew once he realized the exhibit was coming to the city, he had to get them for you. The two of you were going to go together, making an entire planned Saturday around the exhibit. Now, those plans were shot out the window given he was going to be in New York until next week. 

“Shit, I can’t imagine what he paid for them,” he seems to be speaking his thoughts, which coincidentally match your own. “You’ll have to take pictures, I’ve always wanted to see it.” 

As your shoulders fall, eyes looking down at your ring finger again—an awful habit you need to break. 

“I’m not going anymore.” 

“Wait, why not?” His voice is rushed and confused. It’s just then when your dryer dings, signaling his shirt is now done. You give him a small smile as you leave to retrieve it, hurrying back the kitchen. 

“Taehyung’s still on a business trip, he won’t be back until next week,” you explain as you fold his shirt with crisp, clean lines. You slide the fabric over to him, his hand brushing yours as he grabs it hesitantly. 

“You should still go,” he says, leaning on his elbows. His gaze his heavy, but he’s mesmerizing so you can’t look away. 

You start to shake your head, “It’s alright,” you say with a half laugh, trying to make it seem as if it doesn’t bother you. 

Jungkook perhaps regrets his next words and how fast he says them but—“I’ll go with you.” 

Your mouth slightly parts, unsure of what to say. If you acted on emotions all the time, you would have jumped to say yes, of course! But as your boyfriend’s face flashes across your eyelids every time you blink, you hesitate to answer. 

“I’m sorry I shouldn’t have,” he laughs, breaking the awkward tension in the room, but as you glance at the tickets again—you know you can’t say no to him. 

“No, no, you’re fine,” you smile at him softly; the kind of smile that girls give Jungkook that drives him crazy. “You really don’t have to if you don’t want to.” 

Jungkook is good a reading people—which scares you. Jungkook can sense every change in people’s breath, demeanor, and language. You’re sure he could read how you fell sad thinking about not going to the exhibit, but you also didn’t want him to tag along out of pity for you. 

“If you want to go, I want to,” he pauses, leaning towards you from across where you stand. “If you don’t, then I don’t,” it’s almost a challenge coming from his lips. He chews on his lips ring as he waits for your answer. 

After a few moments of debating internally, “I’ll let you know,” is what you leave it at. Jungkook seems satisfied with your answer, not pressuring you any further to give in to his proposition. Jungkook goes in an Uber soon after since the rain has not given up. Sushi meows as he leaves, even allowing Jungkook to hold him for some quick cuddles. Once he’s gone, the only traces of him left are his faded scent in your sweatshirt and his number in your phone. 

⏤

It’s now Saturday, you and Jungkook standing in line for Kusama’s exhibit. He met you here about thirty minutes ago and luckily both of you didn’t arrive any later. The line was moving fast, but the amount of people that’s accumulated behind you goes on for what seems like a mile. 

It was quite warm today, opting to wear a white, polka dotted midi-dress and a pair of high top converse. Your hair was down and a bit messy, curls from the other day having fallen slightly. A compliment was the first thing that left Jungkook’s mouth when he saw you. You absolutely hate the bubbly feeling his gaze and words leave in your stomach. It’s reminiscent of how Taehyung left you when you first met. You know you should ignore it, but it’s so hard when he’s standing there looking like that—seemingly always saying the right things. 

Today, he’s dressed casually in a pair of baggy jeans that you’ve seen him wear before, a yellow t-shirt, and a black bucket hat. You can’t help but glance down at his tattooed arm every once in a while. You think about how you’d love to hear the stories behind them all. You also think about how is pain tolerance must be insanely high, given his shirtless escapade at your place, you noticed how the tattoos traveled all the way up to his right shoulder 

After both of your tickets are scanned and a map of the exhibit is given to him, he opens it, his eyes scanning over the paper quickly. 

“Where should we go first?” He asks as he lean over to peak at what’s to see. Unlike most art galleries which are quiet, this one has softer music accompanying each room, making it less awkward to talk if need be. 

“This one,” you point to the biggest, most famous room that you’ve heard all about. It’s a dark room, with intricate lights throughout. You hoped that pictures you’ve seen of it we’re only doing it half-justice. 

He laughs a deep rumble from his chest, “Shouldn’t we do that one last?” He looks down at you with a small smirk on his face. 

You furrow your eyebrows, “No, it’s the most famous one, don’t you want to see it?” 

His smirk spreads to a smile, “I know that,” he pauses, “Let’s do that one last so we have something to look forward to, and maybe there won’t be as many people in there by the time we get to it.” 

Okay, you think, fair point. 

The two of you settle on starting at the All the Eternal l Love I Have for the Pumpkins. As soon as you walk into the room, you are completely in awe at the magnificent work. Despite it being mid spring, the “pumpkins” on display along with fall-oriented music in the background, makes you desperately wish for the cooler weather of October. Jungkook is fascinated too as his eyes only get bigger as he takes in each and every detail. 

The two of you make your way around the exhibit slowly, having to wait for some of the rooms to open since the gallery is quite crowded. The next room you go into is called Dots Obsession—Love Transformed into Dots. It’s got a pink hue to it, large white balls with black dots on them. 

“I think you stole her idea,” Jungkook comments as you take pictures, his eyes scanning down your dress. You flip him off, which he responds with a laugh. 

Phalli’s Field is the next room. Unlike the previous rooms, this one is bright with what looks like a field of while, red-dot phallic shaped objects. Jungkook ends up taking a mirror selfie of you two in this room and you make a mental note to ask him to send it to you later. 

The next one is called Love Forever, another dark room with a changing light color pattern that’s abstract in nature. This one makes you think of Taehyung and rightfully so. You know that he would have enjoyed this, given that he likes art that’s stimulating and not “boring”—his words, not yours. You snap a picture of this one for him, hoping that he’ll like it and the name. 

The second to last one is called Aftermath of Obliteration of Eternity. 

“Jesus,” you say after you read the name of it, “Realist much?” 

Jungkook laughs as he follows you into the room. It’s dark again, with twinkling yellow colored lights filling the space. It reminds you of a fire. The yellow flickers to a slight orange shade every millisecond, giving off a summery feel. It makes you think of your childhood, when your parents would take you to the beach and roast marshmallows over an open fire. The thought makes you a little sad, knowing that those times would never come back. That was before you knew about loss of innocence and the high standards of your parents that would come. 

Finally after a couple hours of diving into each room, along with reading each story behind the pieces, you reach the room that you’ve been itching to get to all day. You’re welcomed into the room and an immediate gasp leaves your lips. 

“Wow,” you whisper as you take a big glance around. 

“Holy shit,” Jungkook says behind you just as the door is closed. You realize that it’s just the two of you here in. He definitely made the right call about waiting. 

The Souls of Million Of Light Years Away is simply breathtaking. It’s dark again, but this time with what looks like actually a million lights twinkling in all different forms of colors and shapes. Each light bounces off the mirrors and you imagine this is what being in space is like. A dark void with a million galaxies around you. It’s oddly peaceful even though you can barely see your hands in front of you or Jungkook behind you. You don’t notice, but Jungkook quickly snaps a photo of you in the light, your silhouette showing up with the millions of lights behind you. He’s smiling at his phone when you turn around, and you ask him what’s up. 

“Nothing,” he shakes his head, “This is just amazing.” 

You hum in agreement, not wanting to leave the room. As you find Jungkook’s eyes, another tiny gasp leaves your lips. If you weren’t confident enough before, you’re sure that his eyes are made of stars now. The light bounces off his brown, doe eyes, blending into the gallery seamlessly. He licks his lips before he asks if you’re ready to go. Hesitantly, you slowly nod, your feet heavy as you leave the room and follow him out. 

When you make it back outside, it’s still light outside which makes both of your eyes sensitive since you’ve just spent a little over two hours in the dark. Since the exhibit was on the opposite side of the city, both of you opt to take the subway back towards your respectable apartments. Both of you are sat together at the back of the car, looking through your pictures again, marveling at the exhibit. 

“Thanks for coming with me,” you say with a smile. You’re sitting at the window seat, your body turned to Jungkook. He’s slightly turned towards you too, one of his legs curled under his body. 

“I kind of invited myself,” he chuckles, leaning onto his hand that’s support his head. 

“And I accepted your invitation,” you retort, “Taehyung would have loved it,” you add, a little bit of sadness to your tone. 

Jungkook watches you intently as you break away your gaze, to stare at the rumbling floor of the subway car. He’s chewing on his lip ring again, a habit he can’t break ever since he got it pierced months ago. He doesn’t know anything about your relationship with this Taehyung guy, but he senses that something is off. Anytime you’ve spoken about him, your eyes drift off and your attitude shifts. He can’t help but be more curious. 

“What does Taehyung do?” 

“He works in finance,” you say, “Private equity.” 

Jungkook nods slowly as he receives this information, knowing exactly what you’re saying. His own parents relationship flashes in his mind and it suddenly clicks for him. Long hours in the office, holding out for the weekends—which even then aren’t guaranteed, high stress levels. That type of financial work is no joke—it takes a toll not only on the person doing it, but everyone around them. His heart suddenly feels for you and for a brief moment he feels as if he is talking to his mother. 

He suddenly wonders why a person like you, would be with a guy like that. You have so much light and fireworks within you, he doesn’t know why you would subject yourself to a relationship that’s seemingly all black and white. People like his father and Taehyung see the world in black and white. You and Jungkook see the world in vibrant color.

“I’m assuming he stays quite busy then,” Jungkook’s words are calm; understanding even. 

You give him a tight lipped smile before you nod, “I’m sure you know.” 

His eyes study your face closely, “As long as he makes time though, it’s all that matters,” he pauses briefly, “That’s just always been the issue with my parents.” 

He doesn’t know why he’s saying what he’s saying. Internally maybe he sympathizes with you? Wants to make you feel less alone? Whatever it is, he doesn’t like how your demeanor completely changes when your boyfriend is mentioned. It’s like you’re the flame of a candle and when Taehyung is mentioned, you’re blown out. 

Though Jungkook’s words are sweet and genuine, you can't help but still feel bitterness towards Taehyung right now. 

“Clearly makes time,” you chuckle sarcastically with an eye roll, before you realize what you’re actually saying. “Sorry, I shouldn’t be ranting to you about my boyfriend,” quickly covering your tracks with another laugh, this one lighthearted. 

“Isn’t that what friends do?” He nudges your leg with his own, covering any of his own transgressions towards your boyfriend smoothly, “Listen to other friends rant about their boyfriends?” 

You smile at him before looking up at the subway to car to see how much longer you have until your stop. You’ve still got 10 minutes. 

“Are you telling me there’s a boyfriend I haven’t heard you rant about?” You raise a brow at him attempting to make a joke with him. 

He chuckles, “I don’t discriminate,” he says pointedly, “But no, no one to complain about at the moment.” 

“That’s a little surprising to me,” you tell him honestly. He makes a humming noise in question, “I mean you’re funny, talented, attractive—“ you stop yourself, your heart twisting embarrassingly at your words. 

A playful smile crosses his lips, “Don’t inflate my ego too much Y/N.” 

You immediately shove him playfully telling him to shut up underneath your breath, “You know what I mean though.” 

His eyes look away from you as he looks to the front of the subway car. An exhale leaves his lips, shrugging his shoulders, “I dated a girl for a couple years but we broke up last semester,” he explains. 

You’re friends with Jungkook, so you don’t mind asking your question. “What happened?” 

He purses his lips in contemplation, his lip ring catches the reflection of the moving train, “I think I was more serious about the relationship than she was,” he clears his throat and you shuffle a little awkwardly in your seat, “I think we just wanted different things at the end of the day. It’s hard to make something like that work long term, you know?” 

His words send your heart rate skyrocketing and you can’t help but ask yourself if that’s the situation you and Taehyung are in. Though you and Taehyung have voiced a life together—actions speak louder than words. You look up again. Five minutes. 

You nod in response, unable to form any words. 

“It’s fine though,” he says, “Everything happens for a reason.” 

“Yeah, including meeting a guy who knocked me on my ass the first two times I met him,” you say jokingly, though you mean every word. You’re sure Jungkook was placed in your life for a reason; like a blossoming star in the galaxy burning bright to light up a universe. 

“You actually knocked me on my ass one of those times.” 

“Oh please,” you roll your eyes, “That was all dramatics Jeon Jungkook, I can see right through you.” 

He smirks with playful eyes, “You say that like it’s a bad thing.” 

“I don’t know… is it?” Subconsciously, you bite your lip under his gaze. It drives Jungkook nuts. 

He quirks an eyebrow at you with soft eyes, “You tell me.” 

His gaze his heavy and there’s palpable tension between you two as the train comes to a slow. Thank god. 

 “This is my stop,” you announce. 

“I can walk with you if you want?” He offers, not wanting to leave you alone if you really don’t want to be alone. 

You shake your head softly since it’s still light outside, “I’m alright, thank you though.” 

He nods, not pushing you any farther. After the train stills fully, he stands up to let you through. Your chest brushes against his as you shimmy between him and the seats behind you. Unable to look away from him as you maneuver, you feel the tension increase with no space between you two. God, why does he have to look at you that way?

“Let me know when you get home,” he says as you get by him. You nod, waving him a final goodbye, a familiar heaviness in the bottom of your stomach. 

It takes about seven minutes to reach your complex from the subway station and as you’re walking into the main lobby, your phone pings. 

[Jeon Jungkook 5:23 PM] image.png

The image takes a moment to load, but a smile spreads across your face when you open it. The mirror selfie is cute as hell and it almost looks couple-ly. Jungkook is standing behind you, his arm thrown around your shoulder as you lean into him. You’re soft smiling into the camera, a peace sign in your left hand. You save the image to your camera roll immediately. 

[You 5:25 PM] Thank you :) I just got home btw! 

He sends a thumbs up, before another picture is sent through. This one loads faster since you’ve just walked into your apartment and his words leave you feeling like something is clogging your windpipe. 

It’s a picture that you had no idea he took of you—though you can’t really see any details of yourself, it’s stunning picture. Your silhouette in the dark with the surrounding lights is simply beautiful. 

[Jungkook 5:27 PM] I think you’re beautiful enough to fit into that exhibit 

[You 5:27 PM] You too

Yeah, you’re fucked.

⏤

For anyone else it was just another Monday, but for you—there had been a new page turned. You have no idea what conspired in your brain from Saturday to now, nevertheless something changed. Well, there had been a couple changes since then, however you’re trying to not focus on that. 

You woke up early this Monday with an itchiness to your body. You ended up going to a spin class at 6 AM, before hurrying to shower and getting to the university by 7:30. Before you could rethink your decision, you were throwing out every piece of artwork that you had finished in the last two months. A part of you was already regretting trashing the canvases as you hauled them overhead into the large dumpster bins. The major part of you felt relief and a sense of newness—for the first time in months, you felt inspired. 

The only way you knew you could take advantage of this newfound creative impulse, was to rid yourself of anything holding you back. That meant getting rid of the shit pieces you thought you would submit for the exhibition. 

You manically texted Sana a picture of your now empty studio and she responded immediately. 

[Sana 8:17 AM] what the actual fuck did you just do

[Sana 8:17 AM] Y/N it’s literally 8 AM are you okay 

You can’t help but laugh at her words as you sit in the floor of your workspace, typing a response quickly. 

[You 8:18 AM] A new me has awakened… that or I’m just very sleep deprived and acting out

[Sana 8:20 AM] i think it could be the latter

[Sana 8:20 AM] where has this new me come from? 

You purse your lips, trying to block out the scene from your brain. 

[You 8:21 AM] My therapist lol 

You know that’s not it, at least not all the way. Sure talking to her was always a highlight of your week when you did, finding a new perspective on your childhood and need for outside validation—but that was another story for a different day. A new wave of emotions—confusing, chest-tightening emotions have crawled through your veins in the last two days. Even if you know it’s so wrong—you’re holding onto them for the sake of the exhibit and your own sanity. 

It’s not long after when you pick out a new, clean fresh canvas for you to work on. You set it up on one of your larger easels, facing it towards the sunlight as best as you can. You decide to take a page from Sana’s book by creating a rough sketch of what you want to eventually put on the canvas. The ideas in your head are so particular, and so—heart wrenching—you wanted to ensure you translated it well. 

It takes about an hour to sketch the rough outline for the painting. You knew that painting this first piece would probably take a few days if you were consistent with it, wanting to add as much detail as possible. Realism was your speciality, but it never gets any easier. The slightest mistake can make a face, or hands, go from looking like a photograph to a cartoon character. You didn’t know what you wanted to call the piece yet, though you had a few ideas rummaging through your brain. 

Seokjin is calling you in for his 11 AM sketch class which you help with regularly. As you leave the serenity of your workspace, sudden anxiety fills your body. Your hands are clammy, your throat feels as if it’s constricting on itself, and your tummy is doing flips. Seeing him is the last thing you need, but you know his schedule very well at this point. 

A week ago, you wouldn’t have cared. Now, you feel as if an invisible line as been crossed.

As you step into the classroom, your mouth goes dry. Jungkook is sat in the middle of the classroom beside Lisa, both of them looking a little tired and chatting randomly. 

Seokjin looks at you with a small smile, “You were here early this morning,” he comments. 

You give him a smile back, hoping he doesn’t murder you after you say your next words, “I threw out my pieces.” 

His face drops, all color leaving it, “You did what?” He looks stunned as you grimace at him with an apologetic look on your face. He glances down at his watch which says it’s now exactly 11 before he says under his breath, “We’ll talk about this later.” 

It sounds threatening, but you know if you explain yourself well enough—he’ll let it slide. After all, he clearly wasn’t a fan of what you presented to him recently. You’ll prove to him that you’re new stuff will be ready for the exhibition, and more importantly—present a much better side of your art. 

“I hope everyone had a good weekend,” Seokjin greets everyone, with a few tired responses back. “Just a reminder for all of you participating in the exhibition, your pieces will be due at the end of this month, so make sure you’re staying on top of your deadlines.” 

You zone out of Seokjin’s housekeeping information for the class, letting your eyes wander around the classroom. Sketching was one of his larger classes, with students in other departments also taking the class as an elective. It was personally one of your favorite classes in undergrad. You were happy to help this class, given you felt you could actually help the students if they needed it. 

A breath hitches in the back of your throat when your gaze meets Jungkook’s from the front of the classroom. He’s staring at you with purpose, though his gaze soft and curious. You hadn’t spoken to him since your last text after the art exhibition. That wasn’t the plan, but given your mind wandering to places it shouldn’t have, you felt if you did talk to him—he would see right through you. 

You quickly break his eyes, unable to hold it without feeling too hot. 

A fucking sex dream. 

A fucking sex dream about Jeon Jungkook. 

A fucking sex dream about Jeon Jungkook who happens to be your subordinate. 

A fucking sex dream about Jeon Jungkook who happens to be your subordinate in which you woke up in a panic, then having to use your vibrator to release the tension in your tummy. 

A fucking sex dream about Jeon Jungkook who happens to be your subordinate in which you woke up in a panic, then having to use your vibrator to release the tension in your tummy—all while you have a boyfriend who’s away on a work trip. 

You’re unsure if you have ever had a dream so realistic and so blissful—even with Taehyung. Every time you closed your eyes since Saturday, all you could see was Jungkook’s face buried in between your thighs, your back arching off whatever surface you resided. 

You force yourself to stop thinking about it—you’re in the classroom for fucksakes. The last thing you need is for people to notice you squeezing your thighs together under the desk you’re sat.

“Y/N, are you good with that?” 

“Hm?” You mumble, realizing you’ve daydreamed through whatever Seokjin just explained. 

He looks annoyed as he lets out a deep breath, “Being the hand model today?” 

Your eyes widen, your mouth parting as you look down at your hands. Thankfully you got a manicure last week, though the almond acrylics have already grown out some. Even though Seokjin was posing everything as a question, you knew you had no choice. Especially if you didn’t want him on your ass about throwing out your paintings, you really had no choice. 

You nod slowly, Seokjin soon setting up the projector and camera for you to place your hands under. 

“Take as long as you need, turn in your sketches here,” Seokjin taps the corner of the large desk you’re sat at. 

You’re given free rein on how you position your hands, so you settle on something feminine and simple. You lay your left hand over your right delicately, your right palm flat against the wood. You feel a little insecure with your hands being projected as 10x the size above your head, but you relax knowing it’s just what you artists do. If you were in the students position, you would have much rather sketched your hands than the one time Seokjin made you all sketch someone’s feet one time in undergrad. 

The classroom stays pretty much silent, pencils and erasers against paper the only sound radiating. Time goes by slowly as they all continue to sketch, your eyes having not really left anything in close proximity to you. 

That changes when you hear a throat clearing, a tone you could pick out in a crowd. 

“Do you care to move your left hand a little forward, Y/N?” 

Jungkook’s voice is smooth through the silence. Instinctively, your eyes meet his again. You give him a nod as you reposition your hands slightly. It takes him a moment to get back to drawing, his gaze heavy on your eyes. You have to break away, your thighs itching for more relief. You look down at your hands, wondering how they would look around his cock. You imagine he’s thick, veiny—stop it, you idiot!

Whatever was going on in your head, it needed to be stopped and fast. You just didn’t know if you actually wanted it to. 

⏤

Taehyung comes back Friday morning, giving you a call as soon as he lands. You’re finishing up the piece you started on Monday when your phone rings. 

“Hi baby,” Taehyung greets you and you can hear a smile in his tone. It makes you smile in return. “Happy Friday,” he says knowingly.

“Happy Friday to you,” you respond, taking solace on your small couch for a small break. “You just land?” 

“About an hour ago, just got into my ride, heading to the office,” he explains. 

“You just got back from a two week trip and they’re making you go in office?” You ask him with confusion lacing your tone. You had no idea how he kept up with the demands of his job—if anything, the older you two get, you feel sorry for him. You knew he loved his job, but goddamn—it has to be too much sometimes? 

“Only working a half day today,” he pauses, “When do you finish today?” He asks eagerly. 

“Hmm,” you look at your watch, a nice gold piece of jewelry Taehyung actually got you a couple years ago for Christmas, “I’ll probably leave around three today.” 

“I’ll come to your place then,” he says, a particularly suggestive tone to his voice. You find yourself smiling as you relax into the couch some, letting out a deep sigh. “Roses and a bottle of champagne included,” he adds. 

“No need for all that,” you bite your lip in anticipation, “Unless we’re celebrating something?” 

“Lots to celebrate baby,” he says, “You and I have a fancy date tomorrow.” 

“Do we?” You press, chewing on some skin around your thumb nail but quickly stop, not wanting to ruin your cuticles. You then bring your left hand up, staring at your ring finger. 

“Oh yes,” he says hurriedly, “Listen I’m about to go into the office, but I’ll give you more details when I come over okay? Love you.” 

“I love you too,” you say before he’s ending the call. While your heart swells at the thought of “celebrating,” something, you can’t help but be a little skeptical. The rush in Taehyung’s tone shows there’s something he’s nervous about, but you take it as a good thing. Nervous about proposing? You could only hope. 

The rest of the afternoon you finish up your painting, a relieved sigh coming from your lips as you sign the bottom right corner with your initials. It’s just how you imagined it—the bubbles leaving the girl’s mouth and nose as she screams under the water, her hands clawing for the surface, but the weight of a cinderblock tied to her ankle sinking her down in an abyss of dark water. 

You settle on calling it Drowning for the Sake of Drowning. 

⏤

As you’re gathering up your belongings to get ready to leave, you exhale in relief. You’ve kept the door to your workspace closed all week unlike usual, indicating for no one to bother you. Sana brought you lunch a couple days ago but aside from that, little to no interaction has occurred with anyone. 

You’ve managed to fully avoid Jungkook this entire week after the sketching class on Monday—which is exactly what you’ve needed. The boy with the lip piercing has taken up too much space in your brain recently. You like having Jungkook as a friend, but that’s all he can ever be and until your brain can separate that and whatever feelings you’ve garnered for him over the last few weeks, avoiding him like the plague is your only solution. 

Of course, nothing in your life ever goes to plan which is why you nearly knock yourself over when you run right into him as you leave your office. 

“Shit, you okay? We really have to stop doing this,” He asks you with a slight laugh. It takes you a moment to nod in response as you stare up at him with parted lips. Any progress you’ve made of pushing him out of your mind, crumbling entirely. He’s in your brain again, his face in your thighs, hands gripping your hips—

“You’re leaving already?” He asks as he observes your tote bag held tight to you, the door to your space closed. 

You clear your throat while simultaneously clearing your head, “Y-yeah, I finished my piece early,” you pause, debating if you should say your next sentence, but you know morally you should, “Taehyung came back today.”

Jungkook stiffens, scratching the back of his head, “Can we talk?” His voice is timid, but stern in what he wants. 

If you hadn’t thought about your answer, you probably would have gladly invited him back into your workspace and god knows what would have happened. 

“I can’t right now,” you say, “I’m meeting Taehyung around three,” you explain, your feet picking yourself up to brush past him. It’s close to 2:45, which means you don’t have much time to get home. 

Jungkook startles you when he grabs your forearm to stop you, “Y/N, wait,” his voice is rushed and desperate as he turns his body to face you, you pressed flush against his chest. You jerk out of his grip, taking steps backwards. 

“Jungkook,” you say warningly, “I can’t do this right now,” your voice is weak and unconvincing as you turn around, rushing away from him. 

Jungkook decides on letting you go giving a frustrated tug on his hair as he watches your frame disappear down the hallway. 

“Fuck,” he mumbles to himself, kicking the closest wall to him, ignoring any pain that shoots up from his foot. 

⏤

You’re standing in front of your large mirror, examining your dress to ensure it’s smooth in all the right places. It’s a silk midi-dress that’s a light sage green color complimenting your skin tone beautifully. There’s small, tasteful cutouts on the side that leads it to an open back. 

“Wow baby,” Taehyung gives you a pretty smile as he enters your bedroom, “You look great.” 

You’re in the process of lacing up your heels around your ankle, throwing him a small smile. 

“Thank you, you look handsome.” 

He’s wearing another one of his immaculately tailored suits, though he’s ditched a tie and vest, opting for a more casual look—well casual for him being that it’s a work-sponsored party. 

Turns out, the big fancy date Taehyung referred to yesterday was an invite only company party at Taehyung’s boss’s, boss’s, boss’s estate. While it wasn’t a typical Saturday night for you two, with a chance to dress up with free food and booze, it was something you couldn’t say no to. (Even if you wanted to say no—you really had no choice—you were there to support Taehyung.)

“Will you help me with this?” You ask him as you hold up a necklace. He obliges, stepping towards you, he gently grabs the necklace ensuring any stray hair pieces were out of the way as he encircles to clasp it around your neck. Once he’s finished, he wraps two strong arms around your front, pulling you flesh against his front. 

“You smell good,” he inhales your scent as he nuzzles into your neck, pressing his hips into your backside. 

“Taehyung,” you laugh, fighting away from his grip, “Our ride is almost here,” you turn around giving him a pointed look. He pouts with a groan, but you give him a quick peck to wipe the sour look off his face. 

The estate is about thirty minutes outside the city and being in such a fancy car with a driver, you already feel slightly uncomfortable. One of the reasons you were attracted to Taehyung was because of how different he was from you and your upbringing. You felt as if you desperately craved something different from what your parents had. You liked the idea of simplicity—black and white. No chaotic artsy types. However, as the car continues its drive to the fanciest suburb of the city, you can’t help but feel the differences swallowing you whole. 

Taehyung’s busy on his phone seeming to be answering emails—yes, at 8 PM on a Saturday night. Your foot is tapping nervously against the floor, an uneasy feeling settling again in your tummy. Ever since Taehyung showed up at your apartment yesterday—a man of his words—with roses and champagne, something deep within you felt off. Flashes of another set of brown eyes strike across your lids each time you close them. 

You obviously hadn’t had sex since Taehyung had been gone, almost a three week dry spell, and it was just… okay. You found it hard to relax the minute Taehyung initiated it, your muscles tense as he undressed you slowly wanting to make love to you after one glass of champagne. Maybe it’s where Taehyung is still keeping secret on whatever you two are supposed to be celebrating or it’s Jeon Jungkook himself—your body physically wouldn’t let you come in Taehyung’s presence. Two rounds of sex ended with you having to use your vibrator to finally get off and the third round this morning, you ending up faking an orgasm—something you haven’t done in years. 

The driver is in queue for drop off service, letting you and Taehyung out as soon as he could. You eyes are marveling at the sheer size of the home. It almost makes you sick when you think about people having this much money. There’s not one, not two—but three fountains just at the front of the house. Two are positioned beside the large entrance and the third is in the middle of the circled driveway. 

From what you can tell, there are a good amount of people inside already, the large windows indicating that. 

“Whose house this again?” You say in awe as Taehyung grabs your hand. 

“The President of our company,” he says, keeping his voice low as other people are walking in around you. 

“Holy shit,” you whisper to yourself when you cross the threshold, immediately greeted with flutes of champagne. 

Taehyung smiles down at you as he takes a sip, “Get used to it baby,” he comments with a light-hearted tone, but you know he’s being serious. You don’t like it. 

The inside of the home is just as lavish as it looks from the outside. It’s modern, with clean lines and sharp contrasts of whites, creams, browns, and blacks. The large foyer is an open concept, the house opening up in multiple ways. There’s two staircases that lead to the upstairs, corridors that lead elsewhere to the left and right, and if you continue straight, that’s where the main party seems to be. The living room is large and open, warm ambient lighting filling the space. There’s a 70’s inspired conversational pit with a large plush couch that’s the center of the room. It’s absolutely stunning. 

You two haven’t been in the house for two minutes until his coworkers and others are coming up to greet Taehyung. He introduces you with a big smile, holding you by the waist as he does so. You sense you’re one of the younger ones of the groups you go around to, sometimes forgetting that Taehyung has almost four years on you. His words come naturally to him and you try your best to converse with people and their plus ones—but you find it hard, unable to find any common ground with anyone. 

Taehyung is talking to one of his closet coworkers that you’ve met many times—Jaebum—before the latter’s eyes widen. 

“Shit Tae, there he is,” he speaks lowly, his head directing what he’s referring to. 

“Who?” You ask curiously, looking around to find someone special but everyone seems to look the same. Clean cut, nice suits, hot women and men as their dates, a few children even running around freely. 

“The President,” Taehyung explains, “Shit and he’s coming over here with Minwoo,” he sounds nervous, Jaebum visibly shifting his weight in his shoes. Minwoo was Taehyung’s boss—luckily you remember that from previous work tangents. 

As Minwoo and the president approaches the small group of you three, you suddenly feel a little insecure when Taehyung takes a step away from you. A large smile spreads across his face as they approach and your feet hurt a little more now that he’s not letting you lean on him. Is he ashamed of you? Why did he step away? 

“Kim Taehyung, Lim Jaebum, the two greatest assets to my team,” Minwoo smiles widely as he enters your circle. 

“Minwoo, how are you?” Taehyung reaches out to give him a handshake, then bowing to the President. 

“Can’t complain about anything,” Minwoo has a great smile, “Who is this beautiful lady?” His eyes have gravitated to you. 

“This is Y/N,” Taehyung introduces you with a nervousness to his tone, “She’s my girlfriend.”

“Nice to meet both of you,” you smile with a small bow of respect. 

“These are the two I’ve heard so much about, eh?” The President speaks with a cadence that sounds familiar but you can’t place your tongue on it. 

“Like I said, the very best in the Seoul office,” he smiles, “Have either of you met President Jeon?”

It’s as if your entire world shuts down instantaneously. It can’t be—there’s no way. 

“I can’t say we’ve ever had the pleasure sir,” Jaebum nudges Taehyung and suddenly you have never felt more uncomfortable, more out of place, than ever. 

They all speak briefly before suddenly, President Jeon’s attention is set on you. As you study his face, you feel your nightmare coming true. Finance, the eye shape, the nose—

“So what do you do Miss Y/N? Are you involved in business too?” He asks with a smile, though you’re unsure if it’s just a facade. 

You’re nervous to answer, but you finally muster to shake your head, “No sir,” you start, “I’m an artist, I’m under apprenticeship with someone right now.”

His eyes suddenly light up, “Really? Which artist do you work with?” He sounds fascinated and you hate where you think this may be going. 

“Kim Seokjin, I’m not sure if you know of him,” suddenly in need of a glass of something stronger than champagne. 

“Do I know Kim Seokjin?” He nearly laughs, “If you walk the halls of the house I’m sure you’ll recognize some of his pieces on the walls,” he says boastfully, your nightmare coming true, “One of my sons actually goes to university where he teaches, you may know him… Jeon Jungkook?” 

For whatever reason, the mention of this name catches Taehyung’s attention who is caught up in conversation with Minwoo and Jaebum. He’s listening to the original conversation in one ear, the other trained in on yours with the President.

“I don’t think I do actually,” you lie smoothly trying to hide the shakiness in your voice. 

“Ah, that’s a shame, though he can be a pain in the ass sometimes so that might be a good thing,” he jokes with a laugh before turning his attention back to Taehyung and Jaebum. 

When you look back up at Taehyung, he’s staring at you with an intense glare, his jaw slightly clenched. You furrow your eyebrows, asking him a silent, “what’s wrong?” He ignores it, his face relaxing back to normal when he looks at his superiors. 

“Well, I truly hope that after the move you two only continue to move up in the company as quickly as you already have,” Minwoo says a you zone back into their conversation. Wait, what? 

“Ah yes,” President Jeon says, “The office in Chicago is nearly finished and to be able to fill it with analysts of your caliber, it will only continue to grow this great company.” 

Chicago?! Your face falls, your eyebrows furrowing as you look over at Taehyung. His body is tense, but he’s refusing to look at you. You suddenly feel dizzy and sick to your stomach, your hands clammy as if you’re going to throw up. Before Taehyung can stop you while his attention is elsewhere, you excuse yourself, attempting to find the nearest bathroom. 

The house is gigantic and it doesn’t take long to find a one as you’re sure there are probably 20 on the entire property. You balance yourself on the sink, turning on the cold water water quickly. You grab a towel to wet it, carefully applying it to your chest to cool off. 

Taehyung’s being moved? Is Taehyung choosing to move? When was he going to tell you this?! Is this the sole reason he asked to move in together?! But meaning in Chicago, not here?! 

You needed a fucking drink. You throw the towel in a waste basket, exiting the bathroom quickly. You hold onto the wall as you walk down the hallway, looking for the nearest open bar. You manage to find one set up just outside, which overlooks a large entertainment area and pool. If you squint, in the distance you can see the lights of the city. God—you wanted to go home. 

You settle for a glass of a dark red wine, sniffing it before you take a large sip. It instantly relaxes you, the alcohol moving past your tongue easily. If anything—it tastes like grape juice. 

Wanting to avoid Taehyung at all costs, you mosey around the party, finding a staircase outside that leads back into the house. You slowly take the stairs, your mind racing a million miles per hour. You’re sure Taehyung has tried to call you at this point, but your phone is buried deep in your shoulder bag on purpose. You don’t think you can face him at all right now. After this glass of wine, you’ve decided you’re going to call an Uber and get the hell out of here. 

As you reach the top of the stairs, you stop dead in your tracks. Right in front of you stands Jeon Jungkook. He’s bent at the waist, leaning over the railing with a wine glass in hand. His gaze was looking out into nothing but since he’s heard heels coming up stairs to his right, his head turns to find you. 

He nearly drops his wine glass—which would have definitely injured someone below—or at least severely stained a shirt or two. 

“Y/N?” He asks, standing up tall. Goddamnit, you think. He’s dress immaculately in a thickly-striped suit with a white button up that’s slightly undone at the top. His hair is slightly parted back off his forehead and you feel yourself spiraling. 

“What are you doing here?” He asks after you’re unable to speak. After meeting Jungkook’s father, you’re definitely not surprised to see him here—but if anything, you feel as if you could break down in tears at any moment. 

You realize that you’ve seemingly walked up to a balcony that enters into a large bedroom. You wonder if it’s Jungkook’s bedroom, or just a random guest balcony he’s found solace in. 

“I—“ you cut yourself off, trying to keep your composure, “I’m with Taehyung,” you manage to croak out. You can see the puzzle pieces clicking together for Jungkook in his head despite the darkness surrounding you two. However, it’s not that he cares about—

“Y/N… are you okay?” He asks with genuine concern, stepping towards you slightly. 

He notices the way your wine glass subtly shakes in your hand, your breathing uneven, your lips tucked away as you begin to shake your head no. He makes no time in rushing over to you steadying yourself against him. 

“What happened?” He asks as his brows lace with confusion as he settles you some against the railing, feeling a worry creep into him like he’s never felt before. 

You’re more even with Jungkook’s height in your heels now, your eyes bearing deep into his. His presence is calming you down and you feel safe right here. You open your mouth to speak, though nothing comes out. He’s patient and gentle with you, waiting for whenever you’re ready. 

You take another sip of your wine before speaking, “I think Taehyung’s been lying to me.” 

Jungkook’s face falls, “What do you mean?” He asks in a rush. 

“It’s not important,” is what you settle on. You don’t know if you’re in the mood to explain anything to Jungkook—let alone if you want to explain anything.

His face goes straight, letting out a deep breath, “You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to,” he pauses, stepping away from you some to lean against the rail whilst facing you. “But I’m here if you want to talk… I want you to be okay.” 

His words feel like a warm hug wrapping around your heart. You lean back on your elbows, staring up at the stars. Deep breathes, you tell yourself. When you look back to him, his gaze hasn’t left you at all. 

“How can I be okay in a world like this?” Your voice breaks off as you bat tears away in your eyes. “All of this,” you motion with your hands, referencing all the luxury and extravagance, wine dangerously swishing around, “Wasn’t supposed to be the plan… why does my partner of almost five years feel the need to not tell me about him moving six-thousand miles away for his fucking job,” your voice now bitter and angry as you break his eye contact. 

Shit, Jungkook thinks. He bites his lip ring, contemplating his words and emotions. He hates to compare you to his mother—you’re much more of a strong-headed person than her—but it’s so reminiscent of his childhood and listening to her on the phone with her girlfriends and the arguments with his father. 

“It’s only ever about work with him,” you continue, a fire burning deep within you, “Why should I have to be the one to drop everything in my life to cater to him? Have the past five years of my life been a fucking waste?” again, you have to be conscious of your center of gravity as you feel tears wanting to brim over. 

“Don’t say that,” he quickly interjects, his tone soft and calm. 

“Well it sure fucking feels like it Jungkook,” you spit back at him, though he remains calm and collected. “He won’t even fucking marry me yet he’ll drop everything for this job and all the fucking fake extravagance of it all.” 

When you mention marriage, Jungkook is slightly taken aback. Obviously he’s picked up that your relationship has been long and serious, but there’s been no indication of thoughts of marriage. Hell, Jungkook didn’t even hear you mention Taehyung until weeks after you first met. 

Your voice trembles as you speak, unable to fight your emotions anymore, "I want friendship in my love for Taehyung but I don't want just a friend," you sip on the wine slowly as Jungkook watches you closely.

"I want to be cared for, and protected, and indulged⎯⎯" you pause again, trying to make sense of your words, "I want to be chosen everyday... is that too much of me to ask?"

Jungkook shifts in his position to fully face you. He shakes his head, one of his hands brushing a piece of hair behind your ear gently.

"It's never too much to ask," he says, his words careful yet understanding. He's felt these emotions all too well himself. He chose his ex-girlfriend everyday, yet she seemingly never chose him. It's an excruciating pain when you love someone more than they love you.

“I don’t even know why I’m telling you all this,” you mutter, downing the rest of your wine glass to avoid a spill. 

“Y/N, you know I care about you,” he says with a careful tone. You meet his gaze again, which now is a little more harsh as if something is stirring inside him, “Can I be honest with you?” He raises a brow. 

“Always,” you whisper, slightly afraid of what he’s about to say. Mirroring you, he downs the rest of his wine too for some confidence.

“I know what it’s like to feel like you don’t belong and out of place. I mean this is where I fucking grew up,” he lifts a hand, a laugh emitting from him, “I think you’re one of the most incredible people I’ve ever met. Y/N, you posses a talent that people can only dream of. You’re smart, and kind, and funny, and so fucking beautiful,” he pauses as he clenches his jaw, “You walk into a room and all I see is you. You radiate a spark that I can’t even begin to describe how special you are and if—“ 

He cuts himself off, afraid he may take it too far, but when you’re still fully attentive, he says it anyways. 

“And if you marry someone like him, I’m afraid that spark will go away,” he pauses, “I know it will go away… because it happened to my mother,” his voice is barely a whisper as he finishes, him being the one to break eye contact with you. “So no, it's not too much to ask. You deserve someone who chooses you, puts you above everything—“ he cuts himself off before he can continue on, sighing deeply as he glances away from you. 

You’re simply speechless as his words sink into your bones. Your breath is shaky and you can tell Jungkook thinks he’s overstepped his boundaries. You don’t think he has, but his words do feel like someone has cauterized your insides. It hurts to hear a harsh truth, but as his words sink in, you can’t help but wonder if he’s right. 

“Sorry I just—“

“It’s okay,” you speak softly when you interrupt him, “I want you to know that… I think you’re special too, Jungkook.” 

Jungkook’s hand that’s on the railing begins to tighten around it, his knuckles turning white as frustration pulses through his veins. You notice his tight grip and you place your own hand over his to relax him some. There’s mere inches between you two now, but it’s comforting and it feels like only you two are left in the world—the party raging down below and throughout the house drowning out. While your head is spinning from the two glasses of alcohol that you had sipped on earlier, you know that most of it comes from his intoxicating scent. He’s everywhere at all times and you think this is some sick joke manifesting itself into reality as you feel yourself leaning into him. When he says your name slow and calculated, you know that you’re a puddle in his hands, ready for all the consequences that may come with your decision. You just don’t know exactly how it could have reached this point. 

“Y/N,” he says again as he’s now got you trapped between his body and the railing, your nose is brushing against his and you’ve never experienced a want so badly in your life, “We shouldn’t do this.” 

Your breathing is rugged and nervous as you look into his eyes. 

“I know,” you whisper back, your throat feeling like it could close up any second. 

You have no idea who leans in first, but when your lips touch his—it’s a spark that might as well be made of lightening. It’s terrifying the way it took only three seconds to melt into him and get a groove. He feels like he’s been dipped in honey and you’re eating him sweet and slowly. He inhales deeply through his nose as he deepens the kiss by opening your mouth with his tongue, his lip ring slightly cold against your skin. He tastes like red wine, furthering intoxicating you against the railing. Your hands slide up his chest, tangling into his hair as you pull him flush against you.

He breaks the kiss for a moment, looking you in the eyes again for another silent question of consent. You nod quickly, missing the feeling of him on you. This time, he kisses you a bit rougher as one hand digs into your waist, the other halfway choking you. God—this is so wrong, so morally wrong—but every bone in your body is screaming yes. 

You don’t think you’ve experienced anything of this magnitude in years. You feel him growing hard in front of you, which only further escalates your feelings towards him. When you drag your hand down and over his growing bulge, he breaks away quickly. 

“Shit Y/N,” he breathes away grabbing your hand away from his most sensitive area, “We need to stop.” 

You shake your head, never wanting this moment to end. He continues to kiss you feverishly, unable to get enough of you.

“I wanna make you feel good,” you breathe out heavily as his forehead rests against yours. 

“I know baby, I do too,” his use of the word baby sends a jolt down your spine, “But we can’t.” 

His voice is strained and it’s painful for him to stop whatever was about to happen. He wants nothing more than to bury his mouth in between your legs and then stuff you full of his cock thereafter—but it has to stop. Not only is your boyfriend at this party, probably looking through hell and high water to find you—but Jungkook’s father is your boyfriend’s boss. This can’t happen. 

A small whine from rejection leaves your throat, but you know he’s right. Not only did you just cheat on your boyfriend of nearly five years—said boyfriend was still at the party you were his date at.

Fuck. 

“Are you going to go home with him?” He asks suddenly. You honestly hadn’t thought about it since being away from Taehyung. You were still angry and frustrated with him, unsure if you even wanted to see him again tonight. 

You push Jungkook away from you a little bit to shrug off your shoulder bag to retrieve your phone. To your surprise, you only have two texts and one call from Taehyung, which honestly make your heart drop. You were expecting more, but you assume that work calls and he was too busy to try and actually find you. 

[Taehyung 9:02 PM] Are you okay?? Where did you go? 

[Taehyung 9:37 PM] We should talk when we go home. Call me when you see this. 

Jungkook watches you bite your lip nervously, feeling a bits of shame fall over your body. You meet his eye contact before saying that you should go. 

“I’ll walk you out,” he offers, which you don’t refuse. You’re not sure you could find your way out of here. There’s an awkward silence between you and Jungkook as he floats through the halls of his childhood home easily. You end up recognizing two of Seokjin’s pieces on the walls and you have to roll your eyes—there’s no escaping him in your world.

You still can’t believe Jungkook grew up to be who is he when he was raised like this. Beautiful, creative, and free—all from this stuffy background when he could have easily turned out to be a nepotistic douchebag. It makes your feelings towards him only grow even deeper. 

At this point, there's no trying to fight it. You've fallen for Jungkook, your kiss with him the final seal of the deal.

The two of you have reached the foyer where you first entered and you instantly spot Taehyung up near the front door talking to another one of his colleagues. You feel like you could throw up and you almost change your mind—wanting to turn around and hide with Jungkook somewhere in this mansion. But, both of you have created a mess at this point and you’re going to have to clean it up. 

Taehyung’s eyes have traveled all over—looking worried—until they land on you. He looks relieved but as soon as he spots who you are walking with, he visibly tenses up. 

“You should go,” you turn to Jungkook, stopping in your tracks briefly. He looks down at you with an expression you can’t read, giving you one nod before he’s turning on his heel away from you. 

You don’t waste anytime looking at him not wanting Taehyung to be suspicious of anything, continuing your march to him. 

“Hey—where have you been?” Taehyung’s voice is calm, a sweet smile spreading across his face when you reach him. He doesn’t bother introducing you to the other guy and his date, ending the conversation and practically dragging you outside by the hand in a tight, rough squeeze and pull. 

“Taehyung you’re hurting me,” you manage to get out, Taehyung immediately dropping your hand. 

“Shit,” he runs a stressed hand through his hair, “I’m sorry babe,” he grabs it kissing it gently as the driver pulls up the car, “I’ve just been worried about you—“

“Only two texts and one call worried?” You retort, an offended look crossing his face. “Or are you too worried about your impression at this fucking party to worry about me? Too worried about your move to Chicago to worry about me?” Your words are fiery hot, not caring if anyone around hears you. 

His eyes narrow at you, a visible gulp in his throat. 

“We’ll talk about this at home,” his own voice is seething and you’re unsure if you’ve ever heard him this angry. As the car pulls up, his eyes flicker back over to the front entrance of the house. You promptly follow them, your heart stopping when you realize Jungkook is leaning against a column at the front of his house, lighting a cigarette in the process. 

As you get into the car, the last thing you see is Jungkook’s eyes in the dark and the glow of his cigarette. Taehyung gets in after you and you know for sure that you’ve made a wrong decision. 

⏤

“How could you hide this from me?!” You’re voice is shaky as you watch as Taehyung stands in the kitchen of his apartment, leaning on his palms, unable to keep eye contact with you. You two hadn’t spoken once in the car on the way back to his place, but as soon as you crossed the threshold—you’d been at his throat. Rightfully so.

“Y/N I was going tell to you—“ he pauses as he looks up at you, but you interject before he can say anything else. 

“When Taehyung?!” You’re fighting tears at this point, “When you got on the fucking plane to leave me here alone?!” 

He makes his way over to you and the only thing you can do is step away from him—you could barely look at him right now, let alone want him to touch you. He opens his mouth to say something back, but closes it quickly, trying to think more about his words.

“I didn’t know how to Y/N,” is what he settles for, “I swear I was going to tell you soon—I-I wanted to let you know and for us to get excited and start looking at places to live!”

You feel a tear fall from your left eye and you know that you’re done for, your jaw shaking as you try to take deep breaths in and out. You begin to shake your head, unable to form sentences. 

“Y-you should have t-talked to me about it first Taehyung, do you not understand that?” More tears fall down your cheeks and you brush them away roughly. He opens his mouth again but you stop him—“No Taehyung! Just shut up for two seconds!” Your outburst startles him, letting you continue, “We’ve been together for almost five years—five years Taehyung, you’ve continuously put your career over everything. Your family, friends, me—“

“I’m doing this for us Y/N!” He interrupts you which only makes you even more pissed off. 

“What if I don’t want it Taehyung?!” You push back, “All I’ve ever wanted was just… you. I don’t need the fancy parties, tailored suits—all the money and status, it’s all bullshit! All I needed was you and now you’re leaving your life here, expecting me to just drop everything I’ve worked for, just for you! Do you not realize how fucking selfish that is Taehyung?!” 

You can tell he’s about to cry now—a rare sight. His jaw clenches as he looks away from you, hands on his hips in frustration. When he doesn’t say anything, you take a step towards him, putting a finger to his chest. 

“You’ll go halfway across the globe, that committed to your job and you won’t even fucking commit to me—after five years—you don’t want to fully commit to me, and that’s what’s fucking killing me right now Tae…” your voice trails off, a full on sob escaping your lips now. 

“Baby you know that’s not true,” he rushes out, grabbing your wrist in desperation, “I love you so much, so fucking much. There’s never been anyone so perfect for me,” he chokes out. 

His touch is comforting, but it feels strange. You feel like you don’t know the person standing in front of you. 

You’re shaking your head slowly, “Sometimes it doesn’t feel like it,” you pause, looking at him through watery eyes, “And this is one of those times.” 

“Y/N, baby please don’t cry,” he leans down, his forehead touching yours, “We can work through this, we’ll build a good life together I promise… I just have to make this move for me, our life will be so good…” 

Selfish, selfish, selfish. 

Your heart feels like it’s being ripped to shreds in your chest. It’s like you’re drowning, unable to come up for air. Your eyes close firmly as you lean into him. 

“Taehyung I love you so much,” you whisper, “But I’m not leaving my life here,” you pause, opening your eyes again, “I can’t do it.” 

Your words feel like gunshots to your own chest, choking on your mild sobs. Taehyung is shaking his head in denial, his own emotions becoming too overwhelming. 

“No, no, no baby please,” he’s begging you, pleading with you, “Don’t say that to me please,” his deep voice is so shaky you can barely understand him, “You’re breaking my heart right now.” 

“So are you,” you can’t talk louder even if you wanted to. You felt your entire body being broken in half, as if a piece of you is being ripped out from under you, “I should go,” you wiped your face as you try to pull yourself away from him. 

He pulls you back, “No, Y/N, please don’t do this right now.” 

You fight against him, pushing yourself off of him, “I need to go home Tae.” 

He doesn’t fight you anymore, watching as you gather your purse and phone off his kitchen counter. He whispers your name again as you open his front door to leave. You turn over your shoulder, tears still streaming down your cheeks. 

“I love you,” his voice is weak and tired. 

You nod, “I love you too.” 

You find yourself sitting on the steps outside of Taehyung’s apartment building, knees to your chest as you continue to sob to yourself. Taehyung lived in one of the nicest parts of the city in one of the nicest apartment complexes, so you weren’t wary of anyone sketchy finding you on the steps. The only thing you could think about was getting out of this dress and heels—a hot shower to cry in—and curling into a warm blanket for sleep, ignoring everything that just happened. 

Was this a breakup? 

Should you go back upstairs? 

Would you really not move with Taehyung?

So many questions are spinning in your head that you need to be distracted from. You pull out your phone, calling the one person you'd want to see right now. 

⏤

You walk into the threshold of Jungkook’s apartment a little after midnight. Lucky for you, he answered on the second ring, on the way back from leaving his parents home. He’s been worried sick the entire drive back to his apartment. You’ve barely spoken a word, tears and choked sobs emitting from your lips. He made the effort to hold your hand the entire drive, which you gladly accepted. He sets down your heels at the door with his own shoes, following in behind you. 

Thankfully, you’ve calmed down significantly on the drive over. You take in your environment, inhaling the familiar scent on Jungkook. His apartment is a studio and its spotless, abate a corner filled with art supplies in his living room. The entire right side of his apartment is exposed brick, his bed situated closer to the large floor to ceiling window, a large couch a few feet over, partitioned by a desk and plant. His apartment is much more modern than yours, grey and cream being the prominent color he’s chosen to utilize. 

“Thank you,” you turn around to meet his eyes which have the same concerned look in them since he’s picked you up. 

He nods, not wanting to press any hard questions to you just yet, “Do you want some water? Anything else?” 

You nod, “Sure, water is good.” 

He quickly grabs you a glass, filling it with his Brita in the fridge, handing it over to you as fast as can. It feels good as you drink it, your throat raw from all the crying and voice raising. 

“Do you want me to take you home in a bit?” He asks hesitantly as he shrugs off his jacket. 

“I—I was hoping I could stay…” you trail off, “I’ll take the couch,” you add quickly, “I just don’t really want to be alone right now.”

He gives you a soft smile, a small dimple forming on his cheek, “Of course, I’ll take the couch, don’t worry about it.” 

Jungkook makes you feel right at home, offering you a shower and clothes. You happily take them both, turning on his shower as hot as it can go. His bathroom impresses you even more with how clean it is and you finally feel like you’re able to relax after this hellish evening. You don’t wash your hair, only scrubbing your body and makeup off, but it’s still a good shower. Jungkook’s products smell good and you like the idea of smelling like him. 

Once you’re out, you quickly change into the large long sleeve t-shirt he’s giving you. The sleeves go way past your hands and it hits you around mid-thigh. It’s soft and comfy, reminding you of many nightgowns you have back at your place. He even has some body lotion in the cabinet and you run some over your legs just so you don’t wake up ashy. 

You hang up your towel on the rack before heading back out into the studio space. You find Jungkook sitting on his couch, manspread slightly with his phone in one hand, a glass of wine in another. He must have just opened a bottle, given the cork and bottle are on the coffee table.

He notices you when you get close, sitting down beside him with a heavy sigh. Your mind and body are exhausted. His couch is comfy and you could fall asleep right now with him by your side. He offers you a sip of his wine, which you gladly take. 

“Red or white?” You ask him curiously. 

He purses his lips in contemplation before answering red, “It reminds me of grape juice,” he adds. 

You give him a small smile, the universe continuing to give parallels of your and Jungkook’s lives. 

After a few moments of silence and finishing the glass of wine together, Jungkook finally asks, “What happened Y/N?” 

Your breath is shaky and you quickly ask him to pour another glass of wine for you two. 

“I think Taehyung and I may have broken up,” you don’t believe the words as you say them yourself. Your eyes are fixated on the floor, your leg bouncing up and down to keep your composure. 

“You think?” He questions further, confusion lacing his tone. 

“H-he,” you pause, holding in any further tears, “He’s really moving,” you confirm from the conversation earlier, “He’s moving six-thousand miles away from here and just thought I would be okay with it,” you regain your consciousness, looking to your right into Jungkook’s eyes, “I don’t have to be okay with that, do I?” 

Jungkook rests his head against the back of his couch as his eyes soften for you, “No, you don’t,” he shakes his head. 

“Fuck, I’m sorry I called you, I shouldn’t—“

“Hey,” his hand finds the side of your face and you lean into his touch, “You’re my friend, you could call me anytime and I’d answer.” 

You don’t know who put Jungkook into your life or why, but the timing was immaculate. He was put in your life when you seemingly needed a breath of fresh air and a new ray from the sun. You’re thankful for it. 

“I’m sorry about earlier too,” you say, referring to the kiss you two shared on the small balcony. 

Suddenly a playful smirk spreads on his face, “I’m not,” he says biting his lip ring. You can’t help but let out a laugh, him matching you as you both down the second glass of wine. Jungkook opens up an arm for you and you cuddle up next to him, leaning into his body and scent. You’ve done a complete 180 in the last hour, all thanks to the man to your right. 

The two of you continue to talk about random things, him trying his best to make you feel better through lighthearted jokes and other things. Neither one of you mention Taehyung again which you’re grateful for. It’s not long until you find your eyes drifting to sleep, unable to keep them open any longer, you fall asleep curled into Jungkook, his head leaning on yours, wishing that he could stitch up every single wound in your heart.

⏤

You wake up the next morning pretty early, your head slightly hurting. Did you really drink that much last night? You’re warm and comfortable, the bed under you molding to your frame perfectly. When your vision finally focuses, a panicked thump of your heart occurs. Wait—you lean up on your elbows sightly looking around the apartment. Everything from last night comes rushing back into your head and you look over to your left to find Jungkook sleeping peacefully on his tummy, his face halfway buried in his pillow. 

The sight makes you smile as you maneuver underneath the covers to reach over and grab a sip of water from his small nightstand. You wonder why Jungkook is in bed with you, but then as you go through every scene in your head, you briefly remember Jungkook carrying you over to his bed, eyes barely open. You then remember telling him to stay with you, that he was warm and you were cold. Of course, he couldn’t say no. 

“Mm,” a noise comes from Jungkook garnering your attention. When you look over at him, he’s got one eye open looking at you, a small smile playing on his face, “Come back to bed,” he mutters. 

And it’s exactly what you do. You finish the small amount of water left before you situate yourself back into his sheets. Jungkook moves onto his side, opening his arms for your frame. You press your back to his chest as he pulls you close, spooning you from behind comfortably. His scent was everywhere, he was everywhere, and before you know it, you’re falling back to sleep together. 

It’s a couple hours later when you wake up again, feeling much more rested and your head not pounding anymore. Jungkook’s arm is still around your front resting just below your belly button as he holds you close. The shirt that you wear has bunched up around your hips, your bare legs touching his covered in sweatpants. 

You consider yourself to be very hyper-aware of your surroundings. You always have been—taking in every detail of every moment carefully and calculated. Sometimes you use it to your advantage, sometimes you don’t. This is one of those times where you’re feeling every detail, a breath hitching in your throat.

Jungkook is half-hard behind you. Whether it’s that, or how dangerously close his hand is to your pelvic bone, there’s a jolt of lighting that pulses through your veins. You bite your lip in contemplation weighing through options in your head. 

Taehyung and you may have broken up—a grey area still there and growing. Despite how you’re possessing guilt about last night, you’re not sure if the relationship can be salvaged—whether the kiss with Jungkook happened or not. You love him, have loved him for so long—but he’s leaving and you’re not going with him.

You definitely know you need to speak with him again, sooner rather than later. If you do nothing, you still have to speak with him. 

Jungkook has been a ray of light in your life the past month. Ever since the friendly date at the art gallery, there’s been a tension between you two that was briefly explored last night with a simple kiss. You’ve been very self-aware of your feelings for Jungkook. You know he makes you feel inspired, seen, heard—but still, if you do nothing, you still have to talk to Taehyung. 

If you do something, you’ll still have to talk to Taehyung. 

But right here, right now, it’s something that you push to the back of your mind, deciding on the latter. 

Feeling a little nervous, you push your hips back into Jungkook, though slightly moving in his grip to not make it too obvious. He doesn’t budge, so you try again. This time, Jungkook stirs behind you slightly, cortisol levels increasing with anxiousness. 

You wait a few moments before you carefully press back against him for a third time, a heavy intake of breath right near your ear. You slightly freeze when you think he may awake now, but a bundle of excitement runs through your nerves. 

When you push your ass backwards again, you feel him push himself forward—yup, most definitely awake. Jungkook’s hand that’s resting just below your belly button suddenly trails down the side of your thigh to rest just above your knee, his fingers facing inwards, gently rubbing at your exposed skin. 

“Jungkook,” you breathe out heavily, desire coating his name as you say it. You look back over your shoulder to find him with his eyes still closed, but he’s biting down on his lip harshly. 

“Mhm,” he mumbles, his hand now making its way back up to the inside of your thigh as you press your ass into him fully. Before he reaches where you feel yourself pooling for him, his eyes open giving you an intense stare. 

He’s asking for consent, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows heavily. Instinctively, you open your legs slightly before saying, “Touch me, please.” 

He hesitates before he sits up a little behind you, pressing a kiss to your shoulder gently. Finally, his hand meets your center, your nipples hardening as you let out a sigh. Two of his fingers rub in circles delicately over the fabric of your panties, blood already rushing down to your clit as he does so. 

You spread your legs a little more, your left hand supporting the back of your thigh as he continues to work against you. Your panties are a flimsy thong, barely covering your lips anyways but the moment he finally moves the fabric out of the way, a shutter leaves your lips. 

“Fuck,” he says, his fingers feeling at the wetness, “You’re soaked baby,” experimentally, he dips one finger in quickly and back out to run your slick over your swelling clit. 

“Mhmm,” you mumble, “Fuck I need you Jungkook,” you say honestly, your breath slightly unhinged. He moves himself a little, to get a better look over his shoulder. 

“Move the sheets baby,” he says with a groan from the back of his throat. You do as you're told, both of you now fully able to see when he sinks his fingers into your dripping cunt. 

“Oh—“ you breathe out heavily as he slowly begins to move in and out of you. 

He rubs your g-spot inside of you a few times before he begins to curl his fingers inside you. Jungkook continues to only grow harder as he fingers you—your hot slick inside making him too excited. A familiar yet naughty sound of your slick against his fingers begin to fill the room. It’s visceral and hot, leaving your body wanting more. 

With your free hand, you grab one of your breasts, stimulating your nipple through the material of his shirt. 

“Shit,” he says, “Let’s take this off,” he says and you quickly oblige as he pulls out his fingers to let your rid yourself of the fabric. Your tits bounce free and Jungkook swears he could come right then and there. 

His fingers descend back into your cunt, this time a faster pace as he rolls you on your back some. His mouth latches over your left nipple, a content exhale coming through his nose. A hand twists into his hair as your moans continue to get louder once he begins a steady pace against your clit with his thumb. Your breathing is picking up rapidly, your back arching off the mattress as he works his way to making you come. 

“Jungkook—fuck I’m gonna come,” you tell him through bated breath as his mouth works against your breast, your neck and earlobe, and finally meets your mouth hungrily. 

“Come on baby,” he says into your mouth and as if on cue, your orgasm is tipped off the cliff, your face contorting as it shudders through your body. 

“Ah, ah!” Your body twitches against his as he works you through your orgasm, telling you just how good you’re doing and how pretty you look. When you finally feel like your body has given everything it’s got, you lean up to crash your lips onto Jungkook’s, whose body is still behind of you as he leans over to kiss you. 

With your thighs now closed, you two have no space between each other, his cock straining against his sweatpants to be free. You reach behind you, pushing his pants down, unable to wait any longer. 

“Wait, wait,” he breathes heavily, his hand grabbing yours before you can fully push his sweatpants down, “Are you sure?” 

A strained whine leaves your lips as you nod quickly, “I need you so bad Jungkook,” you say which is all he needs to finish taking off his pants, underwear-less, his beautiful cock springing out against his tummy. He’s bigger and thicker than you could have imagined, veiny and a pink tip the color of his lips just waiting to be sucked into you. 

“I have condoms in the nightstand,” he says. You quickly reach over since it’s on your side, digging one out quickly. You tear the packet open with your teeth before you hand it over to him. With the little space you’re giving him, he’s rolling down the condom, a sharp intake of breath as he touches himself. 

You’re about to roll onto your back before he stops you, “Stay on your side baby,” he instructs as he presses himself against your back again. His left hand lifts up your leg, your cunt now fully exposed to the colder air, a shiver sent down your entire body. He rubs his tip against your slit, an explicative falling from his mouth when he finally begins to push inside you. 

He so big—the stretch slightly burning as he works into you. There definitely could have been more foreplay involved, but the desire for this man was too strong to wait anymore. You don’t even realize that you’re holding your breath until he’s pushed at the hilt, his pelvis against your backside fully. 

“It’s okay baby, I got you,” he manages to say as he relished in your slick warmth, “God I’ve dreamed out this so much,” he says as he pulls out slowly before even slower pushing back in. 

“Me too,” you breathe out truthfully as you hold his head close to your own; shit it burns, “Is it living up to your expectation?” 

He licks his lips with a slight chuckle, relishing in a heavy moan you’ve just let escape. 

“Turns out my imagination isn’t as good as I thought,” it’s the last thing he says before he picks up his pace inside you. 

He hooks his arm under your leg to open you up even further, looking down the front of your body to watch himself go in and out of your pussy. He fills you up to the point where it’s dizzying. You’re still sensitive from your orgasm earlier, your mouth slack as he pumps himself with a good stroke. 

“Fuck,” he groans heavily, “You’re so perfect baby,” his breath is hot over your neck, unable to form words yourself—whiney moans emitting from your lips. 

You crane your head to look back at him, your noses brushing together before you reach up to meet your lips together. It’s a messy kiss—wet and hot as you breathe into each other’s mouths, his tongue working against yours. With your free hand, you bring it to stimulate yourself from the outside against your clit, a shudder going through your breath. 

“That’s it baby, touch yourself for me,” he watches as you circle your clit, your pussy squeezing around him tightly. You already feel another orgasm approaching you, but Jungkook suddenly pulls completely out of you, leaving you breathless. 

“Jungkook?” You ask as he turns you flat on your back, his lips trailing down to your pussy, his tongue meeting your center. 

“Didn’t want to come yet,” he explains as he begins to eat you out as if its his last meal. His lip ring is cold against your sensitive skin. He open mouth licks, kisses, and sucks all on you and your clit. Your hips arches off the mattress, explicative falling out of your mouth. You taste sweet and Jungkook’s sure its the best he’s ever had. 

As Jungkook focuses on your clit, sucking in with harsh lips you tell him you’re going to come again. Your mouth falls open when you feel yourself reach the peak of your climax again, quickly falling as you moan shamelessly loud. You’re seeing white behind your eyelids as you grip onto the pillow at your head, biting on your lip to quiet yourself. It’s no use given it’s one of the best orgasms you’ve ever had. He continues to let your ride out your orgasm and it’s becoming too much. The over stimulation bringing on a familiar uncomfortable sensation as you tell him to quit. He obliges but is then lining himself up with your entrance again, entering in you flush all at once. 

This time, Jungkook’s pace is fast and rough as one of his hands grip where your hip meets your torso, the other around your neck as he fights to not kiss you. As much as he loves your lips, he loves the noises coming out of them and wants you to be as loud as you can be. 

“Jungkook I can’t,” everything is sensitive, a pleasurable pain pulsing through you as he slams against you relentlessly. 

“Yes you can baby, come on,” he’s whining too as this point, “Fuck I’m gonna cum,” he says it like a warning, but you want nothing more for him to do just that. 

“Yes, yes, yes,” whispered chants leave your lips, Jungkook’s own moans mixing with yours loudly before he releases the pressure off your neck, lips crashing down on your own. Someway, somehow, you come a third time as his pelvic bone grinds into you, a muffled scream into his mouth as you do so. 

This is what sends Jungkook over the edge, his hips slamming into yours harshly as he comes into the condom, a strangled groan emitting from the back of his throat. 

“Fffuck Y/N,” he stills inside of you, both of your hearts racing and sweaty in the sheets. He collapses on top of you, your arms wrapping around him protectively as he places intimate kisses along your collarbone and chest. 

Your whole body is aflame and as he looks up to you, his eyes full of stars. You brush his fringe from his face slowly as the two of you kiss gently in the haze of the morning. You’re sure that Jeon Jungkook is a disguised angel fallen from heaven. 

⏤

“Sit still,” Jungkook laughs as he looks up from his sketch book briefly, a lazy smile playing at his lips. 

You laugh while biting your lip, “I am still!” You fight back as you rest your head in your hand, looking right at him longingly. He sets down his pencil for a moment, inhaling a small amount from the joint you two were currently sharing. You hadn’t smoked in a long time, but when Jungkook offered after having sex, you couldn’t refuse. 

Both of you are a little high not just on the flower, but each other too. You don’t know what time it is or how long both of you have been laying around at his apartment since you’ve been awake. On his bed, he’s sitting criss-crossed apple sauce across from you as you lay on your side as his model. He begged to sketch you for nearly 20 minutes before you finally agreed. 

You take another hit from the joint, “How’s it going?” You muse and he smirks slightly, chewing on his thumb nail as he continues to draw. 

“Do you ever shut up?” He says and you flip him off deservedly so. 

It’s only another 10 minutes until Jungkook proclaims he’s finished—at least for now. He says he’d add more details later when his brain was a little more clear. Though when he hands the sketch pad over to you, your eyes widen. 

“Oh wow,” you marvel, “More details?” You ask in disbelief. Though the sketch was tad a messy, not perfect, it still looked exactly like you. Almost frighteningly so. You were wearing his shirt again, your hair fallen and messy after the sexcapades earlier. Even the details of your hands are immaculate despite how minuscule they are in the drawing. 

“You like it?” He asks, his eyes a little wide, tone seeking validation. You give him a hazy-eyed smile, giving him a nod of approval. 

“I’ll sketch you one day, to return the favor,” you say with a peaked brow as you hand him back the sketch book. 

“A favor eh?” He bite his lip ring, “I had to beg you for this.” 

“Exactly—I always repay for charity work,” you laugh when he rolls his eyes, moving over to your frame. 

He lays on his side mirroring you as he props his head up on one of his hands. He inhales the joint once more with his tattooed hand, offering it to you once more. You shake your head, already feeling a good enough high to enjoy yourself and not go into full panic mode. 

“You have so many tattoos,” you comment as your eyes trail from his hand, up his forearm into his elbow, bicep, and finally, the top of his shoulder. 

“Mhm,” he mumbles, clearing the ashtray from his bed, setting it on the floor for now.

“Which one was your first?” You ask him; your curiosity cute to him. 

“Hmm,” he thinks about it as he brings out his arm a little to look over each one, “I think this one,” he says, referencing to the Chinese characters on the back of his elbow, “Or maybe the ones on my hand, I don’t really remember,” he laughs, his memory falling short in this moment. 

“Do they all mean something to you?” 

He nods immediately, his eyes finding yours again. You ask him which one is his favorite. 

“Probably this one,” he points to the orange tiger lily on the inside of his forearm, “It’s one of the ones I drew myself.” It’s detailed immaculately, with words blended in behind it, “It’s my birth flower,” he explains. You think he told you once his birthday was in September. Him being a Virgo makes sense to you. 

“What does it say behind it?” You ask as your free hand grabs his arm to bring closer to your eyes so you can see the details better. 

“Please love me,” he answers after a moment of watching you slowly turn his arm to marvel at all the ink. His words make you freeze though, your heart strings tugging towards him. 

You smile at him shyly, “Is Jeon Jungkook a romantic?” 

He smiles back at you fondly, “Only when I want to be.” 

“Mhm, sure,” you mumble, your hand finding his. His is much larger than yours, covering yours protectively. 

“You don’t have any tattoos?” He asks. He’s just seen you naked but his attention was exactly looking at certain places on your skin for ink. 

You shake your head, “I’ve always been too scared,” you tell him honestly with a laugh. 

He laughs clearly amused, “It’s not as bad as you think it is.” 

You roll your eyes, “Says the person with an arm covered in them. I’d trust someone who has like one or two… they’re more likely to be truthful about the pain.” 

“Well if you ever want one, I’ll go with you just so I can say I told you so,” he suddenly moves closer to your frame. He throws an arm over your waist, pulling you to him. 

“Never gonna happen,” there’s a lame attempt to tuck some of his hair behind his ear. It doesn’t stay, still too short. 

“I like you in my clothes,” he comments, brushing his nose against yours. He slowly closes the gap between you two. His lips are still so soft and each time he kisses you—it feels like the first. 

“It’s comfy,” you say once you break away from him, your nails scratching the back of his head gently. He relishes in it like a puppy, a relax smiled on his face. 

“You look better out of them though,” is his next comment which garners a giggle deep within you. One thing leads to the next and you’re having sex again. This time you’re on top of him, on your tummy, legs over his shoulders—and he makes you come each and every time. You’ve had many blissful moments in your life, but this has to be up with one of your most. 

⏤

Reality hits you when Jungkook drops you off at home that evening. Whatever bliss you experienced this morning and afternoon, it all feels like a dream that didn’t happen. You make sure to feed Sushi his wet food as soon you get home, as well as clean his litter box for him. Your phone is what makes you the most anxious. You’ve got missed texts and calls from a few people. Taehyung obviously, Sana, Seokjin, and even your father. 

[Taehyung Yesterday 11:13 PM] Please let me know when you get home. I love you. 

[Taehyung 12:09 PM] Did you get home okay?

[Taehyung 7:21 AM] Y/N please call me, you’re worrying me. 

[Taehyung 10:32 AM] Please text me when you see this. I haven’t slept all night. I love you so much. 

4 Missed Calls

Your throat constricts, feeling guilty that you didn’t even have the minds to look at your phone after Jungkook picked you up. You feel sick to your stomach as you continue through your messages. 

[Sana 8:23 AM] hey is everything okay?? taehyung texted me this morning and asked if I’ve heard from you

[Sana 8:26 AM] did you two get into a fight? are you home?

[Sana 1:15 PM] hello… are you alive????????

6 Missed Calls

You opt to deal with the others later, giving Sana a call back immediately. Also, just unsure of how to deal with Taehyung right now. She answers on the first ring. 

“What the actual FUCK have you been up to?!” She’s screaming and you have to hold the phone away from you as she continues, “You have me worried fucking sick! Why haven’t you answered me or Taehyung! Are you out of your fucking mind!?”

“Sana please, I’m fine,” you say after she’s cooled off some, “I need you to come over as soon as you can.” 

She hesitates, “Is everything okay?” She sounds worried, all malice gone in her tone. 

“I don’t know,” you whisper over the phone. Now that you’re going to have to face whatever mess has been created, your heart thumps and your chest is tight. She agrees, dropping whatever she’s doing hanging up just as fast. 

You decide to text Taehyung, knowing you’ve worked him up sick. 

[You 4:23 PM] I’m fine. Slept a lot last night and today, ringer was off. 

[You 4:24 PM] love you too 

You add the second text without hesitation, despite a bubbling substance of guilt in your tummy. You know your relationship with Taehyung can’t continue. Whatever hurt he’s caused you and what you’ve done with Jungkook—it’s all down the drain. And it’s this reality that makes you break down, sliding to the floor in choked sobs. 

Sana finds you this way, nearly hyperventilating as she hurries over to you. 

“Y/N!” She exclaims, “Oh my god, it’s okay, it’s okay,” she kneels beside you, her arms throwing themselves around you tightly. You lean into her touch, trying to make sentences but nothing comes out. Just incoherent jumble as you choke out tear after tear. 

Sana is literally the best of friends you could ever ask for. As you lay curled up on your couch, she’s fixed you a cup of hot tea and a bowl of ramen for you two with the works—pork belly, an egg, and green onions. 

As she serves up your food, she’s got the most worried look on her face and you can’t blame her. You probably look horrifying—horrifying with an after sex glow. 

“Babe,” she says after you begin to eat your food, “What’s going on? You’re scaring the shit out of me.” 

You slurp a noodle, “Sana,” you groan, “I think I fucked up, but also Taehyung fucked up, fucked up, and I think we broke up but th—“

“Whoa whoa,” she stops you, “Broke up? W-what do you mean?” She’s utterly stunned as you relay this information. 

So it’s when you tell her. Tell her everything your life has succumbed to in the last month. From meeting Jungkook—no inspiration—Taehyung putting work before you—the date with Jungkook—the fucking sex dream—to the real reason Taehyung asked to move in with you—the kiss with Jungkook, feelings for him—Jungkook’s dad being Taehyung’s main boss—everything up until after the party. 

“How long has he known about the move?” Sana is angry as you tell her all this information. 

“I don’t know,” you shrug, “We kind of blew up at each other last night and then I just left…” 

“Shit,” she mutters, “Well that’s really fucking shitty of him to do that to you Y/N. You’ve been together too long for him not to give you a heads up about that.” 

You nod as you set down your bowl of food on the coffee table, “I know and like I said I think we broke up but I’m not exactly sure and now—“ you cut yourself off, your stomach churning at the thought. She looks at your curiously as if she knows what you’re about to say will make her disappointed in you. 

“What did you do?” She says slowly to brace herself. 

“I wasn’t answering my phone last night because I wasn’t here.” 

You can’t even look at her as you continue. 

“I was with Jungkook.” 

Sana doesn’t say anything as she lets your words process, all the puzzle pieces coming together in her head slowly but surely. She doesn’t look angry or confused, but her face is emotionless which is honestly scarier to you. 

“You had sex with him, didn’t you?” She already knows, but she wants to hear you confirm it yourself. You nod slowly, adding in not just once—but three separate times. She runs a hand over her temple, her brain clearly working overtime. 

There’s a heavy moment of silence that falls between the two of you. You don’t regret hooking up with Jungkook at all—if anything, him and his company has been the light of your life the past few weeks. You just can’t help but feel whatever grey area that Taehyung created, you separated it into black and white without him. Was that fair to him? 

“So you had sex with Jungkook, kind of broken up with Taehyung after a fight, but not for sure… and you haven’t talked to Taehyung since last night?” 

“Yeah…” you sigh heavily, putting your head in your hands. 

“God Y/N,” she mumbles, her hand running up and down your back, “Well you for sure have to talk to Taehyung sooner than later… you have to tell him—“

“Sana—“

“Y/N you’ve dated and loved this man for five years—he deserves to know, even if you two truly were broken up,” she’s harsh with her words, but you know she’s right. “So what do you truly feel for Jungkook?”

“What do you mean?” You ask. Truthfully, you hadn’t put any thought into it since you’ve been home. 

“You clearly have developed feelings for him over the last few weeks, faster than even Taehyung,” she pauses, “Do you want something out of him? Or do you think he was just there to comfort you when you needed it?” 

You look up from your hands, looking at her in your peripheral, “Fuck Sana, I don’t know,” you feel tears threatening to spill over again, “I think being with Taehyung for so long, I never thought there would be another person I could actually develop feelings for, but he’s kind and gentle, he listens to me, makes me feel heard, and he’s so much like me but that also fucking terrifies me.”

“Why is that scary?” 

You lean back into your couch, meeting her gaze, “I always thought I wanted someone so different from me, different than my parents relationship—and I found that and I love him so much,” your voice is strained, “But I’m not sure if different is what I actually needed.” 

She puts a hand on your knee for comfort, “Can I be as honest as I can with you?” She’s a little unsure of your reaction, but as soon as you nod she gives you a reassuring squeeze, “I know that you love Taehyung and I know that it’s been hard with his job… I don’t think you should have slept with Jungkook so soon but…” she pauses, “I’m not going to try to make excuses for you but, I get it,” her words aren’t expected and your shoulders relax.

“I think someone like Jungkook was going to come into your life eventually, it just happened to be when you were with someone else… I think you’ve always been scared to be like your parents, but you’re not trapped in a box, you have free will and you’re allowed to do as you please. I don’t think you needed different either, I think you’ve always just wanted someone to give you the same amount of love you give them,” her words are so true that you feel your chest constricting again.

“I’m not going to sit here and say you crossed a boundary because I don’t know if you did, only you know that yourself… but Taehyung deserves the respect from you to let him know and you deserve someone who works in the relationship equally. I feel like this may have been unfair to Taehyung but he's also been unfair to you, for a long time now,” she adds in a breath, “I don’t think you and Taehyung can be together anymore, but I also don’t know if you should be with Jungkook right now either.” 

Sana’s words cut through you like a freshly sharpened knife. She’s your best friend for a reason. She’s supposed to support and love you, but she’s also supposed to hold you accountable. You don’t even say anything else as you crawl over to her, both of you embracing in a tight hug. 

“I love you,” you mumble to her, honestly coating every word. 

“I love you more,” she responds. And you know she does. 

⏤

It’s been almost two weeks since your shitshow of last weekend. You’ve barely interacted with anyone aside from Sana and an occasional text from your parents, asking about your final exhibition dates. You told Seokjin that you needed to work from home this week, citing a change in scenery would be stimulating. Obviously, he didn’t know it really was a ploy to keep you away from Jungkook. 

You hadn’t spoken to him since sleeping with him. He reached out to you once over text, though you ignored it, needing your head clear of your demons before you faced him. As time has passed, you still don’t regret hooking up with him. The only thing you feel is shame; afraid that your advances came off in bad taste, only using him as a distraction. Luckily as you’ve come to learn, Jungkook is extremely good at reading people and when you didn’t respond to him—he never texted again. You obviously wanted space and he was going to respect that. 

What you couldn’t keep running away from was Taehyung. It’s why you’re meeting him now at a park that’s not too far from your apartment. It’s middle of the day on a Thursday, which is surprising that Taehyung agreed to meet now when you reached out. You assumed that he would have been at work but it's when he shows up in casual jeans and a t-shirt, that he must not be. 

You’re sitting on a park bench, dressed casually in a sweatshirt and sweat-shorts anxiously waiting for him to show face. When he comes around to sit down, he startles you slightly, but his presence brings a comfortable warmth. 

“H-hi,” you say nervously, turning your frame to him. He didn’t look good—his eyes baggy and dry, lips a little chapped, and his hair a little messy. 

“Hey,” is what he chooses, his own tone sounded a little off. There’s an awkward space between you two on the bench. 

“How have you been?” You ask, your eyes kind of darting any and everywhere, unable to hold his gaze for too long. 

His lip trembles as he sighs heavily, “Not the best,” he says honestly. You nod slowly, agreeing with him. 

Somedays you’re fine. You go through your day and normal routine of spin classes and painting, cuddling Sushi, and going to bed early. Other days have been horrible—up late unable to sleep due to stress and crying, no productivity in sight. While you and Taehyung have texted over these last couple weeks checking in on each other, being in front of him right now feels like there’s a spotlight on you and you’re scared to fuck up. You haven’t been ready to talk until now, but now you’re here and going mute. 

“Listen Y/N—“

“Tae—“

You speak at the same time to which you both smile at each other. 

“You go first,” you offer, still feeling like you may chicken out of what you actually need to say to him. 

He nods once, biting on his lip nervously, “Y/N I’ve been thinking the last couple weeks and um,” he pauses taking in a deep breath, “I realize I fucked up so bad. I thought about what you said and you’re right, I should have never assumed that you would have been okay with moving and never talking about it with you first…” 

As his voice slightly weakens as he continues to talk, it only breaks your heart even more. You have to tell yourself not to cry. 

“I’ve been pretty shitty to you at times and I always thought if I could give you nice things, take you out to nice dinners.. that it would somehow make up for the time we’ve lost over the years, but now I see that’s not what you needed at all.” 

You now have tears streaming down your cheeks—god, if only he recognized this sooner, maybe this wouldn’t have fallen apart the way it did. 

“I just love you so much and I get it if you don’t want to be with me anymore,” you watch a tear fall from his cheek, “But I just want you to know that I never intended on hiding anything from you and I’m sorry that I did. It was never my intention to hurt you and put you in a hard position, I just—fuck,” he stops, tugging on the roots of his hair. “I’m fucking sorry for everything Y/N, I just can’t move on and make this move if you hate me for the rest of your life.” 

Your face falls and you chest feels like it’s cracked open. You quickly close the space between you two, placing a hand gently on his face so he would look you in the eyes. 

“Taehyung I could never, ever hate you,” you tell him truthfully, “I have loved you for so long and I don’t think I’ll stop anytime soon…” 

He nods in your hands, relishing in your gently grip. He doesn’t say anything else, so you take it as your time. 

“I did and still do feel hurt about you keeping this from me,” you pause, dropping your hands, “I know that this had to have been a hard decision but the fact you left me out of it isn’t okay and I’m glad you recognize that… and you’re right, I never cared about the jewelry and the dinners and the flowers and wine, all I ever wanted was just you and me, against the world,” he chokes out a deep sob at your words, breaking your heart all over again. 

“I just, I truly can’t leave behind what I’ve worked for and the goals I want to accomplish here,” you shake your head, “It’s just not fair to me, but that doesn’t mean I will ever hate you or stop loving you.” 

He nods slowly as he takes in all of your information, his breath shakes as he breathes out. 

“Taehyung,” you brace yourself, “There’s something else I need to tell you.” 

He looks at you with a panicked expression as he mutters a hm? 

“I lied to you too about something,” your cadence is slow as you look down, picking at a loose piece of skin on your thumb, “I didn’t go home when I left your place after our fight.”

His eyebrows deeply furrow and you can see his brain working in overtime. Taehyung’s a smart man and it doesn’t take him long to piece together what you’re saying. 

“You went to his place, didn’t you? Jungkook? Seokjin’s student?” His jaw slightly clenches as he says it. You nod to confirm, feeling uncomfortable with how he's framed his words. “Jesus fucking Christ Y/N,” he suddenly stands up from the bench, another stressed pull of his hair, “We get into one fight and you run off to fuck someone who is basically your student?” 

“What?” You fight back, “No—no,” you rush out, though your heart sinks given you’re lying at this very second while trying to tell the truth. “Taehyung no, he’s just a friend I swear.” 

He turns back to you, eyes narrowing at you, “Can you look me in the eyes and tell me nothing happened with your fucking friend then? Is that why you lied to his father about knowing who he was?” 

You stare at him with your lips slightly parted, your heart thumping deep within your chest, “We kissed,” you whisper, wincing at your words internally.

“Is that it?” He asks with a tone that’s a mix of anger and desperation. 

There’s a lump in your throat and you realize that you truly are a coward and can’t tell him with words, so you do what a coward would do and shake your head. An entire new wave of shame enters your body now that you’re sat in front of Taehyung. His face falls, the line officially crossed. There’s no going back in this relationship. His jaw is unsteady as he fights whatever emotions are brewing inside him. 

“I need to go,” he says looking around the empty park. He loves you, he really does—but right now he can’t look at you. Your fight may have unofficially ended things between you two, but the fact you ran to Jungkook for comfort is what breaks his heart. What did Jungkook have, that Taehyung didn’t?

“Taehyung,” you stand up trying to stop him from walking away, “Please can we—“

“No Y/N,” he says, springing away from your grip that you had on his shirt, “We can’t.” 

It’s the last thing he says as he walks away. It’s feels almost a little too poetic. Not only is he leaving this city, but he’s leaving you here in it. Alone and heartbroken. Almost like how it was going to end up the entire time. 

⏤

It’s another week until you make it back into the studio in person. You’ve camped away in your apartment with Sushi for long enough—Sana, Seokjin, and others worried about you and your absence. You’ve had a lot of time to reflect as you been alone. You’ve been able to gather your thoughts and understand your rights versus wrongs. 

You haven’t seen or spoken to Taehyung since the other week ago in the park. You’ve attempted to call him a couple times to see if any peace can be amended, but to no avail. It’s been a weird transition for you—going from having everything in your life in order to everything blowing up in front of you so fast. Of course you’re sad, angry, frustrated, annoyed, and more. Your emotions were all over the place the last couple weeks. You had yet to feel closure with Taehyung which was killing you on the inside. You just hoped that he would eventually come around before he moved. You had no idea when he was leaving—but you needed to see him one last time before he goes. 

You’ve also been reflecting on the common denominator of the blow up of your life in the last two months. Jeon Jungkook. 

Jungkook came into your life full speed unafraid to crash into the brick wall in front of him. You know that you let your feelings for him get out of control but you also knew that wasn’t exactly something you could control. Consistently, he was just always there when you seemingly needed company. He says the right things, understands you, hears and listens to you. You’ve never had a connection with someone like that so quickly. However, he’s disappeared from your life almost as fast as he came in it. He checked in on your one more time after the first time, only this time you ended up responding, telling him that you were okay and just working from home. You weren’t fine, but the latter was true. 

Which is why you’re shocked when you come in on Tuesday morning to find him sitting on the floor outside your studio. You look around and listen in carefully—Seokjin isn’t even here yet and you came in early on purpose. It’s been your routine to avoid people—mainly Jungkook himself. You come in around 7 AM and leave by 3 PM, sneaking out before anyone would notice you were here. 

“J-Jungkook?” You ask, unable to believe that he’s here at this time. 

He looks up from his phone looking a little startled. He stands quickly, brushing his hands off on his sweatpants. 

“What are you doing here so early?” You ask, keeping a distance between you two. You feel a little insecure in your paint-stained denim shorts and white t-shirt that you actually slept in last night. 

He opens his mouth quickly, “I just,” he pauses closing his eyes for a moment, “I just wanted to see to you. I missed you," he admits a little shyly.

Your hands go clammy, heart quickening, but you’re nodding, silently agreeing with him. He steps aside to let you unlock your studio space, the sun already bright shining in. He follows in behind you, closing the door for privacy. You set down your bag on the small couch, watching him intently as he looks around. If there’s been one positive about your absence, it’s been how much work you’ve got done. 

You’ve finished approximately seven paintings in three weeks, an eight almost finished, which means you’ll finish just in time for the final exhibition next weekend. As much as you love apprenticeship life, you were more than ready for something new. 

“What do you think?” You approach Jungkook from behind as he stares at the finished paintings along the wall you’ve been hanging up to dry completely. 

“They’re exquisite,” he says with his mouth slightly agape, “A little sad,” he adds.

He’s staring at Drowning for the Sake of Drowning and Forward—a black and white charcoal piece of a female figure, hunched over with her face away, clearly distressed about something. You named in Forward in hopes that you can soon move past the stage of hiding and crying away alone. You don’t even realize Jungkook’s looking at you as you stare at the piece a little too long. 

“I’ve been worried about you.” 

You look at him when he breaks the silence, his eyes indeed looking confused, anxious, a little sad. 

“I know,” you say weakly. He turns around to face you, opening his mouth to speak but you cut him off in a rush—“I’m so sorry Jungkook.” 

He looks taken aback, his brows furrowing in confusion, “F-for what?” 

You’re confused as to why he’s confused, “I..” You pause licking your lips since they’re dry from you picking at them nervously, “For one I’m sorry for not being responsive. I'm sorry for dragging you into my mess. I came to you when I needed comfort but I feel like it came across that I was taking advantage of you in those moments—I don’t want you think that I was just trying to sleep with to make me feel better—“

“Is that what you think?” He cuts you off, stepping towards you. 

You don’t move, your feet frozen in place, “Well.. yeah?” You pause, “I don’t know I just didn’t know how to talk to you after what happened and with Taehyung I just—“

“Hey, hey,” he steps forward again, his hands grabbing the side of your face. God, his presence and touch were so comforting, “You don’t have to explain anything to me,” his voice is low and steady, “I’ve been so worried that something happened to you and I wanted to help but I knew that you wanted space. And for fucksakes, don’t ever say sorry for something like that Y/N,” he breathes out heavily and you almost feel tears spring in the corner of your eyes. You grab onto his wrists to steady yourself. 

“Jungkook I just feel like my whole life has been a shitshow the past couple months and I don’t know how to fix it,” your voice falls off, unsteady and unconfident. 

He shakes his head slightly, “Y/N you don’t have to ‘fix’ anything,” he says, “Life isn’t linear, we all have shitty times and we all have good times,” he pauses, “What’s important is how you deal with those things… shutting yourself off isn’t a way to deal with it,” his words almost have a humorous tone and you can’t help but chuckle to yourself. He looks at you confused again before asking what?

“You just always know what to say. It's annoying.” 

He laughs to himself, his hands moving away from your face to pull you into a hug. You return it happily, forgetting how nice his body feels against yours. 

“Thank you,” you mumble to him. 

“Anything for you, Y/N.” 

⏤

Your heels clank against the hardwood, feeling like it sounds similar to bricks being thrown into a dumpster as you feel extra sensitive to noises today. You’ve just entered the art exhibition that resides in a large gallery building downtown closer to the city. All the art has been transported over the last few days from all different departments. From Seokjin’s, to Park Kihyun’s, sculptors to oil-based paintings, to everything in between. 

You had yet to find where they displayed your artwork, going through the gallery slowly by yourself taking in everyone’s work one at a time. Again, your steps are heavy, anxiety rushing through your veins. This was always one of the worst parts of being an artists—displaying your pieces for everyone to critique and pick apart. Unlike the student’s art that was being displayed, you weren’t getting a grade but you still felt tremendous pressure for people to like your work. Art was all about getting people to like what you put out, which was much easier said than done. 

You run into your usual lunch crew; Lisa, Jisoo, and Yugyeom—sans Jungkook. You wondered where he was. 

“Y/N,” Lisa gives you a quick hug, “When did you get here?” 

“Like, ten minutes ago,” you tell her. 

“Have you seen your pieces?” She says quickly, almost too quickly. 

“No, why?” You respond in panic, “Did something happen to them?” 

Jisoo then laughs, “Nothing happened… they’re amazing. There was some man who was asking around for you, seemed to be important.” 

Your shoulders relax at the word of nothing bad happening to your pieces, but more anxiety creeping into your skin about the latter information. You let them know you’ll go check everything out soon, still wishing to look around before you found your own. You had looked at them enough the last few weeks—you needed a change of scenery. 

You walk into a smaller room where a particular name catches your eye. Jungkook’s artwork is in display with Yugyeom's. You wonder if they asked for that on purpose, a smile growing on your face as you stare at his work. 

Jungkook’s art works similar to yours—clean lines, realistic, the only difference is he utilizes a lot more color than you ever would. It matches him well though—he’s vibrant and commands attention in any room he walks into. One piece in particular catches your eye—Grapejuice Blues. 

It’s white sheets—similar to the ones on his bed—and a large, dark rouge staining them as a wine glass lays in the background. It’s almost painfully simple but it could easily be mistaken for a photograph. The familiar stir in your tummy occurs and you have to fight a smile. 

When you leave the alcove where Jungkook’s works reside, you decide to make it your mission to find your work. It doesn’t take you much longer, though you stop dead in your tracks when you do. Is this who Jisoo was talking about? 

You’d recognize his frame and head of hair through a crowd of hundreds. But there isn’t a crowd of hundreds and it’s definitely him—his tailored pants and dress shirt gives it away. He’s also holding what looks like a bundle of flowers. Your heart swells as you approach him. 

“Taehyung?” You ask. He turns around immediately, his warm eyes meeting yours, “What are you doing here?” 

He smiles slightly, looking down awkwardly at the flowers in his arms. He hands them over to you, “It’s been in my Google calendar for months, I didn’t want to miss it.” 

You heart thumps, but you’re a little confused, “Aren’t you mad at me?” 

He laughs, pulling you into a hug. You gladly return it, not caring if the flowers between you are squished a little. 

“Thank you for coming,” you tell him genuinely. It feels good to see him. 

“Of course,” his voice is deep as you pull away from him, “I was hoping I could run into you so I could give you this,” out of his pant pocket, he pulls out a folded up piece of paper. Your brows furrow as he holds it out for you to grab. 

“What’s this?” You ask him, taking it hesitantly. You start to unfold it before he stops you. 

“Don’t read it here—that’s my only request,” he laughs, his boxy smile peaking through a little bit. “Listen I have to run into the office this evening so I gotta go, but I’m glad I could see your work. It’s beautiful.” 

“Wait Taehyung,” you speak quickly, “I’m confused—when are you moving? We should talk…” 

He gives you a straight smile and you can tell he’s holding himself together for public. You are too. 

“Everything’s in there. We can talk soon,” he whispers, leaning down to kiss your cheek delicately, “I’ll love you forever.” 

He gets lost in the crowd as he walks away from you and whatever type of note he’s written you feels a thousand pounds in your hand. Your feet are about to pick you up to leave, giving it feels like you're heart was a glass castle and it was completely shattered. You suddenly felt all too claustrophobic surrounded by the art and people. 

You turn on your heel but this time you nearly run smack dab into someone. It’s a man who is dressed nicely but also has a touch of that specific art touch to him. 

“Are you Miss Y/N?” He says as you take a step back from him. You’re staring up at this random man, unable to find your voice. 

“Uh,” you pause, “Y-yeah, w-who are you?” Your throat is dry. You need to get out of here. 

“I’m Min Yoongi,” he speaks confidently, “I’m an art curator at a contemporary gallery in Gangnam, I was hoping to get your information to set up an interview. I was recommended to take a look at your work, but obviously I needed to see before I jumped to any type of deal. But I think your pieces are superb and I think I have some clients who would be interested in your work.” 

Your eyes widen, your breath taken away from you. And there it is again—life not being fucking linear. Two seconds again you felt on the verge of a panic attack, paper heavy in your hand and now you’ve forgotten about any of that as you speak to this Min Yoongi. 

Unbeknownst to you, Jungkook was observing the interaction from a distance, out of sight from either one of you. You look angelic in the white dress on your frame; it’s short, fitted in all the right places with an off the shoulder bodice. While Jungkook necessarily didn’t fit into the mold of his family, he was lucky to be apart of the Jeon family name. His father had connections everywhere. Jungkook wanted to help you as much as he could since he knew that if any apprentice here deserved an art career, it was you. 

Jungkook is currently staring at the final piece you had finished last week, a small smile growing on his face as he takes it in. It’s an odd, more abstract piece from you. The use of color was what really struck Jungkook as different for you. It’s a human heart shaped out of orange tiger lilies. Given his dress shirt was rolled up on his forearms, he looks down at his own tiger lily tattoo and he swears his heart leaps from his chest. He couldn’t put a label on what the relationship with you was, but he knew that you were special to him. 

When he glances back to where you stood with Min Yoongi, you’re gone. His eyebrows furrow, taking once last glance at your pieces before his feet carry him to find you. 

You’ve found solace outside, the warm air comforting on your exposed arms and legs. The flowers he gave you are beside you on the ledge you jumped up on to sit. Your hands shake as you read through Taehyung’s letter; fighting tears, smiling, and laughing through it all. 

It takes Jungkook about 10 minutes to find you and when he does, he can tell you’re upset. He hesitates going up to you, but you look like you needed a hug. You don’t even notice Jungkook approach you as you’re sat with your head in your hands, the letter read and laying on the other side of you. You’re not crying—thank god—but you’re feeling an overwhelming amount of emotions running through your veins right now. 

You're excited about the prospect of working for a gallery, wondering who exactly recommended Min Yoongi to come to the exhibit and look at your pieces. You're sad at the fact yours and Taehyung's relationship has come to its finality. It's weird having such contrasting emotions going through you, each one fighting for your attention.

When you see a pair of black dress shoes appear in your vision, you slowly look up to find Jungkook looking at you longingly, his hands shoved into the pockets of his pants. He takes your breath away in his black dress shirt and checkered cigarette pants. 

“Hey,” he says simply. You don’t even think as you pull him by his arm into a bear hug as he settles between your legs. He laughs as you do so, hugging you back tightly, resting his head on your exposed shoulder, “You okay?” 

You shake your head, “Yes,” you say but then, “No—yes, I don’t know,” you groan into him, inhaling his scent. Your hands meet behind him around his waist as you squeeze him tightly. 

Taehyung’s not mad at you. 

Taehyung loves you. And he always will. 

He says he hasn’t reached a place of full forgiveness yet. 

But he knows that you have a right to be mad at him. 

He’s moving at the end of summer. 

He wants you to reach out with anything you need. 

He acknowledges that you two have grown into differences over the last five years. 

But he will always love you and he’s grateful for you. 

You know you’ll always love him too. 

You pull away from Jungkook slightly, thankful for his presence right now. He’s the best drug you've ever tried—warm and comforting—addicting and easy to get lost into. 

“Your work is beautiful Jungkook,” you tell him honestly, trying to get your mind off of the things bothering you. Today was a happy day. 

“Not as beautiful as you,” he responds slyly with a nose scrunch and you pinch his butt, “Quit it,” he laughs, pulling you off the ledge you’re sat on. 

“What are you doing?” You whine as he pulls you to him, his hands resting on your waist. 

“We're gonna dance,” he says simply as he pulls you flush against him. 

“Why?” You laugh as he begins to sway, your hands finding their way around his neck. 

“To make you feel better.”

“How do you know I don’t feel good?” You fight back. 

“Because I know you,” he pauses, “And I know what you look like when you’re happy and when you’re sad.” 

You feel your face get hot, a small smile growing on your face, “Well then what else do you know about me?” 

“Hmm,” he muses, “I know what you sound like when you like something,” he raises an eyebrow at you as you two continue to sway with no music or anything. You roll your eyes, a laugh emitting from you. “There it is,” he pinches your side as you swat away his hand with another laugh. He loves your laugh. 

“Stop it,” you tell him, stepping away from him some, your hands interlaced with his in between your bodies. 

“Feel better?” 

You shrug, “A little,” you say, studying his face. His expression doesn’t seem satisfied so you say as he scrunches his nose, “Yes, I do. God you’re so impossible.” 

He chuckles back at you, kissing your knuckles sweetly, “What are friends for?” 

“You’re really running this ‘friend’ thing into the ground aren’t you?” 

He freezes for a moment, chewing on his lip ring, “Only until you’re ready.” 

You mirror him as he readjusts your hands in his, “Ready for what?” 

He studies your face intently, a small smile growing across his features, "You know."

You think you know exactly what he means. You tell him you do and he smiles in content, placing a kiss on your forehead through his smile. If there's one thing you're for sure about, it's that Jeon Jungkook is indeed, very special to you too. 

#surpise! posted early👻 #i hope you all enjoy💕 #jungkook #jjk #jeon jungkook #jungkook x you #jungkook x reader #jungkook x oc #jungkook smut #jungkook angst #jungkook fluff #jungkook scenario #jungkook oneshot #jungkook au #artist jungkook #bts #bts smut #bts angst #bts fluff #jungkook fanfic #bts fanfic #bts jungkook #jungkook fic recs #kpop #kpop fanfic #btswritingcafe

[star-vibing-prompts]

☆Some random ass prompts☆

Feel free to change the pronouns and stuff! Feel free to credit me or something, I don't really care???? Just make sure to claim them as your own.

Also maybe '@' me if you use these! I wanna see what y'all do!<3

"Who said you can have her? If you want her, you'll have to go through me!" "...disappointing but fine."

A is pregnant and B is dead. How is B dead? Who knows? However A is stressed and is still grieving for B. How does the child birth go? Who knows? All up to you.

B invites A to a midnight dinner to discuss some important matters and just what are these important matters that got A all horrified and shocked?

"Hmm...I guess it could work, but will it really?" "I don't know, I'm just going with my gut here." ".....we're all gonna die....."

"I will bite you!" "Oh fuck you!" "...the sexual tension between those two is unreal holy fuck.."

"Hey mama? What's papa doing?" "Your father is being stupid but at this point, I'm used to it." "Is that how you guys met? Him being silly?" "Haha, yes little one. Indeed so."

A is a bit chaotically unhinged and B is a tired workaholic that wants A to calm down for a second so B can confess their feelings to A.

A and B are dating and are planning on getting married very soon, however, C has been feeling very lonely since the two first started dated so they want to join in on the relationship but aren't sure how to bring it up to the two without sounding creepy or awkward or desperate.

C and B are snuggling and A joins in on the snuggling session. Poly ships go brrr!!!

^^^ "Who knew A can be this affectionate when snuggling, huh?" "Haha yeah." "I can hear you y'know? So shut up and let me enjoy this."

Smut prompts! (Read at your own risk)

"Mmm..that's it baby~ just moan for me and me only~"

"Aww~ you're so cute. Do you want your daddy to give you a reward for being such a good girl?~"

"Me. You. Bed. Now."

"Oh? You like it when I bite? Why didn't you say so sooner?"

A is horny as fuck and is usually the dominant one in the relationship but tonight B is horny as fuck and decides to show A how much of a dominant person they really can be.

^^^ A is so into that shit.

B wants to spend quality type with A privately but A is always at work so when they finally have a day off, B had decorated the room to "set the mood". Does A like it or not? All up to you.

B's boss comes to visit B and A, however, he ends up flirting with A while B is fuming with jealousy. However, B easily scoops A and starts aggressively making out with A to prove and show B's boss that A belongs to them only.

"I will fuck you so hard that you won't be able to walk for a few months! Understand?" "Mm kinky. Why not do it right here and now then babe?~"

"What the fuck are you?" "I'm a sex worker." "..oh-" "Got a problem with that?" "No...but can you fuck me?" "Heh, if that's what you want~"

Yandere prompts!

"You belong to me only darling!"

A shy innocent looking yandere x A tired asf college student

"Aww,,you're so cute and gorgeous when you are all dolled up like this! What's the occasion? You aren't going with that BITCH are you?"

"I love you! I love you! I love you! Wait- hold on- why aren't you saying it back? You do love me back right?" "O- Of course! I lo- I love you too." "Yay! But why are you crying? Who hurt you?!"

A emotionless yandere x A bright sunshine

A is a yandere and practically forced B into a relationship with them by using their secrets and loved ones against them. B is absolutely fucking miserable and probably beyond broken and saving (emotionally wise)

A werewolf yandere x A vampire

"Whoever said you can't leave? You can leave but all you gotta do is tell me where you're going on what day and at what time! Okay love?"

"No! You must stay with me! It's the only way that I can be truly happy! Please! I'm begging you! I love--no--I - I must love you!"

"I promise I'll always be with you but...you gave me no choice, I had to. I had to protect you from him. I'm sorry my love."

#otp prompts #fluff prompts #vibe prompts #star prompts #random prompts #prompt batch 1 #enemies to lovers prompts #angst prompts #smut prompts #polyamourous #poly prompts #imagine your otp #yandere prompts #original character #original prompts

[yarameijer]

Hey again! I just had this weird little idea for like a pre accidental reverse timeline story with Raimon except most of them are already in college (like the first years are still in their last year of highschool) and a new crazy threat appears (am I thinking of apocalypse? Maybe, but any threat will do) so like as the forever stuck captain (the role never stops even when most of the gang's in college and doesn't have much time for soccer anymore, but hey groupchats make friendships last), Tenma has to round em all up again but this time the college students are now equipped with new skills they learned from being in college and their own majors and-

I'm a little high with sugar right now i think so like just this au sounds so appealing to me for no reason.

On the otger hand- apocalypse au????? I wanna start on that myself ngl

Ooh, apocalypse AU. I'm gonna be honest here,,

I'm sorta working on one?

Super different from what you've described tho, but still. Apocalypse AUs are surprisingly fun sometimes. For me. Not so much for the characters! I think Tenma needs like four separate therapists to deal with all his issues.

ANYWAY lmao the whole setting of your idea is cracking me up. ''forever stuck captain'' is so real, Endou can confirm. They'll never get rid of the role.

Tenma being like AVENGERS ASSEMBLE, except it's SOCCER PLAYERS ASSEMBLE (summon the soccer players...?) and them just being terrifyingly and chaotically effective... I can see that happening. Very much so.

This actually sort of reminds me of this idea, a sort of AU of Accidental Reverse, in which the whole of Raimon is sent back to the past? The entire team. And they just. take the world by storm. The reason Fifth Sector doesn't go down within a week is because Raimon decides to have some fun first. They,, may sort of,, take over the Japanese economy (Shindou's fault) and the soccer world because they're ''fighting fire with fire''. AKA they COULD stage another revolution through the means of soccer and show everyone what real soccer is, OR they could fight Fifth Sector for their influence and power OR infiltrate them from within and take over the whole thing (in secret, of course. Endou might suspect. Endou will take it to his grave.) because that's more fun.

I haven't decided yet if Tenma would actually be sent back in this one too, because on one hand, we want the whole team together and happy and a force of nature, but on the other it seems very funny to have the entire team doting on baby Tenma because ''he's so small!! He's so sweet!!!! Must protect!!!'' Like Shindou casually drafting a message that will wipe out a massive branch of Fifth Sector on his phone while taking Tenma out for ice cream. Like, yes.

Whoops, I got a bit off track there lmao. Back to the original idea - I can actually see Endou doing something similar? Getting pretty much anyone who's anyone in the soccer world together with just a few messages, for whatever reasons. And since it's been ten years... questionable skills, anyone?

I get why sugar-high-you got stuck on this idea, the more you think of it, the more potential it seems to get :D

#inazuma eleven #inazuma eleven go #ie11 #ina11 #ie go #raimon

[leilakisakabiri]

Dark Paradise (Neymar Jr)

Plot: Reader is a college student tasked with writing a portfolio on the 2014 Brazilian National Team and just can't seem to get along with one player in specific.

Warning(s): N/A

Word Count [2715]

A/N: Hey Guys! No upload schedule for this yet. I am entering finals season for university, but I just wanted to get the story out there. Had so much fun writing this.

Part One.

You had met Neymar back during the 2014 World Cup in Brazil. You had just begun your final year of college studying journalism and had been selected along with 3 other students to work alongside your school's broadcasting company to detail the World Cup.

The job had given you one of the best things in your life, Neymar. You had met on sunny afternoon after practice one day, your professor assigning your team with the task of traveling to Granja Comary to interview the Brazilian players.

Once there you split the players up amongst your team with how you had decided before, with you being the one to interview last.

With some free time on your hands, you decided to take a tour of the property and see if you could find anything that could help in building your piece. The grounds themselves were breathtaking, surrounded by mountains and lush grass as far as the eye could see.

You wandered around, aimlessly walking down random hallways, exploring the different buildings. You came across a display showcasing all the different awards and medals Brazil had won in its history.

"Who the hell are you?"

You looked up startled at the sound of another voice as you came face to face with a tan boy who looked around you age glaring at you, a phone pressed against his hand, clearly already agitated from the phone call.

"I'm sorry?"

"No media allowed here, you need to leave."

You put your hand up in mock surrender playfully, "Oops sorry didn't realize that."

The boy shook his head, before speaking rapidly in what you could only assume was Portuguese, ending the call. He came over to you, grabbing your wrist and pulling you along with him,

"Clearly. Fucking media never respects anyone."

You were surprised at his rudeness and how you knew you were media before you realized you were wearing a badge literally labeled 'Media Team'.

"Hey! Not all of us are bad, and besides I wasn't even snooping."

He rolled his eyes, still pulling you along towards the exit, "That's what they all say. Now get off the property."

Now it was your turn to be angry, "Excuse me? First of all I'm a human being so treat me like one, second I'm literally just here to do my job."

This just agitated the boy more, "Well then go on and do it instead of just standing around."

You huffed pulling your hand from his grasp.

What an asshole, who the hell did he think he was?

He waited expectedly for you to leave, you bit your tongue not wanting to say anything else to make the argument escalate, "Fine."

"Fine." he replied, and with that, you turned around walking out the door and heading back towards the main buildings where the interviews were being held.

Never had you met someone who was ruder right off the bat, sure you were somewhere you weren't supposed to be, but no one had told you it was off limits, and you weren't even doing anything, just admiring the display.

You came back into the main building finding that things were much more chaotic then when you left.

"What's going on?" you asked as you approached one of your team members, Miles.

"Neymar, the star player, is apparently nowhere to be found. He was supposed to be in the first round of interviews but he stormed off a while ago."

"Why is everyone on this team so tight-strung." you said referring to the mishap you had just minutes prior.

He shrugged, "No idea, anyways, he'll probably end up in your section if they ever find him."

You groaned not looking forward to having to deal with two assholes in one day.

You had never been a big football fan to start with, but by the way your day was going you were sure that by the end of your project you weren't going to end up being one either.

After waiting around for another hour it was your turn to interview, and as you stepped into the media room you found a group of 5 players waiting for you along with the head and assistant coach.

You walked up to them introducing yourself, "Hello everyone my name is Y/N I'm going to be finishing up the interviews for today."

You heard someone let out an excited groan, "Thank god, I'm so hungry."

You let out a smile looking at the player reading his name card, Dani Alves. "I'll try to make it as quick as possible."

You launched into the interview, asking questions about the team strengths and weaknesses, different tactics they used in practices, and how they felt about their chances for this World Cup.

Before you know it, the interview had wrapped, and you were left to gather your things after the players had left whispering to each other about their lunch plans.

You were just about to leave the room when one of the assistant coaches came back into the room.

"Excuse me, sorry Y/N would you mind just staying another 10 minutes? Neymar is ready to give his interview."

You mentally groaned, you were so close to being done and going back to the hotel to rot away, but you couldn't say no.

"Yes, no problem at all. I'll just wait here."

He gave you an appreciative look before telling you he would be right back.

You sat back down on the interview chair, reopening your notes, you hadn't prepared for questioning him as he wasn't assigned to you, and your other team members had already left since their interviews wrapped before yours.

You didn't know really anything about the players, only the gameplay itself so you chose to focus your questions surrounding that.

Soon 10 minutes turned to 15 and then 20, and now almost 30 minutes after he was promised to be here, he was still nowhere to be seen.

You grew annoyed waiting, the room was boring and gray, and you had run out of things to entertain yourself with as you waited. There were only so many times you could read through your notes. Deciding to go see what was taking so long yourself, you walked over to the door, intent on finding someone.

Before you could open the door for yourself, however, it swung open, hitting you square in the face.

You staggered back, holding your now bleeding nose.

"Ow ow, oh my god I'm bleeding."

You looked up trying to find the person responsible before your eyes settled on the same tan boy from before standing in front of you an unreadable expression on his face.

"You."

You shut your eyes, not believing your luck, "Me."

"You two know each other?" A new voice perked up, the assistant coach walking in.

His smile dropped however when he saw your state and Neymar still glaring at you, "What happened? Are you okay?"

You glared back at the boy you came to learn as Neymar, tearing eye contact before looking over to the coach, "I'm fine, do you know where the restroom is?"

He nodded, pointing out the way as you turned to follow his directions, "I'll be right back."

Once you got to the bathroom you analyzed the state of your nose, cringing as you saw the blood smeared around your face. It didn't hurt as bad anymore, but the blood wouldn't stop rushing out.

You grabbed a handful of tissues trying to stop the bleeding, fuming as you thought about Neymar. He hadn't even apologized. Or even done anything to help, just stood there like a stupid statue.

You had never disliked another person so fast in your life.

Had the fame gotten to his head?

That must be it you thought as you finally got the bleeding under control. He was just a spoiled brat who was used to people adhering to his every demand. Well, you weren't going to be one of them, you were going to make sure that he was treated the same way he treated others.

And so the rivalry began.

The interview went just as smoothly as you had expected, meaning it was a complete waste of time. He answered your questions without any snide remarks, although he kept his answers as short as possible.

You were sure he was only being civil towards you because the coaching team was sitting next to him, but even then he purposely found ways to avoid answering your questions, and diverted the subject to something else entirely.

You huffed sick of going around in circles, "So you think that Brazil has the best shot of winning this year?"

"I never said that."

"You said that you think Brazil is at the best it's been in a long time, and you believe you can

lead the team forward."

"Yes."

"So, how do you believe the team will do in terms of winning the World Cup?"

"Unsure."

You gripped your pen tighter in your hand, fighting the urge to roll your eyes, you had asked all the players in your section the same question and they gave you concrete answers, either about how they hoped to do well or believed in the team. However, Neymar was giving you short of nothing.

"Ok, how do you think you will perform this year?" You asked, switching the question slightly.

"Depends."

"On?"

"How well I play."

This time you couldn't stop the urge to roll your eyes as you angled your face to the side, hoping the coaches wouldn't see, however, Neymar had and he made sure of pointing it out.

"Is something wrong?" he asked a smug smile on his face.

You grit your teeth, annoyed that you had just wasted the last hour of your life and gained nothing valuable to include in your piece. "I think we'll go ahead and end the interview here."

He got up before you could even finish your sentence.

"Perfect, thanks everyone."

You watched him leave the room silently cursing him out in every language you knew, which to be fair, was only 2.

The coaches stood up after his exit, beginning to make their way out as well.

The head coach, Scolari, came over to talk to you.

"I hope you got everything you need."

"Yes. Thank you." You said trying your hardest to not seem intimidated. Coach Scolari was a man who radiated authority and looked extremely tough, so he was definitely not someone you wanted to get on the wrong side of.

He nodded before turning around and walking away with the other coaches.

You grabbed your stuff, exiting the compound to go back to your makeshift home. You hoped that this was a one-time thing and that you wouldn't have any more run in's with the Brazilian team till the World Cup.

You were wrong. So very wrong.

After reading through your team notes, your professor was more adamant than ever that the best story would come from evaluating the Brazilian National Team in their home environment. This meant that for the next two weeks while the team was preparing for the World Cup you and your team would be lingering on the sidelines observing.

Your project which had once just focused on the Brazilian team during the World Cup had switched towards a narrative based on emphasizing who the Brazilian team was at its core, how that was presented in their play, and ultimately how that would lead them to victory. The project was a full-on immersion into the work lives of the entire football staff at Granja Comary.

You felt way in over your head. Essentially now instead of one piece, your professor was requesting a collection of pieces that would be shared in a portfolio, one due before the start of the World Cup, and one at the end.

You knew that this was a once in a lifetime opportunity, and you had already traveled all the way to Brazil from the United States to be a part of this team, but you couldn't help but wish that you knew the circumstances before coming.

"So does everyone understand the new objective?" You all nodded, listening as your professor explained the change in the assignment.

"Ok good, and remember, we are trying to introduce football to America. We want to write in a way that's persuading, honest, and informative. I'll see you all bright and early Monday morning, we'll meet at the hotel entrance and go as a group." He dismissed your team as you all left the conference room, heading back to your hotel rooms.

Isa, one of the other members of your team walked alongside you, "I can't believe we get to work with the Brazil team. I'm so excited!"

You nodded your head, "Yah they're such a joy to work with."

She frowned at your lack of enthusiasm, "Did something happen?"

"Just some player being rude."

She sighed sympathetically, "Ugh, sorry that's the worst. Don't worry you can probably pass him off to someone else."

You smiled at her words, she made him sound like a dirty rag that could be easily discarded,

which for some reason lightened your mood.

"Yeah probably."

She spoke again changing the topic, "So what are you doing tonight? First Friday in Brazil!"

You shrugged, to be honest you weren't that good friends with anyone on your team, and hadn't really planned on coming to Brazil to have fun.

"Oh c'mon you have to go out. We're only here for two months don't waste your time. The team and I are going out tonight, Miles found some club that he swears is life-changing, you should come with."

"Ok fine, but I can't promise I won't fall asleep, I'm still super jet lagged."

She smiled clapping her hands excitedly, "No problem. Now go get ready we leave in an hour."

The club which ended up being much more extravagant than you had expected was extremely packed with bodies everywhere, and Portuguese dance music blaring through the speakers. There was DJ situated at the front of the room, about 10 feet higher than the rest of the crowd which was dancing along to the music. Lights hung from every corner of the ceiling, wrapping around the bar, switching colors rapidly.

You grasped onto Isa's hand tighter,

"Where are we going?" You complained as she pulled you along with her, maneuvering through the crowd.

"Miles said they're at the bar." She shouted back letting go of your hand as you reached the bar.

The original plan had been to leave as a group from the hotel, but after Isa had seen your outfit, which had consisted of ripped jeans and a cute tie top, she had taken it upon herself to dress you, complaining that American bar attire would not cut it here. This resulted in you both leaving after the boys and having to meet them there.

"Hi guys! Ooh, what are you drinking?" Isa asked as we walked over to them.

Josh who was the final member of your journalism team responded, "Signature cocktails. Shit's crazy they lit it on fire before you got here."

Isa nodded, "Look's yummy. What are you getting?" she asked turning to look at you.

"Hmmm maybe a vodka cranberry?"

She groaned again, "Y/N this not America, c'mon get something new."

You laughed, "Ok, ok, maybe I'll get the Brazilian Dream?" You spoke reading over the several

different drink names listed on the counter.

She cheered beside you, "Fuck yes. Brazilian Dream love it."

After you ordered the group of you decided to head back into the crowd and attempt to dance.

Keyword being attempt. You soon found out that neither Miles nor Josh had any rhythm as they jutted their hips awkwardly to the music looking like they were always one step behind the beat.

You and Isa couldn't help but giggle over them, they couldn't dance for the life of them but seemed to be enjoying themselves nonetheless.

Josh held up his drink, the liquid dangerously close to spilling out, "To Brazil!" he screamed over the music.

You all laughed, raising your glasses to clink with his, the liquid from your drink now spilling over all your dancing bodies,

"To Brazil!"

#neymar #neymarjr #neymarimagines #neymar jr imagine #neymarjunior #neymar imagine #neymar jr #football imagine #neymar prompt #brazil #brasil #neymar fanfic #barcelona #soccer imagine #neymar one shot #neymar angst #neymar fluff #neymar psg #world cup

[mirahuyooo]

012 for namjoon please💜

012. What if he stares at you everytime you look away? + kim namjoon

— Everyone has crushes, especially you.

word count: 1,882 contents: FLUFF, pining, yn kind of an idiot and a coward but she simps HARD for Namjoon (FELT ✋🥺💖), Joon being the type of crush that makes you want to become and do better in life rawr, secret admirers, strangers to lovers, College AU pairing: kim namjoon x reader

[masterlist] | check out more of [Four Years with Mira]!    

A/N: ANON!! 🥰✨I GOT CARRIED AWAY AGAIN ✋😭💖💞💓 I was originally gonna split this into two parts but I pulled through so this is SIGNIFICANTLY longer than this others 😭😭😭 anways, I'm sorry this came out later than expected, but I'm SO glad you joined 💕 and I hope y'all enjoy this!! Happy Holidays everyone!! 🎄🎅💖

Everyone has crushes. 

It's part of life, one could say, especially as one goes out into the world and ventures into the prospects of love. Most grow out of theirs, while some have enough luck to manifest their crushes into fruition. Some, like you, however, are unfortunate to have a crush so potent and stubborn that it leaves one pining for years on end. 

It's a particularly difficult crush—one that has festered for years since high school, clinging onto you like a bitch no matter how many attempts you tried to make it go away. You're pretty sure it's not just a crush anymore, but you refuse to acknowledge that, because how does one even dare to confess to Kim Namjoon, prodigal president of the student body and part of the most sought after group of boys in the whole campus?

You can't. You absolutely can't. 

Compared to him, you were subpar—a chaotic, colorful wall art next to an esteemed art gallery piece, if you will. 

(That, of course, doesn't mean to disparage you and your achievements, because thanks to your perpetual crush on such an accomplished man, you've been inspired to do fairly decently in school, join clubs and competitions, and earn yourself a good reputation amongst your peers. It's just that, while you were good, Kim Namjoon is a whole lot better.)

Even now, tucked away in one corner of the library for the third day, you sat with your hair an unruly mess, getting in the way of you reviewing the lecture notes in front of you. A few tables away was Kim Namjoon, himself, who, unlike you struggling for an exam, was occupied with a philosophical book. 

In relapses of weakness, you find yourself staring at him a bit longer, drinking him in under the warm light coming through the windows. His dark hair has grown longer, you note, framing his face softly as he peers down at his book. His glasses sat at the bridge of his nose, part of the golden frame glinting in the light. 

The whole scene encapsulates his essence, you think, because while some may be intimidated by Namjoon’s height, build, and prowess, moments like these would show them his gentle nature—how simply content he is with the peace a good book offers. 

His eyes are warm as always when they look at you—wait. You?

Panic shot through you upon realizing Kim Namjoon, himself, is looking at you, offering you a small smile of acknowledgement you could only attempt to smile-grimace at before he decides to go back to his book. 

You, in turn, trained your head down to your notes and textbook, letting your hair hide a good part of your flustered face, but the heavens know you’re not reading about whatever the hell it is you’re meant to be studying for. You are beyond mortified and you could only hope you don’t look like a tomato right now. 

Oh God, may the ground swallow you whole! What if you looked like a weirdo looking at him?!

You didn’t, at all, expect your day to have an interaction with Kim Namjoon. A part of you, remnants of fairytale enthusiasm and wistful thinking, whispers treason into your ears and unleashes butterflies in your belly amidst your panic. 

What if he stares at you every time you look away? 

Imagining Kim Namjoon stealing glances your way, too, only for his eyes to be caught in yours, elicits a more powerful reaction from you than you care to admit. Your heart races and your knee bounces in some poor attempt to distract yourself. You poor soul, you need a minute—go to the bathroom and take a breather or something. 

And so, you did, waiting a few minutes  to seem inconspicuous before you take your phone and wallet with you, and leave everything else to your seat for your supposed bathroom break. 

It seems the universe, however, isn’t done with you, because as you return to your spot, your scattered notes and book was now organized more neatly than when you left it, and atop the pile was your favorite snack, a note and a black hair tie with a small butterfly charm.

You look around the room as you come to take a seat. This part of the library wasn’t as crowded, just you, a couple of professors, Namjoon and two of his friends. You aren’t close with any of them to even think of asking who might’ve left these for you.

What if it’s Namjoon?

You shake the thought away from your head, lest your jitters and delusion get the better of you yet again. Reaching for the note, you read it as you fiddle with the hair band. You’ve lost more hair ties, clips, and scrunchies than you care to count, to be honest, and so this little gift means a lot more for you than anyone else might think. 

You're a butterfly unaware of the awe you transpire with your presence. Don't hide your beauty from the world. 

Yours truly and always,

Your Admirer

P.S. You’ve been studying too hard! I’m sure you’ll do well in your exam either way so take care of yourself more :)

The note brings out a small smile from your lips, both guilty and beholden.  

Everyone has crushes. 

While you didn't think you were crush material, you're flattered still by this person's sweet prose. For a good week or two now, small gifts and letters began reaching you, all under the sender 'your admirer' inked onto paper by a typewriter. They were certainly thorough, you think, for not allowing you to go hunting for handwriting comparisons when the letters were typed in. 

They can almost contend with your feelings for the student body president—almost.  

In a way, you feel for your admirer—a kindred feeling of pining for someone, and yet, you also can't help but feel sorry for them. No one has ever made you catch feelings like Kim Namjoon—not even your favorite celebrity crush. Though you and your admirer have similar situations, however, you must admit that he's commendable in his pursuits compared to you, who is a likely coward for not making any moves to your own crush.  

As it turns out, your admirer has more balls for love than you do—even more than you thought, too. 

Sometime after your dreaded exam, flowers and a note appear at your designated seat in class. It was there before anyone else was in the classroom, a classmate told you as you idly caressed the white petals of the flowers you were given. 

Dearest butterfly, you did great on your exams. I know well that you worked hard for it and I'm so proud of you! 

It’s been three months since I began writing to you, and in three months, I fear my secret is more at risk, the more I hide from you. I know of your hesitation for my gifts and my identity, but I surely hope I haven’t crossed some sort of line in pursuing you. 

I've been mulling it over for a year now, and I've come to realize all I've ever done is pine from afar. Maybe, it's time for me to unmask myself, and look you in the eyes properly. 

If you'd let me, meet me in front of the library at 3 PM. I hope to see you then.

Yours truly and always, 

Your Admirer

Eyes widening at the contents of the letter, you duck away from the hallway and into the bathrooms. What's more is that they've been thinking of confessing for a year? One whole year?!

Damn, you are a coward. 

Compared to your admirer, you're years into crushing, and the most you've done with Namjoon was an idle conversation on a favorite book. You've given shy smiles, wordless support, and embodied his studious nature, but you've never even directly attempted to flirt with Namjoon, himself. 

Is this a sign then from the universe, itself, for you to move on from Kim Namjoon? 

Who is this person?

Curiosity begets you in the end, and here you are at the entrance of the library, five minutes before you were told to come, standing idly and fidgeting with the ends of your cardigan sleeves as you look around the people passing by. Your mind wanders, thinking about what sort of person found you enamoring enough to fall for you in such a way that they would write about their feelings for you in such beautiful words. 

What made them think of you that way? 

Do you know each other? 

How did they find the courage to pursue you?

In time, your eyes see a familiar tall man amongst the crowd, and you dread to think of your admirer and Namjoon being in one place. Your heart can’t take it, having to choose between someone you like and someone that likes you. Meeting your admirer meant giving them a fair chance to sway your heart from Namjoon, and you can’t exactly do that whe—

“(Y/N)?”

A voice, warm and deep, brings you back to reality, and oh God, Kim Namjoon is standing in front of you! 

“Hi,” you meekly smile up at him, eyes quickly looking around and unable to look him in the eyes. Where’s your admirer when you need them? Isn’t it time for you two to meet already?

It was then your eyes caught sight of a familiar looking hair tie with the silver butterfly charm on Namjoon’s wrist. Unconsciously, your hands reach to the back of your head, where your hair tie holds your hair back in a low, haphazard ponytail. 

This, certainly, makes you look up at the man before you, eyes wide upon seeing his shy, dimpled smile and the same small bundle of white flowers he reveals from behind him. "You're my secret admirer?" you could hardly believe the question that left your lips. 

Kim Namjoon’s been writing to you? Giving you small gifts? 

This is a dream. It’s got to be—

Namjoon, to your complete and utter shock, nods his head. "Have I, uh,” he clears his throat, the back of his hand coming to his face as if it’d shield him. “Disappointed you?"

"No!" you immediately shriek, shaking your head. "God, no! I've had a crush on you since eighth grade!" 

Crap. Slapping a hand over your mouth, you wish it’s a dream. Surely, you could do a better confession than this—something less embarrassing.

Kim Namjoon before you is just as shocked to hear of your years long pining, a blush spreading across his face. "We've wasted a lot of time then," he chuckles, rubbing at the back of his neck, still bashful. 

Such words make your heart hurt. "Yeah…" you grimace, regret and remorse swallowing you whole. "I suppose we have."

More courageous than you, Namjoon hands you the flowers, a charming smile on his lips that marks the return of his dimples. "Would you like to go to a museum with me this Saturday?" he asks, making your heart skip a beat. 

Outside of wistful fantasies, you never really thought this day would come. "Of course," you smile, “I’d love to.”

Everyone has crushes. 

You and Namjoon, in a pleasant twist of events, have become one of the lucky ones to have them come into fruition. 

#happy 4 years to me writing shit <3 #LOVING THE NAMJOON REQS #im so so soft #bts au #bts fluff #bts romance #bts fanfic #bts fanfiction #bts imagines #bts drabbles #kim namjoon drabbles #kim namjoon imagines #kim namjoon fluff #kim namjoon x reader

[tartytarttaker]

I want to see OP Modern College AU. I want to see the pirates, revolutionaries, and marines all in different schools.

Each pirate group is in different clubs, so for example, Luffy and his friends are in outdoor camping, Law and his group are in a volunteer club for medical support, etc.

Smoker goes to the military academy to be a naval officer. Law is in medical school to be a surgeon.

Law is part of a hospital volunteer group that goes around supporting local hospitals and clinics or assisting with first aid at events. Despite being the club president, he can't volunteer as often as he likes due to his study load, but he does when he can.

Law's family is very much alive but they live in the countryside so he had to come to the city alone. He lives with two brothers of a family friend.

Law and Smoker first meet each other at a marathon. Law was helping out with first aid, and Smoker was dragging in a friend with a sprained ankle.

Next time, Law is at the academy delivering a forgotten assignment as a favor and gets lost on campus. Smoker mistakes him for an intruder but realizes it's the guy from the marathon. He leads Law around campus and guides him to the right department. As thanks, Law asks him out for coffee.

OK, this sounded much more interesting in my head and I ran out of ideas but this is a good AU, I have to say. I made it up so I could see Smoker and Law as college students but now I want to see the Straw Hats on a camping trip lol. I can already feel the chaotic energy.

#one piece #modern au #smolaw #ssul

[twisted-wonderland-shenanigans]

HELLO - BEFORE YOU READ THIS ASK IDK IF YOUR ENG ONLY SO DELETE THE ASK IF YOU DON'T WANT FUTURE EVENT SPOILERS BUT IF YOU'RE CAUGHT UP WITH JP SERVER EVENTS/DON'T MIND THEN! THAT'S AWESOME! SORRY FOR THE BRAINROT!

I ABSOLUTELY ADORE YOUR MONSTER AU ('tis the one who left copious tags on your humans is weird thing starring cater, call me fluff) AND I FIGURED ID SEND IN AN ASK BECAUSE. I LOVE YOUR AU. AND YOUR BRAIN IS AMAZING.

Anywho

I'm thinking about some of the events like the Scalding sands event (or even the Harveston event) where some of the students go out away from the college and stuff - specifically the Scalding sands one because that's the one I know most about

But, like, Jamil being EVEN MORE STRESSED! Because! Not only does he have to keep an eye on Kalim, and some other classmates, but he was worried about Malleus getting into a bind... And having to bring along a HUMAN?! He'd be returning to NRC with a headache for sure lmao

Anyways I just wanted to share the fact that that was on my mind and see what you thought of it lol

- Fluff

I appreciate the spoiler warning, but while I do play the English version of the game, I am very much caught up in all the Japan server events and the shenanigans that have happened! :D Feel free to scream all the brainrot ideas at me! ÒwÓ

Thank you so much, Fluff anon~! (Though I know who you are~ >w>) It makes me so happy knowing that so many people love this AU so much, I can’t even begin to thank you all for all the love and support! QvQ

Ahem! Now then, on to the chaotic musings~ UvU

You actually touched up on a very good point: Twisted Wonderland’s events! Now, we know in the normal game that Yuu tends to get dragged into the thick of each event’s shenanigans in some way, shape, or form. However, in the Monster AU, the stakes and risks are much higher being the only human around whether they’re normal Yuu or mini!Yuu.

Halloween was even more of a nightmare for Yuu and the staff once the Magicam monsters began terrorizing both versions to post to their accounts, with several being arrested and charged by the school and research institutions for “threatening a critically endangered species” and stressing them out unnecessarily (serves them right though when they broke into Ramshackle like in the game. >.>) When it came to mini!Yuu though...let’s just say that Crowley and the rest of the school showed those Magicam monsters that it was unwise to make a scared toddler cry. Say goodbye to any social clout they had online or in real life once Mom Vil is through with them, let alone once big brothers Ortho and Idia upload crystal clear videos of their selfish and cruel disregard for the child’s comfort! >:V

Both Yuu’s are going to be very well protected and cared for once all is said and done, and they're going to get so many treats! I did, however, get a very interesting ask involving Yuu and the Halloween event, so I’m gonna play around with that idea as a scenario of sorts, as it sounds fun being “Home Alone” if you catch my drift~ >w>

Anyway, ghost Marriage, Beans Day, Fairy Gala, Harveston’s Kelkkarotu, and even the second half of the Halloween event? Yup, each one winds up being twice as chaotic than the original as it is definitely going to be hard to ignore a human walking around. Harveston will likely be the least stressful by comparison, as I’d imagine the village would be warm and welcoming to both Yuu’s as they celebrate the event together!

The Scalding Sands’ Al’ab Nariya (or “fireworks”) event, however, is going to be three times as difficult to the point it’s seriously considered that they get a bodyguard for extra security. Think Kalim’s family gets targeted a lot? Imagine a lone human in a place where thieves and criminals may be lurking in the shadows looking for a fortune! So Jamil having to worry about Malleus and Yuu? If he wasn’t stressed before, he certainly is now!

Mini!Yuu though has a much easier solution: a child harness and a carrier! The carrier would be one that can easily be swapped and worn by anyone of the group (minus Grim of course). They’ll be extra vigilant though, but rest assured they will be the safest child in Twisted Wonderland! (Also, can you imagine Malleus carrying a tiny human in a carrier on his chest or back? Adorable!)

Jamil is more than likely going to get a stress headache afterwards until they get back to school, but he’d be lying if he said he didn’t have fun in the end. UvU

So yeah, any ideas for chaos or just fluff or silliness, send them my way and I shall see what I can come up with! ÒvÓ

#twisted wonderland #twst #twisted wonderland monster au #twst monster au #twisted wonderland events #twst events #fluff anon #faun speaks

[peejsocks]

any chance of bam smut? like real filthy

(you’re good <3)

a/n: hopefully this is to your liking. i'm not sure what it is tho lol i'm still trying to get the hang of smut. sorry it's so long.

disclaimers/tags: nsfw. nsfk. i did not proofread this i'm so sorry if it sucks

heavily inspired by this:

Suffice to say dating Bam was not a walk in the park. Nothing about your relationship is bad, per say, it's just that you happen to be very prone to stressing out. Often referred to by friends as the personification of the aforementioned emotion

Being a straight A student throughout your whole life and refusing to let that one personality trait go is probably the root of your issue. Getting close to someone who is your opposite in that regard seemed like a terrific solution, another half to ease your worries and prevent your forehead from getting wrinkled too early. The only problem is you chose the most chaotic other half in the entire town. Worse, even, is that you fell in love hopelessly. So you are stuck in this mess now.

You're home from college for the weekend to house sit for your parents as they travel for their anniversary. Picking you up at the bus station, your boyfriend noticed the chewed cuticles and reddened skin, a manifestation of your anxiety for finals. If he didn't catch onto that, there was no way he could've missed the notes and calculations scribbled on a loose notebook page your eyes continued darting over during the drive. 

"If you don't look at me right now I’m eating that piece of paper, I am not fucking joking." 

One hand on the wheel, his other one hangs beside his temple, elbow leaning on the open window. Blue irises are side-eyeing you hard, curls kept away from them by a black snapback he knew you hated. 

Taking advantage of the red light, you grab his face and peck his lips. "Sorry. Hi."

"Much better. Now, my mom went a little overboard because she misses you, so I hope you're hungry enough to eat for a whole generation of Margeras."

You should have seen an ambush coming. 

Back in your house after lunch, instead of finding your parents packing the car, you're met with Rake, Dico, Raab and Ryan setting up the place for a party. Bam promises it's for your own good. 

Having daily phone calls as evidence of how much time you had already put into studying, it's hard to argue against his suggestion of a break. He wins you over after clarifying you have a few hours to revise and get ready before people start arriving, and the guys will take care of everything. 

It's half past six when the first group of guests barge through the door. Who the fuck goes to a party this early?

Before you know it, the inside of your bedroom feels like the bathroom of a nightclub, barely keeping out all the noise of voices and loud music. And instead of having fun, you're hunched over your laptop crying because you can't make sense of this one exercise you're sure you know how to solve because you've done it a million times before. 

"Why aren't you dressed yet?"

Wiping your tears before he could see them, Bam offers you the unopened beer in his hand. "Sorry, lost track of time, I'll get in the shower right now." 

"Alright, see you downstairs." 

He leaves and you hope the hot water will break you out of the stress.

Getting dressed, you noticed Bam left the beer next to your laptop, so you chug it. It's still cold, refreshing against the condensation wafting through your room. The papers on top of the closed notebook beg you to be picked up, but your eyes are trained on the mirror. Deep breath in. Nothing to worry about.

Your own shoes feel weird, you're not sure whether your makeup is too much or not enough and the people leaning on the rail of the stairs are unrecognizable. To be fair, it's not like you were having that much fun in your room either.

Trying to relax, some familiar faces keep you company in the kitchen, pulling you into their game of truth or dare. Dico is the happy evil trickster to hand you a mix of pineapple schnapps with redbull and half a bottle of sriracha. Claiming you're gonna be sick is your escape route.

Quickly disappearing into the crowd, the small amount of alcohol hasn't freed you from worrying, checking every surface for stains and every fragile piece of memorabilia for cracks. A knot forms in your chest every time you try to forget about your exams, that second long flash of cue cards prompting a wince similar to a wounded animal.

Bam would know what to do. 

The backyard is about the last place to look for him. Stepping into the chilly night, the wind makes your dress cling to your body. Raab and Dunn spot you first, lifting their cups to you and smiling big, a gesture you reciprocate and begin striding towards them. 

Feeling lighter doesn't last long, because on the other side of the pool, your boyfriend is sitting on one of the stretchers with his ex-girlfriend glued to his ear.

It could be innocent. If it wasn't her, or the hand on his leg, or how casual it looked. Any hope of a carefree night is ripped away from your grasp, and rolling your eyes, you finish the walk to your friends just to steal whatever they were drinking and downing it.

"Oh, that's not good."

Ignoring Raab's obvious statement and returning inside, you should have predicted having to take on the role of bitter host. Your infallible idea is to turn off the power and climb on top of a couch to announce the party is over because your parents forgot to pay the electricity bill, and anyone who remained would have to chime in with their own money. Oh, and the beer would get warm out of the fridge, of course. 

Your performance as the empathetic life of the party who is sorely disappointed that the night is ending is not at all convincing. 

Finding Dico in the dark, you kiss him on the cheek. "You got this, right?"

A thumbs up is shoved in your face, laughing at the spark in his eyes when given a task. "Sure thing, M'lady!"

The boy enthusiastically shoos the crowd outside, promising to arrange a second location, while you climb up the stairs without so much as glancing to see if anybody's following you. 

Back in your room, it feels relieving to pull your hair up and clean your face, the first instance of self-care all day.

Bam finds you sitting cross-legged in front of the mirror, spreading moisturizer over your skin. 

"What happened?" He sounds less drunk than you would have expected. Carelessly explaining you didn’t feel good is not sufficient. "You didn't even tell me anything."

"You seemed busy." Shrugging, the real words choke on your throat. Still, you don't look at him, focused on untying your shoes. "I'm gonna jump in bed, but you can follow the guys if you want to. Just call me tomorrow."

"No, c'mon, what's wrong?" He pushes your hair onto your back, but you brush the movement off, annoyed. "Everyone left, I'm not going anywhere."

"I'm sure your ex is waiting in the bushes outside, you can still catch up." He scoffs and you sigh. "I need to sleep, that's all I want to do. We'll talk tomorrow, alright?"

Even irritated, you take his offered hand to stand up. Before you can fully turn your back to him and walk into the bathroom, you're being pushed against the closet doors. 

"Don't tell me you shut down a party over jealousy. Did you?"

"Are you seriously trying to be sexy right now? While I'm mad? How many concussions have you had, dude." 

Bam's hands put more pressure on your hips and his face inches closer to yours. This is not the time to let hormones overtake you. 

"Well, you could have pushed her hand away, you didn't. You could have gotten up, you didn't. You could have not invited her, you did. So, yes, fuck you for that."

"If you looked for more than thirty seconds, which you clearly didn't, you would know I did. The only part I didn't do was invite her, I'm not that dumb. She just showed up with some other friends." 

Having the roles reversed and being in the wrong is the hardest part for you. How was Bam more level-headed than you right now? 

"Well, get a restraining order next time, I don't know." God, you are losing it. Every thought feels scrambled and way too hard to conclude, so you're saying whatever comes to mind. 

Tired, you shake your head and try to move out of his grasp, but Bam's lips catch yours delicately. 

His hands are bunching up the skirt of your dress discreetly when he speaks. "I think what you need is to take it easy." 

"I doubt you can help me with that. In case you haven't caught up, you have been stressing me out all day."

There's a more serious look in his face now, apologetic. You almost feel bad. "Let me make up for it, then. Please."

"Bam, really, I don't-" His mouth crashes into yours again, harsher now. Tongue desperate to meet yours, he succeeds in turning your legs wobbly. Some could call that “taking it easy”..

Breaking off but noses grazing, you can feel his shaky breaths before ring-clad fingers start running up your leg under your clothes.

“Tell me to stop.” It’s a challenge. He knows you won’t. Especially when his hands are forcefully gripping the extra bit of skin on the inside of your thighs. 

The painful pressure takes your mind off of your troubles. Maybe your boyfriend knows how to help after all. You won’t give him the satisfaction, however. 

“Is this your apology?” Digging manicured nails into his shoulders is your way to warn him you’re putting up a fight. A little one. 

“Are you gonna tell me it isn’t working?” His palms slide dangerously close to your underwear and his nose is breathing heat into your neck. It’s heaven and hell. 

“You can’t win a fight with sex.” He could. You’d let that happen. 

“That’s not-“ Bam lets out a frustrated groan, biting your ear in the process. “I’m just trying to make my girlfriend feel better.” 

There’s no petty comeback, you know he means it. For a second, your heart skips a couple beats. 

It’s incredible how after all this time, his teenager antics still get you hot and bothered. 

Gentler, buttery cold lips soak the skin of your chest, nibbling around the straps of the black dress. 

“You know I love you, don’t you?”

That simple. You melt into him, weeping on the inside over how good it feels to give in. 

Big, surprisingly soft, hands lift up your dress to reveal your underwear. Bam rubs you over the thick fabric, sincere smile teasing his lips as soon as your legs adjust to his touch.

“See? Why make things so hard on yourself?”

Careful fingers pull your clothes all the way up, leaving you in nothing but your panties. 

Before you can feel cold, your boyfriend closes the distance between your bodies. Holding your hair in his hand, kisses trail up your neck as he whispers. 

“So beautiful, so smart, so dedicated.” He guides you towards the spacious bed. “You think no one sees it. I do.” 

Layed on your back, Bam’s words are hypnotic, taming the fire inside but not putting it out just yet. 

Getting on his knees, he makes a point to toss his snapback far away, allowing the dark locks to bounce freely. He knows you so well. 

“Just…” Tongue sucking on your hip bone after attacking it with his teeth. Voice shuddering through you. “Relax.”

For someone aiming to project calmness, Bam’s hunger to get to your cunt is dizzying, wasting no time with removing any piece of cloth. Just pushing it to the side while tongue-fucking you. 

He actually pulls it down to allow his fingers access, the noise of metal clinking on the floor when he takes off his rings. 

“Hey, babe.” Curls jiggle when his head shoots up, tip of the tongue still stuck on you. “It’s working.”

That sharp smile, wicked, matches yours. 

Passion is what comes through when his mouth returns to its full job, absurd noises filling your once innocent childhood bedroom.

It’s a source of pride, how good he is at eating pussy, since you were the one giving him instructions for the first year of your relationship. Of course he doesn’t appreciate being told what to do and wanted to get it right so he could start adventuring on his own. The rewards are extremely gratifying. 

Bam’s fingers curl, hitting the most important spot. That along with the commitment to sucking on your clit is driving you crazy. You try to moan, but your mouth is so dry and the muscles in your abdomen are tightening too hard for anything to come out.

That’s when he stops.

“I thought you were supposed to be helping me.”

His tongue pops out to lick the juices covering the surroundings of his lips. Fuck, he looks so pretty.

“That’s the plan.”

Standing up to unbuckle his pants, you volunteer to rip his shirt off, stealing a kiss on the way. 

All the stressed energy consuming you is transferring to your hands scratching his back and pulling his hair until he grunts. He makes fun of you.

“Let it all out, tiger. I am your vessel.”

It dawns on you, this is your boyfriend giving himself to you, to your frustration. To be used and abused as you wished.

In the flurry of thoughts, you bite his lip, but he seems to enjoy it. 

Needy, you squeeze his ass to lock his crotch with yours, begging silently for more. 

“Relax.”

Bam kisses you slower, tricking you into a false sense of tranquility before slipping his hard dick in you. This time, you moan, loud. 

“Fuck, Bammy, I-” His hand covers your mouth, as to say, not right now. 

Tongue sticking out between gritted teeth, your boyfriend slides further just to test his range before slowly pulling out again, swollen head teasing your entrance. You can see the slick juices leaking down to your sheets.

“I’m gonna fuck you until you see double tonight, baby.” 

When he slides back in, another leisurely stroke, it’s beyond your control. Biting on the fingers still closed around your lips does nothing but encourage a faster rhythm. 

Bam angles your legs farther, pressing under your thighs to position them flush to his hips. Wide open. 

At this point, he’s giving it to you so hard your body is nearly hanging upside down off the end of your bed, the bedframe hitting against the chipped baby blue wall. 

Your whimpers are embarrassingly high pitched, his sweat mixing with yours where your chests are bumping. 

Looking up, the vision is magnificent. Bam’s jaw is hung, mouth open for a moan that won’t come out. His hair is all over the place. The tattoos across his body change shape under the erratic movements. 

Moving his hips, he breaches your limit, stroking an area so sensitive you can feel the veins in his cock pulsing. 

Everything feels small and too big at the same time, unbearable heat pressing down on your body, buzzing in your ears. For all you know, the walls in the room could be shrinking. 

Your eyes catch the heartagram pounding against your trimmed hairs before rolling to the back of your head, overwhelmed. 

Crumbling on top of you, the rings still on Bam’s left hand dent the skin barely protecting your bones when he hugs your hips. Bracelets pinching your leg hair. 

His incomprehensible moan echoes through the walls like he had waited years for such a satisfying release. Muffled by the hand still obstructing your mouth, basking in the sound of Bam cumming so unashamed is enough to untie the knot in your stomach and ignite your own climax, arching your back and forcing your stomach onto his, which is still moving in and out as he pants.

You can feel his jaw is still dislocated, chin punching into your shoulder as the two of you attempt to catch your breath. Wet curls stick to his forehead, and you smile in bliss. 

“Much better, huh?” In two quick steps, Bam is up and pulling you with him, easily throwing you across his shoulder and walking into the bathroom for a shower. “You should just admit I’m always right.”

#bam margera x reader #bam margera #jackass #jackass fanfic

[xoxiu]

my house of stone, your ivy grows - yoongi x reader

chapter seventeen table of contents masterlist join the taglist discord

summary: yoongi carried himself with a sense of pride within himself and his belongings. he worked hard to get to where he was- ethically or not, it made him the man he is today. his latest toy, a young college girl from america, will become his magnum opus. he just needs to work out the kinks.

tags/warnings: mafia au, kidnapping, daddy dom!yoongi, smut, autistic!reader, spanking, stockholm syndrome, little!jimin, vminhope, drug mention, namjin, fluff, domestic discipline

taglist: @allamericanuniverse @llallaaa, @frieschan

The living room had been magically transformed into a large pillow fort by noon. Extra white bedsheets hung from the backs of chairs and couches, enclosing the homemade blanket nest on the floor. To make things even more magical, Seokjin added string lights to the mix, which twinkled brightly once the curtains were closed. Inside the fort sat Jimin, Kiwo, Jungkook, and Taehyung, all four eating their lunch while watching Doraemon. 

It had been a chaotic morning- Kiwo and Jimin were purposely bothering and annoying each other, as well as the others with their near-constant whining and crying. Once 11 am hit, everyone agreed that the two littles would need a nap to survive the rest of the day. 

The pillow fort, however, had been Taehyung’s idea.

“Okay, it’s nap time now.” Hoseok entered the fort to retrieve the empty dishes, smiling at the sight of the youngest four curled up in their pile of blankets. Jimin and Kiwo lay the furthest apart, with Jungkook right next to Kiwo and Taehyung next to Jimin. Taehyung and Jimin were already fast asleep, and Kiwo could barely keep her eyes open, only motivated to stay awake by the cartoon. 

“Kookie, are you taking a nap too?” Hoseok chuckled slightly- Jungkook rarely ever did things with the littles, but would always oblige the two in their activities. 

“No, I’m going to get up after this episode.”

”Okay. Just turn the channel after so Kiwo will fall asleep.”

A small groan came from Kiwo at the mention of turning off her show. She wasn’t even tired, she thought, fighting to keep her eyes open. 

Keeping to his word, Jungkook moved to leave the pillow fort once the credits began to roll. He reached onto the couch for the remote and changed the channel. 

The news showed a scene from a river excavation- a body had been discovered in the Han River. Jungkook watched silently as more details were revealed. 

“The body is beyond unrecognizable, but with the belongings and clothes it was found with police believe the body to belong to missing college student Kiwo Louise-”

Jungkook looked over at Kiwo, completely alive and well, and currently asleep. 

“Kiwo,” Jungkook shook the girl gently. She hummed in response, her eyes still closed but still listening. 

“I was just curious about something…” Jungkook started, unsure of where to begin. He took a moment before continuing. “Do you… like it here?”

”Mm. ‘m used to it.” Kiwo mumbled out, not entirely conscious and aware of the question.

Jungkook thought about what she said for a moment. Kiwo being used to the situation is not the same thing as her liking it. They had simply just grown on her. 

“Do you wanna go home?”

“Yeah…” Kiwo had no hesitation in her voice as she quickly responded. She muttered something else after, but Jungkook couldn’t exactly comprehend what she had said. He was too taken aback by the sudden pit in his stomach. 

Kiwo wanted to leave. She didn’t want to be there. And in Jungkook’s mind, it was all his fault. He was the reason why Kiwo’s world had completely changed, and the reason why she is suffering. She had family and friends back in America, who now all believe she had died while abroad. Jungkook had facilitated that, too. 

Finding another American girl that looked like Kiwo was easy- so was taking out her teeth and burning her fingerprints. The Han River’s waters had decomposed her body to hell, eliminating any defining features the other girl had. Throwing Kiwo’s belongings in with the body was the only identifying evidence. 

Jungkook stood up and turned off the television. 

#bts fanfic #yoongi x reader #min yoongi #mafia au #bts little space #kim namjoon #kim seokjin #jung hoseok #park jimin #kim taehyung #jeon jungkook #bts #vminhope #namjin #my house of stone your ivy grows