#DUDE HIS LIPS WERE SO HARD TO DO IM NOT USED TO DRAWING OR SHADING LIPS <-guy whos getting forced to be better artist

[5oz-mud]

decided to hop on the trend of painting my own kim to hang on the wall. more wip pics under the read more!

[beamtori]

𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭

implied fwb!ji changmin x afab!reader

1.9k words, smut (minors dni), piv sex, porn w/o plot, switch dynamics but changmin leans dom, so much dirty talk 💀, biting hard enough to draw blood, edging, kissing, swearing, overstimulation (f. receiving), fingering/cumplay, pet names (baby, sweetheart, hot stuff, good girl, etc.), aftercare is dinner lol, unprotected sex (wrap it before u tap it bro), low-key manhandling, it's kinda just... filth tbh (im on my period, sue me), CHANGMINS A LITTLE SHIT

a/n: this is the most self-insert i have ever self-inserted :l if it's awful, blame the brainrot!

"This has got to be a world record."

You rolled your eyes as you walked into his apartment, pointedly ignoring the smug smirk on his face and the arms exposed by sleeves rolled to his shoulders. "Do you want to get laid or not?"

Ji Changmin closed his front door, tongue poking his cheek, but it did nothing to conceal his smile. He leaned back and crossed his arms over his chest. "How many red lights did you run?"

Heat rose to your neck and you scowled. "I'm literally going to walk out the door right now."

"Try me, sweetheart."

So maybe you had dropped everything to get here when he sent you that blatantly obvious thirst trap photo, but you were thirsty; what could you say? It was a fucking shame he knew your weakness.

"Aww," he cooed, taking the few steps to meet you. He gently grabbed your chin in one hand and jutted his bottom lip outward. "Don't pout, baby. You know it'll only make me wanna kiss you."

You licked your bottom lip. "I get to draw blood, then we'll call it even."

There was a gleam in his eyes, the one that first got you addicted to falling into this man's bed. "Whatever you want, sweetheart."

This was what you meant by drawing blood.

Changmin's moans filled the room, his breathless, desperate "ah, ah, ah"s would engrave themselves into your flesh like you nipped at the skin on his neck. You could taste the iron in your mouth, dark and sticky, red staining your teeth and your lips as you kissed and lapped at the wound. Each bite would bloom his favorite shade of purple by morning. Your forearms braced against the bed sheets on either side of his head, your knees growing sore from the steady rocking of your hips.

Flesh stuck to flesh, his hands grappled at your body to hold on for dear fucking life as you rode his cock and marked his pretty canvas of a body for your own. Sweat glistened, further highlighted by the warm glow of the lamp on the nightstand.

"Baby, baby, baby—" he babbled as his hand buried itself in your hair to pull you out from his neck, "—tight. Oh fucking hell, you're tight. C'mere."

He caught your kiss, his blood smearing across his own lips. You licked him clean as always, humming against him as he spoke through the earnestness.

You suddenly pulled away from him and braced your hands on his pecs. The view from this angle was enough to make you clench: Changmin splayed beneath you, lips and neck bruised appropriately, a dazed glaze over his dark eyes, sweat making his skin shine. "Oh, look at you," you purred, giving him an indulgent roll of your hips.

Changmin gritted his teeth, hand clutching your thigh and inching higher. "You don't move, sweetheart, and I'll move for you," he smiled thinly and backed his statement up with a firm spank of your ass.

You lurched forward in surprise; his chuckle filled the room.

"I have power, too, you know."

"Okay, hot stuff," you huffed, brushing your hair from your eyes. "You realize you could have flipped us over a long time ago, right?"

A smirk-like grin curled onto his lips, devilish and enough to make you squeeze around him again. "I know. But you looked like you were having fun up there, princess. Plus, your tits look so good like this."

You rolled your eyes. "You're such a dude."

"Yn, I sent you a thirst trap to get you into bed with me like, an hour ago; now you're calling me a dude?"

You sighed, sitting upright, warming his cock. "True."

"Baby. Sweetcheeks. Apple of my eye—"

"Hm?"

"As much as I love that you're just sitting on my cock like your throne," he drawled, "I wanna make you cum as many times as you ran red lights."

"I didn't run any red lights—"

You squealed, your world twisting and your back hitting the sheets. Changmin grinned from over you, one large hand palming your right boob.

You were breathless. He leaned down to devour your mouth. A trail of spit clung between your lips when he pulled away for a second. "So what you're saying is you want me to edge you?" He husked, tongue swiping along his bottom lip, his eyes shining with a dark glimmer.

Genuine fear spiked through your heart. "Ji Changmin, I swear to god—"

He gave one powerful thrust, and you clung onto him as your swear melted into a whine. "The government name? Only good girls get to cum, Yn-ie. Be a good girl, hm, and moan for me."

You dug your fingernails into his back as he drove his cock into you so hard you could see stars circling. He swallowed all of the pretty, desperate noises coming out of your mouth with his own. You arched your front into him, hips lifting slightly to meet him until his hip bone smashed against you.

"That's it," he grunted, kissing you as your high approached and his thumb grounded into your puffed up clit. "Take my cock so well; fuck—me—"

You were so close, and you nodded to what he said—nodded so desperately as you dragged your nails down his back and chased that high like a fucking dog—

Everything stopped.

"You want dinner?"

He was leaning over you to grab his phone off the nightstand, the light making the sweat dripping down his chest glisten like liquid pearl. His cock was still inside you, but you could feel the impending tightening of your orgasm slowly deflating.

Your blood pressure spiked. "What the fuck, Changmin?"

He tried to hide his smile. Tried. He sat over you as he opened a food delivery app and showed you the screen. "They've got that new Hawaiian restaurant and that fried chicken place you like."

"You are such an asshole." You draped your arm over your eyes, pussy clenching around him as if that alone could get you back to bliss.

You felt him shift, and then he was laughing fondly, removing the arm from over your eyes and pressing kisses to your face. "Aw, I'm sorry, sweetheart. I know you were close; just wanted to tease you a little bit."

You glared. "You're fucking evil."

He grinned. "Clearly you like that." He kissed a trail from your nose down to your ear, murmuring, "Like calls to like."

You bit your lip and tried to ignore the butterflies in your stomach. "Please, can I cum?" You didn't know where it came from, but you knew he wouldn't resist the pleading, because as he had said, like called to like.

A kiss right below your ear. "Well, aren't you sweet when you're desperate? Whatever you want, baby."

You sighed as he brought his lips back up to yours—thank fuck. One of his hands curled lightly around the side of your neck, the other wrapping around your right thigh to hike your leg up. His cock dragged through you at a slightly different angle, and you squirmed, hands clinging onto his shoulders and back.

"You wanna cum, baby? I'll give you what you want."

He groaned into your neck, teeth nipping at the skin there like he was grounding himself. Cock bullying into you, hand around your neck, the pressure so sweet and delicious. You were going start seeing things, your throat was losing breath as you begged for sweet, sweet fucking mercy.

Changmin suckled on the joint between neck and collarbone. "So good for me, huh?—dropped everything to see me—" He moaned into you, the sound urging you over the edge.

"Changmin," you cried out desperately. Closecloseclose, oh my god, you were close. "Changmin, baby, please. I'm so close—fuck."

Sweat dribbled down the slope of his nose as he hovered over you and continued to fuck you through until you were leaping over that cliff of pleasure—literally throwing yourself—thighs shaking in his grasp. You let out a loud whine when he didn't stop moving inside you; he was still rock hard and he locked your ankles at the base of his back to curve his cock up into you.

You clawed at him. "Fuck, fuck, fuck—"

"My good girl can give me another, can't she?" His nose nudged against yours, a sharp contrast to the obscene sound of his balls slapping against your skin and the wet squelches of his thrusts. "Came all this way just for me…"

He brought his hand away from your neck to draw brutal circles around your clit, desperate to feel you clench around him again. His eyebrows creased, coaxing another orgasm out of you as he chased his own.

"Changmin," you stammered.

"Gonna come for me?"

"Yes," your breath came out in a delirious pant, pussy deliciously overstimulated. "Gonna come, gonna come, Changmin."

You were quivering around him again, incoherent thoughts half-babbled and half-moaned. The tension in your belly was mounting faster and faster now, and you could feel Changmin's thrusts getting sloppier. The tension snapped, and you drowned in it. You cried as you clung onto Changmin's form and he stilled, emptying out ropes of warm cum into you and making you squirm again.

As you both came down from your highs, he pressed his lips to the sides of your neck, eyes closed in a blissful daze. "Fuck, I owe you dinner for that. Shit."

You shifted uncomfortably as he slowly pulled out of you. "I did bite a chunk out of your neck," you exhaled. Both yours and his eyes wandered down to where your bodies met, your folds a mess of your combined fluids.

You saw him lick his lips, eyes glued to your cunt. "Earth to Changmin," you chuckled, poking his dimple.

His eyes shot to you for a moment before he was dipping his finger into the mess, swirling the cum around and pushing it back into you.

You mewled. "Dude," you shivered as the girth of his fingers filled you.

"You did not just call me dude when I'm pushing my cum back inside you," he grinned, crawling back over you and sealing off any chance at a response by kissing you. Your hips pushed into his hand, grinding against his finger. "Mmh, greedy."

You playfully pushed him off you. "Off, Changmin."

He laughed, but obliged, pulling away and helping you sit up. He took his cum-soaked finger and stuck it in his mouth to clean it. "Okay, but for real, do you want dinner?"

You grimaced as you moved yourself onto your knees to shuffle over to him and inspect the nasty little bite you left on him. "Dinner sounds good. Whatever you want." You frowned and gave the blooming bruise an experimental poke.

Changmin hissed low under his breath while he perused the delivery app on his phone. His hair stuck up in weird places and he ran a hand through it. "Whatever I want?"

"I did a number on you," you muttered. "Lemme clean it up so it doesn't get infected."

"It's all good, sweetheart; I got it. Just sit and rest." He shoved his phone into your lap and disappeared into the bathroom before you could object. You found a comfortable position against his headboard and decided on a place you knew the both of you would like.

From the bathroom, you could hear his whistle. "I'm almost sorry I have to cover this one up," he marveled, inspecting the bite mark. "If you hadn't drawn blood, I could leave it out for people to see."

Your heart leapt. "So people know you're sleeping with a vampire?" You joked half-heartedly.

"Well, sure," he mused. But he turned his head to send you a wink. "But also so people know I'm taken."

a/n: the ending is for ME, OKAY? :')))

tbz m.list

[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

Y/N Son: ”I’ve attached an outline of my research paper. If you have a chance, could you make sure it’s not too broad, or too focused? I’m not sure how many economies outside the US to include. Also, the J-curve is a little confusing. I get that we can see it after the fact, but isn’t economics based on prediction, like the weather? I mean, who cares if we can only see what happened after the fact - if the weather guy can’t predict what’s going to happen tomorrow, he’s probably going to get fired, right?

I did the worksheets, too. Sorry I’m sending you so much at once, and on a Monday. I should have sent it earlier, but I went out with some friends Saturday and didn’t get it done.”

KIM T: “No problem. I’m either working, studying or in class practically every waking hour. I hardly notice what day it is. I hope you enjoyed your night out.  I know I initially said I didn’t need details of your breakup (if that was rude, I didn’t mean it that way); it must have been bad to make you ditch class for two weeks. I can tell skipping is atypical for you.

I’ve attached a WSJ article that explains the J-curve better than the text. You’re exactly right, without the ability to predict, economics isn’t economics, it’s history. And while history has its place in the predictable probabilities of both economics and meteorology (clever analogy, btw), it’s hardly useful if you need to know whether or not to invest in foreign currency or bring your umbrella to school.”

I stared at the email, trying and failing to compare my tuto, Kim to Taehyung. They seemed as opposite as night and day, but I only knew half of each of them. I didn’t know much about Taehyung beyond his striking looks and his ability to beat the shit out of someone. During art history, I’d found myself wondering what would have happened in that interaction with Junmin, if Taehyung had been with me. I wondered if Junmin would have dared to look at me like that. To say what he’d said: Lookin’ good. The thought of Junmin’s cold eyes examining me made my stomach turn.

Feeling shallow for caring, I speculated again what Kim T might look like, and how much impact that might have on what I thought of him. His compliments made me stare at my laptop and smile. He’d said my ex was a moron, and now he seemed to be interested in our breakup. In me. That, or I was reading too much into it.

Y/N Son:  “Hey KimT (It seems like Im cxchanging emails with some secret agent) We were together almost three years. I never saw it coming. I followed him here to school, instead of trying for a performing arts school. My orchestra teacher nearly had a stroke when I told him. 

He pleaded with me to audition at Oberlin or Julliard, but I didn’t. I can’t blame anyone but myself. I trusted my future to my boyfriend, like an idiot. Now I’m stuck somewhere I’m not supposed to be. I don’t know if I just believed that much in him, or that little in myself. Either way, pretty fucking stupid, huh? So there’s my weepy little story.Thank you for the article.”

Kim T: “Not stupid. Overly trusting, maybe, but that reflects on his lack of trustworthiness, not on your intelligence. As for being somewhere you’re not supposed to be – maybe you’re here for a reason, or there is no reason. As a scientist, I lean toward the latter. Either way, you’re off the hook. You made a decision; now you make the best of it. That’s all you can do, right? On that note, I’m off to study for a statistical mechanics quiz. Who knows, maybe I’ll be able to prove scientifically that your ex isn’t worthy of you, and you’re exactly where you should be.”

When Elee came through the door, I was half-asleep and surrounded by conjugated Spanish verbs printed on colored index cards. I scooped most of them up just before she bounced onto the edge of my bed.

“So? Did you call him or text him? Did you use the stuff we went over? What did he say?”

I sighed. “Neither.”

She lay back on the bed, flinging her arms wide dramatically as I snatched up cards before she creased them. “You chickened out.”

I stared at the cards in my hand. Yo habré, tú habrás, él habrá, nosotros habremos… “Yeah, maybe.”

“Hmm. You know, this is better. Don’t call. Make him chase you.” She laughed at my creased brow. 

I thought about Seokjin. About what kind of guy he was. He’d chased me in the beginning, but he didn’t have to try very hard to catch me. I was swept off my feet by him, swept along in his dreams and plans, because he’d made me part of them. Until a few weeks ago.

“Aw, shit, y/n. I know what you’re doing. Don’t think about him. I’m gonna make some cocoa. Get back to—” she sat up, picking up a card I’d not grabbed hastily enough, “—ugh, Spanish verbs.”

Wednesday, I got to the classroom before the 8:00 class let out. As soon as most of the students had filed out the door, I slipped in and took my seat, determined not to pay attention to Taehyung when he came in. To that end, I flipped through my index cards, though I was more than ready to ace the quiz in Spanish.

When Jungkook slid into his seat on my left, I didn’t pause in my review. I refused to be distracted from not paying attention to Taehyung’s seat, and whether or not he was in it.

“Hey, Y/N.” That wasn’t Jungkook’s voice.

The seats were bolted to the floor, with right-handed desktops. Taehyung leaned slightly over the side of Jungkook’s, pushing into the very margin of my space. My breath caught, and I focused on letting it out, appearing unaffected. “Oh, hi.”

He bit his lower lip once, briefly. “I guess you didn’t notice the note on your coffee cup.”

I glanced at my phone, sitting on the edge of my textbook. “I noticed.” I watched his reaction.

He smiled, his light eyes crinkling slightly at the corners, and I tried not to swoon visibly. “Mmm I see, so how ’bout you give me yours?”

I arched a brow at him. “Why? Do you need help in economics?”

He bit his lip in earnest that time, stifling a laugh. “Hardly. What makes you think that?”

I frowned. Could I be attracted to a guy who cared so little about doing well in class? “I guess it’s not my business.”

He leaned his chin into the palm of his hand. The tips of his fingers were tinged with gray, probably from drawing with that pencil sitting over his ear. “I appreciate your concern, but I want your number for reasons completely unrelated to economics.”

I picked up my phone and found his number, and sent him a text that said: Hi.

“Dude, you’re in my seat.” Jungkook’s tone was matter-of-fact, but unperturbed.

Taehyung’s phone vibrated in his hand, and he smiled as my text popped up, giving him my number. “Thanks.” He unfolded himself from the chair and addressed Jungkook. “Sorry, man.”

“No prob.” Jungkook was one of the most easygoing people I’d ever met. His attitude said slacker, but I’d gotten a look at the midterm crammed into his notebook—he’d made a high B, and for all his talk about skipping class and sleeping in, he’d yet to miss one. After Taehyung sauntered back to his seat, Jungkook leaned over the edge of his desktop, closer than Taehyung had. “So what was that about?” His eyebrows rocked up and down and I tried not to grin.

“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean,” I replied, fluttering my lashes in my best Southern belle impersonation.

“Careful, little lady,” he drawled. “That fella seems a bit dangerous.” He shook a too-long curl out of his eyes, smiling. “Not that there’s anything wrong with a bit of danger.”

I congratulated myself for taking a singular peek over my shoulder, halfway through the fifty-minute class. Taehyung wasn’t looking at me, so I couldn’t help staring. Pencil in hand, he was sketching intently, first shading and then carefully smearing with his thumb. His hair fell around his face as he concentrated on his work, the lecture and the classroom disregarded as though he was alone in his room. I imagined him sitting on his bed, knees up, pad balanced on his thighs. I wondered what he was sketching. Or who.

He glanced up and caught my gaze. Held it.

His mouth pulled into that ghost of a smile and he stretched his neck and rolled his shoulders, returning my stare. Glancing at the pad, he tapped the end of his pencil against it and sprawled back in his seat, lashes fanning down as he examined his work.

Dr. Park finished the chart he was free-handing onto the whiteboard, and the lecture resumed. Taehyung tucked the pencil over his ear and picked up a pen. Before shifting his attention to our professor, he smiled at me again, and a jolt of excitement shot through me.

At the end of class, a different girl than last week intercepted him on his way out the door, and I bolted without a backward look. My adrenaline kicked in, my body sensing my need to escape and giving wings to it.

I texted Elee that I’d be getting crap coffee in the cafeteria before my afternoon class instead of going by the Coffe. She texted back: GENIUS. I’ll meet you there. Sisters in solidarity and all that shit.

From the end of my bed, my laptop dinged an email alert, and an answering flutter came from my stomach. It was probably nothing—a notice about flu shots from the health center, or another note from one of my old high school friends, who were all “so devastated” that Seokjin and I were over (which they all figured out when he changed his Facebook relationship status—twenty minutes after he’d broken up with me).

I’d disabled my account immediately, and had yet to reinstate it. The thought of seeing his glib status updates and having photos of him pop up in my feed was demoralizing. Even if I hid him, we knew too many of the same people. There’d be no hiding his activities completely. I began getting sympathetic and condescending emails and texts the next day, so I was justifiably apprehensive whenever I checked my inbox.

Cringing, I pulled it up… and smiled.

Kim T: “Are you going to make it to the session tomorrow (Thursday)? In case you won’t, I’ve attached the worksheet I’m planning to go over. It’s new, separate stuff, and you needn’t be completely caught up to get it. (Speaking of, you should be all caught up within a week or so.)

PS – I’ve been thinking about that proof I spoke of last time – that you’re where you’re supposed to be. And it occurred to me, can you prove you’d be better off somewhere else? If you’d have left the state, your relationship would have ended still. Maybe you’d have even blamed yourself, not knowing that it was doomed because of him, either way. Instead, you’re here. You got dumped, skipped class, and met the best econ tutor at the university! Who knows, maybe I’ll make you fall in love with economics. (What’s your major, btw?)”

Y/N Son: “I’m a music education major. I hate that saying: "Those who can, do, those who can’t, teach." As a tutor, I know that’s BS. Still. I wanted to do. I imagined joining a symphony orchestra, or a progressive jazz band… And instead, I’m going to teach.

I won’t be at your session – I have lessons with my middle school boys tomorrow. (I think I’d be more impressive to them if I could fart the scales instead of plucking them on the bass.)

Sorry to inform you, but I plan to make it through this class and be done with econ. No reflection on your genius tutoring skills, I swear. Thank you for the worksheet. You’re too kind.”

Kim T:  “If you want to do, then do. What’s stopping you?

So I’m kind, huh? Never heard that before. People usually think I’m a pretentious a-hole. I must admit, I tend to encourage that estimation. So please promise to keep your opinion to yourself. Reputations can be ruined so easily, you know. ;)

PS – Do the worksheet. Before Friday. I’m giving you a very serious look through this screen. DO THE WORKSHEET. If you have problems with any of the material, let me know.”

Y/N Son:  “What’s stopping me? Well, I’ve blown the chance to go to a serious music school. And I’m stuck in a state that doesn’t always foster the arts (something I’ll probably spend my entire teaching career fighting). It seems impossible to go out now and “do.” I guess I should rethink that.

Your secret geniality is safe. My lips are sealed.

PS – I’m DOING the worksheet, but I’m giving you a very petulant look through my screen. Slave driver.”

I was grinning when I clicked send. Maybe I was playing an entirely different game of chase, and Taehyung and his infuriatingly enigmatic smile could take a flying leap. Elee and Mina could keep their make-him-chase-you advice and use it themselves, because I, apparently, sucked at it in real life. Through email, though… My happy expression slid away as I realized the stark truth—I was flirting with someone online. I had no idea what he looked like, or what type of person he was.

That wasn’t exactly true. I knew exactly what type of person he was, even though I’d never laid eyes on him. He was kind. And intelligent. And straightforward.

Of course, he hadn’t beaten a would-be rapist to a bloody pulp for me. Or made my insides melt when he put his hands on my waist. He probably didn’t have tattoos on his arms or deep brown eyes and a liquefying stare.

At 10:00 pm, my phone trilled a text alert.

Taehyung: Hi :)

Me: Hi :)

Taehyung: What’s up?

Me: Nothing. Homework.

Taehyung: I wanted to talk to you after class, but you disappeared.

Me: I have another class right after. One of those profs who stops talking, stares at you and waits until you get to your seat if you’re late.

Taehyung: I would probably just walk to my seat even slower. ;)

Taehyung: You should come by the Coffe Friday. It’s usually dead. Americano, on the house?

Me: Free coffee? I can’t pass that up. I’ll try to stop by. When do you work?

Taehyung: All afternoon. Til 5.

Me: K

Taehyung: See you Friday, Y/N.

Taehyung was fifteen minutes late to class on Friday, and we had a pop quiz first thing—which he missed. My first thought was how irresponsible it was to miss a quiz… and then I remembered that I missed the midterm. I couldn’t exactly point any fingers.

He slipped through the back door as Dr. Park walked up the center aisle, collecting quizzes. He took the stacks from the left row and then turned to the right, where Taehyung sat. “I need to see you after class,” he said, his voice low.

Inclining his head once, Taehyung pulled his text from his backpack and replied in the same subdued tone. “Yes, sir.”

I didn’t look back at him during the remainder of class, and when it was over, he packed up his backpack and walked down the outside aisle to the front. While waiting for Dr. Park to finish his conversation with another student, Taehyung’s eyes lifted and found me. His smile was as unreadable as always, scarcely there at all. But his gaze was focused, pegging me like a dart to a board.

Turning his attention to our professor, he broke the stare. I released the breath I’d not realized I was holding and escaped the classroom, undecided on whether or not to follow through with stopping by the Coffe that afternoon.

I considered the quiz I’d just aced, thanks to Kim’s insistence that I complete the worksheet he sent two nights ago. Doing that worksheet had been all sorts of help—on a quiz he must have known about. I didn’t think he’d crossed a line and told me something he shouldn’t have, but his toe was definitely on the line. For me. Swept along and invisible among thousands of other students on this enormous campus, I was struck by the fact that for some reason, he’d gone out of his way to help me. For some reason, I mattered to him.

Elee: Jongkyung and I are leaving soon. You gonna be ok this weekend? You’re going to the coffe this afternoon, RIGHT? If he asks you out, GO FOR IT HOE. Clear the palate! Don’t forget you’ll have the room to yourself all weekend. 

Me: You kids have fun. I’ll be fine! I’ll keep you posted.

Elee: You’d better! I’ll be back Sunday afternoon. Or evening, depending on the level of hangover Sunday morning. lmao. TEXT ME LATER.

I’d forgotten Elee’s road trip with Jongkyung was this weekend. His brother was in a band, and they were playing at a festival tomorrow near Busan, so they had reservations at a bed and breakfast for the weekend. Elee told Mina and me about it last month while we waited to look at Mercury and Venus through a telescope during an evening astronomy lab.

The coffee smell invaded my senses before the Coffe came into view. Rounding the corner, my eyes went to the counter, where two employees stood talking. When I didn’t see Taehyung, I wondered if he’d switched shifts and forgot to text me.

There were only a handful of customers—one of whom was Dr. Park, reading the paper in the corner. I had nothing against my professor, but I didn’t exactly want him witnessing my attempts to flirt with the guy who skipped the quiz and got called out for it just this morning. I stood just behind a display of coffee mugs and travel cups.

Just as he had Monday, Taehyung pushed through the door to the back as my eyes brushed over it. My fingers and toes tingled at the sight of him. Underneath the green apron, he wore an orange long-sleeved tshirt, not the university-branded sweatshirt he’d worn this morning in class. His shirtsleeves were pushed past his elbows again, leaving the tattoos visible. I moved to the counter, my eyes skimming from his forearms to his face. He hadn’t seen me yet.

One of the girls at the register straightened. “Can I help you?” Her voice held a bite of annoyance, as though she was snapping her fingers to get my attention.

“I’ve got it, Eun ” Taehyung said, and she shrugged and returned to her conversation with her coworker, but they both eyed me with even more hostility than a moment before. “Hey, y/n.”

“Hi.”

He glanced toward the corner where Dr. Park sat. “What can I get for you?”

His tone wasn’t the tone of a guy who’d specifically asked me to come by. Maybe he was behaving circumspectly for his coworkers’ benefit.

“Um, a grande Americano, I guess.”

He grabbed the cup from the stack and made the drink. I tried to hand him my card, but he shook his head once. “That’s okay. I’ve got it.”

His coworkers exchanged a look I pretended not to see.

I thanked him and retreated to the opposite side of the shop from Dr. Park, setting up my laptop to work on my econ project. 

After an hour, I’d bookmarked a dozen sources on current international economic happenings, my coffee was gone, and Taehyung hadn’t come over once. I was expected at the high school for my weekly Friday afternoon bass lessons in half an hour. Shutting down my laptop, I turned to unplug the power cord from the wall.

“Ms. Son.” At Dr. Park’s unexpected greeting, I jumped, knocking over my thankfully-empty cup. “Oh! So sorry to have startled you!”

“Oh, that’s okay. I’m a little jumpy—from, uh, the coffee.” And from thinking for one split second that you were Taehyung.

“I just wanted to let you know that Mr. Kim tells me you’re almost caught up, and making headway on the project. I’m glad to hear it.” He lowered his voice and glanced around conspiratorially. “My colleagues and I don’t actually want to fail anyone, you know. Our goal is to frighten—I mean encourage—the less, er, serious students to produce. Not that I believe you’re one of those.”

I returned his smile. “I understand.”

He straightened and cleared his throat. “Good, good. Well, on that note—have a productive weekend.” He chuckled at his joke and I managed to avoid rolling my eyes.

“Thank you, Dr. Park.”

He walked to the counter and spoke to Taehyung as I wound the power cord and stowed the laptop in my backpack. The conversation between them was earnest, and I was concerned when Dr. Park seemed to gesture toward me at least once. I wondered if our professor believed that Taehyung was one of those less serious students he could intimidate into becoming more dedicated. If so, I didn’t want to be used as some sort of example.

As I walked out, I looked over my shoulder, but Taehyung didn’t shift his gaze my way at all, and his expression was tense. His coworker, wiping down a counter a few feet away, smirked at me.

When I left the high school two hours later, I switched on my phone, endeavoring to look forward to a weekend alone while it powered up. Clearly, the trip to Coffe was a bust. Taehyung had been, if possible, even more puzzling and cagey than he was before.

While working on the project, I’d emailed Kim to thank him for sending the worksheet Wednesday, and for insisting that I do it. I hadn’t heard from him since Wednesday, but maybe he would email this afternoon or tonight. Maybe he’d be free this weekend, and we could finally meet.

I had one text from Elee that she and Jongkyung had arrived in Busan—along with lots of insinuation about what I could do with a room to myself, and Mom had texted to ask about my Ch’usok days plans. Seokjin and I had alternated spending the day at his house or mine the past three years. Somehow, this translated into confusion about whether or not I was coming home this year. When I texted her back that yes, breaking up with a guy generally means no more shared holidays, I expected an apology to follow. I should have known better.

Mom: Don’t be snippy. Your dad and I planned and paid for a trip to Jeju that weekend, because we thought you could stay at the Kim’s. I guess we’ll have to cancel.

Me: Go ahead and go. I’ll go home with Elee or something.

Mom: Ok. If you’re sure.

Me: I’m sure.

I tossed my phone in an empty cup-holder and drove back to campus, prepared to watch reality TV and work on economics all weekend.

When I got to my room, I saw that Taehyung had texted while I was driving back.

Taehyung: Sorry I didn’t say goodbye Me: It was awkward with Dr. Park there I guess. Taehyung: Yeah. Taehyung: So, I’d like to sketch you. Me: Oh? Taehyung: Yeah Me: Okay. Not, like, sans clothes or anything right? Taehyung: Haha no. Unless you’re up for that. Taehyung: Jk. Is tonight ok? Or tomorrow night? Me: Tonight is good. Taehyung: Cool. I can be there in a couple of hours. Me: Ok. Taehyung: What’s your room number? Me: 362. I’ll need to let you into the building. Taehyung: I can probably get in. I’ll text you if I can’t.