#incoherent lecture - drabble

[darkxmagicxpriest]

She’s just here, asleep against his shoulder with a book open in her lap, having nodded off while studying again.

@mahoushojoumonster

Their day started as it normally did - a morning jog followed by breakfast. Mana always argued against jogging "What's the point of running, Master? We could use magic to float!" Which was, admittedly, a compelling argument, but one that was always shot down with the explanation that although they were now spiritual beings, they needed to keep up their physical stamina - an argument that was likely nonsense as they were now made of pure energy and magick as opposed to anything corporeal like flesh or bone, and therefore something such as a cardio workout was likely pointless, but a point that she never argued with, so the jogging continued.

Breakfast was, admittedly, always a challenge. Though they could never truly die, some monster hordes disliked it when you hunted for food. So on mornings like this one, Mana either ventured to the human world or - like today - the Master would relent and go for something lighter; in this case, crumpets with jam and some danishes, as well as tea. He knew she couldn't control herself much with the sweet treats, but he did like to treat her from time to time.

After that would be battle training - the best way to focus the sugar high. Over the years they had discovered that their tolerance for physical damage was much higher, it's the reason Mahad had agreed to teach her blood magicks, something that was frowned upon back in Egypt if for no other reason than the medical mages had to be pulled away from other various duties in case something went horribly wrong. Here, though? It was full steam ahead.

After a good few hours of that, the rain had begun to fall, so Mahad considered their options. Usually after battle training they would retire to the classroom - he had made it a point for her to keep up her spellbook training and magickal theorems, even in this place, as their limits could be expanded here.

Instead, however, he decided to send Mana to the human world, with the instructions to pick up these things she talked about recently called "popped corn" and "rom coms," deciding that today they (or, rather, he) would learn about modern human culture, in case they needed to go to the human world for an extended period of time.

And so it was a blissful afternoon when she returned with a handful of movies and a few "my-cro-wavable" bags of what she explained were kernels of corn. He put the movie on - something with Ryan Reynolds - and she returned with a bowl of popcorn - as well as a spellbook. They sat together on the couch, sharing a blanket, the book on Mana's lap as they listened to the hard rainfall, watched the film, ate the popcorn, and laughed at the cheesy jokes (Mana had to explain some to him in order to get it).

About halfway through the second movie, he heard a soft, content, sigh. He looked down at his apprentice - she was fast asleep, her blonde head on his shoulder, a small smile on her face as she dreamt pleasantly. A soft peck to her forehead caused her to snuggle deeper. Mahad smiled. This was truly a perfect day - at least until she woke up and yelled at him for continuing to watch the movies without her.

[doctorhouse5343]

Hobo Heart was quite the happy and hardworking student : he had two great friends that he got along with (the trio earning the nickname of The Three Musketeers due to how inseparable they were) , he always paid attention in class and did well in his grades. On top of that he had Alex Burgess, his beloved boyfriend who he loved very much. If his smile was usually bright around the people he was close with, it became radiant like the sun whenever the shy, skittish young man would walk into the room, almost lighting up his face as his heart burst with joy.

Another thing that he adored besides studying with his best friends and cuddling up to his lover was history class, he always made sure to never miss a single lecture so that he could get a chance to see his favorite professor : Robert 'Hob' Gadling, who had become a mentor of some sorts eversince he would often stay at their place to cram for exams, sometimes ending up asleep on the couch due to exhaustion and every apology that he gave was waved off by the older man, who was always happy to see his favorite student. Hob had harbored romantic feelings towards the young man in secret, feelings that kept growing whenever he looked at the other's sleepy eyes in the morning, the way his eyes would squint behind his glasses to gather his bearings. But little did he knew, Hobo Heart had a small little crush on the man, always excited and giddy at the idea of staying over for another lecture about the professor's favorite topic, he loved seeing Hob's eyes light up whenever he talked about something that passionate him though he never would say it out loud : he didn't want to ruin their relationship or hurt his beloved Alex but he would be lying if he said that he didn't sometimes wished that he could indulge in fantasies.

It didn't help that the literature professor Morpheus Murphy was equally dreamy, with his unkept black hair, his icy blues and his smooth rumbling voice. Whenever the other spoke, it took every ounce of will in Hobo Heart's body to not beg his friend Orpheus to convince his father to make an audiobook so that he could listen to it all night (his feelings towards the two men where well known by their respective sons, who both really wished that he would get on with it but never said anything to him, best to make their friend believe that he was good at hiding it) but luckily he never embarrassed himself at the Murphy house.

The rivalry between the two professors was something that everyone knew about but Hobo Heart didn't understand why the two men clashed all the time, he only hope that the two would bury the proverbial hatchet and become friends in the end. Due to how unaware he was about the rivals' feelings towards him, the student never noticed the smirk that Hob gave to Morpheus whenever he'd walk by when the two were talking and the scowls when Hob would bring up how wonderful it was to have his favorite student spend the whole week at their place, making sure that the ravenette heard and would be fuming for a long time.

Little did Hobo Heart know, the little movie night with his boyfriend, one that he so carefully planned and chose over a party with his friends, would end in many tears from his end as he would learn Alex's affair, leaving him huddled up on a park bench, not far from the apartment that he shared with his now ex-boyfriend. When Morpheus and his two friends came to pick him up, he was an incoherent mess, sobbing and unable to form a sentence though seeing Hob's worry in his brown eyes opened the flood gates again, leaving him exhausted when they drove back home to the Gadlings

hurrah to the last drabble that will lead to an amazing fic! *falls over in a pool because summer is killing me* There will be banter and insults exchanged between Hob and Morpheus as well because what can I say, I'm a sucker for it

[straightouttheslendermansionn]

𝑳𝒐𝒏𝒆𝒍𝒚 𝑫𝒂𝒏𝒄𝒆

𝑪𝒉𝒂𝒓𝒂𝒄𝒕𝒆𝒓: Suicide Sadie

𝑪𝒐𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒏𝒕 𝑾𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈: fem! reader, Sadie is mentally and physically scarred, fluffy :D

NOTE: So Sadie is no longer a creepypasta, but I'm insanely proud of this little drabble. Please support her original creator, @/pnckes on instagram! There, they have an official ref sheet for new Sadie!

Ah, homecoming.

The day where we celebrate the first home game of the season.

Brilliant.

I'd rather watch the game than be in here voting for a popularity contest, dancing, and forcing myself to awkwardly converse with people. Even if this is my last year of high school and I'm supposed to be "enjoying" myself. My friends ditched me to have what they call "fun," To each their own I guess, but I'm still a bit upset.

I'm getting butterflies and my legs are weakening under my fluffy dress. I can't do this anymore, really. But it'd be terrible if I went home early.

I mean, not terrible, but I'm not looking forward to a lecture about how I won't benefit from being antisocial. So I just have to force myself to smile and act happy.

I've felt this cold presence the whole time, though I swore that it was just weather. Everybody else looks so warm, but I'm getting colder and paler every moment. Even other people have noticed.

Then, in the corner of the room, I find this glowing light. I see a girl underneath it. She has beautiful blonde and flowing hair, a brown orb, and a... missing eye...?

Curiosity killed the cat, as they say, and I walked over to ask her about it. She started to glow a little as I walked up.

"H-hi there..." I stuttered. Her aura was cold, and not to mention, I'm socially awkward.

She looked away, and a blush had seemed to appear on her pale, glowing cheeks.

"I'm sorry, I-" I stuttered, and started to walk away, but her cold hand grabbed at me.

"No, please stay," she begged, giving me puppy dog eyes. They were almost irresistible.

"I'd think that you'd be scared of me, but somehow your reaction seemed more of being considerate and leaving me alone than being frightened. I'm not used to that." she said, a raised eyebrow and an awkward smile on her face. I could clearly tell that she wasn't used to talking to people.

"So... what happened?" I asked. She just averted her gaze. I thought I struck a nerve but then she looked back up at me and smiled at me again.

"While I'd much rather not explain," she said, but paused as if what was coming would be hard to phrase.

"I want to spend time with you."

"That's... interesting." I said, considering her proposal.

"I-if you don't want to..." she started, looking down at the ground, incoherently muttering the last part. Over the music it was hard to hear, but I understood what she was trying to say.

The air between the two of us was cold and silent for a moment. I probably look crazy over here, talking to thin air in a secluded corner while everyone else is twerking on each other and all that other junk. It's absolutely excruciating to watch, so I break the silence to distract myself. And this girl. I'm sure she doesn't quite like the look of the floor that much.

"You ever danced before? Y'know, with someone?" I asked her. She kept her head down. I was about to repeat myself when she responded.

"I could've, had my night not been ruined my a pig's blood shower." She muttered.

"You're joking, right?" I asked. She shook her head and a light chuckle came from her pale lips.

"Nope, kids were pricks back at my high school. Especially when most have a vendetta against you for being the prettiest or smartest or whatever." She slightly laughed through it, but she looked sad even through her laughter. I hesitated a little, but grabbed her hand gently.

"Wellllll since your dance was ruined for you and this is the song I requested, why don't we? I mean, it's no slow song, but it's still doable... I guess...?" I anxiously rambled. She averted her gaze and smiled, submitting to me.

"Lonely Dance" by Set It Off was playing. Nobody knew it, everyone was bewildered, but the adorable ghost girl and I took the floor. People must have seen her because everyone looked at me perfectly fine. The question is, how did they see her? Meh. Guess I'll never know. I'm no ghost expert.

She and I danced, incorporating ballroom dance with our own wacky moves. I sang along to it while dancing, and while my eyes were closed at certain points, I sensed her looking at me. She had been so taciturn and her mood so mundane and sad up until right now. Seemed like, for once, she was enjoying herself. It made me happy, especially considering the markings on her. Something must have happened, but all of that seemed to melt from her psyche for a good three minutes and ten seconds.

Lots of people had left the dance floor for this song, but eventually the bliss ended and the boisterous rap music rang through the sad little school gym that people called a "homecoming venue". Side note: truly disappointing, but it is what it is.

We got off the floor as soon as the snare and heavy bass started absolutely pounding our eardrums. She was actually dizzy and laughing. Even when she's laughing, she still looks upset. However, I'm glad she's enjoying herself.

"You wanna head out of here?" I asked her.

"There really isn't anything else that's gunna happen except for the crowning and if I know anything, neither of us wanna see that." I explained and she nodded in agreement. We headed for the exit, her arm hooked in mine.

We sat on the sidewalk near the school silently. It was serene; just fresh air and a calm dark night. The stars glowed and formed constellations in the sky. Tonight was absolutely gorgeous. I looked down at the girl next to me and she was still smiling. Albeit, it was fading, but remnants of the moment stay written in her expression. I put my hand on her shoulder.

"I'm proud of you," I told her, my voice as soft as a cloud in the sky above us.

"Why? All I did was dance... and... talk to another person. And show myself in front of a bunch of dumb teenagers that are prone to forgetting me anyway." She responded, not recognizing the effort that she knows it took to do that.

"Just that, my friend," I began, "It takes a lot to talk to people, let alone a human. Especially in your position. It really is a lot and if nobody else is proud of you because it's 'something you should already know how to do', then at least I am. Take it from someone who has been in a shell for a while. From the looks of it, you've been too. So, I'm proud of you. You're brave."

When I finished speaking, she was tearing up and smiling. Blood was leaking from her gauged-out eye, but she still cried pretty, even though I never really wanted to see her cry.

Even though I have known her for but a good thirty minutes, something about her speaks to me in a way no other experience has.

"That was years too late... but that means more to me than you could ever imagine..." She said, choking up.

She hugged me, her skin cold as ice and her aura just as cold. She squeezed tight, not wanting to let go. Her face burrowed into the crook of my neck and she scooted closer to become more comfortable.

"Thank you," she whispered as she faded away. I was confused and sad, but it's a ghost thing I'm guessing. Saddening, no less.

"I'll see you again soon." Her voice lingered as her form dissipated into thin air and left me alone under the calming night sky.

"I hope so." I muttered.

[slightlyunconventional]

K's masterlist !

below is the updated (and cleaner) archive of links to all of my fics and headcanons, as well as my fandom/misc tags on the bottom of the post :)

si/x of cr/ows // sha/dow & bo/ne (these are all set like. during/after the netflix show timeline but the tag is six of crows 1 because i can't be bothered to change it and 2 i mostly only write about the crows and there's 6 of them so)

kaz reluctantly crawls through a very dusty vent with wylan and inej, in "stubborn."

then, in "windows", with the help of inej, kaz discovers he has hayfever.

in "unlikely", wylan takes care of a sick kaz on the ferolind.

kaz has a cold, and is exhausted, but still welcomes inej's care, in "tired".

nina and kaz find themselves hiding in a rich gentleman's dusty closet. nina 'helps' kaz to hold back, in "tease".

as a follow-up of sorts to "tired", kaz finds himself with his hands tied at the mercy of inej and a bouquet of flowers, in "bound".

in "assistance", kaz returns drenched with rain after a fight with a rival gang. inej lovingly helps him sort himself out as he fights with an oncoming cold.

kaz struggles with more spring allergies, and also gets lectured on stifling in "flowers".

kaz tries his damnedest to hold back an allergic fit from inej's rather potent cooking, in "spices".

in "whiskey", kaz is more than a little itchy from a few drinks, and jesper tells him to get his ass to bed.

kaz visits nina at the house of the white rose for some information for a job, but finds himself rather opposed to the brothel's decor, in "roses".

kaz has a rather dreadful cold in "careful care", and ends up letting inej care for him, even if only a little bit.

inej brings a stray cat back to the slat, much to the delight of kaz's sensitive allergic nose, in "the cat".

in "cleaning", kaz attempts to clean a bathroom, but finds himself dreadfully allergic to the surface cleaner he's using.

in "the heist one" (leave me alone i couldn't think of a title okay), kaz can't get a hold of himself, or his nose, on a job.

kink!inej induces kaz with a feather here (untitled, i couldn't think of anything 😭)

+ a very short drabble-style k/anej scene here

kink!inej induces kaz again! this time with perfume - cue a very very sneezy barrel boss - in "perfume" (a follow-up to the fic above)

k/anej drabble featuring sleepy sick kaz here

the incoherent drivel that i call kaz snzcanons: here, here, and here

+ some modern au kanej hcs (mainly kaz but some inej too) here

-

please note: i don't really write for the below fandoms as much anymore, so this is more of just an archive of my posts for them. :)

stra/nger thi/ngs

my snzcanons: steve, steve 2, eddie, robin, nancy

allergic eddie fic here, and a sick steve fic here

-

m/arvel

bucky is sick with a cold here, and then facing a dust allergy in a library here (both fics stucky related)

natasha comes home to wanda with a developing cold after a mission in the rain here

[smoochkooks]

—chapter nine: promises we made, oaths we broke

this is a part of my an ode to a broken heart drabble series.

pairing: jeon jungkook/reader

genre: unrequited love, best friends to (?), heavy angst, smut

word count: 2.3k

summary: until summer lasts, jungkook is yours. until you move out and start a new life in seoul, jungkook is yours. promises are being kept, oaths won’t be broken.

previous || next

Summer, five years ago

It started with a question. Slightly slurred words, half-lidded eyes and rose-colored cheeks.

“Would you make out with me?”

Jungkook was drunk, so drunk you were worried he was going to throw up any second now. Both bathrooms in Yugyeom's house were occupied, so you'd dragged Jungkook outside to make him breathe some fresh air. You were sitting on the porch for what felt like hours, listening to his incoherent babbling until all of a sudden, he fell silent. You thought he’d fallen asleep but when you glanced his way to confirm it, you found him staring right back at you.

And then he spoke those six words.

Would you make out with me?

The shock on your face was more than evident. You had your fair share of alcohol running in the system, truth to be told, but not too much to comprehend what you had just heard.

“What the fuck, Jungkook?” you blurted out what was probably the best response you could think of in the moment.

He shrugged in response. “’s just a simple question. Would you?”

“I’m your best friend!”

“Friends kiss each other sometimes too.”

At that, you felt your cheeks heating up. You couldn’t let your resolve break easily though, so instead you countered, “Do Jimin and Tae make out too?”

Jungkook looked like he was contemplating his answer for a moment (or he took a break to fight an urge to throw up – you couldn’t be hundred percent sure of that) and then settled on, “Yeah, probably.”

Rolling your eyes, you checked the time on your phone. It was ten minutes past midnight, the party inside was still in full swing and you really wished you could go home already but there were two major obstacles with that. One: partying at Yugyeom's house when his dad was out of town meant his closest friends were staying over for the night. Jungkook was, of course, always down for it, so instead of risking being lectured about responsible drinking at 2am by your parents, you were staying with him and coming back home fully sober in the morning.

“So, wanna make out with me or nah?”

Sober Jungkook was too stubborn for his own good. Drunk Jungkook was both stubborn and annoying.

“No,” you said firmly. You didn’t even realise he had somehow gotten closer to where you sat. “You smell like booze and weed. Gross.” you stated with a grimace.

Despite being utterly plastered, Jungkook managed to retort, “You smell like weed too. You were with us in the room earlier.”

“Whatever, the answer is still a hard no.”

“Why?”

“Because I said so!”

Jungkook frowned. He probably wasn’t used to girls refusing him like that. Too drunk to distinguish a difference and realise that you weren’t just a normal girl. No, you were his best friend. And even if you dreamt for years about crossing that invisible bridge, blurring the lines between friendship and something more, you still hadn’t expected it to pan out like this.

You weren’t really romantic, but something about kissing completely wasted Jungkook on Yugyeom's porch wasn’t very appealing. Besides, there was also another, more embarrassing reason to your refusal. Something Jungkook seemed to have finally figured out, despite his drunkeness.

“Wait,” he said suddenly and snapped his fingers. “Have you had your first kiss yet?”

And there it was. The bomb dropped. Almost nineteen and hadn’t kissed anyone. At the back of your head you knew there was nothing to be ashamed of but still, being friends with someone as experienced in this area like Jungkook made you feel a little insecure. How were you supposed to kiss the boy you want to impress the most in the whole world if you were so scared of screwing things up?

There was no point in denying now, so you swallowed the lump in your throat and replied, “Have you ever seen me alone with a boy who wasn’t you? Here’s your answer.”

Jungkook's eyes widened comically (Did he really think I was walking around kissing boys left and right, you wondered.) and then his expression changed. He looked more… serious. Or at least as serious as drunk person could manage to look.

“Lemme be your first kiss, then.”

You laughed, throwing your head back. Here it was what you always wanted: the boy you were in love with asking to let him kiss you. You could have used this situation to your advantage, throw all the cautions to the wind and say yes. Be selfish, for once in your entire life.

“Come on, ___. It’s better to do this first with someone you trust. We can practice!” Jungkook was persistent, it seemed. You knew it was alcohol speaking through him, and probably the aftermath of his last, failed relationship he had ended two months ago. With him, you wanted it to mean something, and he couldn’t promise you that now. “Girls always give me five-star reviews.”

You snorted. “Did they enjoy your stinky breath too?”

Jungkook opened his mouth to respond, probably deny it, but then clasped his hand over his mouth.

“What?” you asked.

“Now I’m really gonna puke.”

And exactly ten seconds later, the remains of tonkotsu ramen and soju found themselves on the grass in front of Yugyeom’s House.

“And the spell is broken,” you whispered to yourself, wincing. ‘’I’ll bring you tissues and water.” you added, loud enough for him to hear you.

Jungkook was only able to grunt something incoherent in response.

Two weeks later, there was another party at Yugyeom's house. Second this month, fourth this summer.

When you asked once Jungkook about it, he said Yugyeom's dad was usually visiting his new girlfriend over the weekend, who lived in Seoul. “Besides, his dad is really chill,” he’d added. “We got high together once when I came over to do some geography project with Yugyeom.”

And that was exactly how you found yourself hiding in one of the bathrooms. Why? Because you didn’t want to risk meeting Choi Yeonjun again.

But let’s start from the beginning.

One week after the night Jungkook had proposed to kiss you, you had agreed to a ‘girls’ night out’ with Nari and her friends. You’d never been to a club before. Despite Jungkook's trying to convince you all the time – your answer was always no, because the simple thought of watching him flirt and dance with girls was making you nauseous.

You’d met Yeonjun accidentally, bumping into him on your way to order yourself another drink. He had bought you one, then another, taken you to dance with him, and then you’d pressed your lips against his.

You couldn’t remember what you had thought in that moment. Yeonjun had been so nice to you the whole night, paid attention to you, complimented your dress. It had felt natural to kiss him.

(Or maybe you had just wanted to forget about certain raven-haired boy and his proposition.)

Yeonjun had tasted like cherry and rum, sweet but bitter at the same time. You could tell he was a good kisser, even with your lack of experience. He had kissed you until you had been gasping for air, clutching the material of his blue button-up between your fingers.. He’d smiled then, and dived to claim your lips once again.

Yeonjun had given you his phone number and texted a few times after. You didn’t respond to any of his messages. And now, two weeks later, he was here, in Yugyeom's living room.

As soon as you’d seen him, you’d gone upstairs and hidden in the bathroom. You sat there, wondering how the fuck did Yugyeom know him, until it hit you: Yeonjun had mentioned that night something about him playing chess. And Yugyeom was a member of probably the only existing chess club in Busan.

You couldn’t bare to see Yeonjun now. What were you supposed to tell him? Hi, I’m sorry I didn’t text you back. I kissed you because I wanted to pract–

You groaned, leaning your forehead on your knees. Then, someone banged on the door.

“Hey, I need to piss!”

You knew this voice more than well. Sighing, you got up to open the door.

Jungkook wasn’t even the slightest shocked when he saw you. “I knew you would be here. I saw you running upstairs for dear life earlier.” he explained and locked the door behind himself.

You frowned. “Are you going to piss while I’m here?” you asked, scowling.

Jungkook chuckled. “Relax, darling. I’m a gentleman,” he answered with a smirk and sat cross-legged on the qhite, fluffy carpet, leaning against the bathtub. “Are you going to just stand there and stare?”

You shook your head and plumped down next to him. You were silent for a while, listening to the thumping music coming from the outside. You wondered if Jungkook had already met Yeonjun. Yugyeom for sure must have introduced him to everyone after you had disappeared upstairs. Thank gods Nari knew how to keep a secret.

“So,” you quipped, breaking the silence. “Are you hiding here from someone?”

“Yes and no,” Jungkook replied. “I was tired of Mingyu glaring at me from across the room. And I also wanted to check up on you.”

You snorted. “I didn’t peg Mingyu to be the jealous type.”

“Yeah, and he’s apparently also delusional.”

Few weeks after prom, Doyeon and Mingyu had started officially dating and ever since, Mingyu had become more and more hostile towards Jungkook. It seemed like he was the only one still believing those ridiculous rumours about Doyeon and Jungkook, instead of listening to his friend and teammate.

“Maybe Doyeon told him something, I don’t know,” Jungkook continued, shrugging his shoulders. “Remember how she kept saying she didn’t actually invite me to prom so no one would know I turned her down? She’s crazy.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle. You felt relieved knowing Jungkook had never fancied Doyeon, but after her he had met Eunha. And everything was different with Eunha.

Their relationship had lasted barely six months, yet Jungkook had seemed to genuinely like her. They had chosen to part ways because there was no possible future for their relationship to develop: Eunha was staying in Busan after graduation and Jungkook was moving to Seoul. With you.

You didn’t really remember much from that period of time, besides keeping yourself busy with school work and preparing for the finals. Eunha was a nice girl, kind and well-spoken, and she had never minded that Jungkook’s closest friend was a female. Sometimes you wondered whether they would still be together if Eunha hadn’t decided to stay in Busan.

“And you? Are you also hiding from crazy would-be exes?” Jungkook asked, grinning.

You giggled. He couldn’t be more than right. “No. I had a headache and needed some time alone.” you lied.

“But you’re happy now to have me as your company, right?”

You smiled and this time, you told the truth. “Of course.”

You spent the next thirty minutes listening to Jungkook's rambling. You found out that Yugyeom and Jaehyun were planning to apply to the same university as Jungkook, that Hyunjin got a new tattoo (”I’ll get a whole sleeve myself one day, mark my words!”).

“Oh, and Nari told me Eunha is actually thinking about applying somewhere in Seoul too.”

Upon hearing that, the mood seemed drop a little. Ignoring the bitterness you were feeling, you asked him, “How do you feel about it? Would you rekindle the relationship with her if she decided to move to Seoul?”

You knew you were signing yourself up for a potential heartbreak, but you needed to hear his answer, no matter what, no matter how much it hurt.

In the corner of your eye you saw Jungkook toying with the hem of his black t-shirt, pretending he was picking up some hairs he knew that weren’t really there – a habit of his meaning that he was nervous or uneasy.

Then, he exhaled loudly and shook his head. “I don’t think I would be able to go back to how things were with Eunha,” he said. “I just… I didn’t feel that spark with her, you know?”

You knew what he was talking about. You felt that spark whenever you were with him. Sometimes it was almost suffocating.

“But I don’t worry about my love life that much anyway. Maybe one day I’ll meet someone great but if I don’t,” Jungkook paused and turned his head to the side to look you in the eye. “There’s always our promise left, right?”

And then he smiled. The same, bunny-toothed smile you had fallen for all these years ago. Doe-eyes like two charcoals, yet sparkling like diamonds. The mole under his lip you wanted to kiss so much. The scar on his cheek you wanted to trace your finger over. Your Jungkook.

“But you’ll have to fight your irrational fear of kissing me though. Unless you want our wedding to be awkward as fuck,” he said and then, just for a brief second, he leaned closer and his lips met yours. It was barely a kiss, more like a playful smooch and nothing else, but it still left you staring at him with wide eyes and wildly beating heart. “Stay here. I’ll bring us some soju and steal uno cards from Yugyeom's room. Be right back.”

And with that, he stormed out of the bathroom.

Slowly, your fingers caressed the seam of your lips. You smiled to yourself, replaying the scene over and over in your head.

(Until summer lasts, Jungkook is yours. Until you move out and start a new life in Seoul, Jungkook is yours. Promises are being kept, oaths won’t be broken. As long as you’re together, everything’s fine.)

[pedanticat-scratching-post]

Hallway Pining

Sashanne Drabble

The hallways of Saint James High School were crowded with the bustling bodies of students as dozens of conversations all intermingle to create one incoherent ramble as they discussed their plans for the weekend. While some students complained about how their parents would be grounding them due to getting a low grade on their tests or others were looking forward to attending a party, Sasha's own group of friends squealed about seeing the live performance of Titan Bones later that night.

"I still can't believe we managed to get tickets for them!" Taylor exclaimed.

Wade stretched out his arm and groaned. "After all the work we put into buying the tickets, I'm glad we did. My arms are still killing me from lifting all of Mr. Johnson's boxes. Why does he have so many damn books?"

"Well at least all you had to do was lift heavy books," Amber replied. "I spent so many nights babysitting kids. I'm telling you, some of those kids are complete monsters!"

Sasha chuckled at her friend's gripes. "Look, I know you guys would have rather spent your time literally doing anything else, but it was the only way to get the tickets. Isn't that worth a few days of busywork?"

Her friends mumbled "I suppose so," with it making Sasha chuckle some more. While she may have spent her free time doing work to afford the tickets such as mowing yards, she found that kind of work to be a breeze compared to all the hardcore training she did while she was in Amphibia (with her still maintaining that training even years later).

Though while her friends went back to discussing their excitement about the concerts, an all too familiar laugh diverted Sasha's attention from the conversation to the source of the laugh. Sure enough, the source of the laugh was Anne's from across the hall. She was currently hanging with some of her friends from the herpetologist's group she formed when the two had first entered high school. The group was surprisingly popular, and not just cause Anne's celebrity status from Frogvasion still being somewhat relevant at the time. Apparently invading robot frogs led by a giant salamander ended up sparking people's interest in amphibians. She's seen the group do a variety of activities for the past two years such as volunteering at the aquarium, hosting lectures about different types of amphibians at the library, and even holding bake sales to fund trips (they ended up becoming more successful once Anne stopped trying to sell people on pastries filled with bugs).

Yet while Anne seem to be close with all of the members, the one she seemed to be the closest with was a girl named Jasmine, as evident by how she had her arm around Anne's shoulder with her not seeming to mind at all. Even outside of the club, she always saw the two hanging out together whether it be hanging out at the mall or seeing Anne post pics of the two of them eating at Thai Go online. As far as she was aware, the two weren't dating yet she still felt flickers of anger. It's not like she was mad at Jasmine. After all, even though she never talked to her, she seemed like a nice enough person. And it's not like she couldn't ask Anne if she wanted to hang out. Yet despite knowing that, as she saw the two continue to joke around, she felt her face slowly turn into a frown.

"Hello, earth to Sasha?" Amber asked. "Are you still with us?"

Eyes snapping away from Anne and Jasmine, she turned back to her friends who were staring at her in concern. Not wanting to worry them, she put on her best fake smile. The exact same fake smile she has put on for years in order to not just others, but also herself. "Yeah, I'm all good. Just ended up daydreaming about Titan Bones is all."

[taechaos]

i got a fluff drabble idea for you!!

Jungkook and the oc were sleeping together, and jk had a nightmare of oc leaving him. When he wakes up(at around 3 a.m.), he doesnt see the oc beside him, he starts thinking that she actually left him because of his toxic behavior. While the oc was actually in a different room/kitchen/balcony for a reason. And when she comes back, she sees jjk panicked/shocked/crying. The oc comforting and babying jk, and jk too being a baby and complaining how she shouldnt have left him alone.

-from 🍠anon

angst and fluff 😎 tw: panic attack

Jungkook weaves his fingers through your hair that falls over his chest where you head lays, your breath hot on his exposed skin while you try to sleep to the comfort of his scent. There's an issue, one that makes him uncomfortable to discuss with his girlfriend, but discussing it is mandatory.

"Have you been busy?" he whispers into the darkness of his dorm room where another mattress sits empty without the presence of his roommate. Seokjin's night-out gave him the opportunity to dress you in one of his shirts as a pajama top, and your leg is bare over his thighs. If he didn't have something on his mind, he wouldn't bother striking up this conversation.

"Hm? No, why?" you murmur and start drawing patterns on his ribs.

He swallows hard, almost reserved in his approach. "Then why are my grades so shitty lately?" That came out harsher than intended, and he grimaces when you freeze along with your fingers. He knows he can't treat you the way he used to due to change in circumstances, but his ass is on the line.

"They are? What are your grades?"

"B-," he grumbles.

"That's shitty?" you sit up with a deep frown. "Jungkook, I've been preparing for my finals while making the time to do all your formative assignments. They barely take up your final grade, B- isn't shitty in the least."

"I appreciate it," he forces out through a tiny snarl, "but if you're going to do something, do it well."

You scoff, offended by his lack of gratitude and hurt by his demeaning attitude.

"I'm only telling you this because if you can't do it, I'll ask someone else. It's not that hard." His tone indirectly implies you're overreacting to such a minor topic.

"Might I remind you that I don't even major in law," you purse your lips into a thin line to swallow the lump in your throat, "nor do I attend your lectures, and I still get you semi-good grades. You can't find someone else who'll do better than me, let alone without your money."

He licks his lips and applies pressure on the back of your head to lay you back down on him. You're hesitant, but stay put anyway with a prominent pout on your face. He gently pets you as he softly says, "Don't be so sensitive. I needed to tell you so you can improve. I need to be successful for the better of our future, baby. I'm telling you because I love you."

You mumble incoherently, and he assumes you said it back. A few minutes later, he hears your soft snores and eventually drifts off with the worry of his career in the back of his mind.

And it feels like he only slept for a minute when he wakes up. Waking up is an understatement, for he shot up in his bed with a silent gasp while the sun is still down. He's almost breathless with the way he pants before sighing, realizing this is reality, not what he saw through closed lids.

It wasn't a prank this time. You really broke up with him after graduation, telling him that he'd find someone else to kiss in his workplace for them to write his reports because you wouldn't be there. He promised loyalty, but he didn't show it because you thought he dated you for selfish reasons without the inclusion of love. That's stupid because he remembers telling you he loved you before falling asleep. He knows he meant it, so why didn't you believe it?

He wants to show and not tell, make you feel loved by the hug of his arms, but there is no you to love.

You aren't there.

He touches the spot you previously occupied, and the warmth of your body is slowly fading. Maybe it's an extra early morning lecture, he thinks before checking the time. There is no lecture he knows of that starts at 3 AM. His heart starts to race.

No need to panic. You'll be here any minute now. He waits and waits, and the seconds feel like minutes, the minutes feel like hours, and it's not long before his heart hurts from the rapid pace of his pulse. You're not here.

Trying to control his breathing proves to be difficult, almost like being aware of your blinking and you forget how natural it is for you to do it every three seconds. He shoves the blanket on his lap to the side and stands up to pace his room. He can't take his eyes off the ceiling, otherwise he can't hold the tears at bay. No reason to panic, no reason to cry, no reason to feel so suffocated.

But they well up to the point that they start streaming down his face regardless of what he does, and now there's nothing that isn't out of his control, similar to your midnight disappearance. His breaths are shallow, and his guts twist uncomfortably, just like the discomfort in his lungs. Everything hurts.

"I was too harsh on her," he says in a broken whimper and tugs on his hair. "Shitty grades? You can't even stay awake in class."

He sounds so pathetic in his ears, practically gasping his words out, but his thoughts are so scrambled that he can only voice them to get some sort of relief. It doesn't help, not when he's not in a position to do anything. He can't even smoke due to the fire alarm.

He falls on the floor to crawl to the bed so he can lay his back on the footboard, hands relentless with their pulling on his hair. He leans his forehead on his bent knees and convinces himself that he's been the one overreacting all along, like he is now; not the other way around.

"You could've said something before leaving, you bitch," he hiccups in utter misery. There's no other way he can comfort himself other than to blame you. "A-And I'm the harsh one? You're worse."

"Jungkook?"

He doesn't look up at you, shaking his head with his eyes shut tightly. You rush to his side and he flinches at the contact before aggressively snuggling into you. A patch forms on the center of your shirt from the result of his tear stains.

You're shaken and in shock. You left to the communal bathroom, and since it's strictly for males, you had to wait inside until a dialogue down the hall died down so you don't get reported. Not to add your attire isn't exactly public friendly.

You rub his back soothingly with another hand scratching his scalp. You're aware that Jungkook is more prone to panic attacks than you are, which was a strange discovery considering his tough exterior, and you feel bad for being the cause more than once. Leaving him alone at night after an argument is apparently enough for him to break down, and you feel guilty for taking his attachment lightly.

When his cries start to cease little by little, he hoarsely scolds you as expected. "You shouldn't have left," he rasps and sniffles, "was a punishment really necessary? W-We can talk things out like adults, you know."

"I was in the bathroom," you quietly reassure with a peck on his nose. He scrunches it in response. "You're so paranoid."

"E-Excuse me for misunderstanding why you left while you were still angry at me. I had a dream where you more or less did the same fucking thing."

You coo at him when he shyly looks to the side with knitted brows. You gaze at his tinted nose and flushed cheeks that are still wet from his crying before tucking a hair strand behind his ear. "I would never up and leave like that–"

"But you did!"

"–because of a minor disagreement. I went to pee and had to wait out some bystanders. And I wasn't angry at you," you giggle.

He puckers his lips, still tense and upset. "But you were hurt."

"Just a tad bit," you hold an invisible pencil between your fingertips just to show how much.

He blows out a deep breath and wipes his face. Taking the hand you held up, he kisses your knuckles. "I'm sorry. I can't even get those grades on my own and you still manage to do better than I ever could with so many other courses you take."

You ruffle his disheveled hair and he wears a distasteful expression. "I know. You're cunning and clever, but you're extremely lazy."

"Rude," he huffs. His red eyes droop lazily and his gaze turns downcast. "I was being paranoid about you and my academics. Stupid, rather," he sighs. Before you can deny it, he stands up and pulls you along to get back in bed.

He forces you to lie down on him completely, overtaking your whole body as he wraps his arms around you. You get comfortable on his firm torso and tangle your legs with his.

"What do you have to say to me?" he grunts.

"What do you mean?"

"Three magical words, but preferably more explicit."

You laugh breathlessly and peck his collarbone. "I love you so much, I would kill and die for you," you play along to his innocent request, "I want to be with you until the world caves in. What else..."

"Don't stop until I fall asleep. Keep going."

You confess your undying love for him until his snores fill the air, prompting you to drift off alongside.

[leviackermanscleaningbuddy]

BTS DRABBLE-Hoseok

Listen. You’ve never been one to believe in love at first sight-but when Jung Hoseok walks into the club looking like that-yeah, you can see how even a cynic like yourself might believe in the notion. However, this thing you’ve been nurturing for years for Jung Hoseok is far from first sight, and far from love. Right? 

Tags: BTS, Bangtan, Bangtan Boys, Bangtan Seonyendan, Bulletproof Boyscouts, Beyond the Scene, BTS Drabble, Jung Hoseok, J-Hope, Hobi, Hoseok x you, Hoseok x reader, Jackson Wang. 

Genre: Fluff

Jung Hoseok x Reader ft. Gay BFF Jackson Wang

Soundtrack: Pretty Please by Jackson Wang

Title: Pretty Please

“Jung Hoseok is looking like quite the snacc tonight, don’t you think so (Y/N)?” Jackson appears at your elbow, brightly colored martini held in delicate fingers, as he shoots you a knowing smirk and raises his eyebrow in the direction of said man. 

You choke on the drink you have just taken, and coughing slightly, you reach for a napkin, as you shoot your best friend a glare, doing your best not to look at the man currently in question. 

“And how would you know what a girl does or doesn’t find appealing, Jackson Wang?” You jibe back lightly, forcing yourself to take another drink, the alcohol burning its way to your stomach, as you force yourself not to glance at Jung Hoseok-grinning and laughing with a group of friends down at the other end of the bar. 

You do have to admit-he is looking deliciously irresistible tonight. 

“Oh please.” Jackson waves a hand dismissively at you-the mock offence in his voice almost overwhelming-as he takes a sip of his drink. “Have you seen my boyfriend, darling?” 

You follow his gaze to where a begrudging and moody Jinyoung sits in a corner both, listening to an animated and overly chatty Youngjae. He meets your gazes, and clearly shoots the two of you a glare that says get me out of here in the next five minutes or I’ll kill you both. 

You laugh, and raise your glass to Jackson in a salute. “Touche.” 

“Anyway.” Jackson leans up against the bar beside you-chin in his hands-and sneaks another look past you to Hoseok. “When are you gonna tell him about your little secret crush?” 

“It’s not a crush!” You protest loudly, your cheeks heating up, as several people at the bar next to you glance in your direction. Lowering your tone, you hiss out between your teeth, “It’s not a crush.” 

“Oh. Right.” Jackson rolls his eyes, and purses his lips at you, the sparkle of his lip gloss significantly less than when the night had started. He sticks his tongue out at you, green from his martini. “It’s not a crush, you’re right. You’re madly in love with him.” 

“Jackson!” You hiss out once more, dragging him away from the bar by the edge of his leather jacket, glancing left and right, before you pull him into a darkened corner and say hurriedly, “It’s no big deal. Stop acting like this every time we see him.” 

“Okay, okay!” He holds his hands up in a motion of surrender, and when you release him, he straightens his jacket with a loud huff. “This is Gucci you know.” He glances over your shoulder, back to the bar, and you’re sure he’s looking at Hoseok once more, before he turns his attention back to you, and his dark eyes are serious, as he says quietly, “Listen, girl. I get it. I’m a pro at playing hard to get, I excel at the art of teasing. But-” He reaches out to wipe a smudge of makeup off your cheek. “Just don’t tease him too long, or he’ll lose interest. And I personally think seven years is enough.” 

Jackson winks at you and heads off in the direction of the booth where Jinyoung is now visibly having to restrain himself from banging his head on the edge of the table. 

You stand, frozen for a moment-as the bar goers dance around you-and consider his words. 

Seven years is enough. 

Had it really been that long? 

Your mind drifts back, unbidden, in the middle of the club, to when you had first discovered Jung Hoseok. 

It was freshman year of college, and you had been late to class-panicked and rushed and holding a half drunken coffee in your hand-when you swept through the door on that bitter Autumn afternoon. 

You had quietly gone straight to the back of the already full classroom, the teacher shooting you a warning look over his glasses, as he continued to lecture at the front of the room. 

Ducking your head, cheeks reddening, you had slid into the first and nearest seat, completely humiliated and out of breath and feeling like you were about to cry. 

You had pulled your notebook and pencils from your backpack, fighting back the tears, and then, a hand had appeared in your tunnel vision. 

“You dropped this.” 

Glancing up at the hushed words, startled, you had come nose to nose with your desk mate. 

And dammit all, if your breath didn’t catch right there and then as you met his caramel irises. 

The side of his mouth had pulled up into the beginnings of a grin, and he waved the pen in front of you, as you continued to stare. “Everything okay?” 

“Oh, Yes, sorry.” Your cheeks bloomed with heat again, and you snatched the pencil from his fingers-long, slender, soft, you noted in the back of your brain-and ducked your head once more, trying to catch up to what the teacher was saying. 

“You know.” The guy next to you spoke again, and you glanced at him in surprise, wondering why he was still talking to you. Most guys hardly acknowledged your existence. He grinned fully at you this time, and it was if sunshine was spilling from the gaps between his teeth, and your eyes were drawn to the way his lips formed a heart shape around the expression. “You’re quite the tease.” 

Your mouth dropped open at his bold words, and instinctively, you reached to pull your jacket closed around yourself, as you gasped out, “Excuse me?”

He suddenly looked embarrassed-seeing your reaction, and the smile dropped from his face, as he waved his hands frantically, and this time, a blush covered his cheeks. “Oh. No! No.” He smiled awkwardly, a lopsided expression, and motioned to the array of pens and pencils you had neatly lined up beside your still empty notebook. “Your pencils. They’re arranged in color order.” His fingers hovered and ticked off the pencils. “Red, Orange, Yellow, Green, Blue, Indigo, Violet.” 

You looked at him curiously, not sure what he was getting at. 

“I just meant-” He stumbled over his words, looking to explain his obviously incoherent joke. He chuckled slightly, and reached up to scratch at the back of his neck, as he bit his lip-the cutest gesture you had seen in awhile. “I’m a sucker for organization. That’s all.” 

You hid a smile and nodded, turning back to the professor, but all through the lesson, your eyes kept wandering over to the organized pencils, and another smile would warm your lips. 

And then you had run into him in other classes-sitting beside him in coincidence-and you slowly learned. 

You learned that his name was Jung Hoseok and he was majoring in dance. You learned that outside of class, he never went anywhere without his six best friends, and you learned-though he didn’t teach you this-that you desperately and hopelessly had a crush on Jung Hoseok. 

“(Y/N)?” 

You startle from your memories, and suddenly, the loud music of the club is back, pounding in your ears, and the shadowy figure of none other than Jung Hoseok is standing in front of you in the lone corner of the bar, hands in his suit jacket pockets, hair swept effortlessly back from his forehead, his features so handsome that you forget how to breathe for a moment. 

“Hoseok! I didn’t know you were here too!” A lie. 

“Yeah.” He reaches up to scratch the back of his neck with a shy smile, and your heart pounds in your chest as he sucks his bottom lip between white teeth. He motions toward the bar with his head. “You here alone?” 

“Oh, no!” You stutter out, waving toward Jackson at the nearby booth. You force an awkward laugh.”What, do you think I’m a loser or something?” 

“No, I don’t think you’re a loser.” He replies back, dark eyes warm, and offers you the hint of his full grin, lips pulling up in the way that makes your knees weak. 

“Good, because I’m not.” Another lie. I can’t even tell you how I feel about you.

“Anyway.” Hoseok starts out haltingly, his hand once again returning to the back of his neck. “Just thought I’d say hi. Good to see you, (Y/N).” He waves, and makes to turn back to his waiting group of friends, still sequestered at the end of the bar.  

“Hoseok. Wait.” The words are out of your mouth before you can stop them-and as he turns to face you once more, tilting his head curiously-you feel the bile rise in your stomach. 

You hadn’t thought this through. 

Seven years is long enough. 

Biting down your fear, you open your mouth, but nothing comes out, the pounding of your heart blocking the words on their way up your throat. 

“Everything okay?” Hoseok asks carefully, taking a step closer to you, so close that you can smell his cologne over the other scents of the bustling club. 

You swallow hard, and manage to nod. “Yeah, everything’s fine. I just-” Your words stutter once more to a halt, and you drop your gaze from his, fingers twisting into the hem of your sweater, as you work up your nerve. “I just-” You start again, but cannot continue. 

Hoseok is staring at you, and you don’t dare meet his gaze head on, and then one of his friends-Jimin?-is calling and waving to him back over at the bar, and Hoseok is offering you an apologetic look, as he says softly, “If there’s nothing else, I should get back-” 

“You’re quite the tease, Jung Hoseok!” You blurt out, and immediately your hands are going up to cover your lips, as your wide eyes meet his own-the look of surprise clear on his incredibly handsome features. 

“What?” He asks in disbelief, and his caramel irises are locking with yours, and you’re both frozen in place for several, breathless, unspeakable moments. 

“I just mean-” You start once more, for the third time, and manage to force your words out through numb lips, your voice drowned out under the bass of the pumping music. “We’ve known each other a long time. Why have you never asked me out?” 

“What-you-” Hoseok stumbles over his words this time, and he steps toward you once more, ignoring his friends now, as he looks at you with wide eyes, lips held open in a soundless gasp. “You wanted me to ask you out?” 

“Yes!” You exclaim, a disbelieving laugh leaving your lips. It feels good to finally get everything off your chest. “Ever since that day in economics. And then, everywhere I go-” You wave your hands at the club, the released hidden words now pouring from your lips like a waterfall. “You show up, looking like that-” You push your finger into his chest, noting briefly how soft the material of his dress shirt is. “And expect my feelings not to resurface again? You’re the ultimate tease, Jung Hoseok.” 

You feel breathless, light, jubilant. 

Hoseok’s mouth has dropped open, and you wonder if you’ve stunned him into silence, but then he replies, astonishment tinging his words, “You wanted me to ask you out? You like me?” 

“Yes!” You repeat, more forcefully this time, and then you swallow, because it is in that moment, that you realize how close the two of you had drifted during your conversation, noses practically brushing. You drop your gaze to the line of buttons down his chest to avoid his gaze. “I’ve always liked you, Hoseok.” 

“(Y/N).” His long fingers go beneath your chin and tilt your head to look up at him, and the seriousness on his features makes your heart drop into your stomach. 

Here it comes. The rejection. 

Suddenly, his lips part to reveal his teeth, and the large grin makes you feel as if the club has been lit up from the inside by the sun itself. 

“I was trying to flirt with you that day in economics. You know that right?” He quirks a brow at you, and you have to stop yourself from reaching up to push a dark lock of fallen hair back from his forehead. 

“No!” You gasp, remembering your awkward first encounter. “I thought you were just making an incredibly awkward and unsavory joke!” 

Hoseok laughs, and the sound makes your heart pound in your chest, and you’re sure he can feel your racing heart beneath his fingers. “No, seriously. I was flirting with you. And every time I saw you after that, I was trying to get your attention.” He cocks his head, still smiling, and meets your gaze. “I was desperate, but I thought you didn’t see me like that, so I decided to back off and give you space.” 

“Holy shit.” You giggle, suddenly very aware that you’re still incredibly close, and his fingers are still gripping your chin. You feel dizzy. “We’re idiots.” 

“Indeed.” He nods, and the grin slowly drops from his lips, as his eyes dart down to your own mouth, tongue slipping out to wet the pink skin of his own, and you can tell, he’s going to kiss you. 

But just as he leans in, before your lips can touch, before you can satisfy the ache for him, his lips quirk upward once more into the hint of a smile, and he murmurs softly, “No more teasing then?” 

“No more teasing.” You confirm, before you cover the smile that has traced his lips into a heart with your mouth. 

[daisukissed]

a new scenarios blog!! I just binged what you have posted and it's all so cute 🥺 could I get drabbles for bakugo and Iwaizumi catching the reader drawing them?

ofc bby!! thank you for requesting and i bet you're cuter pls <3

❧ pairings: bakugou katsuki x gn!reader, iwaizumi hajime x gn!reader

❧ synopsis: in which the boys find out about your drawing of them

❧ genre: drabbles, fluff

❧ word count: 395

Bakugou Katsuki

"Give it back!"

You reach out your arms as far as possible, the purple sketchbook that you're trying to obtain seems to grow further and further out of your reach.

The upper corner of Bakugou's mouth curls up into a devilish smirk. He stretches his arms even more, moving the opened book higher up in the air, feet stepping backwards in response to your desperate tackles.

"If you want it back so bad then at least try." He teases, mentioning about your failing advances as his voice drips in amusement.

Your further actions of jumping and clawing at his arms only seems to fuel his curiosity even more. Directing his eyes upwards, he tries to focus on the sharp lines and roughs edges that you so desperately tried to hide.

In all of a sudden, all attempts in restraining you stops, the thin book being shoved back to you. You see Bakugou rushing outside in the speed of light, not even giving you a second to respond.

You would've thought he was mad at you, really, if it weren't for his red ears giving it away.

Iwaizumi Hajime

The light pink petals of the sakura flowers falling beside the window only seem to distract Iwaizumi even further from his teacher's soporific lecture. He could feel the silent atmosphere of the class affecting more and more people, the lack of engagement causing people to actually sleep or stay quiet and wander their thoughts anywhere else besides the numerous formulas in front of them.

Feeling tired from counting the fall of the petals, he shifted his attention to his other side where you, like a majority of students, are putting their priorities into something else other than the class in session.

He watches your hand glide through the paper gracefully, charcoal pencils dancing to create various shades of gray.

Iwaizumi truly doesn't want his ego to get the better of him.

But he can't help it when the short spiky hair, arched brows and slit eyes of your drawing reminded him so much of himself.

"Is that me you're drawing?"

He notices you flinch slightly, mouth stuttering incoherent words as your eyes glanced everywhere but his.

He is sure that there is nothing that could rival your cuteness as the color pink seared through your cheeks.

Iwaizumi will have to remind himself to ask you for the finished product one day and if not, snap a few pictures of it himself.

[hermannsthumb]

different anon but i would love that rec list you mentioned ....👀

ok here we go my most up-to-date and comprehensive newt/hermann rec list yet! combining elements from all the other ones i’ve made! this is in no way a be-all-end-all of the best newt/herm fic or anything, these are just ones ive remembered to bookmark--i’ll def edit and add stuff as i go bc i know i left a bunch off

for the most part they stay away from uprising bc i don’t like to read uprising compliant fic LOL

G/Not Rated:

Portrait. by VictoryCandescenceWe all know about Becket and Mori, the Last Rangers of Hong Kong and the late Marshall Stacker Pentecost. But Doctors Hermann Gottlieb and Newton Geiszler might be two you haven’t heard about until now. And when you hear their story, you’ll wonder how it ever stayed a secret for so long.

the future’s owned by you and me by kaiyenYears after they stopped writing each other, Newt and Hermann run into each other on the steps of Cambridge University Library. Quite literally.

The Love And Care Of Your Pet Kaiju Skinmite by IasNewt brings home a new pet. Hermann is justifiably horrified.

Don't Hang Up Yet, I'm Not Done by SmallishWormMasterOfTheUniverse“With all due respect, sir,” said Hermann, “I fail entirely to see any humor whatsoever in this situation.”“Yes,” said Pentecost. “It adds to the effect.”The world is ending, Hermann Gottlieb is a radio show host, and Newton Geiszler is absolutely convinced it all has something to do with aliens.

T:

Alternate by perniciousLizardNewt accidentally ends up in a place that’s almost exactly like his own reality, with one major difference.

Operation: RTF by purpleeyesandbowtiesMako’s bio teacher is acting weird. Well, weirder than normal. And there’s a new teacher who Mr. Geizler claims is a college buddy, but there’s something about this whole thing that feels….off. Naturally, the only reasonable solution is Operation: RTF.

Hypothetically by supersymmetryAka Tendo sets Newt and Hermann up on a blind date because someone had to.

Mariposa (aka westworld au) by janewestinTwo years after his last encounter with the host called Newton Geiszler, Hermann finds himself back in the park.

D = V * T by seabassThere are no monsters, mutants, or war. Robots do not stand as gladiators against the test of Man. Warriors do not drift together, close in thought and will and action.There’s just a hole in the desert. And it grows.

there’ll be no life of crime by ByacolateAs much as he respects Stacker Pentecost, Hermann hates him a little for dangling Hannibal Chau in front of Newton’s eyes like a toy mouse on a string.+ the rest of the series…..!

Ships Ill-Lit At Night by Rikku (the same author has an excellent uprising fix-it if you’re interested)Hermann Gottlieb and Newton Geiszler are correspondents for years before they first meet, and then it is years more before they will admit to even being friends. Meanwhile the war rages, the monsters that rise from the sea surely too powerful to be fought with brittle ships of wood and sail.At least when the Fleet fights it, they must all stand together.

A Sharp Dressed Man by AveleraHermann’s latest book needs an author photo. However, when he’s given a makeover and a suit that actually fits for the photo shoot, his appearance is so transformed that Newt mistakes him for his (much hotter) older brother, Dietrich.Hermann decides to play along.

It Was Only A Kiss, How Did It End Up Like This by AnonymousPuzzler“Hermann, come on, I don’t have to be up for another hour, go shut off your stupid alarm so I can go back to sl—��Finally, Hermann had grumbled incoherently, shoved himself up on one elbow, kissed Newt full on the mouth, and rolled out of bed.Suffice to say, Newt was very, very much awake after that.

and i couldn’t whisper when you needed it shouted by LvslieHe still smells like Newt; bears traces of his recent nearness. Clothes sleep-wrinkled from the proximity, from the way Newt’s ankle has during the night hooked around the calf of Hermann’s good leg and dragged his whole body seamlessly closer. Cheek half-flushed from the face unconsciously nuzzled his into the side of Hermann’s neck—evidence of his presence, fast asleep, as Hermann lay still and fretful for hours an end, staring at the ceiling and feeling sick with wanting.[An early 20th century AU inspired loosely by Maurice and Age of Innocence.]

Meet Me There Across The Water, And We’ll Start An Endless Storm by CancerConstellationHermann, an honorably discharged veteran has retired to continue working as a Keeper at a Lighthouse. It is perfectly solitary, and with little in the way for incidents. Newton is the sailor that washes up on the seashore after a summer storm.[Late 19th century Lighthouse Keeper AU–or the one where Hermann was an aspiring artist whose dreams got a bit derailed, and Newt is the sailor that needs to learn to take his time with things.]

It Was Love At Second Sight by rednightsHermann receives the first letter when he is eighteen years old.or: Kaiju don't attack the Earth, but Hermann and Newt still write letters, botch their first meeting, and fall in love, not necessarily in that order.

the truth about me (and the truth about you) by danimagusNewton suffers from a bout of memory loss and is told Hermann is his fiancé. Hermann plays along, to his endless shame.

Transducer by hal_incandenza (or: 1970s espionage AU)“I need you to hide something for me.”“Oh, excellent. Of course, Newton, please allow me to jeopardize my career. And yours as well. My pleasure. Do go on.”“Yeesh, relax,” said Newton. “It’s a personal thing, not a work thing.”“As if there is any division between the two,” Hermann snapped.If only you knew, Newt thought.

M:

First a Darling, Then a Marvel by isozymeNewt runs a simulation given three constraints:1: Newt wants to clone a kaiju2: Hermann does not want Newt to clone a kaiju3: Newt is going to clone a kaiju anyway

Can I Be Your Memory by agrajagHermann suffers from amnesia after a bump to the head and is suddenly very nice to Newt. Newt is way too gay to handle this. And what will happen when Hermann’s memories return?

The Geiszler & Gottlieb Post-Saving-the-World Lecture Tour (series) by zach_stone

if you would stay In the wake of the world not ending, while certain heroes are invited to a parade of talk shows and press tours, the two-man remains of the PPDC’s K-Science division are scheduled for a series of guest lectures in a good selection of the world’s major universities.Newt and Hermann travel to from Hong Kong to Boston, and Newt tries to come to terms with a world that’s not ending and his feelings for Hermann that are becoming harder to hide.

find shelter somewhere in me“You ready for this?” Newt mutters as they approach the podium.Hermann shoots him the smallest smile, touching Newt’s wrist. “With you, always.”The Geiszler and Gottlieb Lecture Tour continues, and Newt realizes Hermann may not be coping with the aftermath of the war as well as he pretends to be.

E:

Darling by BeeLoveIn which Newton rides Hermann for all he’s worth. Or at least tries to.

Our Breath Will Still / A Short Distance Ahead by irisbleuficThis story is a study in monster-hunting and risk-taking, professional and otherwise.

Problems with Local Denim Topology (accnt orphaned tragically)This is how, when the chaos of Newt’s life finally settles down into something approximating normal (one apartment, one nine-to-five job, one handsome husband, and no kaiju), he finds himself struggling to pull on an old pair of skinny jeans.

Sea Swept by cypress_treeA high seas fantasy AU in which Hermann is a ship’s navigator and Newton is found washed up among flotsam.

Surrounded by berlynn_wohl (all of this author’s newt/hermann PWP is like. fucking top tier.)Newt is involved in a teleporter accident, with sexy results. That’s it, that’s the fic.

Circumstances by glassfrogIt was Newt who suggested the handcuffs.

newmann drabbles & fics by skeleton_twinsa collection of short newmann fics

[darkxmagicxpriest]

It's early when he wakes, his body covered in sweat. He had *that* nightmare again, the one where he was cleaved in half by Bakura.

Except it wasn't really a nightmare - it happened, in a tomb that time and sand claimed thousands of moons ago. One look at a lilac lock of hair proved as much.

He looked to Mana, her sleeping form next to him undisturbed by his night terrors. He was grateful to the Gods that she was able to join him in this existence, proof that their loyalty to the Gods, to their King, had not gone unnoticed and unrewarded.

He tried not to let her see this side of him - after all, he was her master, her self-appointed valiant protector, it wasn't her duty to worry for him like he did for her - but he wondered how much she suspected of his internal struggles. She was observant, her insight usually serving her well.

He sighed softly, getting up from their shared bed to go out to the garden.

He was proud of the tea garden Mana had suggested and they had cultivated together, a litany of flowers and herbs neatly cluttering the space where they would get the most sunlight. He picked at some chamomile flowers and some mint, taking some time to admire the stars as a cool breeze passed over him.

He took some time to breathe in the crisp air as his fingers traced a scar on his side, one that he allowed himself to keep from his mortal death, an eternal reminder of his oath.

Satisfied with what he had picked, he went back inside, placing the kettle on the burner of their stove, waiting for it to heat, but not so much that it would whistle, thus avoiding waking the blonde in the next room.

He could have done this by magic, yes, it would be quicker and far less time consuming, but tonight he simply wanted the peace and, for lack of a better word, mundaneness of doing this himself. Another reminder of a simpler time.

When the water was heated, he stirred the flora into the water with a cinnamon stick, his own special touch, and returned to the bedroom.

When he sat back down on the bed, he was caught off guard by something grabbing his waist. He looked - it was Mana, still asleep, but embracing him all the same, her light snoring the only sound in the room. He sips his tea, stroking her hair softly, daring not to disturb her sleep as he thanks Ra for his special fate.

"I promise you, Mana...I will protect you with all that I have and all that I am...we will make this our paradise, you and I..." he thought to himself, finishing his tea, then slowly sliding down into a laying position once again as the calming effects of the tea overtook him, the last vision before he would be woken again by his apprentice being her sleeping, content smile.

[sampson-knight]

What’s taking him?

By: Sampsonknight Rate PG Word Count - 836 -------------------------------------------- There was a permanent scowl on his dark green face, one that could not be hidden under the red mask of his. Not that his body language didn’t announce his annoyance, especially his tapping foot beating to the rhythm of his heart. The others stood five meters away from the brooding brother for their own safety and fear of any lash outs directed to them.

“What’s taking him?” Raph growled, darting a glare in Donnie’s direction taking his eyes off the stairs leading to the top floor where their bedrooms reside.

“Don’t ask me,” Donnie forcefully answered then let out a small whimper when those ominous golden orbs grew angry and bright over the answer, “Raph all I know he said to be ready at four.”

“And it’s quarter past!” he grumbled crossing his arms tightly making his muscle bulge, “Fearless is always lecturing us over being late, so why the shell can he do it, what the hell is he doing up there anyway?” The next question not directed at Donnie was towards Mikey who in turn jumped not expecting to be pulled in, especially how quiet he was to not to draw any unwanted ‘Raphie’ attention.

“Dude, who knows?” Mikey answered, unsure himself as his voice fell on “knows”.

Still not satisfied he whipped his head back to the stairs, letting his eyes travel up to the gloom towards a lone door that light attempted to peek through. “Fine, I will go find out!”

“Maybe we should wait?” Donnie dared to suggest getting a huff in return.

“I’m done waiting for him! If he doesn’t want me to leave on my own, then I will just have to drag his shell out of his room.”

The two brothers exchange looks as they reluctantly let the hotheaded brother take a step onto the stairs, making his way to Leo’s room.

“Dude, you know this will only end in a fight, right?” Mikey whispered to Donnie, who in turn shuffled closer to his brother.

“Popcorn?” Donnie suggested, believing this was a good enough occasion to treat themselves before whatever Leo had in store for them.

“Oh, my good turtle you read my mind,” Mikey grinned, receiving a shiver from Donnie.

“Don’t ever say that again…” Donnie protested dryly, that Mikey would say such things as him reading his mind of all minds. With a new goal in mind, they both exited the scene. The commercials were never entertaining compared to the grand finale anyways.

Hearing his brothers sneak away, Raph rolled his eyes, commenting that they were pansies before taking a firm hold of the doorknob. With a forceful twist, he turned the handle opening the door quickly and barging into the room without an invite.

“Listen here Fearless,” he growled in anger, “What the…” he paused in mid-speech bewildered of the scenery he just walked into. He was expecting Leo to be meditating or something on the lines of the norm, not this.

“What the shell?” he choked out, eyes wandering around the room, that he would swear that a bomb had exploded in there, not littered with debris or anything broken, but straps...

There were straps everywhere all the same size, color, thickness and material, there was nothing unique or different from the other.

The normal attire for their wardrobe if you want to call it, to hold their weapons in place, to attach to their belts to house pouches and whatever other necessities they are needed for.

In the middle of the mess was Leo frozen, white in the face holding up one strap as if he was comparing it to the other in his other hand.

“Raph…” Leo managed to get out, feeling awkward with his brother staring at him with such judgmental eyes.

“Leo? Is everything okay?” Raph asked, letting his anger go and to be replaced with confusion and a bit of concern over his brother’s mental state and room.

“I… couldn’t… decide…” Leo coughed out unable to let go of the straps he held in fear of starting over.

“Yeah... got to be kidding me…” Raph blinked once then turned around on the ball of his heel swiftly and took his leave without another word. Once out he shut the door behind him gently and head down the stairs. By then Mikey and Donnie were all set up, tilting their heads at him surprised how calm he was and a bit distant at the same time.

“So?” Mikey questioned, wondering what Jedi mind trick Leo did to Raph to achieve this impossible.

“I need a beer,” Raph answered almost detached from his surroundings and emotion, clearly now appearing shell-shocked.

This display made the two on edge wondering why he was acting so weird all of the sudden.

As he passed by them, they caught the tail whisper of his incoherent ramblings, “Leo has a problem… they are all the same… there is no difference… why was he… I don’t get it… how hard is it to just pick one?" ----------------------------- This is my entry for  @tmnt-allstories weekly drabble challenge.  Theme - Straps https://tmnt-allstories.tumblr.com/post/623746037712044032/weekly-drabble-july-15th-prompt-strap (Also made a mistake on the weekly Drabble it was 1000 or less... not 500... my bad...

[chenziee]

Share Happiness

A quick Pocky Day drabble that I’m honestly amazed I managed to somewhat finish today. Happy 11/11, may Pocky and Pepero forever bless us with their existence.

Ship: Eren/Levi Words: 958 Tags: Fluff, Comedy, TA!Levi, student!Eren, they are not very subtle

---

Eren, Mikasa, and Armin grew up together, went through a lot together, and there was a bond stronger than just that of childhood friends between them. The cared about each other so much it hurt, willing to die and kill for one another, and sharing everything, be it pain, happiness, or their belongings.

Everything but one thing, that is.

Ever since Eren first tried the japanese snack Pocky, he was obsessed. He could eat it all day, every day, trying every flavour he could find and loving all of it. Even the flavours that he would avoid were they anything else and ones that Mikasa said tasted like ass, he would eat and protect every last stick with his life.

Both Armin and Mikasa had quickly learned the hard way that Eren did not share his Pocky. Period.

It’s been years and not once did anyone manage to leave unscathed after trying to steal one. Sasha almost lost a few of her fingers on more than one occasion, particularly that one time when she tried to argue with the “Share happiness!” slogan Pocky boasted.

Eren told her he would share all the happiness she wanted but never his last fucking box of matcha. Armin had to jump in right then to prevent bloodshed by promising Sasha he would buy her a box on the way home from school.

And so, it was like they were seeing a mirage when on a certain Monday morning the two of them joined Eren in their first shared class of the day only to witness Levi the TA walking by a few minutes later, stealing one of Eren’s Pocky without the boy batting an eye on his way. Armin and Mikasa shared a shocked look before simultaneously turning to stare at Eren.

“What?” Eren asked, sounding mildly annoyed at their silent questioning.

“The Shrimp took your Pocky,” Mikasa stated with seemingly no emotion in her voice, nodding her head towards the teacher’s desk.

Eren frowned, looking almost offended at the implications of her words. “So?” he asked, as if what just happened wasn’t completely unheard of.

Armin shook his head, trying to get his mind around what was happening. It was honestly more confusing than trying to figure out the tax system. “Eren,” he started slowly, “you do not share Pocky.”

Armin and Mikasa watched in amazement and raised brows as a blush slowly crept on Eren’s cheeks, their best friend fumbling for words and obviously searching for anything to say in his defence.

Apparently finding nothing plausible to explain his lack of bared teeth snarling at their teacher, Eren finally decided to evade the question completely by placing a new stick between his teeth and turning away from his friends, making his best to ignore them. The two of them exchanged glances again, this time even more confused than before.

“Eren,” Mikasa said sternly, a clear warning in her voice and Armin instinctively shrunk back. She sounded way too much like Eren’s mom for his liking right then. “What’s going on?”

She was glaring at Eren so fiercely, that she didn’t notice the shadow that appeared next to them. Armin, however, looked up, watching with wide eyes as their TA walked back up to them and stood right next to Eren, a lazy smirk on his lips while he listened to Mikasa questioning Eren and him actively pretending she wasn’t there.

Armin almost couldn’t believe his eyes when the short man reached out and grabbed the Pocky stick in Eren’s mouth, breaking it off before he leaned in and pressed his lips to Eren’s mouth instead.

Eren squaked his protests immediately, pushing Levi off with a furious blush on his face and a half-hearted slap to the TA’s arm while he mumbled something incoherent that only made Levi chuckle and run his hand through Eren’s long hair.

The blond could only gape at them, his eyes going wide as he tried to comprehend what he was seeing. Was this… what he thought it was? Were they seriously…? With their TA?

"Get your hands off him," came a growl from Mikasa a moment later, and Armin immediately reached out to place a placating hand on her forearm. It wouldn't do for them to tear each other apart in the middle of the lecture room.

Eren groaned at her stern, dangerous tone that prompted him to hide his face in his hands and Armin almost felt sorry for his best friend. He imagined this wasn't how he wanted them to find out about… whatever this was.

But then again, he didn't actually tell them anything about it so a good, long talk with a pissed off Mikasa seemed appropriate.

"I don't know what the deal is here," Levi spoke up then, amusement undeniable in his voice. "We're just sharing happiness," he finished with a challenging smirk in Mikasa's direction.

"Shut up, Levi," Eren muttered with despair, prompting Levi to chuckle again as he ruffled Eren's hair and shoved the stolen Pocky in his mouth before turning around and leaving the three of them alone.

Armin could swear he saw Eren lean into the touch, following after Levi's hand while he left in an effort to prolong the touch he had on his hair, but he didn't particularly want to dwell on that. They had more pressing matters to deal with, such as Mikasa's murderous rage and Eren keeping things from his closest friends.

When he deemed the silence hanging between them uncomfortable enough for Eren to be sufficiently frustrated, Armin finally spoke up, "So. Since when is 'sharing happiness' a reasonable enough excuse for you?"

A high-pitched, pathetic whine was his only response before the class started and Armin was satisfied.

For now.

[jiminscaramel]

plateau | jimin [bts]

[GENRE] angst, smut

[COUNT] 4K+

[PAIRING] jimin x fem. reader

[WARNINGS] unprotected sex, cream pie, oral (m receiving), deep throating, face-fucking, cumplay, mouth spitting, dirty talk, slight sir kink if you squint 

[AU] college, childhood friends, f2l, fwb?

[A/N] hello all! This is the extended Jimin drabble that was highly requested by you guys! It might get a part two because I feel like I need more space and words to write this level of angst. This is also my first attempt at very explicit smut so I hope it’s not too bad. Please enjoy! 

⬸ drabble  ⡇⤑ part 1  ⡇⤑ part 2

Your room has always been stuffy and tonight is no different. The well-sized, humid room is big enough to accommodate all your furniture and precious belongings but it never seems big enough to handle more than one person. It feels cramped, almost crowded whenever Jimin is around, though never in an invasive way. The smothering intimacy is usually quite comforting, being so close to someone so kind and familiar. You’d never given the proximities much thought, even throughout your most volatile years of raging hormones and unexplained urges.

Things had always been neutral, level and balanced. And it had been a mutual agreement, albeit an unspoken one. Your friendship had transcended that of any other normal companionship and the two of you often spoke without speaking, communicating through small gestures and idiosyncrasies.

You’d really thought nothing of it and assumed Jimin thought the same.

Though the sounds softly ricochetting off your whitewashed walls prove those thoughts to be quite contrary.

His dewy palms traverse the planes of your skin, dipping and curving around every bump and valley of your body whilst his lips make quick yet precise work of your neck. Every hair stands on edge, due to the cold or his touch, you’re never entirely sure. Your fingers dig into his shoulders as he thrusts deeper, maintaining his slow and steady pace, eager to feel every last bit of you.

Your mewls of equal pain and pleasure sound in the otherwise quiet room and he shivers when your breath ghosts against his cheek, your lips grazing the shell of his ear. You mumble incoherently as his pace begins to quicken, a deep and blossoming heat beginning to form in the pit of your stomach.

Jimin pulls away and studies your face, your mouth shaped into a perfect ‘O’, and a deep groan of complete and utter lust rumbles in his chest. You can just about see the stray strands of hair matted to his forehead and feel the droplets of sweat land on your collarbones.

He leans back further and hoists one of your legs up onto his shoulder, creating a new, blissful angle. “Jimin–” you sigh into the air above, your fists clenching the ruined sheets. “Jimin, please–”

“God,” he whispers, completely enraptured by the sight below him. “You’re so fucking beautiful. So fucking beautiful.” He places a kiss on your calf and continues to piston his hips at a relentless pace, watching with hooded eyes as your breasts bounce from the motion. The lewd sound of skin against skin makes you blush in complete embarrassment but the flush goes unnoticed in the low light.

You reach up behind you to grip the headboard, your hands slick with sweat as you struggle to keep hold. Your back arches up from the bed and a desperate cry escapes your lips which only seems to spur him on even more. His free hand flies down to your stomach and continues further down south in a haste to find your clit. He rubs small circles into your little bundle of nerves and the added sensation is almost too much to bear.

You can see his lip pulled between his teeth, pink and swollen from the prior abuse. “You’re so fucking good for me, you know that? You take me so well, baby, you were fucking made for me.” His sentences are strung together with barely any room left for a breath in between but he doesn’t fail to let you know just how good you make him feel.

You can do nothing but nod through half-lidded, wanton eyes as another pang of heat flutters in your stomach, threatening to boil over any minute. Another moan gets stuck in your throat as he lowers your leg and buries his face into your neck once again, your chests colliding with every desperate breath. You wrap both your legs around his waist and urge him to pound even deeper, wanting – needing – more than anything to reach the Shangri La Jimin is more than capable of sending you to.

Your hands fly up to find purchase in his raven locks and you’re sure you’re holding on too tight but if it hurts, Jimin doesn’t let up.

“I’m– I'm so close–” your voice breaks with the admission, the heat rapidly intensifying as Jimin’s thrusts become sloppier and hungrier. Your stomach twists and turns with the most amazing sensation, you’re not sure whether you want to relieve the ache or prolong it even further. “Jimin, I’m so fucking close–”

“I know, baby, I know,” his breath is searing hot on your neck, growing heavier and heavier. Your clit throbs and you feel your pussy tightening around him, drawing him back in for more. “Cum for me, princess,” he rasps into your ear, sinking his teeth into your shoulder. “Cum for me.”

“Fuck– I-I’m–”

The sharp sting of his bite mixed with the perfectly timed thrusts and dirty words send you over the edge – tripping, stumbling and falling into a plane of intense and blinding pleasure. Your eyes squeeze shut as you cry out from the intense force of your orgasm, colourful splotches of light painting your eyelids. Your fingers tighten in his hair, harder and harder while he continues to fuck through your climax.

He babbles and slurs into your skin, his voice rising in pitch with every word, chasing his own high. “Fuck– I’m gonna cum. Oh god, I’m gonna– fucking–” he gasps, a sudden, sharp intake of air, before he stills inside of you, spilling his seed all over your walls, his cock throbbing in the aftermath.

He winces as he rolls off you, your chests heaving in unison as he pulls you close. Your skin is clammy and cold with sweat, despite his heat and the stuffiness of the room but you nestle close to him regardless. He mutters sweet nothings into your skin as the beckoning arms of sleep pull you under.

Jimin was – and still is – your best friend, despite the events that had occurred last year. The two of you hold each other in the highest regard, never letting anything get in between your unique friendship.

Though the sexual tension remains high, your sexual desires remain dry as a result of the boundaries and rules you’d set. Which weren’t anything specific, per se, but allowed the both of you to benefit from your peculiar friendship without hurting the other’s feelings.

It had been on and off until the beginning of college, which saw you in the school library at all hours of the night frantically typing up your essay more often than you’d like to admit. With so much work to do and so many lectures to attend you barely had time to spend socialising. Which, in hindsight, is probably a good thing because who knows where your benefiting friendship would’ve led to had it not been for the social deprivation. You can only assume the same thing had happened to Jimin; being too inundated with work and assignments to make real time for you.

Though in between your caffeine-jumped all nighters and his busy days, you sometimes found mutual free time, most of which was spent competing and seeing who could get the other off the quickest.

And you never really realised how much of a toll your actions had on your heart, refusing to acknowledge the far more concerning cons that come with such a complex relationship. You never really understood just how invested you are in not only the relationship but in him also, in a way that far surpasses the levels of platonic friendship.

You realised that perhaps that lonely tug in your chest at 3am when you're sitting in the library and staring blankly at your laptop isn’t just down to the inevitable caffeine crash or the longing for a friend in stressful times, but rather a yearning for his touch, a craving for his hands to be all over you.

You come to realise that you can no longer hold him up on the platonic pedestal, no longer regard him as your best friend because he had unwittingly become so much more. And if Jimin feels the same way, you haven’t the slightest idea, because if it’s one thing Park Jimin is good at, it’s hiding his true emotions.

“A toilet? Classy.” You deadpan, following him into the small cubicle.

“Dorms are too far,” he chuckles and fumbles with his belt as he struggles to pull himself free, the clinking echoing in the empty stalls. “And we can’t be too long.”

You lock the door behind you and glance at the ground, grimacing at the slimy floor. “I’m not kneeling on this floor, are you fucking kidding me?” You shudder at the prospect of kneeling on such a grimy floor, cursing Jimin and his spontaneous urges.

He sighs shucks off his jacket, tossing it to the floor, not bothered in the slightest. You only stare with your mouth agape in complete horror, but he seems totally unfazed, blinded by his need to be pleasured.

He seems short, you notice, holding less patience than he usually does when it comes to you but it could just be because he’s desperate. It would seem like a reasonable, acceptable answer that would usually soothe any qualms but his attitude recently seems a lot more withdrawn and distant. You’ve noticed a new group of friends he’s attached himself to, favouring their company instead of yours and though you’re not the jealous type, you can’t help but feel a little envious.

Because the only time Jimin wants to see you is for a quickie in the dorms or, much like now, a spontaneous blowjob in the toilet stalls. You tell yourself, repeatedly, that you cannot expect to be exclusive to him, not when your relationship has the blurriest lines. Not when he’s flooded with work and assignments. It’s simply not possible. But you can’t help that awful feeling of growing apart from the person who was once everything to you. Nothing can even begin to prepare you for that.

His soft moans bring you back to the present, bringing to attention the more pressing matter that needs taking care of. His head is tipped back against the cubicle wall, jeans bunched up haphazardly around his thighs and his cock firmly grasped in his hand. Jimin strokes himself to attention, biting his lip and suppressing further moans from escaping as he undresses you with his eyes. “Come on, we don’t have much time.”

You drop to your knees, hesitantly kneeling on his jacket, afraid you’ll soil it even further. But Jimin doesn’t seem to care, his adorned fingers lacing through your hair and guiding you to where he needs you most. You swat his hand away from his base and replace it with your own as you lick kittenishly along his engorged head, tracing your thumb around and spreading any precum leaking from the slit.

He groans in frustration, his hands curling tighter in your hair. “Ah, fuck–” he curses under his breath. “Don’t tease me, baby. You know what to do.”

But a defiant streak runs through your blood and you purposefully disobey. You continue to lick along his length, running your tongue along every ridge and vein, teasing him and leaving him keening for more before he realises what you’re doing. His groans turn into a growl and his hand pulls your head back, forcing you to look him in the eyes.

A dangerous glint flashes through them, his brown irises darkening with authority and something a little more predatory. “I said, don’t. Tease. Me.”

“Yes, sir,” though it barely comes out as a whispered breath. Your face softens as his grip in your hair relaxes and he moans out a sigh of relief when you finally take him in your mouth.

His hand cups the back of your head, gently guiding you for the time being as you work your throat, preparing to take all of him in. You hollow out your cheeks and bob along his cock with increasing speed, spit gathering in the corners of your mouth, filling the stall with lewd noises.

He hums in satisfaction, his head tipped back once again and his hips bucking ever so slightly. He hisses as you pull back with a loud pop to use your hand instead. Your hand glides along his shaft, slick with your spit and a whole load of new expletives tumble from his thick lips. It’s not long before he guides your head back, almost frantically, desperate for the feel of your velvet tongue against his cock.

Jimin pushes your head closer, forcing himself down your throat and you choke helplessly around his length, spit pooling in the corners of your mouth. Your nose nuzzles his abdomen as he pushes further, bucking into the very depths of your throat and your eyes begin to tear up.

“God, you feel so fucking good,” his voice sounds strangled, as if he’s only holding himself together with a tiny shred left of self-control. “Your pretty little mouth is just perfect for my cock.”

He loosens his grip once again, allowing you to pull back and breathe. You gasp for air, saliva running down your chin. You feel your heat throb with anticipation and squeeze your thighs together in an attempt to relieve yourself, but it only worsens matters, your panties quickly dampening further with more of your arousal.

“You look so pretty like this,” his eyes roam your face, drinking you in in your fucked out splendour, teary eyed and red faced. He bites his lip again, a primal feeling unfolding in his chest, followed by something familiar.

Guilt.

Because he knows he’s being unfair. He knows you won’t question his attitude or his behaviour because of how much you mean to him, as a friend. He knows he’s taking advantage of your kind nature and your avoidance for confrontation and he hates himself for it.

When did it get like this?

More importantly, how and why did he let it get like this? He knows you’re not built for this kind of relationship – hell, he does’t even know if he himself is built for one – but he knows you deserve better.

Which leaves him with the ultimatum: let you go or become that better person.

Jimin can’t begin to imagine letting you go but he doesn’t know where to start on bettering himself and so he finds himself doing what he does best: blocking it out.

His worry quickly dissolves once your mouth is wrapped around him again, your plush lips perfectly circling his cock in the most splendid way. He holds your head still, one hand on either side of your head, and fucks into your mouth, his cock twitching at the sounds you make when his head hits the back of your throat.

You relax your jaw to allow him better access, groaning in deep pleasure when you can. Your hands find purchase around his thighs as he thrusts into you, quickly chasing his elusive high.

“I’m close, baby,” he hisses, momentarily slowing to allow you time to breathe before he starts up again. “So close. You gonna be a good girl and take everything I give you, yeah?”

You make a sound of agreement, spit dripping onto the floor and your tears tracking down your face. You’re pretty sure you look an absolute state and that you’d have a level of explaining to do once you get to class, but you struggle to think any further than right now. Your hand snakes down into your jeans and you groan in relief when you finally feel your clit against your fingertips.

“Shit...are you ready for me, babygirl? Fuck– I’m–”

You rub in time to his thrusts, each one more forceful yet less convicted than the last until eventually, you feel his warm seed spill onto your tongue and down the back of your throat. Your hands work quickly to catch up to him and you soon feel the rest of your arousal coat your fingers as your own climax peaks.

You lean back and sit on your haunches, opening your mouth wide, showing him with a strange sense of pride all the cum inside. He smirks impishly, his eyes half-lidded and tired, but leans forward nevertheless and grasps your face with one hand, forcing your lips further apart, before spitting into your mouth.

“Such a good girl,” he pants as he watches you swallow, his hand limply carding through your hair whilst you do your best to pull yourself together.

But little does he know, you feel anything but.

Your meetings become few and far in between, fizzling out until they eventually stop altogether.

Now that you had allowed more time to pass, you’re sure that it isn’t your imagination and that Jimin has become distant. He doesn’t prioritise your calls or texts, sometimes only replying days later.

He snubs your attempts to mend things and to try and salvage something of this weird friend/relationship. You notice he surrounds himself with a whole new clique and doesn’t even acknowledge you when your paths happen to cross.

You’re too busy at first to care, your attention all focused on your work, but as the end of the semester approaches, you have less work to do and more time to think, something you know is unhealthy and won’t help.

But what else can you do?

Jimin, on the other hand, seems to believe he’s coping well by staying distracted and completely ignoring the person who once meant the world to him. It’s not out of spite and it isn’t with malicious intent but anyone of the receiving end of his treatment would say otherwise.

But he truly believes it’s for the best.

His smile shines as bright as ever from the other side of the room as he laughs at a joke someone has told. His laughter rings the loudest and rises above the general din of the classroom and makes your heart soar with sad delight.

You steal another glance and manage to catch a glimpse of his small frame doubled over in someone’s lap, laughter wracking his frame.

These days it was near impossible to catch Jimin alone, the social butterfly was always surrounded by a group of friends eager to gain his approval and earn a permanent spot on his friends list.

But you’d known Jimin for a while and it wasn’t like him. The once quiet yet outspoken boy had shed his humility and kindness and replaced them with conceitedness and uncharitable behaviour.

Yes, you agree that people change but it’s more often for the better, going through experiences that teach them more about themselves. But Jimin has definitely, without a doubt, changed for the worst.

A wave of melancholy washes over you as you continue to watch him smile, jealous of his happiness, more importantly, his happiness without you. But it’s quickly replaced with a familiar feeling of indignation, your face flaming up and your hands tightly clenched above your keyboard.

You try and stop him after the lecture is over, seizing the perfect opportunity to catch him alone. His face visibly displays his annoyance in having to stop and talk but you don’t let it deter you. It’s been a while since you’ve seen him up close and you’d be lying if you said you didn’t miss him. You steel your heart and continue, determined to set the record straight.

“You’re not answering my calls,” you state, digging your heels in the ground but ready to pounce if he attempted to get away.

He shrugs, the silver earring in his lobe twinkling as he does so. “I’ve been busy.”

You scoff at his answer and shake your head at his awful attempt to make a reasonable excuse, though the theatrical reaction is nothing more than a facade to hide the oncoming tears. “Busy? You couldn’t even make it to my birthday, Jimin. What has you that busy?”

“Many things.” He folds his arms defiantly across his chest, his usually full lips pursed into a thin line.

You blink and take a step back, the shock so strong it’s feels like a physical punch to the gut. When had he become this unrecognisable asshole? “What happened to you, Jimin?”

He rolls his eyes but stays standing, body language defensive. “I don’t know what you’re talking about–”

“I don’t even know you anymore. You’re not the same guy I knew before college. Because that’s when all this–” you motion at him in his leather jacket, his flashy jewellery and personality change. “–started. That’s when you turned into this… ignorant, ugly, self-centred pig who can’t even pick up the phone and check up on his best friend.”

His face slightly relaxes, his eyes losing their defensive spark and for a split second you see the old, humble Jimin. You think, for a second, that you’ve broken through, that you’ve talked some sense into him. But it only lasts a heartbeat before his eyes glaze over and his gaze turns cold again. And before he has a chance to change his mind, the words come tumbling out. “We’re not friends.”

You blink, not quite believing your ears, truly thinking that you’ve heard him wrong. You step back and frown, your mind reeling from the statement. “Jimin–”

“We’re not friends.” He repeats with more conviction, almost as if he’s trying to convince himself. “People change. Some for better, and some for worse.”

He leaves it at that but the implication is crystal clear. Your breath gets trapped in your throat as you try to answer back but the tears win over, pooling in your eyes and threatening to rain down.

He takes your struggle to find the right words as his cue to leave but as he attempts to walk away you lunge forward and grab his forearm, pulling him back. “Don’t–” and you hate yourself for the way your voice cracks, betraying the depth of your true emotions. “Don’t you dare walk away from me.”

Jimin’s lips thin even further as he purses them tighter, his eyes never settling on your face. He crosses his arms across his chest in a futile effort to distance himself further from you but it only aggravates you further. His eyes twinkle with saturation and it takes you a minute longer than it should to realise that Jimin is tearful.

You swipe silently at your cheeks, uselessly smearing the tears everywhere instead, and swallow the ball in your throat. “What did I do?”

He swallows but refuses to make eye contact, as if you’re not there at all.

“Why won’t you look at me, Jimin? Huh? What’s happened to you? To us? I thought– I thought we were...” you struggle again to find the right words, anger and hurt fuelling your confidence. “I don’t fucking know. But we were ok. And now we’re–”

“I’m ok.” You almost miss the quiet statement, uttered discreetly into the air between you. And nothing can quite describe the agony, the absolute phantom pain that rips through your chest like a chainsaw. He’s ok?

“Jimin, this isn’t you. Just... talk to me. Tell me what’s wrong,” you hold your breath as his eyes finally find yours. “Please?”

And just like the years before, back when things were a lot simpler, he speaks to you with his eyes. They’re watery and conflicted but beneath the raw emotions lays something far more complex. They’re still familiar and under the cold, hard exterior he’s putting on show, you recognise him.

But his words don’t match up.

“I think you should go.”

“Jimin, please–”

“I seriously think you should just get on with things...like I am... and stop dwelling on something we never had.”

And that deals the final blow, the final strike to the thing you held above all else.

He tugs on his jacket and adjusts his bag, spinning on his heel and walking off. He doesn’t even look back, doesn’t even pause until he gets around the corner. He tuts in frustration as the tears build up again and wipes them away angrily. He can feel his heart pang with every sob he can hear echoing through the empty hallway and wonders if there’s ever any coming back from this.

He knows that, in the end, you will find it in your heart to forgive him and knows that you’ll offer your hand out for a friendship again. But it’s something he’s decided that he isn’t worthy of, something as pure and genuine as your love belongs nowhere near people like him.

Because it will manifest and grow to become the very thing he’s afraid of and he hasn’t the courage to commit to something like that. Love is a dangerous and in the wrong hands, much like fire, it can kill.

That’s just not a game he’s willing to play.

⬸ drabble  ⡇⤑ part 2

[jjkfire]

T&S

Reader x Jungkook // 6020 words

Summary: Toddlers have always hated Jungkook and Jungkook have always hated toddlers  

+  “Jungkook… what the hell happened here? And why’s there spaghetti on the ceiling?”

Genre: Fluff

A/N: swear this was just supposed to be a drabble but I got carried away. based on a lil story my lecturer told that one time (’:

“Well, we could just meet up at the library later?”

“I uh… I can’t,” You mumble, fidgeting in your spot because you’ve had a conversation just like this every week now.

“Y/N, we have to start the project today. He wants it in by tomorrow night.”

“I know, I know,” You sigh. “I’m sorry it’s just, I have to babysit my sister tonight… I’ll just work on it and then send it to you in the morning for you to compile and edit?”

“What? I’m not going to let you work on it alone,” He frowns. “I can just meet you at your place…”

“A-are you sure?” You ask and your eyes light up with hope. “I live about 20 minutes off campus by car…” You mumble.

“Oh…”

“Yeah, that’s what my last partner said too,” You laugh. “Really, Jungkook I can just do the wo—”

“Just text me the address. I’ll find my way there,” He smiles, cutting your sentence short.

“You don’t have to—”

“I have a class in 10 so I have to go… but text me your address okay?”

He doesn’t even wait to hear your reply, rushing out of the classroom before you could answer him.

When you hear the doorbell ring, you’re in full panic mode because your sister has chosen this night of all nights to throw a massive temper tantrum.

“Just a second!” You shout as you finally get your sister to sit in her high chair, her high pitch wailing almost making you deaf.

You answer the door with your hair all over the place, spaghetti sauce smeared down the front of your apron but yet you still manage to put on a shy smile as you lead him into the house. Jungkook follows closely behind you, wincing as your sister’s screaming echoed throughout your house.

“I’m so, so, sorry, my sister she’s just—”

“It’s alright,” He smiles and you appreciate the fact that he’s being so accommodating because every other partner you’ve had never even bothered to come all the way to your place to complete the weekly assignments.

“You can sit over here and get started? I just have to get her to calm down and eat and I promise I’ll join you as soon as I can.”

“Y/N, seriously, chill,” He laughs. “Just take your time.”

Jungkook slides into his seat, a chair away from your sister and when she notices the stranger, she calms down considerably.

“That’s my friend, kiddo,” You smile, pointing at Jungkook. “Say hello Jungkook.”

Jungkook stills for a second and he braces himself for it, the sudden onset of tears or a face crumpled in disgust because he knows, he knows children hate him, they always have. Every child he’s ever picked up or played with eventually begins crying and maybe that’s why he actually despises them… because they make him feel bad. It sounds ridiculous, he knows, but honestly, there was something about being rejected by a child that made him feel so dejected and unwanted, like there was something wrong with him.

He watches your sister nervously as she scans him for a second and he’s hoping for something mild, like maybe a huff of disinterest so he could continue on with the project without feeling upset. Your sister perks up, her mouth opening to say something or more likely to screech and here goes, is what Jungkook says in his head because he’s seen it all one too many times.

He’s waiting, and waiting but it never comes. Instead, a light giggle bubbles out of her lips as she sends him a tiny wave before she hides her face behind her hands. Jungkook swears he hates toddlers because they’re gross, loud and they hate him for no reason but his heart melts a little at the sight of your shy sister. Maybe, there wasn’t something wrong with him after all.

“Oh, so now you’re shy?” You laugh, rolling your eyes. “Alright, I see how it is. Wail like crazy whenever I’m around but when you see someone handsome, you’re all quiet.”

Jungkook laughs at that before he turns to his laptop, trying to ignore the fact that you think he’s handsome while he takes short glances as you feed your little sister her spaghetti. He doesn’t know why but he never pegged you as someone who’d be a loving big sister because you were always cold and distant in class. Truth be told, he was a little wary when he was paired up with you after he had requested a partner change. You’ve had a different partner every week now which was a red flag for him but he couldn’t stand the fact that he’s been carrying his deadweight lazy ass of a partner for 3 weeks now so, he just went with you anyway, hoping you’d be at least 10% better than his previous partner.

“She’s trying to impress you,” You grin, shaking your head. “You’re trying to impress Jungkook, aren’t you?”

“Kookoo,” is her reply before she flashes him a short smile and Jungkook can’t help but return the smile. Finally! A child that doesn’t hate him.

“She didn’t even want to eat any of it before you showed up,” You grumble before gently feeding your sister a forkful of spaghetti. “Made me chase her around the table too but I mean look at her now. Her plate’s already half empty!”

“Toddlers to teenagers,” He sighs. “What can I say? My good looks charm them all.”

You burst out laughing and Jungkook joins in too, his cheeks beginning to blush a light pink because he can’t believe he’d just said that out loud. It was nice to see you relax though, not nervously glancing between the clock, your sister and him every 5 seconds.

It’s down to last few bites of spaghetti and you conclude you need to have Jungkook come over more often if your sister was going to be this well behaved when he was around. You glance at the clock again and it’s been almost 30 minutes since Jungkook has arrived and you feel absolutely horrible for making him work on his own so far but you had already went through the readings beforehand to make the process less painful. You’re so deep in thought that you don’t hear the gagging sounds at first but when it finally hits you, you dive straight into motion, opening your sister’s mouth to stick your pinky down her throat.

“What the heck Y/N!? You shouldn’t do that!” Jungkook exclaims just as your sister coughs up a strand of spaghetti.

You look at him wide-eyed for a second, unsure as to what he meant.

“You shouldn’t stick your finger down her throat. That’s dangerous,” He exhales. “You could accidentally push it down further or even cause swelling.”

“I-I didn’t know,” You answer, your voice barely a whisper. “My mum does it so I just…”

Jungkook shifts in his seat uncomfortably, regretting his outburst in full force because now he feels horrible because you look like you’re on the verge of tears.

“I didn’t mean to— I mean there’s CPR so I just— I was just worried is all,” He says quietly. “Do you need help with the dishes?” He offers, as a form of apology.

“No, no, it’s fine. I got it,” You smile. “Just watch her for me while I do them.”

Jungkook nods, albeit worriedly because you know, kids had a tendency of bursting into tears around him but he doesn’t say a word and only watches you pile the dirty dishes in your hand before you disappear into the kitchen. He sits there awkwardly, looking at your sister as she bobs around in her chair, mumbling incoherent noises and he wonders if she was trying to tell him something.

“Kookoo!”

“Hey, kid,” He smiles when he realizes that meant she was calling out for him and dear god he doesn’t know what to do because he’s never had a kid look at him for more than one second before they start screeching. Obviously, he couldn’t have a conversation with her and there were no toys in sight which meant he had absolutely zero idea of how to keep her occupied. He felt awkward being scrutinized by a child and he racks his brain for something, anything.

It’s perhaps a good minute or two before Jungkook realizes that peek-a-boo could be an option but honestly, he feels a little embarrassed simply just envisioning himself playing peek-a-boo with a child. He glances towards your direction before he lets out a low groan and turns towards your sister. She watches Jungkook curiously, the boy fidgeting and worrying his bottom lip between his teeth and it makes her feel uncomfortable. Jungkook watches as her bubbly expression begins to fade, one filled with worry or even borderline fear begins to wash over her features. He begins to panic, quickly hiding his face behind his hands before whispering out a weak peek-a-boo! Hoping that it’ll make her smile again.

Oh god, oh no, it’s happening.

Her lips begin to wobble and within seconds there’s an ear piercing howl before tears start pouring down the side of her face. Jungkook hears you groan from the kitchen and he begins to panic because crap… it’s his fault. He knew it was too good to be true. Your sister hated him too. He had thought he was in the clear earlier on when she smiled at him but obviously, he was wrong.

“Y/N, she’s crying! W-what do I do??” Jungkook asks, his voice filled with fear and you almost want to laugh at how afraid he sounded.

“I’ll be out in a minute,” You answer over the sound of the tap water gushing. “Don’t worry about it. She’s just having one of those days.”

No, no. You don’t seem to understand is what Jungkook wanted to say. They hate me! Children hate me!

“Just make a funny face or something,” He hears you exhale and he’s still panicking because your sister is full on thrashing around in her high chair now and he feels horrible.

Okay, okay, a funny face, he could do that.

“Hey kid,” He calls out, his voice quivering but she’s so busy crying she doesn’t hear him. He approaches her carefully, tapping her on her tiny shoulder and her cries only begin to increase in volume. Jungkook backs away quickly and frowns with his eyebrows furrowed because he’s only made it worse. He glances towards the kitchen, silently begging you to hurry up so your sister would finally stop crying.

You shout comforting words from the kitchen and truth be told, it sounds like a rehearsed spiel, one you’ve found yourself saying too many times now but it works, your sister’s cries are reduced to soft sobs. He peers at your sister carefully before he returns to his seat, letting out a deep breath as his panic begins to subside. He quietly peeps at your sister again just to make sure she was alright now but it was a mistake, a huge one because there she goes again, a loud cry tearing through the house and you let out an annoyed groan from the kitchen.

Jungkook springs into action, wanting once and for all to fix his mistake. “Watch me!” He says frantically before pulling a multitude of funny faces, any damn face he could think of, he was going to do it. He’s exhausted his whole repertoire when he finally hears her giggle, an excited clap accompanying it and he lets out a heavy sigh of relief. There’s a louder laugh he hears soon after and he retreats to his seat when he recognizes it to be yours.

“I’m so sorry,” He mumbles. “Children, they hate me…”

“Why would you say that?”

“You just saw it!” Jungkook exclaims. “Your sister hates me.”

You simply turn to your sister before turning to look at Jungkook and she lets out a soft coo before bobbing around in her seat, flashing him her signature soft smile, her tiny hands reaching out to him.

“She seems pretty in love with you to me.”

“She was crying, no… more like screaming just seconds ago. She started screeching when I tapped her shoulder!”

You let out a light laugh at Jungkook’s animated expression, as if he was trying to convince you entirely that your sister despised him.

“She was just feeling a little overwhelmed having to be with you in the room alone, without me,” You smile. “Sometimes kids just cry when they’re shy.”

So that’s what it was? Kids continuously cry in front of him because they’re shy?

“Also, you should try to smile more and stop looking so tense or worried,” You chortle. “It scares them.”

Well, it wasn’t his fault that these little humans had screams loud enough to rupture his ear drums. Of course he’s tense around them, he had fair reason to be considering his past run-ins with them, tonight being a prime example.

Luckily for Jungkook, the rest of the night goes on without a hitch and he tries to do just as you said, tries to loosen up and smile at your sister more which seems to work because well she’s not crying but that really could be just because you’re around. He thinks in some way he lucked out in scoring you as his project partner because you’re leagues better than his previous partner and dare he say, even himself. Your ability to draw up points and analyze the readings that were assigned are otherworldly and he wonders why your previous partners would even request for a switch. If anything, he’s going to cling onto you until the end of the semester if you’d let him. The both of you work in synchrony, with your ability to draw out main points and his ability to string them together with flowery words, he’d say the both of you make a great team.

“Listen, Jungkook, I’m so sorry about tonight and my sister,” You sigh, opening the front door for him. “I really, really appreciate you coming all the way just to work on this stupid assignment.”

“It’s really no big deal,” He laughs. “All your previous partners are dicks for not doing the same and honestly if we’re going to be cranking out responses like this for all the other assignments, I’m glad they were dicks.”

You let out a snort at that and thank him once again before waving him goodbye, only retreating into your home when you watch him pull out of your driveway.

“Kookoo,” You hear your sister mumble after you shut the door and a light laugh escapes you.

“You gave him a heart attack you know that?” You grin, walking towards her to ruffle her hair. “Now he thinks you hate him but it’s quite the contrary, isn’t it?”

Your sister lets out a yawn, unable to comprehend what you’ve just said to her and you only nod in understanding as you lift her up and out of the high chair to head to her crib because like her, you were exhausted too.

Jungkook’s weekly trips to your house in order to complete the assignments becomes something he rather looks forward too. Sometimes you offer him food, which he gladly accepts because hell your cooking smells heavenly and it tastes even better. Sometimes, the two of you put the assignment on hold just to catch that new episode on TV, which he gladly appreciates after a crazy stressful day of classes but mostly he looks forward to it because he thinks just maybe, he likes you. He can’t pinpoint what exactly it is he likes about you but all he knows is he finds himself wanting to know more about you. It’s the adorable laugh you have that sends him on a tail-spin and the way you weren’t afraid to joke around with him despite only being friends for such a short while. The fact that you had the most adorable little sister in the world didn’t help either and he found himself trying so hard to make her like him just so he could impress you.

“Wow, wooooow,” You gasp dramatically. “What is this betrayal?!” You exclaim as your sister moves to take a seat next to Jungkook, cuddling up against him.

Jungkook’s laughing on the outside but he’s actually panicking internally because despite having seen your sister multiple times, she’s still a child after all and as he’s mentioned before, they hate him with a passion. He’s so nervous you can actually see the rapid rise and fall of his chest, his hand trembling as he typed away on his keyboard.

“I bathe you, feed you, dress you and this is how you treat me huh punk?”

“There, there Y/N, there’s no need to be jealous,” Jungkook grins. “She’s clearly just good at picking out who’s the cooler one among the both of us,” He pats her head, hoping this time his smile fakes her into thinking that he isn’t tense or worried.

“He was my friend first, kiddo,” You point playfully at your sister. “Hands off!”

Your sister with her angelic like face was good at fooling everyone around her but you knew her well and this little girl was a mischievous one. She had a knack at pushing all your buttons and often did the total opposite of what you tell her to do, especially when you say things like, no! don’t put that in your mouth! or don’t play with your food! And as always, she employs the exact same tactic here. Her tiny little arms, move to wrap around Jungkook’s middle just as the words leave your mouth and he jumps at that, unsure of what this gesture meant, what this sign of affection meant.

“___!” You gasp, laughing, partly at your sister’s bold gesture but mostly because of the shocked expression on Jungkook’s face. The poor boy looked so pale it almost seemed as if he had just seen a ghost. “Stop that,” You laugh, trying to pull your sister away when you notice that Jungkook isn’t recovering, that all the colour is still drained from his face but the girl has a deathly strong grip despite her age.

“He’s too old for you,” You chortle as you finally lift her up into your arms. “And he’s a heartbreaker, this one. So you stay away from him, you hear me?”

Heartbreaker? Now where did you ever get that? He thinks to himself as he manages to get his heartbeat back to a normal pace. He’s not very sure if he preferred it more when children hated him because he’s never felt so astonished in his life.

“You feeling alright over there champ?” You ask.

“Y-yeah I’m good…”

“Who knew that the campus’ heartthrob’s biggest fear is actually toddlers,” You laugh, placing your sister next to you.

“I-I’m not afraid of them,” He mumbles. “I just wasn’t expecting that okay?”

“Sure, whatever you say,” You sing-song before returning your attention to your work.

There’s a long lull of silence as the both of you independently work on the assignment before Jungkook clears his throat, finally asking the question that’s been on the tip of his tongue.

“Heartbreaker, heartthrob,” He murmurs. “You seem to have a lot of pre-conceived notions about me, don’t you?”

You peer up from your laptop to give him a confused look. Why was he surprised that you knew what was public knowledge?

“Well, I mean you’re basically all everyone ever talks about,” You shrug. “But it’s hard to see you as what they describe you to be when I know you enter full panic mode whenever my sister is even remotely close to you,” You giggle and Jungkook scowls at you in return. You don’t understand, he sighs. Children just always end up in tears whenever he was around and he lived in that constant anxiety whenever he knew that there was someone below the age of 3 within his radius.

“And what do they describe me as?”

“A fuckboy,” You deadpan and you try to keep a straight face, you do but you wonder if he has a completely different persona when he’s not at your house because he was the picture of the softest, sweetest boy when he was here with you.

He frowns because he doesn’t know whether he should be glad or sad that that is how others saw him. He definitely wasn’t a fuckboy, a flirt maybe but anything far from a fuckboy. He doesn’t know where people draw up these conclusions from. Probably from freshmen year when he had taken full advantage of his newfound freedom but all of that got old quick.

“And what would you describe me as?”

You ponder on that for a while, trying to find the right descriptor but you couldn’t really put his character into words.

“Cute,” Is what you settle on and Jungkook tries extremely hard to stop the smile from creeping onto his face.

He waits for you to ask him the same question, so he could tell you he thought you were beautiful, strong, funny, he can’t really pick one… and that he kind of maybe has a little crush on you but you don’t say anything after, only turning to your laptop to finish up the assignment. So, the words simply retreat into a far crevice of his mind, filed under things to say when I finally stop being so lame and tell her how I feel, though he feels those words will stay in that corner for a long, long time.

It’s a Tuesday night and Jungkook’s having a usual quiet night in, Chinese takeout in hand and his favourite show on TV when he hears his phone ringing, your caller ID lighting up his screen. His heart skips a beat, maybe even two when he sees your name, he quickly swipes right and presses the phone to his ear.

“Hello?”

“Hello? Jungkook?” Your voice seems frantic and he can hear you searching for something in the background.

“Is something wrong?”

“I, uhh, I need a favour,” You mumble. “Could you come over for a while and watch my sister? I have to pass something to my mum at her workplace, it’s really urgent… please?”

Watch your sister? Alone? That was like his worst nightmare come to life. Not that he hated your sister, in fact it was quite the opposite but he was just so afraid of upsetting her, of having a repeat of the night where he had first met her except you wouldn’t be around this time.

“Please,” You beg. “You’re the only person I know she’s comfortable with and you’re the only person I trust.”

“O-okay,” He mumbles. “I’ll be there in 20.”

Jungkook arrives at your doorstep, already gnawing on his bottom lip as he played out 500 different scenarios, all in which you come home to find your sister wailing and him absolutely unable to make her stop. He just wants you to know that he has grown fond of your sister himself and he wished more than anything that he could rid himself of the phobia he seemed to have with children. He wants to live up to your expectations, that he’d be able to take care of your sister, that he was responsible and caring because that would convince you he’d make a decent boyfriend, right? But in actual fact he has about 0% confidence in himself.

“Thank god you’re here,” You exhale as you lead him into the house. ____ is already sitting in her high chair, her dinner laid in front of her and Jungkook guesses that he’s going to have to feed her dinner while you were away.

“I won’t be long, I promise,” You say as you move around the table, setting everything up. “Just, you know, feed her and do the whole here comes the aeroplane thing if she’s being difficult, alright?”

“Sure,” Jungkook mumbles, unsure because no, not alright, not sure. Panic is already beginning to rise in his chest as he’s never been completely left alone with a child before and that’s because they usually can’t stand him.

“Kookoo,” ____ beams and Jungkook finds it in him to smile and wave at you little sister, hoping she doesn’t sense how fear is coursing through his veins right now but he has a feeling she already knows. The children, they always know. It’s like they can smell fear, he thinks to himself.

“Thank you so much for doing this Jungkook. I owe you one,” You offer him a meek smile before kissing him on the cheek and dashing out of the house. Jungkook stands there dumbfounded for a second because did you just… kiss him? Like you, physically put your lips on him, on his cheek?

It’s ____’s mumbling that brings him back to Earth and he runs his finger over his cheek once before he makes his way towards your little sister, remembering that oh right, yes, he was called here to watch her.

“Hey, kid, do me a huge favour and not cry today, yeah?” He asks and he’s not sure why because he knows your sister cannot possibly comprehend what he’s saying but he swears he saw her nod her head yes and he lets out a sigh of relief.

Jungkook sits himself next to her, smiling as he twirls the spaghetti around the fork, the sight of it reminding him of his first time in this house, his first time talking to you outside of class. For the most part, he finds this babysitting thing to be not too bad because for starters ____ isn’t crying. He finds himself cooing at her, opening his mouth every time he moves the fork to feed her, something he would always make fun of you for doing but now that he was in your position, he couldn’t stop himself from doing it too. Maybe kids aren’t so bad after all.

Jungkook begins to relax, letting his shoulder roll back when he realizes that ____ has cleaned up at least half of the plate.

“You’re really hungry today, aren’t you?” Jungkook laughs. “Or are you just trying to impress me again?”

There’s a light giggle that escapes her lips before she waves her arms around excitedly and Jungkook can only smile because damn it, she’s so adorable. He uses the bib to wipe off the sauce around her mouth and moves to pinch her chubby cheeks, surprising even himself with how comfortable he’s gotten with your sister. Yeah, kids aren’t that bad, he shrugs.

The night’s going great because your sister’s almost done with her food, she hasn’t even made a sound that’s close to a wail and Jungkook thinks about how maybe after tonight, after impressing you with his babysitting skills, maybe he’d have the courage to tell you that he likes you. He feeds your sister another forkful of spaghetti before taking a quick glance at his phone, typing to ask you if you’d be back soon but he hears a sound and his heart stops beating.

His head whips around to see your sister gagging, choking and every single alarm in Jungkook’s head goes off. If he thought he was panicking at the doorstep then he thought wrong because right here, right now, he was genuinely panicking. He remembers what you did, you stuck your finger down her throat but he knows that’s wrong and he waits it out, patting her on her back to get her to hack it up but nothing seems to be happening and Jungkook feels terror eat him up whole.

Please, please, please, he says over and over like a mantra, hoping that your sister would cough up whatever was stuck in her throat but it only seems to be getting worse, her face beginning to turn blue as she struggles to breathe. At this point, Jungkook begins to tear up, his hands trembling so hard as he tries to lift her up from the chair but to him the high chair seems to be a death contraption that he can’t figure out. With fear and adrenaline running through his veins, Jungkook grabs the tray section of the high chair, ripping it off with all his might to free her.

The tray goes flying, the plate disappearing somewhere in the air and then he hears it, the sound he has always dreaded hearing but today, it’s his salvation. Completely frightened by what just happened _____ wails, shrieks, the spaghetti strand previously lodged in her throat now somewhere on the floor. Her cries are loud enough to wake the whole neighbourhood up if they were sleeping but Jungkook doesn’t care about that, all he cares is that she’s here, that she was breathing again. Jungkook lifts her up into his arms, hugging her tight to his body as he sways her around gently to calm her down.

“I’m so sorry, I’m so so sorry,” He cries as he attempts to get your sister to relax. “It’s all my fault, I’m so sorry.”

He knows she doesn’t understand, he knows that but what else could he say in this very moment. He’d never thought he’d want to hear her cry but good god, anything is better than the horrifying minute and a half of silence he had just experienced.

“Jungkook… what the hell happened here?”

Jungkook gulps as he continues rubbing a hand over your sister’s back, her cries now soft sobs.

“Why’s there spaghetti on the ceiling?”

He turns around to face you and you can see the tears that were still streaming down his face and you simply can’t deduce what had just happened.

“I’m so sorry Y/N,” He sobs. “I looked at my phone for one second and then she started choking and I panicked and I… I’m so sorry.”

He walks over to try to hand ____ to you but she clings on to him for dear life, refusing to let go.

“Come on,” He coos, pleading with your sister to let go but she simply tightens her hold on him when she feels you try to pull her away.

“See,” You laugh. “I told you she’s in love with you.”

Jungkook wishes he could laugh at that but right now he feels anything but happy. Maybe there is a reason why kids hate him, maybe it was because he wasn’t cut out to be around them.

“Are you okay, kiddo?” You question, ruffling her hair and she nods, burying her face into Jungkook’s neck.

“Are you okay?” You ask, turning to look at Jungkook and he shakes his head no.

“I really am so sorry, Y/N,” He sniffles. “It’s all my fault. I was going to give her CPR I swear but I couldn’t figure out the chair and I was just really terrified and I—”

“Jungkook, it’s okay, it isn’t your fault.”

“But if I didn’t—”

“You remember the first day you were here, she had choked then too.”

“But—”

“It’s not your fault alright? She’s okay, you’re okay, it’s all good.”

“I promise, I promise, I’m responsible,” He mumbles, the occasional sob chopping up his sentence. “A-and I’m caring, and I like her and I like you and it was a mistake. I’m so sorry. I’ll do better next time, I promise.”

“Jungkook,” You laugh, leading him towards the couch so he could sit down. “I just need you to calm down. You’re fine, it’s fine and you need to stop apologizing okay?”

“It’s just I wanted to show you th-that you could trust me and I ruined that… I almost killed her and it breaks my heart,” He murmurs. “I told you I’m not good with kids. I-I don’t think I should be around her anymore.”

“Jungkook,” You exhale, softly running your hand through his hair. “It’s not your fault. Sometimes, these things just happen okay?”

Jungkook still refuses to believe you. It’s his crappy luck with children, he knows it. He wishes it were different because he genuinely does like your sister. She’s the single most cutest child he has ever met and she doesn’t shy away from him like all the other kids but he guesses he’s ruined that now.

“____, Jungkook says he doesn’t want to see you anymore. He thinks you’re better off without him,” You say, using your finger to stroke her cheek.

Jungkook nods at that, trying to hand her off to you but again she refuses to let go. There’s a frustrated whine before she thrashes around in his hold, her arms tightening around him as hard as possible. She shakes her head furiously before she pulls away to look at Jungkook, tears threatening to spill when Jungkook tries to peel her away from himself.

“It’s for your own safety,” He mumbles and he wishes she could understand him. He was doing this for her own good.

Maybe she does understand him because she’s shaking her head no again, whimpering when Jungkook signals for you to grab her. She slaps away your hands clinging onto Jungkook for dear life.

“Who says you aren’t good with kids? She obviously wants you around.”

“She just doesn’t understand… that I’m just not…” He sighs, unable to put into words how he really feels about this whole ordeal.

“Look, she wants you around okay Jungkook? She likes you! Always mumbling Kookoo whenever she knows you’re going to come over,” You grumble. “Frankly, I’m a little upset that she learnt to say your name before mine but that’s just how much she likes you.”

Jungkook laughs lightly at your irrational jealousy and you smile, glad that for the first time tonight, you’ve finally seen the corner of his lips turn up.

“I’m sorry, I messed up so bad,” He sighs. “I really wanted to impress you tonight…”

“Impress me?”

“I just- I,” He stumbles over his words, unsure of how to string his sentence together and he takes in a deep breath, gathering all of his courage. “Maybe it’s not the best time to tell you but, I uhh, I like you… a lot and I… just wanted to show you that I um could be a umm good boyfriend… which I know is thinking a little too ahead since I haven’t asked you out and I don’t even know if you’ll say yes but uh, yeah.”

You shouldn’t be laughing, you really shouldn’t because the boy in front of you had just basically poured out his heart’s content before you but you can’t help but think he’s absolutely adorable for wanting to make a good impression.

With your sister still clinging onto Jungkook, you give him the most awkward hug ever before you leave a light kiss on his lips, and another on his cheek.

“I was impressed a long time ago, Jungkook,” You grin.

“You were?” He asks, his voice soft and quiet, almost in disbelief. “Does this mean you like me too?”

“Isn’t it obvious? I’m always fighting _____ for your attention!”

Jungkook has on the widest smile you’ve ever seen and if it weren’t for your sister that was currently cockblocking him, he would’ve already kissed you senseless. He guesses he’ll have plenty of time to do that later though. Jungkook slips his fingers between yours, giving your hand a tight squeeze. Your sister murmurs incoherently, seemingly having fallen asleep after tonight’s commotion.

“What are you doing?” You query after watching Jungkook typing one-handedly at a furious pace.

“I’m googling how to get spaghetti sauce off the ceiling.”

“Jungkook,” You chortle. “I don’t think there’s going to be a tutorial on something like that.”

“I’ll uh, I’ll just figure it out then,” He mumbles. “I’m sorry, again.”

“Keep saying sorry and we’re never kissing again.”

Jungkook lets out a whine and you only laugh before pressing another short kiss to his lips and he wishes it was longer, that he could hold you close to him and kiss you until his head begins to spin.

You signal for him to stand up, leading him to the bedroom so you could put ____ down into her crib. Jungkook follows quietly behind you, settling down into her crib gently. He stands there staring at your sister lovingly, wishing to forget the nightmare that was tonight. All he knows is that his heart feels warm when he sees your sister all tucked in and safe.

Yeah, kids aren’t that bad after all, is what he thinks to himself.

A/N: this is unedited to the max but as always, thank you so much for reading and feedback is welcome!!!

[winetae]

a saint in her halo (m)

⇀ Seokjin x Reader

⇀ college!au, sunbae!jin (i’m not sure how to tag this but there are scenes of public indecency bc i am a bad person)  ↳  drabble; 2.2k

beneath his immaculate appearance and flowery words, no one would expect such filth to spew from his lips

or; kim seokjin is simultaneously the best and worst kind of distraction

a/n; cheer up, buttercup !! + title taken from paul verlaine’s poem “une sainte en son auréole” (ps; ty nana)

3:49 pm

You keep taking surreptitious glances at your phone, hoping the numbers finally line up to 4:00 so you can be put out of your misery. Wiping the screen with the pad of your thumb in a distracted manner, an audible sigh escapes you; the little huff blowing a stray lock of hair away from your face. Time has never ticked by so slowly, you think, silently urging the hands of the clock to go faster. 

In hindsight, you should have never chosen this 19th century poetry elective; you feel a bit like a fish out of the water, surrounded by older students who are all more knowledgeable in the subject. The elegant prose fails to evoke emotion within you, and when you’re asked to decipher the poems on paper, your mind draws a blank. You feel like no amount of studying will allow you to catch up with their mastery of the English language. It’s especially hard to keep up with the occasional passionate debates—all you can do is quietly listen to the back-and-forth discussions that heat up the lecture hall, hoping not to get caught in the crossfire.

“Distracted?”

Your phone nearly slips out of your grasp as a voice interrupts your thoughts, effectively pulling you from your reverie. Back now ramrod straight, you turn your head to face the interlocutor head on. At once, your heart begins to pick up pace, mouth suddenly parched as if you hadn’t had a drop of water in months. Your reaction is instinctive and immediate, drawn out by the perfection that is Seokjin.

Kim Seokjin—president of the poetry club, and maybe the best thing to happen to your university in years. With his windswept hair that frames his perfectly symmetrical face in soft waves, and his deep brown eyes that light up with passion as he recites sonnets, he is the sole reason class has been bearable thus far. 

You’re not much of a poet, but one look at his face and inspiration easily strikes down upon you. Usually, you like to pick a seat a few rows behind him, so as to get an unobstructed view of his exceptionally broad shoulders in all their glory (it is no arguable fact that he is nicer to look at than the wrinkly and balding professor). When the lecture gets particularly dull, your mind drifts off to unspeakable territory that usually involves Seokjin and his long fingers. The indecorous thoughts aren’t nearly enough to satisfy your appetite, but the longer you let them go on, the lewder they become. It’s almost shameful, how often such fantasies enrapture you in their hold. Sometimes, the nature of your musings makes your cheeks flush deep crimson, and you can only thank the gods above no one has access to your daydreams. In a futile attempt to justify the extent of your yearning, you convince yourself you can’t be the only one with such sin on their mind—you’re not blind to the hungry looks other students aim his way and you’re certain he can’t be oblivious to the longing stares, either.

But to you, it’s much more than a mere physical attraction. Although there is no sliver of doubt in your mind that Kim Seokjin is breathtakingly beautiful—with airbrushed features and proportions worthy of adulation—it’s when he opens his mouth that you truly feel the magnitude of his attractiveness. 

You’ve never exchanged more than a handful of words—your conversations cut short because every time his eyes meet yours, you’re left bereft of speech, heart thundering painfully against your ribcage. It’s embarrassing how fast you turn into a puddle of mush, how quickly you become a jumbled mess of incoherence. To shield yourself from the brunt of his bewitching charisma, you settle for admiring his eloquence from afar, the fluidity of his speech lulling you into a deep trance. 

Recently however, he had taken to sitting next to you in class, yet despite this new development, you hadn’t been able to carry out a single proper conversation. On a good day, you manage to squeak out a greeting before burrowing your nose in your books, pretending to be enthralled by the reading material instead of his statuesque side profile. 

He is simultaneously the best and worst kind of distraction. Concentrating on the lecture proves to be an impossible feat, your mind too focused on the way his knees will accidentally brush up against yours whenever he adjusts himself in his seat. You’re not sure why he suddenly insists on sitting next to you—your seat in the back of the room isn’t ideal for taking notes—but you don’t have the courage to question him. 

“No,” you lie, wetting you lips. To your dismay, you find they’re cracked. 

You take your lower lip between your teeth, hoping he won’t notice you skipped out on lip balm today. Unlike yours, Seokjin’s lips always look pillow-soft. Not that you look at the curvature of his lips regularly... 

“You’re a bad liar,” he notes, resting his face in the palm of his hand, gaze resting on your mouth for a second too long. Twisting the upper half of his body in his chair, his attention is now completely focused on your form. As a result of his unexpected scrutiny, your heart stutters in your chest and it takes everything in you not to duck your head and hide behind a curtain of hair. 

Ignoring the heat that threatens to climb up your chest, you clear your throat. 

“I’m not,” you persist, trying to appear composed by tucking your hair behind your ear. It’s a nervous habit of yours and you don’t think much of it until Seokjin follows the movement with a keen look twinkling in his irises. 

“Hmmm,” hums Seokjin, gaze now perusing over your form with unabashed intensity. “Every time I see you, you’re always distracted. Do you even take any notes?”

“I do!” Your feeble protest dies down at once, silenced by a single raise of his eyebrows. “I take notes... I’m good at... li-listening.”

Oh good job, you inwardly cringe, waves of embarrassment washing over you. This is precisely why you shouldn’t be allowed to talk in his presence; you make a fool out of yourself every time, uncooperative tongue tripping against the roof of your mouth as if it is swollen. You feel yourself flush at the cheeks, splotches of red blooming like a field of poppies, and you bring your hand up to your face to eclipse them from view. 

“Is that so?” The way Seokjin’s voice drops an octave makes you squirm in your seat, thighs rubbing against one another in your struggle for composure.

Goosebumps prickle the surface of your skin and you have the sudden urge to run and hide, so as to alleviate the mounting discomfort at the crux of your thighs, but his knowing stare pins you to the wooden seat. It’s as if you’re laid bare for him, with nowhere to conceal your thoughts. 

It’s getting increasingly harder to maintain eye contact, especially when he’s looking at you like that—with the way a smirk pulls at his lips, you’re convinced he can read you like an open book. It’s also slowly starting to dawn on you that he’s well aware of the effect he has over you and is taking sick pleasure in watching you shed the last traces of your composure.

Your theory is further confirmed when a sound of displeasure rumbles in his chest, the sound shooting straight down your spine to pool in your lower stomach. “Keep your eyes on me,” he commands, voice firm but quiet. 

As much as you want to oblige him, it’s difficult to carry out his request; Seokjin is so handsome, it almost hurts to stare at him, but, somehow, you manage, even as you feel your blush creep its way down your neck to your chest. 

“Good girl.” 

Your face feels like it’s on fire, a reflection of the way your insides burn with desire. For so long, you’ve kept your infatuation to yourself, snuffing out the flames before it could grow into a wildfire.

But it doesn’t take much on his part to spark those embers back to life, your resolve easily crumbling. In fact, it’s almost pathetic how two words of praise are enough for your underwear to start sticking to your folds, dampened by your arousal. 

You have no choice but to hook your ankles over one another and squeeze your thighs together in the hopes of relieving the uncomfortable ache that demands your attention. Seokjin takes note of it all, one of his large hands encasing your bare knee and pulling it towards him, effectively prying your legs open.

A gasp gets caught in your throat, eyes blown wide at his audacity. Instinctively, you make a move to shut your legs back together, hands tugging at the hem of your flower-print skirt to cover your modesty. Your efforts prove to be in vain when he traps your foot between his own, his warm hand still holding your legs wide open. 

For the first time, you thank the stars the seats are in the back of the room, hidden away from the eyes of his admirers. But the thought that anyone could turn around at any moment and see you with your legs opened indecently, shatters the illusion of privacy and makes your blood run hot. You pinch the soft skin of your thigh to confirm that all this isn’t just another dream that would eventually be stored away with all the others. 

You clench your eyes tight, several of your fantasies running wild behind the dark of your eyelids; you expect the slow crawl of his fingers up the expanse of your skin and whispered words in the shell of your ear. In every scandalous scenario you’ve imagined thus far, his hand ends up in your soaked underwear, long digits lodged in your slick heat while you fight to keep your noises at bay. 

Reality sets back in and you tremble with anticipation as the fabric of your skirt is pushed up your smooth thighs. 

Your eyes flinch open because—

Instead of his fingers caressing your skin, an uncapped ballpoint pen digs into your pliant flesh. You’re too stupefied to utter your surprise in words, wide eyes following the movement of the pen across the skin he uses like his personal canvas. Seokjin has to retrace his message several times for the ink to sink, the repeated action leaving behind a harsh sting. His thumb traces over the lettering, soothing over the irritated skin with circling motions.

Satisfied with the result of his work, Seokjin leans back in his chair, capping the pen back up and staring you straight in the eyes, smugness evident by the way his lips curl into a smirk. He tugs your skirt back into place, patting your leg mockingly—the sharp little slaps going straight to your core. You bite into your lip, trying to stifle the desire that spirals in your lower abdomen. 

“Call me, yeah?” Confidence oozes from his words, charming smile hiding his deeper desires. 

He must also have impeccable timing, because the bell rings just then, signaling the end of class. Students all around you move to gather their belongings, but you’re unable to do anything but stay frozen in place, limbs paralyzed with shock. Your thigh still tingles, skin remembering the jab of the pen. 

A trio of girls rush to surround him, chattering about something trivial you can’t make out over the buzzing in your ears. You watch as he responds to their questions, the pen he used on you clutched tightly between his fingers. 

Finally gathering to your feet, your head feels light, dizzy with want. You can only imagine what he would do with more time on his hands, and the images you conjure only heighten your frustrating level of arousal.

Seokjin shoots you one last smirk, eyes falling to your exposed thigh. 

Humiliation floods you at once when you realize that part of the numbers he penned on your skin are visible to any curious eyes. Jerking the hem of your skirt as much as you can doesn’t help conceal his work in its entirety. The thought that anyone could see that you have a phone number scrawled on the insides of your thigh darkens the blush that has been permanent on your cheeks since he began talking to you. 

You’re undoubtedly embarrassed by the events that have just transpired but at the same time a thrill of adrenaline shoots through your veins. Already, you’re impatient to get back home and lock yourself in the confines of your room. You toy with the idea of calling him like he had told you. Maybe it’ll be easier to talk to him without having his imposing presence in front of you, robbing you of coherent thought. You can almost hear his honeyed voice in the crook of your ear, telling you exactly how to bring yourself to a peak. 

“Good girl,” his praise echoes in your mind like a promise.