#And woke up to a very sweet email thanking me! :') now this person can educate the person below them for this patient!

[creepyscritches]

Being thanked for a lengthy dissection on a highly complex cancer chart is always so nice! :')

[royallyjoon]

red light magic ii

“in my heart I have but one desire...

and that one is you,

no other will do...”

-

Two weeks passed by successfully. You found your classes fairly easy, all except for chemistry. Nevertheless, the professors were proud of your progress.

You chatted with your upperclassmen friends more and more in Psychology. Namjoon would steal your notebook to add little facts he remembered from past research to the gallery of notes you already took, while Hoseok would doodle smiley faces and stick figures when you were bored in class.

You found yourself leaving one side of each page blank to leave room for their additions. Between the two, they kept you entertained and educated.

They even frequently asked you about Jungkook, and you were shocked they knew him.

“He’s our dongsaeng,” Hoseok explained cheerfully. “We live together with him and five other friends.”

You nodded in understanding. “Would two of those other friends be Jimin and Taehyung?”

They paused. “Yeah, how did you know?”Namjoon asked.

 You felt flustered from suddenly having both of their attention. “Jungkook introduced me to them after the freshman activities at the end of the first week of school.”

They smile and went back to their respective notebooks before the professor started chastising your trio.

After class, they waited for you to pack your bags and started walking in the same direction as you.

“Where are you guys headed? You usually have class by now, right?” You hiked your bag up higher on your shoulders. You weren’t even a month into the term, but your bag already almost weighed so much from the force of your books.

“Aww, look at that, Joonie. (Y/N) memorized our schedule.” Hoseok threw his arm around your shoulders and you squeaked.

“It’s not that I memorized it, you told me when you left on the first day of school...and common sense says it’s where you go every Tuesday...” you muttered.

“Cute...” The two thought to themselves.

“Our teacher emailed us that he wouldn’t be able to make it, so he canceled the lecture. We��re up to date on the material, anyway.” Namjoon said.

You were finding it a bit difficult to focus on what he was saying with Hoseok’s arm on your shoulders but nodded along.

“What do you usually spend this period doing?” He asked.

“I read under the willow tree by Marie Pond with another sunbae.” You said.

The boys looked at each other. “What?” You asked.

“Sleeps a lot?” Hoseok asked.

“Yeah...”

“Pale, not too tall, blue hair?”

“Yeah!”

“Yoongi hyung.” They said together.

“He’ll hate us for coming with you and being loud, but as long as you don’t mind, we’d love to tag along.”

Your mind was reeling over how small your circle of friends was but you shook your head and smiled. “Of course I don’t mind, the more the merrier.”

-

“What are these two idiots doing here?” Yoongi grumbled upon your arrival. He was already positioned with his bag under his head, one wire earphone in and one out. 

“They’re in my Psychology class, sunbae. I heard you already knew each other.” You stated as you smoothed your skirt behind your legs. It was somewhat chilly out, but you left the house in an oversized green sweatshirt and jean skirt.

“Of course.” Yoongi rolled up his headphones and stuffed them in the outside pocket of his bag. “In sophomore year, Seokjin hyung forced me to join the Freshman Activities Board. I was trying to take a nap when these two loud ass kids came pestering me about ‘what is it like to study forensics?’”.

“You study forensics?” Your eyes widened. “What’s that like?”

Yoongi rolled his eyes as Namjoon and Hoseok burst into laughter. “There goes another one.”

He shifted around on the grass before settling in for his usual nap. “(Y/N), you know the drill. Namjoon, Hoseok, if you wake me up I will personally slaughter you.”

You giggled as you leaned against the tree. The two shifted away from Yoongi and towards you as you pulled out your chemistry textbook.

“Last minute homework? That’s so unlike you, (Y/N).” Namjoon noted. You sighed, “It isn’t last minute. Chemistry lectures are so difficult for me that I try to read ahead and get a gist of the material.”

Yoongi shifted onto one shoulder before turning his head slightly in your direction. “...If you want, I could tutor you in Chemistry. Callahan’s a softie, but most of his lectures are nonsense. I managed to pass his class with high grades.”

“You would tutor me, sunbae?” Your eyes widened a fraction. “I would love to be your student, as long as you aren’t too busy...” 

Yoongi grumbled before rolling to one side and sitting up. “I wouldn’t offer if I didn’t want to do it. C’mere.” He tugged on your bag, so you switched places with Hoseok and sat with your back to the tree next to Yoongi. 

The sophomores looked on with slight envy. 

Yoongi took your notebook and started pointing out concepts that the professor would absolutely put on the exam. You nodded at his explanations and found that the gibberish the professor spoke about when matched with Yoongi’s words, made complete sense.

“I understand! Thank you so much, sunbae!” You grinned at Yoongi. The senior felt himself blush. “It’s no problem. We’ll keep meeting up like this every week, yes? If you need the help, don’t be afraid to ask. I find I have way too much time on my hands this semester.” Yoongi smiled back and your heart softened.

“Hyung, did (Y/N) tell you? She knows Jungkookie as well.” Hoseok cut in.

“You’ve met our maknae?” He raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah, Jungkook and I share an English class. I didn’t really expect it, considering his major but he told me his program put him there so he can become a better scriptwriter.” You beamed.

 Your excitement at finding your one freshman friend outside of your roommates seemed to match Jungkook’s that Wednesday morning you walked into English. He picked up his bag and you two found seats in the middle of the room next to each other.

“(N/N)’s such a diligent worker.” Hoseok mused.

“(N/N)?” You asked.

His smile dropped. “I mean, I just thought it fit well with you, and your personality...”

You broke out into laughter. “You can call me that, it’s fine! Thank you for the nickname.”

Hoseok perked up again. “That’s good. I’m glad!”

Your cheeks burned and Yoongi waved him off, threatening to kick someone into the pond if they didn’t shut up and let him sleep.

-

The next morning, you woke up late. Your roommates were already gone, but they made breakfast and left you a plate. You’d have to remember to thank them when they returned. 

Wednesdays were your favorite yet least favorite for the same reason: English class. Yes, you got to see Jungkook and spend time together in class. But there was one person who managed to distract and infuriate you in the hour and forty-five minute period.

Christopher Harl.

He was funny, cute, and sometimes sweet. Yet he ignored your very existence and when he did pay attention to you, it was to call you out in front of everyone.

Jungkook obviously didn’t like him. If it hadn’t been for your intervention, they probably would have fought by now. You sighed as you ate the cut-up left for you. Today would be a hassle, alright. But it was only for two hours.

You got changed into flowy, black pants with a red shirt and red sneakers. You swung your packed book bag on your back, grabbed your phone, and strolled through the door.

-

Upon arriving at the classroom, it dawned on you that you’d forgotten multiple things. 

Your keys, for one. Your headphones (your lifeblood), for another. And most importantly, your assignment. 

The teacher had assigned an essay that was worth 40% of the term grade, the first part of which is due this morning. 

You hadn’t printed it out, forgetting it in your exhaustion as you’d only finished it this morning around 3. Unlike your other professors, this teacher would not accept online submission and made the students print it out.

It was now, as you stood in the doorway of the classroom on the verge of panicking that Christopher walked up behind you.

“Well, if it isn’t the slacker, (Y/N) (L/N)-”

“Shit!” Your face crumpled all at once and you accidentally turned to slam right into Christopher’s chest. He stumbled backward, grabbing your shoulders for balance.

This was the scene Jungkook turned the hall to.

All the freshman could focus on was the clear distress and panic in your eyes. You were on the verge of tears as Christopher fucking Harl had his hands on your shoulders and a sneer on his lips.

Jungkook tried. He truly had. He wanted to make you happy, and if he had to restrain from giving someone a royal ass-whooping to do that, he would.

But Christopher Harl made you cry.

That was the last straw. 

Jungkook threw his bag down and raced down the hallway.

You turned your head at the sound of rapid footsteps. Jungkook was racing towards the two of you, and a crowd of incoming students gathered to watch the inevitable.

You pushed Christopher’s hands off your shoulders, rapidly wiping tears away. “Jungkook, wait! Stop!”

He made no move to a stop, and lightning-fast his fist came up and punched Christopher in the jaw. 

The other boy flew, landing harshly on his back. You winced. “Jungkook!”

Your friend was about to climb on top of Christopher and show him just what he thought about his teasing, but he walked over at the sound of your exclamation. “Did he tell you something? Did he put his hands on you? Are you alright?”

Your voice was trembling. “No, I just-I’m such a dumbass, I forgot to print the essay and Yealman is such a bitch, I-she won’t give me any extra time and class is about to start-”

Jungkook exhaled. “That’s all you were worried about? Did you not get the announcement?”

You blinked tears out of your eyes. “What?”

“Yealman posted that she can’t make it to class. We’re having a sub, but she’ll collect the essays in person on Friday.”

You stood in shock. 

“Are you fucking kidding me?” You said at the same time as Christopher. He rose, rubbing his jaw. “I didn’t do anything to her, Jeon! Why the fuck would you punch me?”

Jungkook frowned. “You think you’re hot shit, walking around and insulting people genuinely better than you. Kiss my ass, Hurl.”

Christopher tugged Jungkook’s shoulder to make him face him. You figured it was about time for you to step in. 

“Guys, stop! Jungkook, you didn’t have to punch him, you were in the wrong. Christopher-”

“What is going on here?” The presence of a new voice made all heads turn.

The most beautiful man you’d ever seen walked into your midst. He held a folder and a computer. He was simply dressed but outshone the rest.

“Hyung?” Jungkook whispered. You snapped your head back and forth between the two.

“Jungkook, this isn’t a great impression you’re making not even a month into the school year.” The Adonis in front of you claimed. “Everyone else, please usher yourselves inside the room as quickly as possible. I will be right back with your three classmates.”

“Hyung? Who is that?” You whispered to Jungkook.

The man extended his hand towards you. “Seokjin Kim, at your service. A pleasure to meet you.”

-

“That’s essentially what happened.” You finished explaining the matter to Mr. Kim, who was calmly perching on the desk in Professor Yealman’s office. 

“So, it seems you do owe Mr. Hurl-”

“Harl, sir,” Christopher grumbled as Jungkook snickered.

“Yes, my mistake. You owe Mr. Harl an apology, Jungkook.” Mr. Kim sighed. 

“I apologize for punching you when you didn’t deserve it,” Jungkook said. “I’ll be sure to do so when appropriate.”

You gently slapped his arm and Christopher bristled.

“Now, Ms. (L/N), as you have heard the essay will be collected Friday. Feel free to use my computer to print your assignment here.” Mr. Kim held out his device.

“Oh, Mr. Kim, thank you so much but it’s really okay. We have a printer back at the do-” You were about to reassure him when it occurred to you that you were currently locked out of your room, the panic from this morning ruining your entire day.

“On second thought, thank you so much.” You shyly took the laptop and waited as he entered his password. 

“It’s my pleasure. We wouldn’t want you having a repeat of today on Friday morning.” Mr. Kim smiled and you nodded, not looking into his eyes. 

“Hyung, what are you doing here?” Jungkook asked.

“When we’re in school, I’m Mr. Kim. And I’m here because your teacher is absent. Karu likes to call on nearby alumn for substitutes instead of other teachers.” The man said, rolling his eyes.

A couple of minutes later, your paper was fresh in your hands.

“Thank you again, Mr. Kim.” He held the door open for the three of you as you walked back to class. Jungkook pulled you aside and let the other two go down the hallway.

“What’s wrong with your dorm?” He asked, brows furrowed. 

“I forgot my keys at home this morning too, with my headphones. My roommates won’t be back for a while, they all have clubs today. I don’t really have anyone else to stay with at the hall.” You muttered.

“What time does your last class end?” 

“...around 4:30, why?”

“Come and meet me outside of the Elizabeth Juno Building; my last art class is there.”

“Why?”

“You’ll see!” Jungkook started walking faster to get back to the classroom. Outside of it, Christopher stood with his hand on the back of his neck. When he saw you two approaching, he glared warily at Jungkook. 

The other boy gave him a look of warning as he entered the classroom. Before you could, however, Christopher stopped you.

“Is there something else you need?” You asked him. 

He stood there staring at you for another minute. It was starting to get uncomfortable. But Christopher was just trying to find a way to gather his words. 

When he saw you break in his arms this morning, he realized how childish he was being. And he also realized he never wanted to see you cry over school again.

“I...just wanted to say I’m sorry for the immature and unnecessary things I’ve said to you. They weren’t true, and it’s about time I grow up. I’m also sorry that you had such a stressful morning...”

Your jaw almost dropped but you held it up to avoid looking like a fish. “Um...that’s really nice of you to say, Christopher.”

“Call me Chris.”

“...Chris...thank you.” You gave him a quick smile and entered the classroom before Jungkook got suspicious.

Christopher came in right behind you and closed the door. He failed to notice two sets of eyes piercing his back the entire time it took him to return to his seat.

[seokpapi-blog]

CHARCOAL (M) | kth

“The thing with Taehyung is that he use his hands a lot while drawing and get his fingers stained with charcoal, a lot. But when I come back home later, I love to see the same black prints all over my body.”

+Pairing: Taehyung x femlale MC ft Seokjin +Genre: College!AU, Artist!kth +Warnings: sexual assault victim +Note: GUYS! This is an adaptation of the book “Easy” by Tammara Webber. I decided to start like this because im not sure of my writing skill yet, so enjoy!

01 02 03 04 05

02

Elee’s voice woke me. “dickhead, get your ass out of that bed and go save your GPA. For chrissake, if I’d let a guy throw off my academic mojo like this, I’d never hear the end of it.”

I made a dismissive sound from under the comforter before peeking out at her. “What academic mojo?”

Her hands on her hips, she was wrapped in a towel, fresh from a shower. “ Very funny, bitch. Get up.”

I sniffed, but didn’t budge. “I’m doing fine in all of my other classes. Can’t I just fail this one?”

Her mouth dropped open. “Are you even listening to yourself?”

I was listening to myself. And I was every bit as disgusted with my cowardly sentiments as Elee—if not more so. But the thought of sitting next to Seokjin for an hour-long class three days a week was unbearable. I couldn’t be sure what his newfound single status would mean in terms of open flirtations or hookups, but whatever it meant, I didn’t want to stare it in the face. Imagining the details was bad enough.

If only I hadn’t pressed him to take a class with me this semester. When we registered for fall classes, he questioned why I wanted to take economics—not a required course for my music education degree. I wondered if he had sensed, even then, that this was where we’d end up. Or if he'd known.

“I can’t.”

“You can and you will.” She ripped the comforter off. “Now get up and get in that shower. I have to get to French on time or Monsieur Bidot will question me mercilessly in passé composé. I can barely do past tense in English. God knows I can’t do it en français at ass o’clock in the morning.”

I arrived outside the classroom at straight-up 9:00, knowing that Seokjin, habitually punctual, would already be there. The classroom was large and sloped. Slipping through the back door, I spotted him, sixth row center. The seat to his right was empty—my seat. Dr. Park had passed around a seating chart the second week of class, and he used it to take attendance and give credit for class participation. I would have to talk with him after class, because there was no way I was sitting there again.

My eyes scanned the back rows. There were two empty seats. One was three rows down between a guy leaning on his hand, mostly asleep, and a girl drinking a venti something and chattering nonstop to her neighbor. The other open seat was on the back row, next to a guy who appeared to be doodling something into the margin of his textbook. I turned in that direction at the same time the professor entered a side door below, and the artist raised his head to scan the front of the classroom. I froze, recognizing my savior from two nights ago. If I could’ve moved, I would have turned and fled the classroom.

The attack came flooding back. The helplessness. The terror. The humiliation. I’d curled into a ball on my bed and cried all night, thankful for Elee’s text that she was staying with Jongkyung. I hadn’t told her what Junmin had done—partly because I knew she’d feel responsible for making me go, and for letting me leave alone. Partly because I wanted to forget it had happened at all.

“If everyone will be seated, we’ll begin.” The professor’s statement shook me from my stupor—I was the only student standing. I bolted to the empty chair between the chatty girl and the sleepy guy.

She glanced at me, never pausing in her weekend confession of how trashed she’d been and where and with whom. The guy unsquinted his eyes just enough to notice when I slid into the bolted-down chair between them, but he didn’t otherwise move.

“Is this seat taken?” I whispered to him.

He shook his head and mumbled, “It was. But she dropped. Or stopped coming. Whatever.”

I pulled a spiral from my bag, relieved. I tried not to look at Seokjin, but the angled seating made that effort challenging. His perfectly styled dirty blond hair and the familiar uncreased button-down shirt drew my eyes every time he moved. I’d known him since ninth grade. I’d watched him alter his style from a boy who wore mesh shorts and sneakers every day to the guy who sent his fitted shirts out to be pressed, kept his shoes scuff-free, and always looked as though he’d just stepped from the cover of a  magazine. I’d seen more than one teacher turn her head as he passed before snapping her gaze away from his perfect, off-limits body.

Junior year, we had pre-AP English together. He focused on me from the first day of class, flashing his smile in my direction before taking his seat, inviting me to join his study group, inquiring about my weekend plans—and finally making himself a part of them. I’d never been so confidently pursued. As our class president, he was familiar to everyone, and he made a concerted effort to become familiar with everyone. As an athlete, he was a credit to the baseball team. As a student, his academic standing was in the top ten percent. As a member of the debate team, he was known for conclusive arguments and an unbeaten record.

As a boyfriend, he was patient and attentive, never pushing me too far or too fast. Never forgetting a birthday or an anniversary. Never making me doubt his intentions for us. Once we were official, he changed my name—and everyone followed suit, including me. “You’re my Kkul,” he told me, referencing to the word ‘honey’, because -his own words- I was too sweet for him.

***

Between trying to avoid staring at Seokjin for fifty minutes straight and having skipped the class for two weeks, my brain was sluggish and uncooperative. When class ended, I realized I’d absorbed little of the lecture.

I followed Dr. Park to his office, running through various appeals in my head to induce him to give me a chance to catch up. Until that moment, I hadn’t cared that I was failing. Now that the possibility had become a probability, I was terrified. 

“All right, Ms.Son” Dr. Park removed a textbook and a stack of disorderly notes from his battered attaché and moved around his office as though I wasn’t standing there. “State your case.”

I cleared my throat. “My case?”

Tiredly, he peered at me over his glasses. “You’ve missed two straight weeks of class—including the midterm, and you missed today. I assume you’re standing here in my office in order to make some sort of case for  why you should not fail macroeconomics. I’m waiting with bated breath for that explanation.” He sighed, shelving the textbook. “I always think I’ve heard them all, but I’ve been known to be surprised. So go ahead. I don’t have all day, and I presume you don’t, either.”

I swallowed. “I was in class today. I just sat in a different seat.”

He nodded. “I’ll take your word for that, since you approached me at the end of the lecture. That’s one day of participation back in your favor—amounting to about a quarter of a grade point. You still have six missed class days and a zero on a major exam.”

Oh, God. As if a plug had been pulled, the jumbled excuses and realizations came pouring out. “My boyfriend broke up with me, and he’s in the class, and I can’t stand to see him, let alone sit next to him… Oh my God, I missed the midterm. I’m going to fail. I’ve never failed a class in my life.” As if that speech wasn’t mortifying enough, my eyes watered and spilled over. I bit my lip to keep from sobbing outright, staring at his desk, unable to meet the repulsed expression I imagined him wearing.

I heard his sigh in the same moment a tissue appeared in my line of vision. “It’s your lucky day, Ms. Son.”

I took the tissue and pressed it to my wet cheeks, eyeing him cautiously.

“As it happens, I have a daughter just a bit younger than you. She recently endured a nasty little breakup. My whip-smart, straight-A student turned into an emotional wreck who did nothing but cry, sleep, and cry some more—for about two weeks. And then she came to her senses and decided that no boy was going to ruin her scholastic record. For the sake of my daughter, I’ll give you one chance. One. If you blow it, you will receive the grade you’ve earned at the end of the semester. Do we understand each other?”

I nodded, more tears spilling.

“Good.” My professor shifted uncomfortably and handed me another tissue. “Oh, for Pete’s sake—as I told my daughter, there’s not a boy on the planet worth this amount of angst. I know; I used to be one.” He scribbled on a slip of paper and handed it to me. “Here’s the email address of my class tutor. If you aren’t familiar with his supplemental instruction sessions, I suggest you get familiar with them. You’ll no doubt need some one-on-one tutoring as well. He was an excellent student in my class two years ago, and he’s been tutoring for me since then. I’ll give him the details of the project I expect you to do to replace the midterm grade.”

Another sob escaped me when I thanked him.

I had my shot. All I had to do was get in touch with this tutor person and turn in a project. How hard could it be?

***

The coffee line in the student union was ridiculously long, but it was raining and I wasn’t in the mood to get soaked crossing the street to the indie coffee shop just off-campus to get my fix before my afternoon class. In unrelated reasoning, that was also where Seokjin was most likely to be; we went there almost daily after lunch. 

“Ugh,” Elee huffed, she was in a hurry but the Coffee line wasn’t moving fast enough. “I almost forgot—did you hear what happened to Junmin Saturday night? ”My stomach dropped. The night I just wanted to forget wouldn’t leave me alone. I shook my head.

“He got jumped in the parking lot behind the house. A couple of guys wanted his wallet. Probably homeless people, he said—that’s what we get with a campus right in the middle of a big city. They didn’t get anything, the bastards, but damn, Junmin’s face is busted up.” She leaned closer. “He actually looks a little hotter like that, if you know what I mean.”

I felt ill, standing there mute and feigning interest instead of refuting Junmin’s explanation of the events leading to his pummeled face. “Well, fuck. I cant keep waiting, we’ve got a quiz. I’ll see you after work.” She gave me a quick hug and scurried off. I scooted forward with the line, my mind going over Saturday night for the thousandth time. I couldn’t shake how vulnerable I felt, still. I’d never been blind to the fact that guys are stronger. Seokin had scooped me into his arms more times than I could count, one time tossing me over his shoulder and running up a flight of stairs as I clung to his back, upside down and laughing. Two weeks ago, he'd torn out my heart, and I’d never felt so hurt, so empty. But he’d never used his physical strength against me. No, that was all Junmin.

“Next.” I shook off my reverie and looked across the counter, prepared to give my usual order, and there stood the guy from Saturday night. The guy I’d avoided sitting next to this morning in economics. My mouth hung open but nothing came out. And just like this morning, Saturday night came flooding back. My face heated, remembering the position I’d been in, what he must have witnessed before he’d intervened, how foolish he must consider me.But then, he’d said it wasn’t my fault.And he’d called me by my name. The name I no longer used, as of sixteen days ago.

My split-second wish that he wouldn’t recall who I was went ungranted. I returned his penetrating gaze and could see he remembered all of it, clearly. Every mortifying bit. My face burned.

“Are you ready to order?” His question pulled me from my disorientation. His voice was calm, but I felt the exasperation of the restless customers behind me.

“Grande caffé Americano. Please.” My words were so mumbled that I half expected him to ask me to repeat myself.

But he marked the cup, which was when I noted the two or three layers of thin white gauze wrapped around his knuckles. He passed the cup to the barista and rang up the drink as I handed over my card.

“Are you okay today?” he asked, his words so seemingly casual, yet so full of meaning between us. He swiped my card and handed it back with the receipt.

“I’m fine.” The knuckles of his left hand were scuffed but not severely abraded. As I took the card and receipt, his fingers grazed over mine. I snatched my hand away. “Thanks.”

His eyes widened, but he said nothing else.

His eyes flicking to me once more as I stepped away. I don’t know if he looked at me after that. I waited for my coffee at the other end of the bar, and hurried away without adding my usual dribble of milk and three packets of sugar.

Economics was a survey course, and as such the roster was huge—probably two hundred students. I could avoid eye contact with two boys in the midst of that many people for the remaining six weeks of fall semester, couldn’t I?